#‘the last time I wrote for these guys I had dial up internet’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azaleavi · 3 years ago

Text

“All of the songs are about you”

Requested by anon: Hi, first of all I want to thank you for all your amazing work that you share with us, I absolutely adore everything that you write!!! Secondly, I was wondering if I could request something with Sebastian, where reader is a famous singer and younger than him, and when they reveal their relationship, people start saying that he is only using her and he gets worried that she will leave him for someone her age. Once again, thank you! 😚

Word count: 2k

Author's note: Thank you for your kind words dear nonnie! I hope you like it.

Warning(s): language

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

Both of you being famous wasn't easy with you being a singer and Sebastian being an actor. Especially when you wanted to keep your relationship a secret and you were quite younger than him. You have been dating for a while now and you couldn't be more in love with him. He was your muse for many of your songs, but the fans didn't know that. They did notice though that you started writing more love songs than before. You got questions about it almost every day, but you never answered them. They had their speculations, but you never confirmed any of it. It might be selfish, but you wanted to keep him all to yourself and both of you agreed to wait a little more before going public. He was promoting his new movie and you didn't want people to think that you announced your relationship only to give more publicity to it. But sometimes the universe doesn't care what you want.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you were at Sebastian's house and you started craving some McDonald's. The weather was nice for the time being past 10 pm so you decided to go out to buy it instead of ordering. It was dark already so you weren't afraid that anybody would see or recognize you. It was a five minute walk from his house and you thought it would be nice have a short walk. You waited for Sebastian to lock the front door then started walking down the street hand in hand. It probably wasn't the best idea, but you really didn't think that any paparazzi would be near you. You went into the fast food place to buy what you needed, then started walking back to his place, laughing at a story he was telling you. You loved these late night walks, the dark giving you a sense of comfort.

"Baby" he stopped walking as still giggled, making you stop as well. You turned to him, eyebrows raised in question, a smile still on your face. "I love you" he blurted out, intently looking at you, waiting for your reaction. He never said it before, despite dating for almost 6 months now. You didn't say it either yet, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or rush him. After his last relationship he wanted to be extra sure when saying the three words and you understood him. Your heart skipped a few beats at his confession, the smile widening on your lips.

"I love you too, Seb." you beamed, stepping closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

"Thank god." he mumbled into your hair, making you pull away.

"What do you mean 'thank god'? How could I not feel the same way about you? Haven't you heard the songs I wrote lately?" you asked jokingly in disbelief, but knowing he didn't mean it like that.

"You know what I mean" he blushed under the light of the streetlamp.

"I do" your arms going around his neck you pulled him down into a deep kiss. When you broke apart you walked back to his house to finally eat.

What you didn't realize was that there was a paparazzi following you, getting the perfect angle of your kiss, taking a series of photos.

The next morning you were woken up by your phone essentially exploding with calls and messages. You groaned as you reached for it, barely being able to touch it as Sebastian refused to let go of your waist.

"Why is your phone waking us up at the ass crack of dawn?" he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know" you unlocked it to see at least 25 calls from your manager and another few from friends and family. Around the same amount of texts were sent as well, making you sit up in bed, confused. "Something is wrong." he sat up at your tone to look at your phone. You dialed your manager, putting it on speaker. She picked up right away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she almost screamed into the device, making Sebastian look at you.

"I was sleeping. It's 7 am." you explained.

"Care to tell me why is you and Sebastian kissing plastered on every news site on the internet right now?" your whole world stopped at her words.

"What did you say?" Sebastian spoke up as you were still frozen in your spot.

"Oh your partner in crime is there too? Great. I don't have to say this twice." she was being sarcastic, but you didn't care. You just wanted an explanation.

"Tell us what is happening, please" you pleaded.

"There are multiple pictures of you going around. They are claiming that they took them last night." she explained, but that wasn't enough.

"What pictures?" you asked.

"Pictures of you holding hands and kissing." you ran your hand through your hair.

"Fuck" Sebastian sighed.

"That's an understatement." you heard shuffling on the other side. "So I recommend you guys figure out what you are going to do and do it real fast because it is getting out of hand."

"Yeah, sure we will do that." he took the phone from you. "Thanks."

"Just doing my work." she ended the call with a sigh. Sebastian looked at you as you stared at your legs, deep in thought.

"Hey" he brushed his hand up your back, shaking you out of your mind.

"Yeah?" you looked at him, startled.

"We need to do something." he explained.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What should we do? Go public? I mean we don't really have any other choice." you furrowed your brows.

"Do you want that?" he wanted you to be hundred percent okay with whatever you were going to do.

"Yes, I just hoped it wouldn't happen like this." you sighed. "Do you want that?" you asked back.

"Yes. We already talked about going public so I guess we will have to do it now." he shrugged.

"How are we doing this then?" you stood up to get dressed, getting ready for the day.

"Posting a video on TikTok?" he grinned.

"Absolutely not. We are not posting on Tiktok." you shook your head, laughing.

"So where do you want it? Facebook?" he raised his eyebrows, joking.

"No." you laughed. "I was thinking about posting a pic on Instagram." you threw out the idea. Both of you used the app a lot so it would be the best choice.

"Okay, let's find a picture." he also stood up.

"Ah-ah" you held out your hand to stop him. "You talk to your manager while I pick out a picture to post on my account and you can post one on yours if you want to. Mine is going to be a surprise." you grinned, already having one in mind. It was your favorite picture of you, taken by a friend without your knowledge. You were in a parking lot at the beach, you sitting on the hood of his car while he was standing between your legs, kissing you. There was a second picture, where you were leaning your forehead against his, both of you laughing at your friends shouting at you to get a room. Both of your faces were clearly seen on them so you decided to post both of them.

'All of the songs are about you' the caption read. In seconds your notifications were blowing up with comments from fans. You didn't want to read them, because you knew how people on the internet could get and you knew that you being younger than him would bother some of them. Sebastian came out of the bedroom to sit next to you.

"You posted it?" he asked, taking out his phone.

"Yep" you smiled. You leaned your head against his shoulder as he opened the app, waiting for his reaction. He immediately searched up your name and tapped on the photo. His thumb froze on the little heart as he read the caption. He put the phone down and grabbed your chin to pull you to his soft lips in a kiss.

"I love you." he mumbled into your lips.

"I love you too." you giggled. He pulled away to pick up the phone to leave a comment. 'If I wrote songs mine would be about you too' you snorted at it. "You are cute"

A few days later you had enough courage to check the comments people were leaving online. Maybe it wasn't the best idea.

'Jesus. Isn't he like 12 years older than her?? Gross'

'He is definitely using her lmao but I can't blame him, get that coin king'

'Y'all think she calls him daddy in the bedroom kjsdnhs'

'She is just using him to write songs'

There were nice comments as well, calling you cute together and wishing you well. The mean comments always stuck with you more though and you didn't want Sebastian to read them. It was enough that you went through them. Both of you were a little insecure about your age gap, but you loved each other so you helped the other through the harder times.

You got to his house and walked in as he asked you to not to knock anymore. You found him sitting on his couch, phone in hand. Hoping that he wasn't doing what you thought he was doing you sat down next to him. He had instagram open.

"Seb" you sighed, taking the phone out of his hands.

"What? I just wanted to see what they were saying." he tried to defend himself.

"You shouldn't read these." you shook your head. "So you wanna watch a movie?" you changed the subject. He agreed with your suggestion.

The movie had been playing for a half an hour when he pulled away from your cuddling.

"What if they are right?" his voice was so quiet so almost didn't hear him. You paused the movie to look at him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused by his sudden outburst.

"The comments saying that you could do so much better than me" he kept looking at his feet. You sat up and grabbed his chin to turn his head towards you, your heart breaking at his words. This was exactly why you didn't want him to read them.

"Baby" you sighed. "They are not right. Not even by far. I could not find anyone better than you even if I tried. But I'm not trying because I have you with me and you are the best thing that happened to me in a long time. So get that thought out of your head." you stared into his eyes to get your point across.

"But don't you want someone your age?"

"No I don't." you shook your head. "I am perfectly happy with you and I don't need anyone else." you held his cheeks between your palms. "Plus I like it that you are older." you smirked making him chuckle lightly. Climbing onto his lap you pulled him closer. "I love it that you are more experienced." you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I love it that you are taller." a kiss under his ear. "I love it that you are always so so sweet to everyone you meet." a kiss on his nose. Your right hand went into his hair as your lips kissed down to his neck. "And I love the way you make me feel when it's just the two of us." you whispered into his ear, your breath hitting his skin, making him let out a moan. He grabbed your waist in a strong grip. "I love how big your hands are." you nipped at his skin on his neck earning another noise of pleasure and his fingers digging into your skin. "But most importantly" you pulled away so you could look into his eyes to show your sincerity. "I love you. All of you. With everything I have." his eyes softened as he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist: @byatomoe

Sebastian Stan taglist: @wobblymug @sleutherclaw @toms-spiders @sarcastically-defensive17 @allforkook @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @mrsbarnesinmyimagination @bbl32 @wakandabiitch2

get added to my taglist

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan blurb #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x you

405 notes · View notes

ressyfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

OKAY YALL.

I haven’t been paying attention at all.

Do you want to be really angry,

Like really, really angry?

I’m putting this in a read more since there’s going to be a LOT and it may start a FIRE.

It was a lonely snowy night in the north of British Columbia Canada.

Just kidding.

For real though- I had no internet! We could only watch TV on satellite (the only anime I watched was on YTV). If it snowed in the winter we had to go outside and brush the snow off the satellite to continue watching Beyblade or Inuyasha.

So I was 5-6 when I first started watching Beyblade. Of course I LOVED IT. I would rush home to try to watch it everyday. Beyblade has just airing and it was a HIT. I watched season 1 religiously, I actually don’t remember watching much of V-force or G-rev but that’s probably because it wasn’t made yet lmao.

I grew up in a small town, whatever you’re imagining, imagine it smaller. (I could write a whole essay on the social hierarchy of Port Ed in the early 2000s but I’ll keep it short for now) White kids= rich/ pretentious, Native kids=poor. I didn’t like the attitude of most of the white girls, so I mostly made friends with the native kids (I miss yall btw) but anyways, this is where you’re going to get angry.

So I didn’t know what Japanese WAS. Like I knew what Chinese was (Small town surrounded by racists? Who would have guessed?) I don’t even think I knew Japanese existed, but any other anime I watched (Sailor moon, Inuyasha, Gundam Wing) most of the characters were white representing or had extremely light skin tones.

So what the heck was 5 year old me supposed to do with beyblade? Which was a show filled with lots of different ethnicities? 5 year old me was obsessed with beyblade, tearing apart every episode I saw, so I gathered: Max=American, Ray=Chinese, Kai=Russian (Because that’s what matched with all their championships, makes sense to a kid right?)

But what WAS Japanese? I dunno? But you know who Tyson looked like?

My chubby native friends.

THAT’S RIGHT

YALL ARE DEBATING BIRACIAL KAI

LITTLE ME THOUGHT TYSON WAS NATIVE FOR YEEEAAAARRRSSSSS.

I’m laughing as I write this, when I learned Japan was indeed a real place, it didn’t dawn on me immediately. It still took finding beyblade online when I was like 11, re-watching it and being like ‘huh’. (Note: Remember when beyblade was on youtube but each episode was like 4 parts? Good times.)

So, on the topic of Kai.

First of all, I need to point something out that I deem obvious, but must be said.

Beyblade (As well as many other shows from long ago (Yugioh, Naruto, Inuyasha, and Sailor moon come to mind), a lot of us latched on to these shows so hard because of trauma or lonely childhoods. Which means a lot of us find our connections to these shows or characters very personal, which is why it’s hard to break headcannons. It’s more than a fandom for us, and any of us who feel this way, are risking their comfort show to involve themselves in the fandom (This is why I believe a lot of beyblade fans don’t interact with fandom, and I go out of my way to warmly welcome all whenever I can)

It needs to be said, that you owe no explanation to anyone, and neither do I, nor do I apologize for my headcannons.

With this being said, I knew eventually the fandom would blow up (as it has many times, over the idea of biracial Kai/ Kai with Russian ancestry/ Japanese Kai), now that it has hit so close to home, I feel the need to validate my decision to make Kai biracial in my two long main fics. However, it needs to be stated, I am not doing this to validate myself, but because I simply want to talk about it, I’m not explaining, or apologizing, simply stating some facts, and how I feel.

For a lot of us, these characters are so personal and we’ve kept them for so long that they’re verging on OC’s, this is NOT YOUR JOB to point out! Although I believe my Kai is very close to canon, there’s many things that aren’t, regardless, myself and many others, still belong to the fandom.

Back to my childhood:

FINALLY DIAL-UP INTERNET!

The first thing I did when I learned how to read and had private access to internet was google ‘Kai Beyblade’, if you asked, I probably would have said a child’s equivalent to ‘“fuck you that’s why”.

I learned his last name was Hiwatari, and man, I thought that was SO COOL. But that wasn’t a Russian name was it? I dived further, I don’t think the beyblade wiki even existed at this point, I think I was reading everything off of wikipedia. What I read was: Kai’s father was Russian and his mother was Japanese. I didn’t think too much of it, I mean, it made sense. It would explain Voltaire’s connection to Russia. Later on I realised it made more sense for Kai’s mother to be Russian since the Hiwatari name is Japanese and would most likely come from his grandfather, and for some reason, I was convinced Susumu was Voltaire’s son. The idea of Voltaire marrying his son off to some Russian heiress made so much sense to me. I never read fics, my ideas were definitely influenced by wiki edits, I had no reason to doubt it, or think any differently, I think a lot of people followed the same footsteps. It’s interesting to think that’s how headcanons became universal back in the day.

I learned the manga existed after a trip to Metrotown Vancouver where I bought every volume they had (3 lmao) (I still haven’t read every volume, and will when I can afford them).

I just always assumed Kai was biracial, IT JUST MADE SENSE. Kai’s family’s deep ties to Russia, the reason why he knew Russian (regardless of the Abbey), his figure compared to Tyson’s in season 1, I had no reason to doubt it, and it seemed the Dub side of the internet agreed!

When I wrote my fanfics at 18-19, 5 (years ago now, wow), I still assumed Kai was biracial. Only recently have I dived into the fandom and got into every side (Sub, Dub, Manga). I learned there’s 3 things Dub/Sub/Manga people will instantly fight over: Kai’s race, character’s names, and their ages.

The reason these three things are so debated is because of the dramatically different storylines/ differences in language versions. The Dub and Sub are two completely different shows when played side by side. I am most familiar with the Dub, as it stays close to my heart, which influences most of my headcanons.

I still headcanon Kai as biracial. We actually don’t know much about his parents, and canon is very loosey goosey. We’re learning more in Rising, but I highly doubt Takao Aoki is going to be like “AND THEN KAI’S MOM WENT TO VISIT HER RUSSIAN FAMILY IS RUSSIA BECAUSE SHE IS RUSSIAN” I’m not going to go into super detail why I think it’s likely that Kai is biracial, but you know what? It doesn’t really matter. This fandom is old, and being from the early 2000’s that means the dub is much different, which means there are MULTIPLE versions of canons. I guarantee you, in every version there is something problematic, and one of the least important ones, is whether or not the fandom white-washes Kai by making him biracial (Maybe full Russia could be an issue, but you know what? Does it really matter?). You know what DOES MATTER. What they did to Eddy, they did that boy dirty.

I mean they LITERALLY white-washed him. LIKE.

Also changing Tyson/ Takao’s skin tone in G-rev/ V-force will forever annoy me; that might be an asian skin whitening thing though, still, problematic.

But anyways, in the end I’m sure the reason why the English fandom so frequently headcanons Kai as biracial is not because of white-washing, but because of the time the Dub was created.

The early 2000’s was an interesting time. Some towns were still stuck in the 90’s, lots of kids had no access to the internet, and when they finally DID, they did not use it wisely. Misinformation was spread easily. Not many people in America read the manga, and very few people watched the Sub.

People like me, young and old, filled in the gaps that were missing.

It’s been 20 YEARS GUYS. A lot has changed. Headcanons that aren’t problematic will stick. As long as it’s not hurting anybody, or anyone else, it’s really not a bad thing.

Our main focus should be to keep the fandom going! We can’t die, we’ve been together too long to die and I refuse to let it happen, where will I get my serotonin from??

Here’s a pic of my love to end it off:

Dumb idiot loser fuckin smiles fucking lunatic.

#ressyfaerie #beyblade thoughts #on the subject of kai biracial headcanons and how they came to be #yall dont forget ive been here for the loooooonnggg ride #i was seeing the wikipedia edits ages ago #the passive aggressive edits were what gave me life

46 notes · View notes

uglymanchronicles · 4 years ago

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

23 notes · View notes

rjhpandapaws · 3 years ago

Text

Technical Difficulties

Ch 2: A Change in Luck

Three and a half months in and Daniel was still baffled as to how he had not only managed to land the accounting internship at AME, but keep it given his luck when it came to computers. He was an accountant, he had an understanding of computers; sort of; they just hated him. AME was almost entirely paperless. So given the fact that the intern terminal almost always had problems when he used it and the coffee machine in the break room had decided he was the devil; he was a little surprised he that he had been brought on as well. It wasn’t just computers if he was honest, he just wasn’t very technologically inclined. His phone was an older model, but he understood how it worked for the most part, and it hadn’t crashed yet so he hadn’t bought a new one. The issue was, that as an accountant there was an unspoken expectation that he understood computers. He didn’t. He could use the internet and more or less guess his way around a basic accounting program, but he had gone into this for the math. Given that AME was a science and technologies company, and Silas wrote all of their programs, the accounting software was not anything close to basic. Daniel felt like he was on the verge of drowning.

He honestly thought he was going to be let go within his first week after what happened with the coffee machine. Richard had said that Silas would be up to fix it when he had the time, and then recommended a cafe close to the office. He had treated it like something that happened every day. Silas had been thoroughly entertained. When the terminal had crashed on his shift the first time, he had thought that would be it. He was definitely done for this time. Richard had explained that three different people used the terminal and it was bound to happen eventually. Daniel had just been unlucky. Silas was up within the hour to fix the issue. He had been annoyed, more at the interruption than at Daniel it seemed. In the coming weeks he became familiar with the head of the IT department. He would email or call down whenever there was an issue that he couldn’t solve on his own. Silas would either walk him through it if it was an easy fix, or come up to fix it if it was a bigger issue. He always seemed a little frustrated, and Daniel always felt guilty even though he knew Silas wasn’t necessarily upset with him.

This was it, today was the day he would finally lose his internship. All he had done was log into the terminal then the screen went blue and it made a digital screech that was nearly painful. He might not have been the greatest when it came to computers, or even good really, but they knew they weren’t supposed to make that kind of noise. He had barely clocked in and it was already time to call Silas. He picked up his phone and dialed the extension for the labs since that’s where he normally was in the morning. He hoped that he wouldn’t wake him this time, Silas didn’t take too kindly to that. “You got Silas.” Came through after two or maybe three rings. “It’s Daniel.” He replied meekly and a quiet but sharp sigh came from the other end of the call. He flinched but continued, “The intern terminal blue screened and it’s making a god awful noise that I can’t get to stop.” Daniel heard something get set down, “I’ll be up in a few Daniel.” Silas hung up and Daniel looked back at the computer. He didn’t want to make things any worse so he made his way to the elevators. Maybe if he put some distance between himself and it the thing might decide to behave. He knew that wasn’t how computers worked, but he could hope. It was probably his last day here anyway, it wasn’t like things could get any worse.

Should he have stayed at the desk? Gotten his things together maybe? There was no way he was going to be keeping the internship after this. Richard had been understanding so far, but even he had to have his limits. Speaking of limits, Silas was probably at his when it came to Daniel. The elevator chimed and brought him out of his head. Silas stepped out of the elevator pushing a cart in front of him. When he saw Daniel he gave a friendly smile. He was definitely getting terminated. “Hey Daniel.” He greeted lightly, “Wanna take me to the problem child? I’ll see if I can fix it up here without having to take it apart, then you’ll be good to go. No worries, okay?” He was definitely all worries at the moment, but he found himself agreeing anyway. “Alright.” He said and tried his best to keep those same worries out of his voice, “I know I break things pretty badly a lot of the time, so I’m sorry about that.” “I don’t think this one is your fault.” Silas said as he walked with Daniel back to the bullpen, “You aren’t the only one that uses that terminal. You were just unlucky today. Just like with the coffee machine.” Daniel let out an embarrassed laugh. That had been one of his worst first impressions yet, “Oh god, don’t remind me.”

“We had a good laugh about it though.” Silas said and Daniel could hear the smile in his voice. When they got back to what was his desk in the morning there was white writing on the deep blue screen. That had not been there when he had left and he had no idea what it meant. He was relatively sure that it wasn’t anything good though. He was definitely going to lose this internship before the day was out. He was certain of that now. It had been good while it lasted, but it was time to concede that a tech company was not the place for him. “The writing wasn’t there when I left.” Daniel was on the verge of panicking again, “That’s pretty bad isn’t it?” He heard Silas sigh. It was that same annoyed sharp sound from the phone and Daniel withered a little. He was done for, “Yeah. I’m going to have to take it apart and see what the issue is.” He moved to start disconnecting the terminal from the monitor and the wall, “”It’s gonna take me a few days probably. Is there anything you can do here while the computer is down?” Get fired, he thought bitterly. “Paperwork I suppose.” He said as he moved out of Silas’s way, “I’d have to see if there is anything backed up. If not there won’t be anything for the interns to do.”

“How would you like to learn about computers?” Silas asked once he finished situating the computer on the cart and stood, “If Richard says it’s okay of course.” “That sounds interesting.” Daniel liked the idea, but he was wary. It wasn’t like this could make him any worse with computers, “Maybe I won’t have as many issues with them then.” That was of course operating under the assumption that he hadn’t lost the internship. “Just talk to Richard.” He said as he pulled the cart away from the desk. “Then if you’re able to, come down to floor six. I might have this taken apart by then, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Daniel nodded absently. Talking to Richard was the thing that he was dreading the most. His luck, if it could be called that, with him had to be running out by now. He had unintentionally messed so many things up by now that he had to be on thin ice. People were only so forgiving. This was a big company and there was no doubt that they could find someone better. He was still confused as to why Richard had picked him at all. He took a deep breath to find something that could pass as collected if he tried hard enough, and made his way to Richard’s office. This was the moment of truth. He would either be packing his things or going down to see Silas.

He hesitated outside of the door. Was he was ready for this? Richard was overly rational to the point of being a little too blunt. Did he want to face that on top of the possibility of losing his internship? When it came down to it, did he really have a choice? He made a last ditch effort to compose himself and then knocked. “Come in.” Richard said after a moment. Daniel opened the door and stepped inside, there was nothing else he could do. He closed it quietly behind him. Richard looked up and several things passed through his eyes though his expression was still carefully neutral. The concern that came to rest in his eyes didn’t do anything to help his anxiety. If anything, see it so blatantly made things worse. “Daniel is everything okay?” Richard asked as he set aside what he was working on. He leaned back against the office door and then the floodgates opened. “I didn’t mean to. I logged in then it went blue - and - and it started screaming.” Daniel was distantly aware that he was in tears and that it wasn’t professional to cry in front of your boss. He liked this place though and he wasn’t ready to lose the internship, “I called Silas and he said he could probably fix it. I don’t know what I did to it, but please don’t fire me.” “Hey, breathe.” Richard said with a gentle sternness to his voice, “Computers break all of the time. It’s nothing to get fired over Daniel.”

Daniel nodded and scrambled to get himself together, “I’ve just - it’s - everything I touch here seems to break.” “That’s how technology is sometimes.” Richard replied in that same tone, it was comforting, “It breaks. That computer was giving us trouble for a while even before you were brought on. It would be unfair to fire you just because you happened to be the one who was logged in when it decided to finally quit.” Daniel nodded and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. It was a bad habit that he still carried with him from when he was a kid, “Is there anything I can do until it’s back up?” “The paperwork is all caught up. Echo finished the last of it yesterday.” He said, “So the day is yours. If you want to head home and decompress I don’t blame you.” Richard leaned onto his desk, “You’re good at what you do Daniel. So don’t worry, alright?” “Right.” Daniel agreed, “Okay. I’m sorry about... this.” “You’re alright Daniel. Take tomorrow as well since there’s nothing to do until the computer is back up.” His panic came back almost full force at that, “I’ll let the other interns know too. Maybe you guys could do something together.” Daniel flinched internally at that idea, “Maybe.”

He stopped on his way to the elevators to clock out. He should have been relieved; but what he was feeling in the wake of his panic attack was the emotional equivalent of tv static. Learning what was wrong with the computer would help him to feel less guilty. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to spend who knows how long around another person. It would be rude to leave him hanging though, so with a deep breath he hit the call button. He was blissfully alone on his ride down to the sixth floor. Daniel hadn’t really interacted with his coworkers, even the ones in his department, so he was glad for the empty elevator. His luck had made him rather familiar with the IT department. Namely Silas and Josh; he didn’t know who the two lab techs were and the thought of meeting one or both of them made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Maybe spending the rest of the day in the lab wasn’t the best Idea. Daniel shook that thought away as the elevator doors opened. He was met with the sudden sound of loud techno metal music. Something he hadn’t been ready for, but wasn’t all that surprised to learn that Silas listened to. He was leaned against a table with what Daniel assumed were computer parts scattered over it and he was bobbing his head to the music as he looked over something on the tablet he was holding.

Silas looked like he was about to jump out of his skin when Daniel approached. “Holy fuck.” He breathed, then continued once he had collected himself, “I was busy. I didn’t hear you come in, sorry about that.” “Sorry for scaring you.” He replied as he looked over the table. The sudden silence was almost jarring when Silas finally paused the music, “What were you working on?” “Product specs.” Silas replied, and he looked excited if Daniel had to pick a word, “I can’t show you unfortunately because it’s got private information.” He had said it with a shrug but almost sounded disappointed, “I figured I could get more work done while I waited. Your department is all caught up?” Daniel gave a nod as he came to lean against the table beside Silas, “Yesterday’s intern apparently did the last of it. So I’m free until the computer is back to normal.” Silas glanced at the screen that was at the end of the table. There was a loading progress bar on it, though Daniel had no idea what it was for. Silas seemed to understand it just fine though, “We’ve still got about a ten minute wait.” Daniel didn’t know how he gathered that from the progress bar, but he was impressed. Silas continued, “Is there anything you want to do to pass the time?”

“Talk, I guess. There isn’t much else for us to do.” He replied, “Do you enjoy doing all of this? It seems like a lot of work for just four people.” “It’s definitely a lot of work, but it’s worth it.” Silas said with a slight shrug, but the smile from before was back, “As far as liking it, that really depends on the day. The days I’m not able to get anything else done, not so much; but on the days I’m able to get more research done are pretty nice.” “So you don’t like IT work all that much?” He found himself asking, “Why do it then?” “Because I do actually like it, and I’m good at it.” He replied a little dryly, “It’s what got me through college. What about you, why accounting?” “I like working with numbers.” He started, “They are like little puzzles for me to solve, which is fun. It’s simple most days, but technology tends to give me trouble and that makes things difficult.” Silas gave him a friendly smile, “Let’s see about fixing that last part.” He said, “On the days you have time, I can teach you about computers. Then maybe you’ll have better luck with them.” Daniel liked that idea, after all, it wasn’t like his luck could get any worse when it came to computers, “Only if you have the time. You have a lot to do already.” “We can start with this little problem child.” Silas said as he moved to get to work, “You can even come over here to see what I’m working on if you would like.”

Daniel joined him on the fair side of the table. Silas spent hours explaining the parts and what they do to him. He watched Silas slowly slip into his element and Daniel found himself pulled in. He didn’t know what he had done to get Silas to thank him, but apparently rattling things off to Daniel had helped him solve the problem. He even explained the process to Daniel as he fixed it. He asked questions and Silas answered them. Talking to Silas was easy and Daniel found himself hoping they could do this more often. He sat down and rested his head on his arms, content to listen to him for the rest of the night.

#A Guide to Bad Business Practices #A Guide to Bad Business Practices AU #AGBBP #Technical Difficulties #TD #Daniel60 #daniel x sixty #dbh Daniel #dbh Sixty #dbh fic #dbh

12 notes · View notes

albatrossisland · 3 years ago

Text

AO3 tag game

Tagged by @luthienebonyx, thank you!!!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

17. Such a great number (it’s my birthday)

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

189,412. Not too bad for two years of writing

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Just two, GOT and a Peggy/Steve Marvel ficlet. I’ve dabbled in Sherlock fics, but those are not for publication.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Knock Three Times - My exchange fic from last year, where Jaime opens his apartment door to find a naked and wet Brienne standing in front of him, asking to use his phone.

Saving Jaime Lannister - While on a hike in an old forest, Brienne hears a voice in her head, imploring her to find Jaime Lannister. Find him and save him. And she does. And it’s only the beginning.

The Love I’ll Never Recover From - Jaime is inspecting a newly acquired hotel for his father, when he sees a ghost, a ghost with a tragic backstory that she chooses to share with him.

Worthy - A canon divergence where Brienne goes back in time to stop Jaime’s maiming so he can fulfill a prophecy to defeat the Night King. Fun fact, this is the only canon fic I’ve written.

The Stoneheart Protocol - Brienne and Jaime are (space!) bounty hunters, but he’s disappeared. As the Stoneheart Protocol (shoot him on sight, basically) is authorized for him, Brienne goes on a desperate hunt to find him first.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

Yes! It’s hard to leave comments (not all the time, but a lot of times I want to leave a well written comment and my brain short circuits from joy, so I just leave an emoji instead), and if someone can get past that, they deserve a response. I usually don’t reply right away, but I will eventually.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Now, the obvious answer is J+B, because it’s Romeo and Juliet adaptation, and I felt like I had to keep the original ending (like a fool). But in Valyria, I dialed up the angst to the highest possible level, and it’s a happy ending, it’s bittersweet. The good guys win and all that, but it comes at high cost. So I’m gonna put that in for the dark horse winner.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I haven’t, but it would be an interesting exercise. Maybe someday.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, and I hope it stays that way.

9. Do you write smut?

I’ve dabbled in smut, but it’s never going to be a regular feature in my fics because I’m just not super comfortable doing it.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, thankfully.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. Would be an interesting exercise, because writing is so solitary for me, so I’d be open to it.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Stands to reason that it’s JB, because no other ships have inspired me to actually read/write fic to this degree. But here are some others from my life of shipping:

Jeff/Hillary - Remember Wenn

Adama/Roslin - BSG

Michael/Jan - The Office

Ned/Chuck - Pushing Daisies

Shepard/Garrus - Mass Effect

Jackson/April - Grey’s Anatomy

Kevin/Nora - The Leftovers

Sam/Jack - Stargate SG1

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Some 20+ years ago, I wrote two fics for Remember WENN, a 90s AMC show about a radio station in Pittsburgh in the late 30s/early 40s, but they’ve been lost to internet history.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is a tough one, but I narrowed it down to two, and I can’t decide from here, so here are my top two favorites:

Saving Jaime Lannister

Valyria

Tagging: @shipping-receiving, @pretty--thief, @nire-the-mithridatist, @aviss, @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined, @fine-with-my-spite

#tag games

5 notes · View notes

demivampirew · 4 years ago

Text

Kalentine’s Day

Henry x Plus-Size Reader

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

This was a request from @born2stronger : “what about if Henry meets reader through Instagram (we all know sometimes he checks on the comments) so reader gets his attention and he messages her.” I hope you like it. 😊

Triggers: Fat- shaming; talking about the lost of a pet; feeling of nostalgia.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog

"Happy Valentine's day everyone! For all of my fellow single pringles out there, you don't have to be in a relationship to enjoy today, it's about Love. Enjoy seeing others in Love, love your friends, your family, and especially yourself. #Kal #ValentinesDay #BestDogEver #KalentinesDay"

Henry wrote and posted the picture of Kal laying on the bed with a rose on his Instagram account.

Nostalgia hit him hard later that day. He wasn't in a rush to get back on the dating game, especially not after a recent disappointment with a lady, but he missed celebrating that day with a woman he would care about. He starting to imaging how that day would've been if there was someone special in his life: he'd had made breakfast for her to eat on the bed; he'd taken a stroll down the park after that, to enjoy the beautiful morning. They'd have had lunch in someplace fancy, then watch a movie and he'd prepare her favourite dish for dinner and he'd finish the day by making her feel unique. Every woman in his life was unique on his eyes, for best or for worst. That thought made him sigh deeply for what he decided to check some comments on his post. Cheeking comments on his photos was his guilty pleasure. He loved the nice comments and would laugh out loud whenever there were thirsty comments; some were a bit distasteful, others were cute and there were others that were so odd that made him chuckled.

As he was scrolling through comments, one caught up his attention. "@(your username) "KalentinesDay" you cracked me up, Mr Cavill! But I'd like to differ with the BestDogEver one; I love Kal, he's awesome, but my dog is...was the best. I lost him two days ago and I felt like my world crushed for I've had him since I was a kid. Being there holding his paw as the doctor put him down due to disease was the worst thing I've ever experienced. Sorry for ruining the mood, but thank you for the post, it lighted up my day! Have a nice KalentinesDay, Sir." He felt so bad for that person, so he entered her profile and hit the message option. "Hi Y/N. I saw your comment and I just wanted to say how sorry I'm that you lost your beloved companion. I've had Kal for a few years and I cannot even bear the thought of losing him, so I cannot imagine how must feel to lose your pal who's been there most of your life. Be strong. I'm sending you virtual hugs and lots of love. I hope you get better soon." After sending her the message, he checked her account for he saw a recent post with a picture of a lovely dog. It wasn't a mixed breed. It was a rescued dog. She talked so fondly of him, remembering the first day she met him and a few adventures they lived together. The stories warmed Henry's heart yet saddened him, knowing that his light had extinguished. There were a lot of pictures of her dog on her account and pictures of books and movies. Funny enough, most of the books she talked about were some of his favourites and the ones that he hadn't read, he took screen captures so he wouldn't forget to check them out. One of the movies she posted about was Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and he had to see her thoughts on it. She agreed that the whole Martha plot was absurd, but the thing that bothered her the most, and in her opinion ruined the movie a little bit, was the fact that Doomsday was on the final trailer, for the movie would have been higher rated from her if she'd already known that he was going to show up. Yet, she disagreed with all the hate and the thought that the movie was bad: "It could've been better? Sure, Was it horrible? Absolutely not," "If it is too dark for you, don't watch it, period. Mr Snyder understands the soul of DC Comics. Dc is not lighthearted, accept that and move on" she wrote. Henry was too tempted to like the post and reply, but he decided that it was best not to do it. She didn't have many pictures of her, but he found one from two years ago. In the picture, she was standing to a bride and she hugging her. She had a pink dress on. Henry looked at her cute smile and was stunned by her beauty. In the caption of the photo, she wrote " Ignore my ugly fat ass... focus on my beautiful sister who just got married to her Charming Prince! Congrats, babe! Love you a lot and wish you a lifetime of nothing but happiness! ♥" Henry liked the picture and went straight to the comment section and wrote "You look gorgeous. I hope their love story is a good one and lives on." and press send. He was so caught by her, that without even noticing it, he went through every single post on her account, like all the photos she was in and same with pictures of books, movies and albums he liked.

He was having dinner with Kal when he noticed that he had a reply on IG. When he opened, he saw it was from the girl with the mesmerizing smile. "I think I should call the police, I have a stalker, 👀 😂" she wrote. "Thank you so much for the mood busting. It means a lot. He brought a lot of light to my life and it's hard to have to say goodbye." she confessed, "but instead of lying in bed crying, I'm going to use that energy to give love to another animal in need, that's what my baby would have wanted, I know it in my heart." she finished. Henry didn't wait for a second to answer her, even if that meant that his food would get cold. "Absolutely! Any animal would be lucky to have you as their momma." he assured, "Sorry for that, I didn't mean to be a creep. I swear I'm nice. I'm Superman" he joked. After a few moments, the girl messaged him again "Superman killed Zod, so...👀😜 ". "Low shot. Also, Zod was a villain" he went on with the conversation. " How do you know that I'm not a villain?" she joked, "Because villains don't love puppies" he grinned like an idiot in love as he pressed send. "Cruella did, though, 👀 😂" she said; "Touché. But I'm sure you're not a villain, you are too cute for that" he explained. "That'd be the perfect cover for a conquer the world masterplan, don't you think? To have everyone trust me and love me for me to be easier to control them?🤔" "Alright, you convinced me. You're the evilest villain in history. So, I should fly to wherever you are and get you." he playfully told her. "And I didn't want to sound creepy 😂. My apologies if my humour seems creepy," he apologized. "I think your humour is genius and I find it cute, no creepy," she pointed out. "Cute enough to meet me in person? 👀" he asked. "Absolutely," she accepted his invitation. "When are you free?" she questioned. Henry looked at the clock, it was 7:30 pm. "I'm free right now if you can." Henry offered, "Do you live in London?". "From the last couple of years, yes. I moved with my mom after my parents got divorced. She's was born here... I mean, yes, I live in London, sorry for the unnecessary information," she requested his forgiveness. "There's no need to apologize. I like getting to know more about you." he explained " Do you want to go to Mark's Club restaurant? It's a nice and quiet place where we can have a nice conversation" he proposed "I think I can get a last-minute reservation since I'm a member of the club." he informed her. "Sure, I'm going to get ready. Tell me if you get the reservations or we can go anywhere else, I'm sure there are plenty of nice places to eat where there are tables available 😊" she said. "Great, I'm calling them right now!" Henry exclaimed excitedly and went into his phone contact list and press the dial button. He was lucky enough that the manager was a Superman fan and was quite fond of him, so he agreed to reserve a table for him in the busiest night of the year for restaurants. He shared the information to her and went to change as well. He put a white sweater and a nice pair of black pants on and black shoes. A grey blazer was his coat of choice.

He asked for her address to pick her up, but she opted for meeting at the club and he accepted because he understood that maybe she felt unsafe by giving her living information to a stranger. He couldn't lie that this gave him enough time to leave Kal with his friend Ben.

He waited for her inside the restaurant for there were paparazzi outside the place. Mark's Club was an exclusive place where many celebrities choose to eat in, especially in such occasions like Valentine's day - Guy Ritchie and his wife choose that place to spend the night and so did David and Victoria Beckham. Both couples came to greet him as soon as they saw him. His table was about to be ready and she wasn't there yet. He checked for messages on his IG but there were none. Has she stood him up? That'd have broken his heart; no because someone rejected him, but because she did it. He thought that he was losing his mind: being afraid that a girl he met that day on the internet might have played a prank on him and make him believe that she was interested in him.

When he saw that it was 10 pm, he decided that it was better to inform the host of the club that he wouldn't need a table after all. He was about to get up when behind him a female voice called his name. He turned around and stood, speechless. A beautiful woman on a red dress was standing in front of him, showing that glorious smile that captivated him ours ago on his phone.

- I'm so sorry I'm so late.- you apologized profusely - It took me ages to find a cab and then I've spent literally thirty minutes outside trying to get in because paparazzi were being annoying and would get in the way for me to get in.-she explained. - No worries!- he assured her- Honestly, I was a bit afraid that I've had been stood up.-he confessed, styling his hair backwards with his hand. - Absolutely not! I don't particularly enjoy pranks. Especially not in niece people like you.- she smiled and his legs were shaking.

At that moment the waiter approached you to let you know your table was ready. Henry said "Ladies first" indicating you to go first into the table area. The place was elegant. Henry waited behind your chair and as you sat in, he pulled it close to the table. He sat in front of you, grinning like the devil. That charming smile took your breath away.

Every word that came out of your mouth amazed him for your charisma and intelligence. You were not only funny, smart, confident but also beyond beautiful. He knew that wasn't love at first sight, but he could see himself falling deeply in love with you.

Halfway through the dinner, Henry finally noticed that lots of costumers were watching them. He found that odd since he was a regular there and there were plenty of celebrities on that place that night -some way more famous than him.

- I apologized if you feel uncomfortable with people watching us. Usually, they barely look at me. They know I'm an actor, but these fancy folks don't care much for Superheroes.- he explained. You looked at him with a smirk. - They're not looking at you, they are looking at me.- you pointed out. - Are you famous?- he asked confused and you chuckled because he meant it and it wasn't sarcasm. - Yes, I'm Ashley Graham.- you joked and his expression showed ignorance; he didn't know who she was.- She's a model.- you explained and he laughed apologizing for his lack of knowledge on current pop culture. He was beyond cute.- No, I'm not famous. They're looking at me because I'm "fat"; I'm a plus-size woman and they probably can't understand why are you having dinner with me.- you said and smiled- In another point of my life this would have hurt. It did for a long time. Whenever I'd be in a date with a thin man, people would look at us as if they were thinking out loud that he was too good for me, that he could do so much better than a fat girl. Thankfully I'm no longer in a place in which I'd blame myself for their judgement. I'm who I am and I'm ok with that. They can look all they want, they don't mean anything to me.-you shrugged- But, I need to know if that bothers you. I won't judge you if you are not into me. Maybe I'm confusing things, but the fact that you made a last-minute appointment for dinner on this day is because you have some kind of interest on me and I do for you too. I'm in for getting to know each other and maybe be something if we feel it later on. But if that's the case, if I got things wrong and you are not interested in my, just tell me. It's ok and we can be just friends if you want. All I ask from you is not to waste my time. Don't get me to grow feelings for you if you have no intention in returned them.- you requested. Henry went silent for a moment. Then he put his hand on top of yours, grabbed it and kissed it. He grinned and replied, "You got it right, gorgeous."

The dinner continued with you two laughing, drinking fine wine and having delicious desserts. You tried to grab the check but he took it so fast that you barely saw it. "I'll pay next time. That's the condition for me going out again with you" you indicated firmly and he agreed.

As you were about to leave, he noticed you didn't have a coat. "I was so hurried that I forgot to grab one" you explained and he immediately took off his and gave it to you, despite you telling him that you were ok, and helped you to put it on. He held your hand to walk outside, not caring if paparazzi took photos of you and he called a cab for you. It was easier for famous people to get a ride, you noticed. He drove you to your place and walk you to the door. He was much taller than you, so he leaned in to kiss your cheek and kissed your hand as well. Henry promised to call you the next day and walked towards the car. You reminded him of his coat and he asked you to keep it safe for him until next time you saw him. With a big smile, he got in the car and after you entered your place, you heard the cab left.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x plus-size reader #henry cavill one shot #demivampirew

284 notes · View notes

iamrealbuilder · 4 years ago

Text

Bill Buchalter interview

Bill Buchalter was a level designer for Sunstorm Interactive. He’s worked on 3 official add-on of Build Engine games: Cryptic Passage for Blood, Suckin’ Grits On Route 66 for Redneck Rampage, Caribbean Life for Duke Nukem 3D. Interview, November 2020: Corentin: Can you introduce yourself?

Bill Buchalter: My name is Bill Buchalter. I’m an avid gamer of all kinds – video games, board games, and especially tabletop RPGs. I’m currently a freelance writer for AAW Games (Adventure A Week Games) writing mini adventures for Dungeons & Dragons 5E. I live outside Indianapolis, IN with my wife Jane, our three kids, and our dog Roxi. When I’m not gaming, I also enjoy music, playing guitar, hiking, and camping.

C: With Sunstorm Interactive, you're credited for level design on Cryptic Passage, Caribbean Life and Route 66. How did you start working with Sunstorm and what do you remember from that time?

BB: In the mid 90’s, maybe around 1995 or 96, I was very into playing Duke Nukem 3D. Like most PC gamers at the time, I had played Castle Wolfenstein and Doom, and Duke Nukem just blew me away. Back in those days, when we played online, we would use a 3rd party program called KALI. You dialed up on your modem, logged onto the internet, and then used KALI as a portal to chat with other gamers and find someone to play with. The KALI software would then allow you to network together over the internet and play PVP matches. It was crude, and the lag could be horrible, but we didn’t know any better at the time and we loved it!

I remember I was in a B. Dalton bookstore in the mall one day (another relic of the 90’s that is long gone!) when I found a book called the “Duke Nukem 3D Level Design Handbook”. I was intrigued, and as I flipped through the pages it talked about a program on the Duke Nukem CD called Build, which allowed you to create your own levels. I had no idea Build existed, let alone how to use it. I bought the book and spent the next couple weeks diving into learning how to use Build. I was hooked!

Making my own maps quickly became an obsession. I would share them with my friends on KALI and I quickly earned a reputation for making user maps. I remember there was a map building competition, but I don’t recall who sponsored it. A guy named Robert Travis won the competition. When I saw his maps, I was blown away! His designs were so much more advanced than mine. He was using tricks I had never thought of to get lighting effects and set moods. I had to reach out to him to pick his brain.

Robert responded and we began talking and quickly figured out that we both lived in Indianapolis. He was working for Sunstorm at the time and invited me to come to their office to discuss level design. I met him there one evening, and he showed me some of the stuff he was working on. We ended up playing Duke all night on Sunstorm’s network with some of the other guys in the office. I was in heaven!

Robert introduced me to Anthony Campiti, the lead producer on Sunstorm’s next project – Cryptic Passage, an add-on for a Build engine game called Blood. They invited me to design some levels for the game and I jumped at the chance. Robert assigned me to design an opera house level and immediately I got pictures in my head of the theater scenes from Interview with a Vampire. I went home and worked furiously on designing the level. I was still rough, but with Robert’s help I tweaked things here and there and slowly learned his techniques. In the end I was really pleased with the level I’d designed. Robert and Anthony were happy too and asked me to design a second map specifically for deathmatch.

The next project Sunstorm was working on was Suckin’ Grits on Route 66, an add-on for another Build engine game called Redneck Rampage. Robert again asked if I’d like to be a part of that team and assigned me to build a truck stop level. Using a lot of the things I’d learned on Cryptic Passage, and the campy feel of the Redneck Rampage game, I had a lot of fun designing that level.

The last project I worked on for Sunstorm was Duke Nukem Caribbean Vacation. By this time Duke’s popularity was beginning to wane, and Quake was taking over. Robert was already starting to experiment and learn how to use the Quake engine. I was a new dad at the time (my first daughter had just been born) so unfortunately, I didn’t have the spare time to devote to learning a new engine. I barely had the time to design my level for Duke Caribbean, but I did manage to finish the casino level for that project. I do recall that Robert ended up going through in the end and changing a lot of the aspects of my level to fit the theme they had in mind. I remember being a bit disappointed and not really feeling like the level was “mine” because of so many of the changes. It was the last project I worked on for Sunstorm.

I kept in touch with Robert and Anthony for a while after that. They were branching out, working on other projects, and even trying to develop their own FPS game that I don’t think ever really got off the ground. Sunstorm was having the most success with their Deer Hunter line of games that at the time were selling well in Wal-Mart. Sadly, I eventually just lost touch with those guys.

I’m sure this is WAY more information than you were wanting (I’m a writer… I can’t help but go off the deep end!) but you dusted off some fond, old memories for me, so I apologize for walking so far down memory lane!

C: I see that you're still making maps, different kind of maps! This makes me wonder if maybe you were involved with W!Zone (a pack of maps for Warcraft 2 released by Sunstorm). Can you tell us a bit about that if possible?

BB: I didn’t have any hand in the W!Zone project for Sunstorm, but I loved the Warcraft series. As was common for many video gamers like me, who had roots in fantasy games like D&D, I played a lot of Warcraft and eventually got sucked into the world of MMOs with Ultima Online, Everquest, and World of Warcraft! If only I had back the time I sunk into those games!

These days I’m exclusively writing and designing for Dungeons and Dragons. I started about ten years ago writing for D&D Organized Play in a campaign called Living Forgotten Realms. I co-authored two adventures for that with my good friend, Michael Pearman, and authored a third adventure on my own. As you know from tracking me down via AAW Games, I’ve now authored six adventures for them, five of which are already published and one that is still in the works but should be released soon.

When I do manage to find time for video games, Diablo III is my game of choice these days. I’m looking forward to Season 22 starting here shortly, and like many others, I’m really hoping for something great with Diablo IV. I’ve been a huge fan of the series since the beginning, and even wrote an entire campaign for D&D 5E that translated the story of Diablo III into Dungeons and Dragons for the players in my home game! Thanks again for the opportunity to share some of this history. It was fun putting it all down and reliving those days!

C: There are two signatures in the Truck Stop level for Route 66. Do you remember anything about that ? There also several levels with no known credit : Fun Park, House of ill Repute, Mystery Dino Cave, Bigfoot Convention.

The signature on the truck stop is Route 66 was a joke! I was the only designer on that one. I just signed it "Billy Joe Jim Bob Buchalter" as a joke for bad redneck name. I wasn't the kind of guy that had to sign my maps the EXACT same way every time. :)

Other than the truck stop, I don't recall designing any other maps for Route 66. I pretty sure none of those you listed below were mine, but I don't recall whose they were.

Finally, here are some final comments Bill made after reading through some forum posts:

Wow, I am really quite humbled that you guys looked so deeply into my work! The fact that you could recognize my build style is pretty cool - I didn't even know I had a style! LOL. The truth be told, the reason you probably had so much trouble telling my levels from Robert's is because he was a big influence on me. I learned a lot from him and incorporated a lot of that into the stuff I built.

Its funny how reading through that thread you linked brought back memories... I remember now that my biggest disappointment from Duke Caribbean was that my only level in the game ended up being a secret level - that some people wouldn't even find it or ever play it. I was actually pretty excited about that level. I was the one that suggested a casino because my folks had retired to Vegas, so I'd been in a lot of the casinos there and had some great ideas for the map. I'd forgotten all about the restaurant I worked into it, and the big fish tanks.

There seems to be some debate about Robert. From what I remember, he was a really good guy. Maybe a bit tough to work for, but only because he really strived for our designs to be the best they could be, and he demanded that of both himself and the other designers. As I said before, I learned early on to accept criticism and critique and not take it personally. It was just Robert doing his job. I'll be the first to admit that I designed better levels thanks to the stuff I learned from Robert.

Someone on the message board made a very astute comment, basically to the effect that "Bill had to have other work out there. Sunstorm wouldn't hire an unproven guy off the street." But truth be told, that's exactly what they did! I hadn't done a single thing before working there. But I think a few things played in my favor. First, I lived in Indy, just 15 minutes from their office, so it was easy for me to go in and work directly with Robert. Second, while I didn't have anything officially published, I did have a disk full of the maps I'd designed on my own, and Robert thought I showed promise. I would design at home a lot, then go into the office a couple times a week and sit with Robert while he critiqued my work and offered advice on how to improve it.

I'll be honest - I'm blown away at the number of people STILL playing these old maps we made so many years ago. I watched a couple YouTube videos of a guy playing and reviewing Duke Caribbean and Blood Cryptic Passage. His high praise of both Full House and the Opera House really made my day. It's nice to know that people enjoyed my work.

_____________________________

Thanks a lot to Bill Buchalter for taking the time to answer these questions! Thanks also for sharing... “Big City” !

A Duke Nukem 3D map he created back in the day before joining with Sunstorm Interactive which was never released before! Screenshot:

Map download:

https://msdn.duke4.net/bigcity.zip

______

External link: Duke4 forum blog megathread: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/11471-blog-interviews-of-build-engine-video-games-developers/page__pid__353013#entry353013 The forum posts Bill read, mentionned above, can be found here: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/9418-duke-caribbean-multiplayer-levels/

#build #build-engine #blood #duke nukem #redneck-rampage #duke #nukem #duke nukem 3D #video games #route 66 #caribbean life #cryptic passage

10 notes · View notes

thenextchapter22 · 4 years ago

Text

Visiting New York

So I took inspiration from @mammonsgoldcard on the post talking about a shadowhunters au with obey me and wrote this crazy stuff! Please enjoy!

_+_

It was a full moon night in New York City. The time was nearing 2 in the morning, and it was cool, crisp, and totally silent aside from the occasional car alarm or shout from some drunkard stumbling home.

Jace and Alec were out on their usual route. Nothing interested was happening, for a Tuesday at least. A few minor demons and a couple mundanes waltzing by stinking of booze. Just a normal, average, totally normal night for the parabatai.

“HEY HEY HEY! I JUST WANT TO TAKE A PEEK INSIDE! I WON’T STEAL, I SWEAR!”

“Keep your voice down, you fool.”

The pair glanced across the street. A group of men all dressed strangely for 2 a.m. stood in front of a store front window for expensive jewelry. While they were not the police, Jace and Alec still wouldn’t tolerate theft.

So they strolled across the street, expecting them not to notice as they were glamoured. But all of them, except for the one with a phone glued to his face, turned to look at them. That’s when Alec knew they were up to no good. And that they were not actually humans. Not that that meant they were evil, Alec was in love with a warlock after all. But when you heard the words ‘steal’ and saw 7 guys practically casing a store at night something was definitely wrong.

He raised his bow at them with an arrow ready to fire at any second, and Jace in turn his seraph at the other half Alec wasn’t aiming at. “Downworlders, what are you doing?” he asked in a deep threatening tone.

“Humans, what do you want?” the dark haired and red eyed demon in a fur coat (the only clothes that really made sense in this freezing cold) asked sarcastically.

Jace sneered. “He asked you a question. So answer it.”

He raised his brows, but kept his smile. Which was not very friendly. “I am not a ‘Downworlder;. We prefer the term ‘Demon’.”

Like that was any better.

Jace stumbled a little as the demon with the most feminine look, one would call him pretty rather than handsome, pranced to stand next to him and inhale before eyeing him up and down. “Ooohhh! You are so BEAUTIFUL and smell divine! I want to. Eat. You. Up! And these clothes, so sexy and tight, hnng~”

Jace flushed when his gaze went to his pants, and the demon licked his lips. He felt his hand shaking a little around his sword. This was worse than when Magnus flirted with Alec for the first time.

“Come on, don’t you want to have some fun together?” he asked, fingers tracing the air above Jace’s arm.

While Jace was being flirted with by the pretty demon, Alec was staring down the others.

“Where is the food? I’m so hungry.” The tall red head asked. His orange eyes looked so sad like someone kicked a puppy, and he held his stomach with one large hand.

“Most places are closed.” Alec felt almost bad for saying it because the demon looked even more upset.

The white haired demon’s eyes widened as he maneuvered right in front of their weapons, shocking the Shadowhunter at the bold move. “Woah, that sword looks like it’d go for a lot of grimm! Same with that bow thingy.”

Alec was stunned. Then the dark haired demon grabbed him and yanked him back by his clothes and started scolding him like a kid while holding him up off the ground, and Alec just shook his head and focused on someone else while that happened.

He looked at the demon with a phone that illuminated his face. Why was he glued to his phone? Was he texting some of their friends for help?

The demon was mumbling while frantically tapping and tilting his phone. “Gah! Stupid—no, left, left you normie!”

Then the purple haired one looked up and found Alec’s eyes with his own. He blushed, made an ‘eep’ noise, and hid his face even more. So, probably the least threatening of the seven.

Alec kept his bow facing towards the others. Mostly they seemed fine with weapons turned on them. The white haired demon kept going on about selling their stuff now that he was free, the blonde was unmoving and glaring them down with his arms crossed like the red-eyed demon. Jace was still handling the ‘pretty’ demon who kept speaking flirtatiously with him. The large red head said nothing, just kept holding his belly and looking around like food was going to appear. And the last one was…

Alec frowned. “Why is he holding a pillow and… is he sleeping?” Impossible, really, as he was standing up!

The hungry demon who stood next to the demon with a cow pillow to his chest smiled sheepishly. “He’s tired a lot.”

Alec jumped when Jace made a shocked noise and he shot his eyes over to see what happened. Jace was gaping at the demon, who looked super upset, and Alec could see a pink smudge on his parabatai’s cheek. Did the demon kiss Jace? He knew the look of lipstick or gloss from Magnus doing such things.

Alec was very confused at what was going on.

“Hmph! Not another one, this is just not fair! I always want the prettiest human and they always turn out to be unaffected by my charms,” the pretty one pouted, crossing his arms and looking very disappointed.

“Charms?” Jace asked, coming out of his stupor. “What kind of charms?”

The blonde with a permanent scowl on his face seemed annoyed with each word that came out of their mouths had decided to speak. He didn’t look directly at them, instead looking at his fingernails. It was very rude honestly. “He means his charms, his powers to attract any human into being with him.”

Jace stuttered. “Wh-what—b-but I—I’m straight!”

Asmo winked. “So was everyone else, honey~” He giggled.

Jace looked at Alec then. They knew why it wasn’t working. Because of Valentine’s experiments and Jace’s mixed blood.

The fur-coated demon hummed and looked between the two of them, arms crossed. “Well, it’s obvious we have a pair of hunters in our midst. And this one,” he said, pointing at Jace, smiling small without any real facial movement, “has pure angelic blood running through him.”

All the demons, except the blonde with a scowl and the one on his phone, made shocked sounds.

“I’m starving, can we get some food now?” the red head asked again, totally interrupting the tense atmosphere.

Alec made a super frustrated noise, and he saw who he had now deemed their ‘leader’ hide a chuckle himself.

Enough was enough.

“Are you here to hurt anyone or anything?”

“No.” The ‘leader’ confirmed. Again, speaking like they were playing a game.

“And are you planning on stealing anything?” Alec asked, watching the leather jacket wearing demon who was mumbling about ‘grimm’.

“We are not.”

Alec sighed. “Okay, fine.”

“Are we off the hook then, humans?” the leader asked.

“Yes, fine. But I have a few questions—”

“Luccciffeeerrrr~ I want to go inside, it’s freezing! At least lend me your coat!”

Jace and Alec both froze in spot.

“Lucifer?” Alec repeated, looking at the dark haired demon. “That is your name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar. Pleased to meet you.” He grinned, and it was all teeth and not ‘pleased’ at all. “And these are my brothers,” he said, gesturing to each as he said their names. “Mammon, Satan, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, and Asmodeus.”

The Seven Lords of Hell.

What has this Tuesday turned into?

Lucifer, the avatar of Pride, seemed to stand a foot taller then. Or maybe it was the revelation of who exactly they were. He looked down at Alec and asked, “What sort of questions did you have?”

Alec felt his throat close up, and he cleared it quickly. “I just want to know what you are doing here.” Why did his voice seem so small and quiet compared to his?

“We are visiting a human friend. They recently moved to the city.”

“A friend?” Alec asked, confused. What human would be a friend with these seven demons?

Jace spoke up. “You do know it’s almost 3 in the morning. Unless they work night shift, they’re probably asleep.”

“We were unaware of the change in address until recently.”

Alec sighed. This was tricky. Either he could let these seven demons roam free, or he could keep an eye on them. It was obvious, really, when said plainly like that. If he let them go, it would be Hell on Earth.

“Well, I can see about getting you some rooms to sleep in for the night, I suppose.” Alec found it better to be friendly with them than cause more trouble. After all, these were… the seven avatars of sin in his city.

“Hang on, let me call my boyfriend.” He took out his phone and dialed.

“Oooh, I did not see that coming~ Just kidding, I totally did,” Asmodeus chuckled.

Alec resisted rolling his eyes. He, unlike Jace, did not have special blood, and would be affected by the charms of this demon.

“I hope they’ll have good food.”

“Hopefully internet and a charger cause my phones dying! Ah, this is terrible! I was just about to win!”

Alec tuned out their complaints. They seemed like teenagers, really. It was crazy to him. “Hey Mags. Can we make room for seven tonight?”

After a quick conversation and a ‘I love you’ at the end, to which a couple demons gagged (Mammon and Satan), he said, “Okay, you can stay with us. Magnus can make room, he’s a warlock.”

Asmodeus gasped. Then, with words to shock after everything that had happened, he screamed with joy, “MY SON!”

#shall we date obey me fanfic #obey me fanfic #crossover fanfic #tmi fanfic #shadowhunters fanfic #shadowhunters #crackfic #my fics

4 notes · View notes

the-gonegirl · 4 years ago

Text

Here it is guys, the first few pages of my PoF Fanfiction.

Gazing out at the night sky, she took in the flashes of light. The bolts of lightning forking across the sky were nothing new, the thunderstorms had increased just lately and this newest spectacle was just the latest in a long line of natural phenomena to crash over Britain. What was new, however. Was the lack of thunder to this thunderstorm.

It was like an old ritual to her, to count the seconds between the lightning and thunder. Calculate how far away the lightning was and thank god it wasn’t above her head.

But this storm was lacking one element. The lightning wasn’t accompanied by its usual companion. This time there was no crack of thunder, no partner to this dance. The lightning was a lone wolf, howling soundlessly through the sky.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the long since familiar number of her best friend. Carmen.

After three rings the usual click of the receiver sounded and Carmen’s bright voice trickled through the receiver.

‘I was just about to phone you, are you watching it too?’ Carmen asked, wistful as ever.

‘Where’s the thunder’ she asked, her voice lacking Carmen’s brightness. She sounded sad, almost resigned.

It was a miracle the phone lines still worked, or the internet for that matter. The national grid hadn’t been knocked out. Not yet.

Between the war in the far north, the tsunami that hit Australia, the famine and drought in the south, there wasn’t a corner of the world that hadn’t been touched by them. By the Old Ones.

But of course, no one knew it was the Old Ones. At least almost no one.

‘Gigi?’ Carmen’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.

Gigi sighed, ‘Yeah I’m here. It’s them, I know it is’

Carmen sighed now, ‘The bad ones?’

‘The Old Ones’ Gigi corrected her.

‘Gigi, I don’t think… look’ a pause ‘are you taking your medication?’

Gigi bristled. ‘Yes.’

Carmen saw right through the lie, ‘No you’re not, look. Do I need to come stay with you for a bit again?’

Gigi thought it over, she enjoyed the company. But the work she was doing was too important to have eyes prying.

‘Hmm’ she said ‘No its okay, I’m okay. Really’.

Against her cheek, her phone vibrated. Glancing down at it for a second. She registered that it was a message on her blog. That was unusual, she thought. She hardly ever got messages on her blog and when she did it was the usual torrent of abuse.

She sighed again.

‘Carmen I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, alright. I’m fine, really’.

She clicked the end button to the sounds of Carmen’s protests.

Opening the message, she read it with some interest.

Hi,

How do you know about the Old Ones?

Her heart skipped a beat as she eyed the message for a minute before sitting down to pen a response, mulling over what to put.

Why would I tell you that, I don’t know you?

The response came quickly.

Fair enough,

My name’s Scott.

What’s yours?

Gigi.

How do YOU know about the Old Ones?

I asked first.

Okay…

You’ll probably think I’m crazy… but I read about them in a book.

What book?

A monk’s diary.

Gigi waited and waited, but no response ever came back.

She sighed again, putting down her phone.

Turning to the laptop, open in front of her. She pulled it closer and she sat down to pen a new article on her blog. Trying and failing to come up with anything worthwhile to write that she hadn’t before, she stopped and started for a good half hour before she resigned herself to the fact it just wasn’t going to happen that day.

As she pulled on her headphones; music trickled through the speakers straight into her mind. She danced along as she minimized the blog and opened her writing, cautiously typing away on the keys. Her mind drifted, the words seemingly coming out on their own. Flowing across the page with ease. As she wrote, a bird flapped down to the open window. Gigi looked up and smiled at it, holding a hand out to the creature; she cooed to it. But it just flew away.

She looked back to her laptop, smiling sadly to herself and closed the lid.

Scott pushed his chair back from the desk.

Reading and rereading the last message.

Picking up the laptop, he left the room.

Finding the others in the outside sitting area. He put it in front of them,

‘Read this’

Jamie leaned forward. Struggling the make out the words on the screen.

The others leaned in too.

Silence weaved its way through the group like a disease.

Turning to Scott, Matt asked. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘She’s got this... Blog. At first, I thought it was your typical conspiracy theory, end of the world, nutcase type thing. But get this, she talks about the Old Ones. A lot.’.

He sat down heavily.

‘Ask her how she got hold of the diary’ Richard piped up. ‘Try and get as much information out of her as you can’.

‘Me?’ Scott asked, confused. He glanced at Jamie, who nodded eagerly at him.

‘You’ve already contacted her; we don’t want to scare her off’. Jamie said, he lowered his voice. ‘You’ve got this, I know you can do it’.

Scott smiled at him. Pulling the laptop closer again and cautiously typing away.

PING

A new message came through on her blog, Gigi yawned and looked down at her phone. The time: 3.30am flashed back at her through the dim.

Are you open to meeting?

Gigi blinked then read the message again, No, was her first thought. But then again… maybe it was crazy. No, she wouldn’t meet him… but she could always Skype him, the thought occurred to her.

We could Skype?

Skype could work.

When?

As soon as possible?

How about now?

Gigi laughed.

You’re not in the UK, are you? Its 3.30 in the morning right now.

His fingers hovered over the keys for a second.

Oh sorry, no I’m not. I’m actually in Peru right now

It’s 9.30pm here.

How about in the morning?

Gigi?

But Gigi had fallen asleep, her phone pressed against her chest.

Sorry! I fell asleep

I imagine its not morning for you, for a while. Shall we say at 10 am for you?

Gigi looked down at her hands, rubbing them together.

He was probably asleep, she thought to herself.

Wondering what to do, she cast around the room. Eyeing the guitar in the corner and the rows of books, laying unread.

I could write for a bit. The thought came to her suddenly.

Gigi enjoyed writing stories. Well, she had until she had found the diary.

She sighed, sitting down to pen out more on her story anyway. There wasn’t much better to do till she heard back from him.

She spent the whole day worrying about the skype call. But when it finally came through at 4 o’clock exactly, she was relieved.

Gigi turned to the sound trickling from her laptop. The distinctive ring of an incoming call.

Wringing her hands together, she sat down in front of the screen. Nervousness clawing its way down in her stomach. With a deep breathe, she clicked answer.

The figure on the screen looked about as nervous as she felt, she mused to herself. Her anxiety levels lowering briefly.

‘Hi’ he said.

A little shyly, she thought to herself.

‘Hi’ she said.

He smiled at her.

She smiled back.

Scott looked down. He was nervous, really nervous. He wasn’t sure why one of the others hadn’t done this, he didn’t really feel like he was the right person for the job.

But here she was, blinking in front of him in HD.

He cast around for something, anything to say. He hadn’t prepared for this, though now he wished he had.

She was beautiful, he thought to himself. In a strange kind of way. Short dark blue hair, down to her chin stuck out at all angles.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then they both tried to talk at the same time.

They laughed.

‘Go on’ she said, her eyes twinkling.

‘What’s the weather like there?’ he asked, it sounded stupid. He knew it full well, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

With a laugh, she turned the laptop to the window. Showing him the rain falling heavily outside.

‘What about you?’ she asked,

He did the same, the screen illuminated by the bright sunlight.

She sighed, ‘I’ll trade you’

That got a smile out of him, she thought.

She looked down, taking the opportunity to remind herself to breathe.

He was attractive, she couldn’t deny it. She would have guessed about the same age as her. His dark hair was falling in his face. It was long, down to his shoulders.

‘So, the Old Ones’

She looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

‘The Old Ones’ she said, grimacing.

‘How’d you come across the Monks diary, Gigi?’ he said, getting straight to the point.

‘I can’t tell you that, Scott’ she said, sighing.

‘Why not?’ he was slightly annoyed, he didn’t particularly want to be doing this. But he’d promised Jamie he would do it, so here he was.

‘I don’t know anything about you, tell me why you want to know and maybe I’ll tell you’

‘You know more about me then you think’ he said, suddenly thinking of something.

‘Do I? how?’

‘Hang on’. He leaned forward, typing on the laptop for a minute.

A link buzzed in the chat box.

She clicked it open and was faced with her own article, taken straight from her blog.

The Five and why we need them. The title screamed at her in black and white.

Minimizing the screen, she watched him for a minute.

‘What exactly are you saying?’ she asked. Watching him wearily.

‘I’m one of the five’ he said, holding her gaze through the screen.

She blinked at him, raising an eyebrow ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘We all are’ he said.

‘Who’s we?’ she asked alarmed.

Scott sighed. ‘There’s four of us so far. Hang on, Jamie. Come here’ he said. Waving someone off screen over to him.

A second face appeared on screen.

Gigi blinked at them. Once, Twice.

‘Jamie’s my brother’ Scott explained, smiling.

‘Yes, I can see that’ Gigi remarked, eyeing the twins. They were perfectly identical. Down to every last hair on their head.

‘and you’re both… one of the five?’

‘There’s Matt and Pedro too’ Jamie explained, sitting down next to Scott.

‘Tell me something only the five would know’ she said. ‘So, I know you are who you say you are’. She desperately wanted to believe them. But she had to know, had to made sure. She needed to be positive if she was going to tell them about the diary.

Exchanging a look with Jamie, Scott turned to the screen and sighed.

‘We know about the doors.’

‘Anyone could know about the doors’ Gigi pointed out, trying and failing to sound certain.

‘There’s one In Lake Tahoe, Nevada. We went through it and ended up at Cuzco, Peru.’

‘You went … through the doors?’ she asked, taken aback for a second.

Okay, she thought to herself This changed things.

She shimmied closer to the screen.

Scott was eyeing Gigi as she looked back at them with something like awe.

‘You really are, aren’t you? You’re one of the Five’ she said, gazing across at them.

She smiled then, a genuine smile. It opened up her face in a way he hadn’t noticed before.

He smiled back at her.

‘Do you have powers? The diary talked about powers….’ She trailed off.

Jamie laughed, ‘Yes we have powers, we’re telepathic, Matt can move things with his mind and Pedro’s a healer’.

She was speechless.

‘Show me.’ She said finally.

Jamie Laughed again. ‘It’s not going to work with you so far away, Gigi’.

Frowning, Gigi got up from her chair and paced back and forth in front of the screen.

‘We want to meet you, in person. To talk about the diary, the Old Ones, all of it really’ Jamie said,

Scott had frozen up. This happened an awful lot and it worried Jamie every time.

Glancing at his brother, he continued.

‘We think the last of the five is in the UK, we’re going to fly over soon and meet with her. Can we meet with you too?’

‘Meet with me? Why would you want to do that?’ she asked, alarmed. Thinking hard to herself, she tried to come up with a way out of it. Panic crept into her heart.

Because the truth was, Gigi hadn’t left her house in months, she was too scared to. She seemed to permanently live, camped out in her Living Room. With the curtains drawn, the dim light of her laptop the only thing illuminating her. Gigi’s family and friends had long since given up trying to help her out of the dark hole she lived in. Everybody that was, except Carmen.

Jamie was taken aback. ‘I thought you would want to meet us’ he said, his hurt obvious in his voice.

‘YES! sorry no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just… I do want to meet you, that would be... so good’ her voice faltered in the end. She cursed herself for being so anxious.

‘How soon, is soon?’ she asked, cautiously.

‘In about two weeks’ Jamie replied, smiling at her again.

Gigi stopped pacing, that was soon. Sooner then she had expected.

She wasn’t sure she could do this. A Skype call was one thing. But meeting up meant leaving the house, leaving the safety of this makeshift sanctuary she had made for herself. The situation, it had slowly crept up on her, till she felt she couldn’t leave the house at all.

‘Two weeks’ she repeated.

‘Is that okay?’ Jamie asked,

‘Yeah, sure. Two weeks’.

Two weeks could work, she thought to herself. That gave her time to prepare.

Jamie smiled at her again.

‘So, how did you come across the monk’s diary?’ he asked.

Gigi blew out a breath. ‘Oh, I don’t know. How long do you have? It’s a long story’

Jamie checked his watch, ‘we’ve got time’.

Gigi sat down in front of the screen once more.

‘Ages ago I worked in this little, old book shop. We would get donations of books all the time and I was the one that would sort through them all, well as you probably guessed we got given the diary. It was just dumped on us with a load of other books one day. I was bored, so I decided to read it. With some difficulty, its mainly in Spanish. But I like a challenge. So I pulled out my dictionary and started translating and let me tell you, its really something. Demons, witches, Old Ones. End of the world. The Five.’ She looked at them wistfully for a few minutes.

‘How come you believed it?’ Scott asked, finally getting the words out.

‘Well, I didn’t at first. But then…’.

‘Something happened?’ he guessed, ‘What happened?’ he asked,

She sighed.

‘You wouldn’t believe me’ she said, quietly.

‘I think we would believe almost anything’ Jamie said with a laugh.

‘What if it’s the almost, though’ she asked, suddenly sounding very anxious.

The twins exchanged a look.

‘What happened?’ Scott asked again.

‘It’d be easier to show you, but... could I do it when we meet?’

‘Sure…’ Jamie said. ‘We should get going’ he glanced at Scott again, ‘It was nice to meet you Gigi’

‘Yeah’ she smiled ‘It was nice to meet you too’

‘Can we call you again? Maybe tomorrow?’

Gigi raised an eyebrow, ‘Okay’ she said simply.

‘Bye Gigi’.

‘Bye.’ She said. Leaning forward and clicking the end button.

Gigi stared at the blank screen for a minute, then smiled to herself. That had been…interesting.

#Power of Five #Po5 #Pof

2 notes · View notes

iamcalmdammit · 5 years ago

Text

Hit me with your best shot (Quentin Beck x reader)

The first thing you saw after you came back? A car heading your way. Then it hit you. Literally.

Next thing you knew, a guy was kneeling next to you on the concrete, dialing 911 while swearing under his breath. A crowd of people were already gathering around you, some asking around to see if there was a doctor nearby.

Letting out a painful groan, you tried to sit up but someone immediately pushed you back. “I don’t think moving is a good idea. Let’s wait with that until the ambulance arrives,” the unknown man said with an awkward smile. Was he trying to calm you down or himself? You weren’t sure.

It was only then that you both realized what was happening around you. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who showed up out of nowhere. Everyone was trying to figure out where all of you came from and only a minute or two later you caught someone saying it was 2023.

“Wait, no, it doesn’t make sense,” you muttered weakly. “It’s 2018 and–”

“Oh my God, Joseph, you–you’re alive!” a woman not far from you said into her phone as she tried to fight back her tears of joy. “It’s been so long and I thought I’d lost you forever!”

The man who was still by your side furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at you then said, “So you’re one of those who disappeared five years ago.” When you let out a questioning hum, he sighed. “Look, I’ve just hit you with my car–and for that I’m really, really sorry–so I don’t think now is the best time to discuss this.”

You nodded even though you were dying to understand what was happening. How had you ended up on the street in front of his car? How the hell could it be 2023? Nothing really made sense at the moment.

Finally the ambulance arrived and you automatically answered every single question the paramedics asked you. You knew you were fine physically, the worst injury was probably a broken bone, but mentally you were a mess.

You caught a piece of conversation while they put you in the ambulance: the yet unknown man asked one of the paramedics which hospital they were taking you to.

He wasn’t the only one he should get this piece of information though. What about your family? How would they react to you suddenly coming back after all those years–if that was true, of course–and also being hit by a car right away? Then again, you didn’t even know if they were okay.

Several hours later you were sitting on a hospital bed, only moving if you really had to since that broken rib hurt as hell. Other than that, you got out of the accident with only a few bruises and a mild headache. A doctor had called your parents who could barely believe you were still alive, then they promised to come to LA with the first flight they could get on.

While you waited you tried to catch up with the past few years with the help of the internet, hoping you could understand what happened a little better. But there were no answers, only questions. And, apparently, the number of questions had only grown in the last couple of hours. Where were you? What was it like? Did it hurt when you disappeared? Can you remember anything? Do you feel sick? Does anything feel different? Do you know what happened? Why did you disappear? How did you get back?

Letting out a groan, you closed your laptop and threw your head back to look at the ceiling.

“Can I come in?” a voice asked, breaking the suffocating silence.

When you looked at the door, you noticed the man who was the reason why you were in this hospital in the first place. But you weren’t mad at him. There were more important matters to be worried or mad about right now. “Sure,” you said in the end, flashing a small smile at him.

After a short moment of hesitation he walked inside, awkwardly holding up a small flower bouquet. “Again, I’m really, really, terribly sorry for what happened,” he began as he set the flowers on the table next to your bed. “I couldn’t stop in time.”

“Don’t worry, I just showed up in the middle of the road. It’s no one’s fault,” you assured him with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Quentin Beck. I wish we’ve met under different circumstances.” You raised an eyebrow in question and he cleared his throat before looking down at his hands. “I mean, this isn’t how I usually meet new people, I swear,” he said with a quiet laugh. “How are you?”

You shrugged, but it turned out to be a bad idea. You winced in pain and put a hand on your side as you said, “Well, I have a broken rib and a few bruises, but that’s all.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious. Does your family know you’re… back?”

“Yes, they’re already on their way he–”

“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over,” a nurse said quite sternly, interrupting you as she gave Quentin a pointed look. “You need to leave now, sir.”

He nodded and stood up, running a hand through his brown hair as he looked down at you. “I left a small card among the flowers with my number. You know, in case you wanted to talk to someone about what happened.”

Your lips turned into a smile. “Thank you, Quentin.”

“Get some rest,” he said kindly before heading to the door.

“Goodbye,” you called after him.

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back your head to look at the ceiling once again. It was nice to have company, someone who took your mind off this madness. You quickly glanced at the flowers, wondering if you should ask a nurse to put them in some water. In the end you made a mental note to do so the next time one of them came in to check on you. But you would surely get the card out of there to make sure it remained unharmed and dry. Who knew, maybe one day you would need his number.

note: geez, i’m out of practice. it’s been a while since i wrote imagines. i hope it’s not complete trash. also, i hate myself for that title but i couldn’t stop myself.

note 2: what do you think? feedback is always appreciated. also if you want to be on a taglist or something, feel free to leave a note.

#quentin beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio #mysterio imagine #far from home #spider man far from home #spider man #spiderman

196 notes · View notes

writerfae · 5 years ago

Text

@thegirlwithnonickname here are chapter two and three of Always by your side!

I still remember how I wrote chapter three... sitting in my bed listening to "Grow Old With Me" by Michael Schulte on repeat and crying xD I can really recommend that song, it fits the story and especially chapter three very well!

Chapter 2

Tyler lay down and took his phone from the bedside table. He dialed Lucas number. Even though it was already pretty late he answered immediately. As usual.

'Hey.'

Tyler closed his eyes. 'Hello Lucas.'

For a moment there was silence. But than Lucas started to talk again.

'They're fighting again, am I right?'

Tyler nodded. He could hear them downstairs.

'Yes', he whispered. Lucas sighed.

'What's the reason this time?'

Tyler clutched to his phone.

'I don't think they need a reason anymore. Especially dad.'

'Damn. Do you want me to come over?'

Tyler shook his head.

'Don't be silly, it's the middle of the night.'

"So what? I can sneak out.'

Tyler wouldn't doubt that. It wouldn't be the first time.

'You don't have to come over.'

'Sure?'

'Yes.'

'Okay, when you think so... Hey, have you heard...'

He started talking about some story he heard in school or on the internet or somewhere else.

He didn't care if the story was true or not. He was just talking.

And Tyler didn't care either, as long as he heard Lucas voice.

It was calm and familiar. That always calmed Tyler down.

After some time Lucas stopped and asked: 'Is everything alright now?'

Tyler took a deep breath. "Yeah everything's alright.'

'Good. Good night Ty.'

'Good night Lucas.'

That's how it went everytime. When Tyler's parents were fighting late at night Tyler called Lucas. Then they talked until Tyler could forget about his fighting parents.

No matter to what hour, Lucas was always there. Tyler would often flee to Lucas and his family when the situation at home was too much for him to take.

And especially when he was a young boy his mom used to send him over to Lucas home when she knew that her husband would start a fight again. She didn't wanted her son to see that. And she knew that Tyler was in good hands when he was with Lucas family.

He was always welcomed there.

~~~

As Tyler walked down the stairs he could hear his mother talking to someone. His father was at work, so that probably meant she had a guest.

Tyler hesitated. He didn't really feel like having company right now.

But suddenly he recognized the second voice - it was Lucas mother.

Tyler walked down a few steps so he could hear the two women talking.

He sat down at one of the stairs so they wouldn't see him and started to listen.

'... really strong, you and your husband.'

'We... we try our best. It's hard. But we try.'

Lucas mom sounded like she had cried. It reminded Tyler of her call on the day Lucas had died.

Just thinking about that made him wanna go back to his room.

'Say, how is Tyler doing?'

Tyler froze as he heard his name.

'He's not feeling good. The boy hasn't really left his room since Lucas funeral. Sometimes I hear him cry, late at night... It's really hard for him.'

'The poor boy. It would've break Lucas heart. Tyler was his best friend.'

'And Lucas was Tyler's best friend.'

Tyler stood up and walked down the rest of the steps.

'And he'll always be my best friend', he said.

The two women looked at him in surprise.

'Tyler', they both said.

Lucas mom stood up, walked towards him and hugged him.

"It's nice to see you Tyler.' She smiled. It was a sad smile.

'Sit down darling', his mother said.

Tyler took a seat and Lucas mom sat down as well.

Tyler's mother brought them a cup of tea.

'I'll leave you alone.' Then she left the room.

Lucas mother took a sip of her coffee. Then she looked at Tyler.

'I'm here because I wanted to thank you. For your speech. I didn't had the chance to do it at the... at Lucas funeral.'

Tyler could remember his speech. He had to stop halfways because he started to cry. In front of the whole community.

'Lucas deserved a way better speech.'

'Don't say that Tyler. It was beautiful. Lucas would've liked it.'

Tyler wasn't sure about that.

'I should've finished it.'

He was still angry about it. Lucas would've ended the speech. He was strong. Tyler wasn't.

Lucas mother shook her head. 'What's important is what you said, not whether you finished it or not. It was really important for us. That's why I want to thank you.'

'You don't have to. He was my best friend. It was the least I could do.'

Lucas mom smiled. 'Yeah... My little boy... he always wanted siblings, did you know that? He used to ask me when he'll finally get a little brother.'

The memory made her laugh. It sounded a bit like Lucas laugh. Tyler missed it...

'He always wanted someone he could play with. Someone he could protect. He never stopped to ask me. That's it, until he met you. Since he befriended you he never asked again. I think... he had you and that was all he needed.'

She took Tyler's hand. 'He really loved you. You were like a brother to him. You know, I'm really glad that you and Lucas found each other.'

'I am glad too. Really. I...' He stopped.

There was so much he wanted to tell her. He wanted to say how important Lucas was to him. How thankful Tyler was for everything he had done for him. That he changed his life. That he showed him what friendship meant. And he wanted to tell her how much he missed Lucas.

But as Tyler looked at Lucas mom he suddenly realized there's no need to say all this out loud. She knew.

She let go of his hand and stood up.

'I have to go now. My husband is waiting for me. Thanks for your time.'

She smiled at Tyler's mom, who just came back into the room.

'I'll bring you to the door', his mom said.

'Okay. Goodbye Tyler.'

Tyler stood up and said goodbye as well.

'Wait, I almost forgot. There's something I wanted to give you.'

She searched her purse for a small object and gave it to him. As he looked at it he knew what it was. He couldn't believe his eyes.

'That's... that's...'

'Lucas bracelet.' Lucas mother nodded.

'I can't accept this...'

The little item in his hand was really the leathern bracelet Lucas used to wear. He already owned it when Tyler met him. Lucas loved the bracelet.

It was a gift from his late grandfather. It was something special to him. And a huge keepsake.

'Yes, you can. Lucas would've wanted you to have it. I know you'll take good care of it.'

She closed his hand around the bracelet and hugged him again. Then she left.

Tyler stood alone in the kitchen. He opened his hand and looked at the bracelet.

It felt like a piece of Lucas came back to him.

And he swore he would never let it go.

Chapter 3

'Come on, Tyler. Get out of there', his mom called.

But ten years old Tyler refused to leave his hideout. He was lying in his bed, the blanket raised over his head. He knew it was childish. He didn't care.

'I don't want to.'

Today was the first day at the new school and Tyler didn't want to go. He was scared. Because a new school meant new people and a lot of changes. He hated changes.

'But you have to. Otherwise you'll be late for school.'

Tyler ignored his mom's words. But suddenly a second voice caught his attention.

'Yeah she's right! We'll be late!'

Tyler recognized it immediately.

'Lucas?'

The other boy made his way to Tyler's bed and lifted the blanket a bit to get a look at his friend.

'Yeah it's me. I've been waiting for you, buddy. It's our big day today! Why are you hiding?'

No answer. Lucas sighed.

'Let me guess. It's about school isn't it? I promise you, it will be fun! You don't need to worry.'

'But... I am worried, Lucas. All the new teachers and classmates...'

Lucas was an optimist. Where Tyler only thought about the negative things, Lucas saw what was good. And he tried to let Tyler see it too.

'... won't harm you. Come on Ty, we can't stay in elementary school forever. Sure, there are new people. Some things may change, but that's not a bad thing. Just think about all the new things we'll learn!'

That was one of the reasons Tyler was glad to have him as a friend.

'Besides, you're not alone there! We're in the same class, remember? I'm with you. That won't change. We'll get through it together. We're partners, right?'

Tyler peered from under his blanket to look at Lucas, who was smiling at him. And he returned the smile, because he knew that Lucas was right after all.

No matter what might happen. No matter what might change. He wasn't alone. His friend was there. They were a team.

'Then let's go, partner!' Tyler, now a little less scared, finally got out of his hideout.

'That's what I wanted to hear.', Lucas said.

Tyler's mom once said that one of the most beautiful things about Lucas and Tyler's friendship was how they were always there for each other and how they complemented the other perfectly.

Lucas had enough joy living inside of him to lift Tyler up when he was feeling down and Tyler's steady personality calmed Lucas down when he overextended himself.

~~~

As Tyler went into the school building, he almost felt like back when he had his first day at this school. Everything seemed strange and exclusive. The many students, the colorless walls and the noise.

But this time he was alone. Lucas wasn't there to make him feel safe.

Tyler had begged his parents to let him stay at home for another few days. But they said no, so he had to go.

He felt completely overstrained. He spent the last few days alone without talking to someone besides his parents and Lucas mom.

Now that he was surrounded by people again, he was lost.

It wasn't just that he was alone, everyone was starring at him too. Everyone knew about Lucas. And everyone knew that Tyler was his best friend.

So everyone was looking at the guy who just lost his only real friend.

It must've been a strange sight. Tyler had the hood of his hoddie pulled down low to cover up his insomnia and grief marked face and to block everyone out.

But the strangest thing was to see him without Lucas.

Even in school there had always been Lucas and Tyler, Tyler and Lucas. Everyone knew that. The people were used to see the two of them together all the time.

Tyler without Lucas however... That wasn't normal.

And for Tyler it was a nightmare.

He struggled to get through the lessons. He never said a word. All he did was sitting in his classes, lost in thought, playing with Lucas bracelet around his wrist and starring at the blackboard. He couldn't recognize a single word that was said during the lessons.

He couldn't focus. Tyler just wanted to escape.

He could do without the trivial lessons and the pitiful glances of teachers and students.

~~~

'Tyler! Hey! Wait! Tyler!'

Tyler kept walking. All he wanted to do is survive the break and the lessons afterwards so he can go home again. Was it that much to ask for?

'Come on, wait! Hey!'

Someone grabbed his arm. Tyler stopped and turned around. It was Maya.

'What do you want?'

Maya was one of the people Lucas and Tyler spent their breaks with.

It was a small group of people that started to gather around the two boys in the past few years.

Slightly shocked by the rough sound of Tyler's voice Maya let go of his arm.

'I-I just wanted to ask you where you're going. Surely our friends are already waiting. We normally meet every break, remember?'

Actually Maya and the others were Lucas friends, not his. Because everyone loved Lucas. And they accepted Tyler, but he was never a real part of their group. Or at least it never felt like it. He never felt really close to any of them.

'Well, go and meet your friends then. I prefer being alone.'

'But why don't you wanna come with us? I'm sure it would be good for you to have some company. Lucas would've wanted...'

'Don't you tell me what Lucas would have wanted!', Tyler cut her off.

Maya flinched.

'Tyler...'

But Tyler wasn't listening.

'No! I can't sit there with you as if everything is alright. Because it's not! Maybe you can do it, laughing and talking like you always do. But I can't. Not when Lucas is gone and you all are acting as if everything is like it used to be. Nothing is like it used to be anymore."

Tyler didn't noticed that he overacted. He was just full of anger and frustration. It was all too much for him. And he wasn't able to control himself, not yet.

'That's not true Tyler, and you know it! Of course nothing is like it used to be. Lucas is dead and that's horrible! And we all miss him so much. You might not think that, but we do! Just because we still meet up doesn't mean we forgot about him or that he wasn't important to us. In contrary! Because he was. And he'll always be. But life has to go on Tyler. Please, I just mean well.'

Maya sighed.

'Listen, I know you two were pretty close to each other. You knew him longer than any of us. And I know how you feel. But what you just said about us isn't fair.'

'Leave me alone!', Tyler shouted. 'You know nothing!'

'He was my friend too. Our friend. You're not the only one who lost him.'

'Not the only one, huh? Not the only one! But he was my only friend, understand? The only one I ever had. My best friend! For nine years! Nine damn years.

You haven't spent nearly every day with him since you were eight years old. He never visited you as you broke your leg because you fell from a tree while climbing or tried to comfort you because your parents were fighting again.

He was always there. And now he's gone and I'm alone! I'm alone...'

His last words were just a whisper. Tyler felt how tears started streaming down his face. He couldn't tell if it was because of anger or grief or both. All he knew was that he had to leave. Leave this horrible school.

So he wiped of his tears, turned around and ran.

Away from the school building, past hundreds of students. No one stopped him. Maya stayed behind. Speechless.

~~~

'Lucas?'

'Yeah?'

'We'll always be friends, won't we?'

'Of course!'

'No matter what's gonna happen?'

'No matter what's gonna happen.'

'Even when we're adults?'

'Even when we're old and grey. You and I. Till the end.'

'Promise?'

'Promise!'

~~~

The last time Tyler visited Lucas and his spot was on the day Lucas died. He never dared to visit it afterwards. Until now.

After he ran away from school he got back to this place. He and Lucas used to be there a lot.

Tyler didn't knew where else to go. He couldn't go back to school. Or home.

This was the only place he could be alone. No one would notice his breakdown. Or hear his screams.

'You promised! You hear me? Promised! You said... you said you and I... we... you said...'

Tyler thought they had a lot of time left. Their whole lives. After all they would always be friends. They would always be there for each other. No matter what. That's what they promised each other.

But fate didn’t seem to care about little boys’ promises.

'Why? Why you of all peolpe?'

Tyler sat down on the floor, his back against a large rock.

Slowly his anger turned back into the familiar feeling of grief and despair.

Suddenly he just felt... exhausted. So he closed his eyes for a while.

As he was sitting there, eyes closed, he had the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone.

But that was impossible. No one ever came here. Still, it felt like someone... or something was with him.

So he opened his eyes and what he saw shocked him. There was indeed someone. Right in front of him. And he watched him with concern.

Tyler recognized his face immediately. This face - He would know it in death.

But... that wasn't possible.

'Lucas?'

#again this is the original unedited 2017 version #writer speaks #writing #my writing #writeblr #wip: always by your side #discontinued #story #chapter 2 #chapter 3

3 notes · View notes

all-hail-the-witcher · 5 years ago

Text

save your strength and stay alive

so so so

today is,,,fizz’s birthday !!!

yeah my two internet friends have birthdays one day apart what were the heckin odds

anyway so forever ago I wrote this au where Albert was this weird low key villain and now heres part three

part 1

part 2

_____

ship: I honestly dont even know, failed ralbert, platonic sprace ??

genre: the phattest angst

warnings: character death, car accidents, bleeding, lots of blood, abuse mentions, sex mentions, mentions of low key cheating, sorta panic attack, major guilt, sad stuff, rain, thunder storms, cursing, be careful kids

editing: m e h

words: 2030

_____

Spot squinted into the rain, flinching every time a boom of thunder banged in the sky above him. The wind was howling, almost drowning out the pounding of his heart that sounded in his ears with every breath. The dirt road was thick with mud and he knew that he could get stuck at any moment.

But getting stuck wasn’t an option. He had to find Race.

Hopefully there was still a Race left to find.

The rain was coming down in sheets so thick that even with his headlights on high he could hardly see a foot in front of the car. It didn’t help that he was on one of the back roads of the Blue Ridge Mountains and was, hence, surrounded by trees.

But, this was Race’s thinking spot. There was a clearing about another mile or so down this road that Race would go to when he was overwhelmed and needed to clear his head. Spot couldn’t imagine that there was any other place he could have gone, but he had made Romeo stay at home just in case Race decided to come back.

“Fucking hell,” Spot cursed as a crack of lightning pierced the sky. He hated the thought of Race being out in this weather: alone, miserable, and suffering. They wouldn’t even be in this predicament if it weren’t for Albert Fucking DaSilva.

Spot still couldn’t believe that Albert had intentionally hit Race. It didn’t matter what someone’s past was, any person should have the decency and the sense alone not to hit someone.

And then there was the fact that he had made out with someone mere minutes after hooking up with Race. Spot understood that one night stands came with their own set of rules and were not for those, like himself, who had standards, but it seemed odd to him that Albert had decided to make out with Finch when Race was standing in the same room and then have the audacity to ask for a round two.

But then again, what did his virgin ass know?

The bottom line still remained though: Albert had hurt Race worse than anyone had in years, and, once Spot found Race, they were not allowed near each other again. There was no one in the entire world that Spot cared about more than Race and Romeo. At this point the both of them practically lived with Spot and his mom since Race’s dad was never around and when he was he was always drunk and both of Romeo’s parents spent weeks on end in DC where they worked with the Secret Service.

The three of them had grown up together and vowed to always protect each other. He and Race had wreaked havoc on a few of Romeo’s particularly nasty exes. Spot was certain that he and Romeo would be doing the same to Albert. No one messed with their family.

There was a piercing BOOM! and Spot jumped, losing control of the wheel for a second. His tires slid across the slick mud and he struggled to regain control of the car.

“Fuck come on!” Spot tensed his arm muscles as he turned the wheel as hard as he could into the skid. His foot fumbled for the brake pedal and he put all his weight into slamming it into the ground. He held his breath, waiting for the car to stop and hopefully not skid into the tree line, but, just when he thought he was safe, he felt his car smack into something very, very solid.

Spot’s eyes flew open - when had he closed them? - and was met with the sight of the bed of Race’s unmistakably totaled pickup truck smashed into the front of his car.

For one second Spot sat paralyzed with fear, a million scenarios running through his head: he had just killed his best friend, no, Race wasn’t in the car, no he had to be in the car, but, since he had hit the bed of his truck maybe he was okay, Spot’s airbag hadn’t gone off so maybe it wasn’t that bad but he could be bleeding out or dead or dying or severely injured or dead he could be dead he could be dead what the hell was he doing he could have just killed his best friend-

Spot wrestled with his seatbelt and pushed open his door, not even feeling the rain as it soaked him through. The drivers door of Race’s car was smashed in -which later Spot would realize meant that the accident was not his fault because he had hit the bed of the truck, not the side- and after struggling with the handle for a minute Spot gave up and went around the passenger’s side. Thankfully, the door was fully intact on this side and Spot pulled it open.

The first thing he registered was Race leaning against the wrecked drivers side door and he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then he saw the blood.

It was everywhere. On the seats, the door, the dashboard, the floor the shards of broken glass, and Race’s clothes, face and hair. Spot had never seen so much blood.

He pulled out his phone, praying that there was service out here in the middle of nowhere in a rainstorm, and dialed 911 - better to do that now than when he was choked up and overwhelmed by his actions later.

Then he ducked into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut behind him. If he was going to die, he might as well be a little less soaked.

“Race?” Spot called over the rain. “You with me?”

There was no response.

Spot’s stomach clenched and he scooted closer, extremely mindful of the broken glass scattered around him. He reached out to touch Race’s shoulder, but stopped short when he remembered the earlier interaction with Albert.

“Fucking DaSilva,” Spot muttered, opting to instead lean closer to his best friend. “Antonio,” he said firmly. “Can you hear me?”

Please respond, please respond, please respondpleaserespondpleasepleaseplease-

“S-sean?”

And just like that, everything was okay again.

“Yeah, I’m here, it’s okay.” Spot tried to sound soothing despite his nerves and the terrible looming thought that he was the one responsible for the accident. But, he needed to hear it from Race. “What happened kid?”

“Seanie, you’re-” Race coughed painfully and Spot winced, “uh, bleein’. Wha’ ‘appened?’”

“What?” Spot was confused and looked down at himself briefly before remembering that he was not the primary concern. “That doesn’t matter right now, kid. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“M’ ‘ead,” Race mumbled, closing his eyes again. “An’ m’ leg is stuck.”

“Okay.” Spot surveyed the wreck and saw that Race’s left leg was, in fact, pinned between the seat and the crushed door. Spot then noticed with alarm that there was a bloody stain on both the driver’s window and the steering wheel that matched with the injuries on Race’s head. At first, Spot wondered why the airbags hadn’t gone off, but then he remembered that Race had taken his airbags out to replace them with better ones because when he had bought his truck there had been a recall on them, but had never gotten around to it.

Spot put his head in his hands. He had insisted that Race reinstall the airbags in his truck, but clearly he hadn’t tried hard enough. Maybe if he had tried harder this wouldn’t have happened. Like maybe if he hadn’t agreed to let Race go to that party he wouldn’t be bleeding out right now. Maybe if he had just put in a little more effort, cared a little more this wouldn’t have-

“S’potti’?” Race’s weak voice pierced through Spot’s thoughts. “Wha’s wron’?”

There were so many things he could have said. I’m sorry I let Albert hit you? I’m sorry I let you go to that party? I’m sorry I didn’t force you to put those new fucking aribags in your truck? I’m sorry we’re sitting here right now? But Spot instead blurted out: “I’m sorry I hit your truck and hurt you like this, I skidded on some mud and it was dark and raining, and I didn’t see you until after I had already hit you and I’m just-I’m so sorry Tony.”

“‘ean, no, i’ wasn’ you- i-” Race’s words started to run together more, but there was a firmness behind them. “I’ wasn’ you. I’ ‘as som’ guy, he ‘it me ‘n drove away, an’ I go’ pushed int’ ‘he door, ‘n then a few mi’ut’s ago somethin’ ‘it th’ back o’ my truck ‘n my ‘ead jus’ bump’d th’ ‘teerin’ wheel, ‘n-”

“That was me Tony,” Spot whispered, cutting him off. “I hit the back of your car. God, I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to, you must be in so much pain, I-”

“No, no,” Race mumbled. “‘topp’d bein’ able t’ feel mucha anytin’ afta th’ firs’ few minutes o’ so.”

This comment did absolutely nothing to calm Spot’s fears.

“‘re you okay tho’?” Race asked, cracking open his eyes again to look at Spot. “‘f your ‘urt you needa take care’o yourself.”

“No, I’m fine kid. Don’t worry about me. The ambulance should be here for you soon anyhow and if they decide I need help, I’ll let them help me.”

Race shot him a sideways look that almost made Spot laugh before his eyes fluttered shut again. For a few painful seconds the silence between them was filled by just the rain pounding on the roof.

“I wish I never let you go to that party,” Spot whispered, toeing at the worn carpet with his boots. “Then none of this would have happened.”

“Don’ be sorry,” Race muttered, barely audible over the rain. “‘s betta this way. I was neva gonna ge’ betta anyway ‘n I was gonna de’troy m’self at somepoin’, betta now than latah, ya know? I’ve fough’ so ‘ard already anyway. There’s no poin’. Least I gotta ‘ave sex wit’ a hot guy on’ las’ time befo’ I died.”

Spot’s head snapped up. Why was Race acting so self destructive? He had probably just had a panic attack and that combined with whatever injuries he had sustained had sucked the last bit of energy out of him. Spot knew that that wasn’t good, Race always gave up in some sense after a panic attack, and he couldn;t have him doing that now, especially not now. He needed Race to keep breathing and survive this.

“Tony? No, hey, I need you, a lot of people need you, and you're gonna be fine anyway. The ambulance is gonna be here soon and they’re going to help you. It’s all going to be okay. Save your strength, okay?” Most of those words were for Spot’s own sake. He knew it was a very real possibility that Race would not make it, and Race’s own calmness toward the situation was not helping. Whenever Race had previously been injured, he had been freaking out and his state of calm was only adding to Spot’s nerves.

“Sean,” There was a sadness to Race’s voice that Spot had never heard before, “Everythin’s not goin’ t’ be okay, ‘n tha’s alrigh’. You’ll be fine, Ro will be fine, ‘s gonna be okay. I’ve ‘ad som’ time t’ think abou’ it. Jus’ know ‘s not your faul’ alrigh’?”

“Antonio, no, stop that,” Spot felt tears spring up behind his eyes. This was it, he was losing his best friend, and there was nothing he could do about it. What did you say to someone who had already accepted their death? What were you supposed to say? Did it even matter anymore?

“‘s okay Sean,” Race whispered. “I-” He coughed again and Spot felt his heart clench. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid,” Spot whispered.

“‘ell Ro I lov’ ‘im too.”

“I will,” Spot promised. “I promise.”

“Thank you fir everythin’,” Race struggled to keep his eyes open. “I couldn’ ‘ave ask’d fir a betta frien’.”

“Of course Antonio,” Spot whispered, watching powerlessly as Race’s eyes fell shut and didn’t open again. “Of course.”

_____

and thats that

there will be one more installment and hopefully you wont have to wait 6 months oops

hbd fizz

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the taglist

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan

@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@ughwaitwhat

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@voice-foundshoe-lost

@stopthe-presses

@ridin-in-style

@pinecovewoods

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@bencookisagod

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stellar-alpaca

@saxoph-ella

@smolcanadiankid

@disney-princess-sized

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@insane-tomato

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@thatfancyclam

@myidkwhatmynameisblog

@legoflambwrites

@not-a-scab

@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@tea-and-theater

@seasickdolphin

@auspicioustarantula

@newsies-of-ny

@mrs-higgins

@spot-me50-papes

@papesdontsellthemselves

@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@humanracoon

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@holistically-eating-cookie-cake

@nico-nat

#saphie scribbles #ralbert #sprace #oof #this ones rough #newsies #fic #all the angst #im sorry #newsies fic #Albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #spot conlon

36 notes · View notes

crowkingwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Battle of the Bands (Ch.15)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader, Jon Snow x Reader, Viserys Targaryen x Reader, Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You just moved into the city for the first tie all by yourself. After you get your dream summer job working for a small magazine, you find yourself in the middle of the city’s rock festival: Battle of the Bands. Local rock bands throughout the city compete to win a record deal that could change their lives. Your job? Get close to them and write about them online.A single girl in the city surrounded by rocker boys during the summertime. What could possibly go wrong?

Words: 2701 // AO3 Link

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine // Chapter Ten // Chapter Eleven // Chapter Twelve // Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fourteen

You couldn’t sleep much last night. You had spent it watching whatever you could find on Youtube. Music videos of Blackfyre, cute puppy videos, and some conspiracy video about how Joffery Baratheon was actually his uncle’s, not his father’s. You turned off the Internet after that one.

When you did finally wake up from what sleep you had, you were greeted with both Margaery and Loras in the living room. In front of Loras, a bag of tacos sat. The scent of the cilantro and chicken wafted into your nose. Both of them looked up to you, waiting for something.

“Morning,” you said and looked down.

“I bought you some tacos. Margie told me what happened last night. I told her what happened with Renly. So—

“You guys know everything now. I get it,” you responded in a short voice. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Margie stood up and offered you her seat. “Want a cup of coffee? I made us some this morning!”

“What is this? What are you guys doing?” you narrowed your eyes at the siblings.

“We don’t want you to leave,” Loras came out with it. He had always been up front with you especially when he didn’t need to be. Once he told you his honest opinion of your new boyfriend while he was sitting in front of him. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last long. Loras sighed and looked at his sister before continuing. “You just got here. You’re gonna fail, you know? I think you’re being harsh on yourself.”

“I don’t. I fucked up everything.”

“No! No you didn’t! Because you helped Loras and Renly get together right?” Margie shot a look at Loras.

“Oh! Yeah! Definitely! That was a major win!” Loras smiled. You looked at the bag of tacos and snatched it. As you unwrapped the first one, Margie put down some coffee for you. You shoed the first tacos in your mouth and you wondered why you even messed with boys in the first place. Who needs boys when you can have drama-free tacos?

“You should listen to Loras,” Margaery said. She tied up her hair in a messy bun and elaborated. “You just got here a few months back. You can’t leave now. You can’t give up on yourself like that.”

“I’m…not…giving,” you said between bites with as much breath as you had. “…up…on myself.”

“You are,” Margie raised an eyebrow.

“But I told you,” you started to cry a little. “I messed everything up.” Loras rubbed your back as you started to cry into your tacos. So much for drama free tacos. You should return the damned things. Who are you kidding? Who the fuck returns tacos?

“Do you still have friends?” Margie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have your job?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have a place to live,” Margie told you. “You haven’t fucked up as badly as you think you did. Please stay. The fest is almost over now anyways and all of this business will go away. I can even help you find a different job if you wanted me to.”

“She could,” Loras agreed. “I heard Robb’s a bad boss. You should probably quit anyways.”

“Loras! Not helping!” Margie snapped.

“Why? He can be such an ass sometimes. I don’t like the way he talks to you,” Loras responded. “Oh, and because Viserys talking to her was any better,” Margie rolled her eyes. “Look, you just had a weird fucking summer. Don’t go, ok?”

“No,” you shook your head. “You weren’t there. Robb walked into the office, holding his face. Then, I watched him yell at his dad that Jon was the problematic child.”

“See? Bad boss,” Loras nodded.

“No. Not the fucking point, Loras,”you clarified. “I did that. I caused that fight between them. I made them fight over me and they’re really angry at each other. I tore them apart. Then, I thought of what I wrote about Viserys and now he’s losing everything. He has a real reason to sue me. And Ramsay can’t ever play music again and it makes him so happy, and—

“You’re spiraling,” Margie grabbed your wrist before you put the fourth tacos in your mouth. “Breathe.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled. You held it for three seconds and then you let go. You still didn’t feel much better, but it was an improvement.

“I still want to go home,” you confessed. “I just don’t feel good here anymore. I could go back home and work in my dad’s bookshop. He’d be really happy to have me, I think.”

“Are you really that set on it?” Loras nudged you.

“I think I am,” you nodded.

“Then that’s that.”

“WHaT? nO!” Margaery reacted. “Y/N are you hearing yourself? You can’t go back home! It’s—

“Margie. It’s done, ok?” Loras shot a look her way. “This is what she wants to do. We should support her.” Margie sat back and looked away for a moment. She lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke behind her.

“Alright,” she said defeated. “But, I’m helping you go home, ok? No Dornish goodbye shit.”

“Dornish goodbye? That’s a good name for a rock band,” Loras nodded. “Sexy.”

After you packed all of your books, you took a break. You opened your laptop to your article about Viserys. 50K shares and thousands of comments. You closed your eyes and said ‘Fuck’ to yourself. You closed your laptop and grabbed your phone.

No messages from anyone. No phone calls. Just an empty home screen with increasing number of shares on the Viserys article. You dialed your mom.

“Hello? Honey?” Your mom’s voice was the best thing you heard in weeks. Her sweet, caring tone always hit you where it hurt the most.

“Hi mom,” you had tears in your eyes again.

“Oh honey! What’s wrong?”

“I wanna come home, Mom. I mucked it up pretty bad here. I don’t wanna be here anymore.” You felt an anxious wordy waterfall about to spill from your core.”

“Oh…,” you heard her shifting around. “Oh, sweetheart. Come home. It’s alright. I’ll take a few days off of work, and I can bring you home. Does that sound ok?” Your parents weren’t aware of your more careless lifestyle. Both of them were incredibly conservative. When you told them you were moving into the King’s City, your father fought on you it tooth and nail.

“Thank you, Mom,” you smiled through your tears. “That sounds okay. I just need to, uh, put my ducks in order. Can I call you later?” It was happening. You were going home. You thought of yourself when you first moved here. You remember getting your job and celebrating at the Sunspot. Then, your smile was covered in cheap beer and taco sauce.

Now, you sat in a room with a fourth of your things packed. Your room was getting emptier each second. You turned off your phone and curled up into your bed. You weren’t too proud to admit it, but you left your phone off for three days. Margie would check in on you from time to time, and she would help you pack.

But she wouldn’t push or try to convince you to stay. You stayed in your bed mostly for those three days. You watched countless hours of all the Netflix you could handle. On the fourth morning, you woke up. No, you wouldn’t spend your last days inside your apartment, feeling shitty about yourself. You were better than that. You deserve better than that.

You got properly dressed in a band t-shirt and shorts. Your favorite pair of dirty converse shoes carried you all the way back to the Battle of the Bands. The first thing you noticed was the yellow ticket. Everyone had a yellow ticket in their hands. You saw a few new yellow tents that hadn’t been here before. When you walked over, you realized what it was.

The final voting for the battle. Everyone was deciding who would win.

You quickly picked up one on your own, and walked away from the crowding line. You saw entries for Favorite Folk Band, Favorite Rock Band, Favorite Solo Act, and so much more. At the bottom, you saw the last final contest: Winner of Battle of the Bands – Favorite Act. Your pen itched between your fingers.

You could pick Viserys. Blackfyre was a fun band to watch, and you enjoyed their rock music. Maybe Viserys could forgive you for what you wrote, and maybe you wanted to forgive him for pushing you away like that. There was something between you two that you couldn’t let go. When you were around him, he made you feel like the only person in the room.

You left him hungry. Viserys was fucking dragon after all. He was hungry for kissing, hungry for attention, but hungry for you the most. Was he about to be a world-famous rock star? Maybe. Was he a good kisser? Of course. Did you want him after breaking it off with you? You didn’t know. If you picked Viserys, you could tame the dragon yourself.

Or you pick Jon. Jon wasn’t technically part of the Battle of the bands, but you wrote about him anyways. You knew he deserved the attention. People flocked to the pub to see him after you wrote about him. There’s something about Jon that you found so hopelessly romantic and true. Jon who was your friend first and defended you in front of anybody—including his own family.

You admired his loyalty to you, but you were scared of what that meant. Commitment was never your strongest point, and you didn’t want to hurt Jon. You knew how much his heart meant to him. He wanted to give it to you so badly that he was willing to wait for you. If you picked Jon, you may be picking forever with Jon.

Ramsay wasn’t boyfriend material by any means. You couldn’t even write his band name down because they were cut. Ramsay was the type of individual who did stupid shit because he could. Being an awful ass was the best twenty-four hour job he loved the most. Any time his hands were on you, you felt an electricity that surged through you. Ramsay was bad and exciting.

He wanted you. He had a hold on you stronger than any other man. He liked competing for you. He liked chasing you, and maybe you wanted him to keep chasing you. You shook your head. Ramsay would be the stupid choice, but it would be the most fun one. You didn’t want to fix Ramsay, you wanted Ramsay to break you. If you picked Ramsay, you would be buying your ticket to Hell.

Then there was Robb. From the moment you met him, everything seemed like a perfect, romantic Hollywood movie. From his bluest eyes to his good protective nature, he seemed so perfect. Robb believed in you. He gave you your first job on your own. He gave you front page, resources, and his help. He wanted to make you better.

But he was also possessive and cruel and cold. He was a true wolf. Fiercely loyal to his pack and attacked whenever provoked. You never knew if Robb was happy or upset with you. One minute he’s kind and wonderful, and then the next he makes you feel like the worst person in the room. One thing was for sure, he cared for you. You knew the way he looked at you because you looked at him the same way. If you picked Robb, you picked a love that was more than yourself.

All four of them swam in your head constantly circling like spokes on a wheel. That one’s on top, and that one’s on top, and on and on it spins. It was time to break the wheel.

You grabbed your phone and did the bravest thing you did all day. Your cell had been off for three and a half days now. You pressed the power button on your phone to turn it back on.

At first, you thought it was a glitch. Nothing came until one missed call showed up. Another missed call showed up. Text messages spilled through. Snapchats and Likes and Mentions and Comments. Voicemails and emails filled your inbox.

You saw a lot of backlash and celebration for your troublesome article. You couldn’t bring yourself to read some the hurtful comments hardcore fans left for you. You went to Snapchat and saw your sister’s new puppy. It gave you a smile.

And then you saw it. 52 missed calls. Several text messages. You looked at Robb’s first.

Robb to you: [So you’re leaving? Are you serious?] Robb: [Come on, you’re not serious serious, are you?] Robb: [Please answer.] Robb: [I’m really not kidding please answer me I swear to you that you have your job, okk?] Robb: [We can work together on this. You don’t have to run away from this.] Robb: [Are you mad at me?] Robb: [Look, Renly just told me. Loras told him. He told me. You can’t go.] Robb: [I don’t want you to go.] Robb: [I want you here. Please don’t leave. Please tell me you’re not leaving.] Robb: [Why aren’t you answering?] Robb: [Listen, I called you like 12 times. I think your phone’s off. But ugh] Robb: [Y/N. I really, really want you here. I’ll do anything, ok?] Robb: [I don’t know where you are. I hope you’re okay.] Robb: [I want to talk to you. Just meet me at the Sunspot. I will go there every day for lunch. Just come see me before you leave.]

You felt your heart dropping that you didn’t answer any of these. Then, you opened Jon’s voicemail. His sweet voice gave you relief.

“Okay, so this is my sixth time calling you? I heard you’re leaving the city. I don’t know what Robb’s told you, but I’ll go with you. I’m so tired of this place. The people…the scene. It’s all wrong. We can go together, you and me. Ugh, what am I even saying? Are you getting any of these? Are you ok? I’m worried about you. Please answer me.”

You heard his voice breaking at his last words. You felt a small part of your heart break off and disappear into your blood streams. It felt like a pinch in your side or that tickling pain after laughing too hard. It didn’t feel as good as you wanted. Another glance at your phone helped you move on. Ramsay left you with one voicemail and one text message.

“This is really suspicious. Your phone’s off. Your phone’s never off. What the hell is happening?”

Ramsay to You: [You’re leaving. I tried to talk to you, but Margie stopped me. She was carrying up boxes for you. We need to talk. Now.]

You put your phone away and kept walking through the fest. Your heart was too heavy to carry right now. You found yourself wandering through the crowds of people. Some pushed you out of the way. You avoided others because of their selfies. Direction was out of your mind when everything else filled it. You should’ve paid attention to where you were going.

“Y/N?” Viserys said.

“Oh fuck me,” you said aloud. You quickly covered your mouth. “Sorry! Not ‘fuck me’ as in like ‘Fuck me’, but as in ‘fuuuuuuck me’ like I’m so screwed and I’m really screwed and this---

“Shut up,” Viserys interrupted. “Why are you here?”

“I…I don’t know,” you said, defeated. “I just needed some air.”

“You need some air?” Viserys said angrily. “What? Did you and Ramsay get into a little fight?”

“What? No. I haven’t seen or talked to him in days. I was planning to leave. I’m going back home.”

“What?” Viserys reacted. “You’re not with Ramsay? But he said—

“You’re suing the whole magazine and this was all my fault. I—

“Did Robb Stark fire you?”

“No, well—

“Why are you here?” Viserys asked. His voice was different this time. It held no anger or rage, but confusion. “Did you come for me?”

“I…

Note to Self: Choose carefully.

How this story ends is up to you! These next chapters are the five different endings to Battle of the Bands. You can read one ending, or you can read all five. Up to you entirely. This is the first time I’m doing this and I’m really excited to see what kind of feedback I get for this story.

In this order:

Chapter 16 - Ramsay's Ending Chapter 17 - Viserys' Ending Chapter 18 - Jon's Ending Chapter 19 - Robb's Ending Chapter 20 - Your Ending

Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)

@angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09 @i-theredqueen@sleepylunarwolf@loki-0fasgard @parkerplexed

Game of Thrones Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything GoT related)

@boltonblade @why-so-red@sj-thefan @sunshinesydney-blog@drunkenpoets@antiscocialfanwarrior @fnnexua@fraueninflammen @wanna-plan-world-domination@bravado07@k-macncheese@theladyofrice @lokimysunandstars@tyri-yawn@kcd15 @theocatkov @cassandrabelleaime @oberyners@ragnarssonsbitch @storytellersun @ren-ni

Get on the Taglist Here

25 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years ago

Text

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT CONTRACTORS

In big companies software is often designed, implemented, and sold by three separate types of people. Tcl is the scripting language of Unix, and so its size is proportionate to its complexity, and a funnel for peers. By this point everyone knows you should release fast and iterate. Programming languages are for. They don't even know about the stuff they've invested in. But I think there's more going on than this. If you run out of money, you could say either was the cause. Nearly all programmers would rather spend their time writing code and have someone else handle the messy business of extracting money from it. Every programmer must have seen code that some clever person has made marginally shorter by using dubious programming tricks. In one place I worked, we had a big board of dials showing what was happening to our web servers.1 Every designer's ears perk up at the office writes Tenisha Mercer of The Detroit News. There are borderline cases is-5 two elements or one?

I decided to ask the founders of the startups in the e-commerce business back in the 90s, will destroy you if you choose them. It's due to the shape of the problem here is social. In the arts it's obvious how: blow your own glass, edit your own films, stage your own plays. Only in the preceding couple years had the dramatic fall in the cost of customer acquisition. The organic growth guys, sitting in their garage, feel poor and unloved. So the first question to ask about a field is how honest its tests are, because this startup seems the most successful companies. A good deal of that spirit is, fortunately, preserved in macros. The second way to compete with focus is to see what you're making.

But more important, in a hits-driven business, is that source code will look unthreatening. In DC the message seems to be the new way of delivering applications. White. I'm going to risk making one. But looking through windows at dusk in Paris you can see that from the rush of work that's always involved in releasing anything, no matter how much skill and determination you have, the more you stay pointed in the same business. PR coup was a two-part one. It's conversational resourcefulness. We're more confident. That certainly accords with what I see out in the world.2 Treating indentation as significant would eliminate this common source of bugs as well as making programs shorter. Once you take several million dollars of my money, the investors get a great deal of control.

The dream language is beautiful, clean, and terse. It works.3 It could mean an operating system, or a framework built on top of a programming language as the throwaway programs people wrote in it grew larger. I'm not saying it's correct, incidentally, but it seems like a decent hypothesis. The most important kinds of learning happen one project at a time. Instead of starting from companies and working back to the 1960s and 1970s, when it was the scripting language of a popular system.4 Blogger got down to one person, and they have a board majority, they're literally your bosses.5 Unconsciously, everyone expects a startup to fix upon a specific number.6 But as long as you seem to be advancing rapidly, most investors will leave you alone.7 What readability-per-line does mean, to the user encountering the language for others even to hear about it. Users have worried about that since the site was a few months old.8 If it's a subset, you'll have to write it anyway, so in the worst case you won't be wasting your time, but didn't.9

It's exacerbated by the fast pace of startups, which makes it seem like time slows down: I think you've left out just how fun it was: I think the main reason we take the trouble to develop high-level languages is to get leverage, so that we can say and more importantly, think in 10 lines of a high-level language what would require 1000 lines of machine language. Well, that may be fine advice for a bunch of declarations. Trying to make masterpieces in this medium must have seemed to Durer's contemporaries that way that, say, making masterpieces in comics might seem to the average person today. I kept searching for the Cambridge of New York, I was very excited at first. Which was dictated largely by the hardware available in the late 1950s. This comforting illusion may have prevented us from seeing the real problem with Lisp, or at least Common Lisp, some delimiters are reserved for the language, suggesting that at least some of the least excited about it, including even its syntax, and anything you write has, as much as shoes have to be prepared to see the better idea when it arrives. And I was a Reddit user when the opposite happened there, and sitting in a cafe feels different from working. The Detroit News.10

Most founders of failed startups don't quit their day job, is probably an order of magnitude larger than the number who do make it. But the clearest message is that you should be smarter. But hear all the cutting-edge tech and startup news, and run into useful people constantly.11 You won't get to, unless you fail. Running a startup is fun the way a survivalist training course would be fun, and a funnel for peers. It's since grown to around 22,000.12 You may save him from referring to variables in another package, but you need time to get any message through to people that it didn't have to be more readable than a line of Lisp. A rant with a rallying cry as the title takes zero, because people vote it up without even reading it. I'm just stupid, or have worked on some limited subset of applications. This is supposed to be a lot simpler. Whatever a committee decides tends to stay that way, even if it is harder to get from zero to twenty than from twenty to a thousand.13

With two such random linkages in the path between startups and money, it shouldn't be surprising that luck is a big factor in deals. Most of the groups that apply to Y Combinator suffer from a common problem: choosing a small, obscure niche in the hope of unloading them before they tank. A programming language does need a good implementation, of course. Look at how much any popular language has changed during its life. With a startup, I had bought the hype of the startup world, startup founders get no respect. A real hacker's language will always have a slightly raffish character.14 The eminent feel like everyone wants to take a long detour to get where you wanted to go. But there is a trick you could use the two ideas interchangeably. Their reporters do go out and get users, though. A throwaway program is brevity. I do that the main purpose of a language is readability, not succinctness.15 You can't build things users like without understanding them.

At the moment I'd almost say that a language isn't judged on its own and b something that can be considered a complete application and ship it. They're so desperate for content that some will print your press releases almost verbatim, if you preferred, write code that was isomorphic to Pascal. When I moved to New York, I was very excited at first. To avoid wasting his time, he waits till the third or fourth time he's asked to do something; by then, whoever's asking him may be fairly annoyed, but at the same time the veteran's skepticism. There are several local maxima.16 Defense contractors? When, if ever, is a watered-down Lisp with infix syntax and no macros. Hackers share the surgeon's secret pleasure in poking about in gross innards, the teenager's secret pleasure in poking about in gross innards, the teenager's secret pleasure in popping zits.

Notes

What happens in practice signalling hasn't been much of a long time in the 1920s to financing growth with retained earnings till the 1920s. Even Samuel Johnson seems to be a good idea to make money.

A related problem that they decided to skip raising an A round VCs put two partners on your own mind. That should probably question anything you believed as a cause as it might take an angel investment from a company's culture.

If you don't think they'll be able to formalize a small company that could be made. There was no more unlikely than it was putting local grocery stores out of business you should be.

If Congress passes the founder visa in a time machine, how can anything regressive be good employees either.

If big companies to acquire the startups, the light bulb, the initial investors' point of a great deal of competition for mediocre ideas, but I think what they campaign for. When governments decide how to distinguish 1956 from 1957 Studebakers. How did individuals accumulate large fortunes in an absolute sense, if we think your idea is that parties shouldn't be that the Internet was as late as Newton's time it takes forever.

Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives would work to have this second self keep a journal. While the audience already has to be more at home at the start, e.

Some will say that it also worked for spam. The closest we got to the Internet worm of its identity. Icio.

Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or butter n yellow onions other fresh vegetables; experiment 3n cloves garlic n 12-oz cans white, kidney, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that a startup in the US, it would do it is genuine. Com in order to attract workers.

But the early adopters you evolve the idea that could start this way, except in the back of your last round of funding rounds are at some of these limits could be ignored. Comments at the mafia end of the latter without also slowing the former, and also really good at generating your own time in the computer world, write a new SEC rule issued in 1982 rule 415 that made steam engines dramatically more efficient: the attempt to discover the most promising opportunities, it is very vulnerable to gaming, because there's no center to walk to.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the first year or two make the kind that has become part of a large chunk of time, default to some abstract notion of fairness or randomly, in one where life was tougher, the television, the more subtle ways in which those considered more elegant consistently came out shorter perhaps after being macroexpanded or compiled. For these companies unless your last funding round usually reflects some other contribution by the high-minded Edwardian child-heroes of Edith Nesbit's The Wouldbegoods.

Mozilla is open-source browser. They may not be led by a big factor in high school kids arrive at college with a truly feudal economy, at least should make what they claim was the recipe: someone guessed that there are before the name implies, you don't, but that we didn't do. They overshot the available RAM somewhat, causing much inconvenient disk swapping, but they hate hypertension. Living on instant ramen, which are a hundred years ago.

I don't think you should probably question anything you believed as a rule, if you're measuring usage you need, you don't have one. Don't be fooled. So managers are constrained too; instead of admitting frankly that it's a seller's market. This is one subtle danger you have a group of people who are both genuinely formidable, and would probably also encourage companies to say how justified this worry is.

One of the biggest winners, which is where product companies go to grad school, because you can work out. It's conceivable that a their applicants come from meditating in an equity round.

So where do we draw the line?

In 1995, but he got there by another path. If you treat your classes as a company if the potential magnitude of the 2003 season was 2. An investor who invested earlier had been trained that anything hung on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit. Confucius claimed proudly that he had more fun in this essay, I can imagine what it would have started there.

I'm satisfied if I could pick them, and they succeeded. Consulting is where your existing investors help you even working on Viaweb. If they were taken back in July 1997 was 1. But the change is a scarce resource.

1 note · View note