#Wearhouse Shifting

[foxaftershocks]

First off I wanna say I love your writing!

So basically the read would of had been haunted by the ghost of their childhood best friend after the had accidentally coursed their house to catch on fire (they would been 5 when this happened) and every since they have been trying to find a way to help them move on, especially since the friend does not understand that the fire was an accident. they have by some miracle kept this a secret from everyone but after they get called to a abandoned wearhouse the secret is revealed, the friends ghost tries to hurt the reader after separating them from the group but lars manages to save them and fianlly they come clean about it all.

I hope how I've formatted this makes sense:)

Thank you!!!! It made total sense and I really hope you like what I did with it.

Fog was rolling across the huge expanse of the floor. It didn’t feel real, like a movie set with the shadows and the fog and the swinging chains as you passed. Your heart was hammering in your chest, loud in your ears. Your breaths were unsteady and you could feel yourself tremble in the cold air. Gripping your proton gun harder, you took a hesitant step forward.

“Careful,” Lars said, a large hand closing over your shoulder.

“This isn’t my fist rodeo,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He was staring at something in the distance, squinting behind his glasses. You tried to see what he was looking at but it was all roiling shadows and darkness reaching out. Or maybe that was what he was looking at so intently.

“Alright, you guys take upstairs and we’ll sweep down here,” Callie said, turning her head as she took in the whole abandoned warehouse.

On quiet footsteps, you and the younger Spenglers made your way up to the upper levels of the warehouse, peering down into the wide expanse below you. The teenagers peeled off, leaving you with Lars to prowl through the offices.

You’d been with the Ghostbusters for a few months now, having shown up on their doorstep one day demanding a job. Your experience with ghosts got you through the door, your refusal to say no keeping you. And yet guilt dogged your every step.

You hadn’t told anyone why you were so desperate to work with them. Your late nights were less about your passion for the Ghostbusters and more about your need to find answers. Answers you thought only they would have.

Lars’ shoulder brushed against yours, walking beside you towards the first door. Maybe there was another reason you wanted to stick around too.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning to the door for you.

“Coward.” You smirked at him.

You pushed the door open, gun raised, sweeping the room. He followed behind, watching your back, calculating gaze investigating the shadows. Checking under the desk, you let out a relieved breath.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Weird noises and ghostly spectres in the warehouse. Loud noises had been scaring the night watchmen in the area, a few even quitting after being chased from the building. Being awoke in the night, groggy and unsure, Callie telling you to gear up, was hardly normal and yet it was hard to hate it. Excitement around every corner and all that.

“Clear,” you said.

You straightened, taking a step back from how close he was. You hadn’t been expecting it, thinking he was on the other side of the room. A hand shot out, grasping your elbow before you could lose your balance.

“Next room?” he asked.

“Sure.”

You only got a few steps before you heard something shifting in the darkness at the end of the hall. A flash of a familiar face faded into the shadows. Your heart stumbled before pounding hard against your ribs. Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features.

“How about you do this room and I’ll do the next one and then we’ll be done in half the time,” you suggested to Lars.

“We’re not meant to split up,” he said, “in case something happens.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you want to get out of here quicker?” you asked.

He considered you for a moment before he gave a slow nod.

“I’ll only be next door. Scream if you get attacked,” you said.

He rolled his eyes but you could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile. You waited until he’d slipped through into the next room before high tailing it down the hall on tip toes. Gaze darting around the hall, you tried to find her.

“Lizzy,” you hissed, trying to stop any of the other Ghostbusters from hearing you, “I know you’re here.”

An echoing giggle lured you further, chasing a ghost. Darting from shadow to shadow, gun held in your hand, you hoped this would be the time you could finally help her move on. It had taken so long to realise that when you saw Lizzy and no one else could that it was because she wasn’t really there. Your parents had been so worried when you insisted Lizzy wasn’t dead because you could see her, standing at the end of your street or following you around school.

Eventually, after the first time she’d scared you, you realised something wasn’t right. That your parents had been right. That she had died that awful night and you were being haunted by her ghost. That she wouldn’t move until you could help her.

Another giggle drew you further into the shadows. This was your chance. You’d spent months working with the Ghostbusters and this was the first time she was letting you get close again. You could help her. She could move on if she would only get a chance.

At the end of the hall, the familiar figure of Lizzy floated, a few inches above the floor. She looked exactly the same as she had that night, a young girl, caught in amber, nothing but a memory torn from your childhood. You took a shuddering breath in.

“Lizzy,” you breathed.

On hesitant footsteps, you approached. Any time you’d gotten close to her, she’d erupted in anger, always ending with you cowering in a corner, begging her to leave you alone. But you were stronger now. You were better. You could fix this.

“Hi,” she said in that sweet little girl voice that was burned into your brain, “this place is kinda scary.”

“That’s okay. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” you said.

“But something already has happened to me,” she said, so matter of fact.

Your breath froze in your chest, the air growing colder again. You held out a hand to her, wanting her to trust you. Wanting her to believe you.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzy. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

A few more steps towards her and you thought you might freeze. It was so cold and every drag of breath hurt. And yet the hope kept you going.

“How?” she asked, sounding so lost.

“I can help you move on. We just need to figure out what your unfinished business is,” you said.

“I know what it that is,” she said.

You knelt down in front of her.

“What’s your unfinished business?” you asked.

“Making you pay for doing this to me.”

Wind slammed into you from behind. You fell forward, your hands coming up to catch yourself before your face could slam into the floor. Rolling onto your back, you found her floating above you. You scrabbled for the gun you’d dropped but something stopped you. This was Lizzy, your best friend, you couldn’t do something that hurt her. Again.

You scrambled back, scared as her face began to morph into something from your nightmares. Elongating, teeth growing, eyes flickering like fire, no longer was she the sweet little girl caught in your memories. Before your eyes, she was turning into a demon, fuelled by rage and revenge.

Your hand came down, expecting to feel more floor but only finding empty space. Turning, you found broken off railing, the hall hanging over empty space, the concrete floor of the warehouse so far from you. Another gust of wind slammed into you, pushing you closer to the edge. A low moan came from deep within your chest and you found Lizzy floating closer.

She swooped down at you, a scream bursting unbidden from you. Raising your arms to cover your head, you felt yourself teeter on the edge. Another scream. You knew you wouldn’t survive that fall, smashing against the concrete like a broken door.

“I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me,” Lizzy said, her voice high and sweet, such a difference to the words coming from her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babbled, gasping for breath.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. Another crash of wind slamming into you. You teetered, before falling backwards. It felt slow motion in your mind. The knowledge you were about to die was all you could focus on.

Then a hand grasped yours, holding on so tight you thought your blood supply might cut off. You cut off a sob, grasping onto the warmth, almost burning after the chill of the air. Inch by inch you were dragged back up, the metal walkway the greatest thing you’d ever felt.

“What happened?” Lars asked.

He was crouched next to you, still holding on while you panted, gasping for breath, the sobs not abating. You shook your head, not able to answer. The truth too much to spill.

“You’ve made a new friend.” Your eyes squeezed shut at the sweet voice, “that’s not fair.’

Lars was slow to look up, attention shifting from you to your ghost. You whimpered, crawling further from the edge, fingers curling into the back of his uniform, clutching at it hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you begged.

“You mean like you didn’t hurt me?” A high childish giggle, “I don’t think so.”

Lars grasped his gun, pulling it free. Levelling it at Lizzy, he was slow to stand, pulling you with him. Standing close, you wanted to stop him but you were terrified she was going to hurt him.

“Alright, there’s no need to get aggressive,” Lars said, clearly trying to calm the situation.

“She hurt me,” she said, “now I’m going to hurt her. And then she’ll be with me forever just like she promised.”

He raised his gun higher, keeping himself between you and her. She rose higher, then, using the same move, swooped down. He didn’t hesitate, firing the proton stream at her. It wrapped around her, holding her in place. The enraged scream that came from her hurt you, like a brand burned on your inside.

“I need the trap,” he said, glancing back at you.

Sweat was beading at his temples as he held her and you felt frozen. Her anger was so visceral, struggling against the proton stream. Her scream was pure rage.

“Hey.”

He finally caught your attention, his voice softened as he looked at you from behind glass.

“Trap,” he said.

You fumbled with the trap hanging from your belt. Sliding it along the floor, you looked up at Lizzy, knowing this would be it. She wouldn’t move on. She’d be trapped, kept in storage to be studied by people like Lars. And yet you had to, if you wanted to keep her from hurting the people you cared about.

“I’m sorry,” you said to her.

His foot slammed down on the trigger, opening it. Her rage was like a physical thing, her struggle increasing. And she looked like a little girl, scared, terrified, of where she was being forced into. Lars dragged her down until the trap’s vacuum sucked her in.

It closed with a snap and you were left in silence. You fell, knees slamming into the metal walkway, your sobs loud in your own ears. You pressed the heel of your palms to your eyes, trying to stifle it all.

A large hand landed on your shoulder, offering the stability you didn’t have. Lars was kneeling in front of you, ignoring the smoking trap behind him, his eyes focused completely on you. You took a deep shuddering breath in, trying to stop crying. He waited, patient until you were calmer.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you.

“No.” Your voice was so small.

“This ghost seemed to know you,” he said.

You gave a small nod, scared what admitting your past crimes would do. It terrified you.

“You’ve met her before?” he asked.

You gave a wet chuckle. His thumb gently brushed the tears away.

“Lars, I created her,” you said, “I did that to her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

And just like that the whole sorry story tumbled from your lips, words tripping over themselves in their haste to be told. The fire when you were five, consuming the house, burning it to the ground. Lizzy caught inside, you pulled free, your best friend gone. The fact you caused the fire. Your haunting. Every attempt to help her move on and the anger at your part in her death. The resentment in the assumption you’d done it on purpose. The guilt you carried with you every day. The fear of who you were, if you were a monster, if you were an awful person.

And once the words had run out he did the one thing you couldn’t have expected.

His lips were soft when they pressed to your forehead. You froze, not sure what to do, heart fluttering. Large hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“It was an accident. You’ve been trying to help her move on. You’re not a monster. You’re trying your best to make it up to her,” he said.

You fell forward, sinking into him, face pressed into his shoulder. His arms were hesitant as they came up, circling your body.

“I couldn’t save her,” you said, muffled against his shoulder.

“We’ll help her move on,” he said, “I promise.”

You pressed harder against him, hugging him tight, surprised by how light you felt after your confession. A problem shared was a problem halved. His lips pressed to your temple, soft and comforting and making you feel something addictive.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You turned your head, nose brushing against his. He froze, those beautiful blue eyes looking at you, something in them different. You lent forward, pressing your lips to his for a moment. It might have been the wrong time, but you’d almost died that night and you needed him to know. You drew back, worried about his reaction but the look on his face was like he’d just been let in on all the secrets of the universe. Like he was full of wonder. Like you’d given the greatest gift in the world.

He pulled you closer again, lips brushing yours with a sweetness that made your heart squeeze. You sighed into his mouth, clutching at his uniform. He was so warm under your hands and he was so beautiful and you couldn’t work out why you’d taken so long to kiss him.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You startled, pulling back from him. Trevor was looking less than impressed at the two of you, glaring down the walkway to your bodies curled into one another.

“We’re doing all the work over here and you’ve snuck away to hook up. Typical.” You could just tell he was rolling his eyes.

“I almost died. Give me a break,” you called back at him.

Lars froze in your arms. He pulled away, standing up, offering you a hand to help you to your feel. Your knees still felt unsteady, his arm around your waist helping you along. Plucking the smoking trap from the ground, he attached it to your belt.

“I promise,” he said again, confirming he wasn’t going to be spilling your secrets to the others.

You offered him a small smile, your first since the attack. He pulled you closer, another kiss pressed to your temple. You could have just melted from it.

The extra squeeze he gave you was exactly what you needed.

[ohgoditssnek]

Honestly, i get why Lawrence kills people.

I, too, want to commit murder, get high and pray to an eldritch diety for a chance to see the line between life and death after a night wearhouse shift.

I get to have McDonald's breakfast, though.

Chicken McMuffin is the only thing that currently stands between humanity and it's terrible agonizing demise.

[leelee120000]

Looking Back On: Twenty One Pilots, “BLURRYFACE”

June 15, 2020

On May 17, 2015, Twenty One Pilots’ (TOP) released their album “BLURRYFΛCE.” (Blurryface) wasn’t the first TØP album that I had listened to. Back around 2011, when Tyler Joepsh’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” cover was virial on Tumblr, was the first time I ever heard him. Then in 2013, I heard “House of Gold” as a suggested song on Google Music, and it was the first time I knew that I was listening to a TØP song. 

I’ve loved them since 2013, but “BLURRYFΛCE” in my opinion, is the most essential version of TØP. It highlights both the band’s iconic genre playfulness alongside their religious and philosophical themes. So, with its fifth birthday recently passing, what is a better time to remember its impact than now?

The story of the album’s central character, Blurryface, is indirect. It is more of a lyrical concept than a fully-scripted story, however the story can bring to mind tales such as “Jekyll & Hyde” with its theme of duality. 

This album begins with the absolute slap-to-the-face that is “Heavydirtysoul” reaching a rapid pace of 129 beats per minute within the first few words, it is nauseatingly fast and is the fastest rap for TØP. (Beating “Levitate” and “Ode to Sleep” by just a few beats.)

That speed is almost a distraction from the lyrics, which originally was slam poetry from 2013 in which Tyler asks the listener to save his heavy, dirty soul from himself during the repeated chorus. Similar to its swift beat, its music video shows the viewer a car speeding fast and swerving. It is easy to assume that the driver is Blurryface himself. 

The car is deteriorating represents Tyler’s mental state. Tyler’s hands and throat are also darkened, this represents Blurry poisoning his music. 

Next is “Ride.” If you had listened to any radio stations in the mid-2010s, you heard “Ride”; however, it’s arguably the weakest song. Its video was filmed in a forest, an important recurring symbol of childhood in TOP lyrics and music videos. 

An argument could be made that Blurry is stalking from the trees. Right before the lyric “I’ve been thinking too much. Help me,” Tyler wraps his fingers around his throat. Then, we are greeted with an isolated and snow-covered wearhouse for the video to the song “Fairly Local.” 

Josh and Tyler stand back-to-back; as Josh walks away, the camera shows Tyler’s red eyes. This is Blurry’s song. It’s cocky and unlike Tyler’s regular singing style, emphasized with aggressive lyrics such as: “I’m evil to the core, what I shouldn’t do I will… What I wanna save, I’ll kill. Is that who I truly am?” 

Tyler is silhouetted behind glass while he talks about fans, showing him to be trapped. It cuts back to Blurry, stumbling drunk with power. Then, it cuts to a red room, where the viewer is unable to tell if Tyler or Blurry is in control. Until the camera shows Tyler’s eyes, he grabs his throat and Blurry’s eyes appear, mocking Tyler’s verse. The lights rapidly switch on and off as the two fight for control of the body. Blurry pulls a dark cloth over their face, until Tyler rips it off. However. He ultimately succumbs to Blurry. 

“Tear In My Heart” shows Tyler trying to perform as his mind, Blurry, morphs the world around him. His wife isn’t morphed and he chases her to a restaurant, where she beats the absolute…um…crap out of him. It’s nonsensical and probably a visual representation of how Blurry is making Tyler fear those he loves. 

“Lane Boy” starts off intensely by talking about how some of the songs on Blurryface’s namesake album might feel basic and how it’s an uphill battle to create different music in the industry. He lifts a cloth over his face before the rap begins, signaling that Blurry is there. He mentions the kill list from “Ride” and how he’d do anything to protect his brother. He scribbles on two men wearing hazmat suits with a black marker. 

It shifts to a concert where waves of fans kneel and the two men in hazmat suits are wearing the words “fame” and “success.” Tyler asks, “Why do I kneel to these concepts? Tempted by control, controlled by temptation. ‘Stay low,’ they say. ‘Stay low’.” He screams and jumps to his feet.  

As the music bombastically explodes, he jumps and faces the fans. It cuts to Blurry for a split second, kneeling on the lane. Back onstage, Tyler is frantically rubbing his eye. The cockyness is back as Fame and Success kneel before Tyler, and it can be assumed that Blurry is back in control. The rest of the album is without music videos, relying on lyrics and sound alone for storytelling.

My interpretation of the intro to “The Judge” is that it is Tyler’s prayer to God for a release from Blurry, whom he is referring to as the devil. Soon after this, the song suddenly becomes happy and gospel-like in its tone. 

“Doubt” begins dark and pressing, later using the lyrics “shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts, no. You are all that I’ve got, no.” The tune is a darker, more desperate prayer. Tyler is pleading with God to remember and save him. He mentions wishing the markings on his skin meant something to him again. 

This is the first time I believe he isn’t referring to Blurry’s iconic darkening of his hands and throat, but rather his real life cross tattoo. His relationship with God is strained by the mental struggle he is having and the fear of losing faith is extremely horrifying to him.

“Polarize” talks of splitting oneself in two behind a disguise. Tyler sounds as if he’s losing his mind, screaming “find me.” The chorus asks for help for his friend’s problems. But, he messes up, saying “we have problems,” referring to Blurry and himself. He talks of wanting to have been a better son, and losing his halo, as if he’s already dead.

“We Don’t Believe What’s On TV” talks about the death of dreams and fears of abandonment. Blurry is further twisting the knife of insecurity. “Message Man,” I believe, holds the implication of Tyler explaining his fight with Blurry. He is outright called a loser for hiding in the song. Tyler starts talking about using his music to fight Blurry, directly addressing fans (referred to as “you”) within the song. 

“Hometown” feels like a reflection, but of a different sort than “Ride.” Tyler literally asks for his soul to be repaired. I think Tyler is acknowledging that those who have grown up with him don’t understand his struggles. The song talks about abandoning tradition and how the spirits back home are waiting. 

“Not Today” feels like the fight between Tyler and Blurry, as Tyler is contemplating sucide by jumping out of his window. “Goner” is Tyler praying before his sucide attempt, attempting one last time to beat Blurry. Judging by how Tyler diminishes at the song’s end, I fear that Blurry won. 

That ambiguity is one of the best parts of this album. The fact that the battle has no clear end and is unsatisfying and leaves the listeners waiting more. It’s such a good metaphor for the uphill battle mental illness and is almost  upsetting that the listener can’t tell who won. It’s fear inducing that there’s an ambiguity that exists. Yet, it’s perfect.

LeAnne McPherson

[nemorialex]

GUEST NUMBER ONE

Sami was minding her own business, walking down some random street in the City. Capitol C, no... Other name to it. Which was weird. At least Austin had a real name, and the Falls had a title at LEAST, even if it was kind of dumb.

Weird name or not, the City being a concrete jungle RIGHT NEXT to a pine forest left her with a sense of comfort she wasn't quite sure she'd find again.

Other things she wasn't sure she'd find again (though in hindsight, was probably inevitable) was her mom. Or more accurately, her mom found her. She scoffed and turned away from the glowing light even before the redhead emerged.

"Sami! Wait!"

"What do you want?" She slowed, but didn't feel like stopping. If Alex wanted to talk so bad, sh- they'd keep up now wouldn't they?

"Please, just- Stop! A moment, please." Alex reached out and touched Sami's shoulder, but didn't grab or pull or anything. Insistent, but not demanding. So, Sami stopped and turned, crossing her arms.

"Listen, I don't know what you even want from me. I thought we were both cool just minding our own shit, doing our own thing. I'm out here having the time of my goddamned life being a juvenile delinquent. You've got no idea how many spray painted murals I've got going on in this town. Dumpsters, trains, the sides of abandoned wearhouses that probably made rubber shoes at some point but then was closed down because who the fuck wears rubber shoes aside from clowns, and we all know that clows are bullsh--"

"Sami..."

"... Even spraypainted the side of a cat once. That shit was hard. Took a lot of practice. Practice that I've honed out here on the street, or should I say Street with a capitol S--"

"Here." Alex interrupted the spiraling rant by handing her a piece of paper.

Sami slowly took it, as if the pages were going to come to life and bite her arm off. Hell, with the crazy magic shit Alex (this one AND the one she knew) played with, there was a 50/50 chance of that happening.

It didn't bite her. It was just a letter. A letter from Zack, apparently? About...

"'Thanksgiving'?" Sami asked incredulously.

"I'd... Like you to come... If you want." Before Sami could respond with either snark or word vomit, Alex continued in a rush. "I know our first introduction has not been... We've not got off on the right foot, with one another. But, I'd like to do better. You, deserve, better."

Sami… Didn’t have a response to that. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking down at the letter, glancing up at the stranger, then looking back again. 

“... You don’t have to come. I know that our… Relationship, is complicated, to say the least. And tossing you in the midst of a big family gathering isn’t usually the ideal situation to–”

“Yeah ok.” It was her turn to interrupt the ramblings now.

“I’m… Sorry?”

“Okay. I’ll be there. 3 o’clock, right?”

“Ye-yes! Yes, 3 o’clock at… Cafe Calest’s, I believe? It should be the little family restaurate on the corner of–”

“Yeah, no, I. I know.” Sami turned away and started walking down the street again, staring at the paper in her hand in bewilderment, kind of wondering what she just agreed to and kind of- Oh shit! “Hey, mo- Alex?”

Alex looked up and gave a small smile. “You can… Call me mom, if it’s still comfortable for you and all… Sorry about that…”

“Ok. Yeah, um… Thanks.” Sami spun around and walked JUST A BIT QUICKER away from the situation, hearing a soft “you’re welcome!” trailing behind her before turning the corner.

Cool great awesome, this was going to be a fucking NIGHTMARE, wasn’t it? Maybe she could focus on something better, like the fact that she could wear a new dress and eat some free food. Then it would only be a nightmare (lowercase n and i and all the rest) but while wearing a new dress and eating free food. That’s as good a compromise as any.

Thanksgiving Invitations

Alex stared at the 3 identical envelopes in front of them, neatly laid out on the coffee table and took a deep breath. One was already missing, sent quickly off in Corintha's direction. The Marketplace had a slightly different reality clock to Haven's, so she had a good... Week? Or so? To prepare and make her way here.

Alex leaned forward and slid one of them forward and out of consideration. They'd see Jay soon enough, and if not he was getting the much less formal text notification and could collect the paper version at the event itself for his personal paper trail.

No... It was these two that was giving them a headache currently. It was entirely too tempting to just... Not send the invitations out. Oops oh no! Two less guests how sad oh well... But no. Alex had asked Zack for these invitations, and they intended on following through.

They sighed an even deeper sigh and stood, taking the envelopes and tucking them into the inner pocket of their coat. They'd get the more troublesome one out of the way first, and by the time their portal cooled down, they could figure out what in the hell to say to the second...

[specialagentlokitty]

Gibbs x reader - under the skin

I think it only applys to the werewolf form. . . But it could apply to human form. I honestly don't know. So the idea was The readers werewolf form comes out on a case infront of the team while protecting Gibbs. . . Possibly set after under the skin? What do you think? - Werewolf!reader/Gibbs anon💜

Part two:

At first gibbs had been reluctant to let you back in cases, especially on field duty.

You spent a good few months proving to him that you would be find, and you’d been working with him for years, that you could easily control yourself.

After answering all his questions and showing him everything he wanted to see, he finally let you back in to the cases.

Standing with your gun in hand, you had your eyes locked on gibbs who was being held in the suspects arms, gun aimed right at his head.

“We need to back up.” McGee whispered.

Everyone nodded and took a few steps back, but you didn’t.

You stood there, your eyes fixated on Gibbs as heavy breaths wracked your body.

“(Y/N).” Tony hissed.

You ignored him, trying to ignore the rushing inside of you.

You prayed I’d you ignored it long enough it would eventually leave, go away and you’d be able to contain yourself.

But as you looked at the blood running down the side of Gibbs’ head, you had little control, you had the urge to turn, to rip the suspect apart.

You needed to protect gibbs, and you couldn’t fight the battle that was raging inside of you.

“Step back or I blow his head off!” The suspect yelled.

“(Y/N)…” Gibbs warned.

You looked at him, giving him an apologetic shake of your head as you slid your gun behind you.

Everyone was yelling at you and the suspect seemed confused but he was yelling at you to back up.

You felt the familiar feeling under your veins, and you let it take over, bones snapping and within a second you stood tall, letting out a howl as you stared at the suspect.

In shock, he dropped his gun and Gibbs, and he fell backwards.

You charged forward, but you slid to a halt just in front of Gibbs who was stood in front of the trembling suspect.

“Go.” He ordered.

You growled lowly.

“Go.”

Growling again, you looked at the suspect and snapped your jaws making him scream.

Satisfied with this you turned around and ran, heading to the other end of the wearhouses.

You just paced back and forth, grumbling and growling to yourself.

You were clawing and the floors and walls, worked up and angry.

Not long after, you heard steps and you spun around, coming face to face with gibbs.

He dropped a bag on the floor and sat next to it, letting out a heavy sigh as he watched you carry on digging at the floor.

“You now have to explain this to the others.” He said.

You huffed. Still digging at the floor, leaving large claw marks.

“I expect you to tell me what happened.”

You looked at him.

He knew you could understand him, and he knew you could turn back when you wanted to.

“are you going to turn so we can talk about this?”

You didn’t, you carried on doing your own thing. You circled gibbs and he just watched.

He knew you weren’t going to hurt him, but he could see you debating something.

“If you run out that door (Y/N) you’ll be on desk duty.”

You grumbled and sat in front of him which made him chuckle.

He smiled at you and you grumbled again, laying yourself down.

You closed your eyes and after a minute you shifted back.

Your clothes were torn, and gibbs handed you the bag and spun himself around, letting you change.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“You said you had control.” He replied.

“I did! I do! It’s…”

You sighed, dropping yourself to the floor as you looked the at the torn clothes you’d taken off.

Gibbs turned around and rose a brow at you.

“It’s just… I saw you bleeding.. I was scared for you… and I couldn’t help it…”

Gibbs blinked before he smiled softly.

“You were trying to protect me.”

“Yeah…”

Gibbs sighed, standing up he shoved your now ruined clothes into the bag and tossed it on his back as he held his hand out to you.

“Yes, but now you’ve got to explain to everyone what you are.”

“Yeah… I know…”

You didn’t know how to explain it, but you did know one thing.

If anyone even so much as tired to hurt gibbs you wouldn’t hesitate to turn and show them what a real nightmare would look like

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

I know how to solve everything! Country music! We all know how country shifted post 9-11 to pro-gov and pro-cop and pro-go-to-the-"country"-themed-nightclub-and-get-laid. Well that has the country listeners all right where the right wants them.

Step 1: We remake all the old songs about workers rights and fuckin the police from Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, and Willy Nelson. These covers have to be FIRE. The absolute top stars need to do em.

Step 2: These stars need to put out songs with lyrics like

They said we cannot form a union

Well what would granpaw say?

He'd say "never cross a picket line!

God Bless the USA"

The U in there stands for "United"

It also stands for You and Me

So we'll stand together fightin!

An together we'll make em see

Then the catchiest chorus ever about how this country was built by those who were willing to work hard and get their hands dirty and how we need to fight back against billionaires trying to "tell us how to live our lives"

Then a verse that talks about how "they say our kids are lazy and never play outside, but they take all they time I want to spend with them, cut down all the trees, poisoned the ol' fishing hole, and built wearhouses all over the amber waves of grain. My son can't change a tire or throw a football, because I was at work instead of teaching him how." And that kind of thing

Step 3: we all play the hell out of these songs. Stream em. Download them. Buy em. Call every radio station (all of them) and demand the songs get played.

Don't worry about turning red states blue. Turn em pissed off at rich people and their bosses and politicians who claim to represent them, and news outlets who tell them what to think, and cops who harass their kids

[bekaroth-reads]

Viktor Vector x V

V sat in the chair trying desperately to avoid any sort of eye-contact with the ripperdoc that was digging through the small medical supply drawer next to them. Neither of them was talking to each to each other at the moment; the silence was only broken by the sounds of the assorted supplies rustling in the drawer and the hum of the many monitors in the background, many of which showed different aspects of V's vitals. After what seemed like an eternity, Viktor finally said something. "I want you to head home and take it easy after this. No excitement for a few days; no more dangerous outings for a while." There was a scolding tone to his voice that V did not appreciate.

"It isn't that bad. I just got in a bit of a scuffle." V huffed almost like a teen that was busted for smoking behind a school. "No, what you got," Viktor paused his thought as he started to patch up a cut on their arm, "was your ass handed to ya." V scrunched their nose not only at the burning from the anti-septic touching the wound but at the admonishment they just got as well. They didn't respond though; not wanting to put the effort into arguing and knowing that they really couldn't. There was another bout of silence between the two of them as he finished his task. He sat the tools he was using in a metal pan on top of the drawer before giving a heavy sigh. "What were you thinking taking such a dangerous gig by yourself? And, knowing that wearhouse would be full of scavengers too?" V rolled their eyes at his question. "Eh, they were just a bunch of gonks. Nothing I couldn't handle." This response caused Viktor to snort back a bitter laugh and glare at them. "There was defiantly one gonk in this situation and it was any of them! You're lucky that you got out of there with all your chrome still in your body!"

V glared back at him in turn. "Alright, Viktor! Why are you coming for my throat like this?" Vik heaved another heavy sigh as he closed the door on the drawer a bit harder than he meant to. "Look, I don't mean to be a mother hen. But, I hate to see you all banged up like this. 'Specially when it's because you're bein' reckless. We both know you're smarter than that." The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment, silently finishing their argument with frustrated glances. Vik knew that V wouldn't budge and they knew the exact same thing about him. When they had both accepted this fact they finally moved on.

"I really care about you, kid. Ya know that right?" V gave a defeated sigh at Viktor's question that was so full of raw emotion that they couldn't help but admit that they were being a jerk. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry for being such a jack-ass." They offer apologetically as they lean fully back on to the chair. "Hey, you've had a tough day. Just don't go making it a habit." He tried to lighten the mood by teasing them a bit. Vik gave the screens one more glance over before started pushing them out of the way. "Anything still bothering you that I haven't checked yet?" V gave a groan and shifted in the chair. "Nothin' major. Hands still hurt a bit from having to take some swings when I ran out of ammo." Mentioning the burning in their knuckles seemed to make it flare up more. "Well, not much I can do for that other than the pain killers I gave ya."

After thinking for a moment a smile tugged ever-so-slightly at the corners of his mouth as a great idea suddenly popped into his mind. "Ya know... There is one more thing I could try. Somethin' I learned before I even became a doctor. Bit of a long shot, but it just might work." At this point, V was achy all over and willing to try just about anything that Viktor suggested. They shrugged their shoulders and mused, "Sure. If you think it'll help." At this Vik took their hand into his and moved it closer to his face to inspect it. He gently ran his thumb over their finger and they figured he was going to do pop their knuckles or something of the like. They almost passed out when he took their hand even closer to his face and placed a gentle kiss on it. "There. That make it feel any better?" V stammered over all the words that they wanted to say, but nothing cohesive came of their endeavor. Vik gave a chuckle that sat deep in his chest and V swore they could feel it reverberate in theirs. "Seriously, though. Is there anything else I can do for you while you're here?"

By this point, the initial shock of the situation had started to wear off and V saw an opportunity they were not about to pass up. "Actually," V started slowly as they were still trying to work out exactly how they were going to go about it without being too incredibly forward and ruining things, "My arm kinda hurts too. Not too bad, but might need to be checked out." Viktor quirked a brow, but the devious smile on his face told that he didn't actually mind. "Right here?" He questioned as he kissed their arm right above their elbow. "A bit closer to the shoulder." V corrected. Viktor hummed in acknowledgment before kissing a trail up their entire arm making them practically melt into the chair from just how gentle he was.

"Any other trouble areas?" Vik asked almost expectantly. V decided to take a chance. "Got hit on the lip pretty good and-" Before they could even finish Vik had already started to kiss them fervently; a gesture they happily returned. He pulled away a bit too soon for V's liking, but they were sympathetic when they saw him straightened in his chair with a groan and a series of pops. "Sorry, back can't take that angle for too long." He huffed as his back cracked once more. V moved themselves to sit on the edge of the chair. "Do I need to call a doctor for you, old-timer?" They teased him and he tried to give them a stern yet secretly playful look. "Watch it there, small fry." V chuckled and leaned in closer to him to kiss him again. "Say," Vik pulled away to look them in the eyes, "how about we move this somewhere a bit more private?" V rested their hand on his forearm, "Viktor Vektor!" they pretended to scold and leaned close to him and whispered, "Now, I thought you said no excitement for awhile." He pulled them off their chair and onto his lap causing his chair to slide back and spin around a bit. "Well, maybe some excitement is alright." He purred against their lips before passionately kissing them again; both of them grinning the entire time.

[werenzki]

so ready for this ufc crap at rogers place to be over cause then it's all hockey hockey and hockey baby 😎

[wolfliving]

Old People Housed in Former Malls Afraid of the Sky

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/24/business/senior-housing-retail-redevelopment.html

(…)

There is little denying that a vast amount of retail space is emptying during the coronavirus pandemic — 25,000 stores may close by the end of this year — all while the over-65 population is increasing by about 10,000 a day. So even though arena-like malls and strip shopping centers might never see another Sears, J.C. Penney or Lord & Taylor store, some are being transformed into something more interesting: comprehensive upscale retirement complexes.

(…)

The factors driving retail-to-housing transformation were set in motion years ago but have been accelerated by the pandemic. The demise of malls and shopping centers has also been amplified by the shift to online retailing in recent years.

The crisis in mainstream retailing has become an outsize challenge and opportunity for municipalities, real estate owners, managers and developers. More than 8,000 stores have closed so far in 2020, according to Coresight Research, after 9,500 shut down last year. Mall stalwarts like Bed Bath & Beyond, GNC, Pier One Imports, Men’s Wearhouse, and New York and Company are in various states of bankruptcy and reorganization. Department stores such as Neiman Marcus and Lord & Taylor are on a long list of retailers going through shutdowns.

Ellen Dunham-Jones, a professor at the Georgia Institute of Technology, has researched the repurposing trend. Retail closings across the country have led to 400 proposals for retrofits, with some 315 projects completed or in progress. Notable examples include the Ridge House Apartments in Wheat Ridge, Colo.; the PathStone Skyview Park Apartments in Irondequoit, N.Y. (occupying an old Sears site); and Aljoya Thornton Place, on the former parking lot of the Northgate Mall in Seattle, which was one of the nation’s first regional shopping malls and is still in business.

Professor Dunham-Jones writes about Folkestone in “Case Studies in Retrofitting Suburbia,” her upcoming book with Prof. June Williamson of City University of New York. She noted that the complex, in addition to occupying a former retail site, took a more progressive turn in its design.

Seniors are increasingly demanding more activities and environmentally sensitive and walkable communities, rather than sequestered, gated or golf course developments that require driving everywhere, Professor Dunham-Jones found.

“Baby boomers don’t want to be isolated,” she added. “They want to be connected to the community.”...

[duhragonball]

🌻

So I finally remembered to order some new T-shirts.   I used to buy blank T-shirts at the store, but for a while Target used to carry Gildan brand T-shirts which I found more comfortable for some reason.  Then they stopped carrying them for no apparent reason, and I realized that I didn’t need to put up with this bullshit anymore because I could just order Gildan shirts on the internet.    This was what led me to blankshirts.com

I always hated shopping for clothes as a kid, because all I wanted to wear were blank t-shirts, and my mom would drag me around making me look at all this useless horseshit with stripes and paisley patterns and button-down stuff and I hate all of that, I just want solid colors with no long sleeves or any other bells and whistles.  So now I just place a bulk order for forty Gildan T-shirts, and I wear them for like 18 months until I get sick of them and want to order new ones. 

I see people wax nostalgic about their childhoods, and I almost never get it because everything was a pain in the ass when I was a kid.  You couldn’t just get new pants, you had to go to the store and try them on.    Now I just know what number Levis I like and the two numbers that go with that, and I can order them over the computer.  I don’t need to clear any of this with my mom, or listen to her tell me “that’s tacky” or “you can’t just wear the same five colors of T-shirts over and over”.  

You know, I used to wear only black T-shirts for a few years.   My apartment got flooded and I was in a mood over it, and I started buying new clothes and figured “Well, I’ll just stick to one color for a while,” and the world didn’t end and the fashion police never found me.   Eventually I expanded the palette to stuff like “forest green” and “maroon” but it’s not that complicated.   I could have done this all along, but I had to get old enough to figure out how. 

I do like going to the Men’s Wearhouse, because even though I’m not a suit and tie guy, they talk to me like a peer and they don’t waste my time with stuff I don’t care about.   They’re like, here’s three shirts that would go with this, and I pick two.   Here’s some tie options.   I’ll take that one.    Done.  It’s doesn’t have to be this weird guessing game where you hope that “the right answer” and “what you actually want” are the same thing.  

I was reading about Donald Trump’s shitty Boeing 757 plane and he got like gold-plated everything.   To me, that’s stupid, because the place still looks like a jet airplane with couches in it, but now all the door handles and faucets are gold-plated, and then some bulter comes out serving Fillet O’Fish sandwiches, probably.   But I can respect having things your own way.   In the end, nobody really cares, so if you can afford it, go for it.   If I had my own private jet, I guess I’d have some cool Dragon Ball Z shit painted on the side, and maybe the airplane painting people would exchange funny looks behind my back, but they’d shrug and do it anyway, because I’m paying for it.  

I’m sort of shifting subjects here, but Trump’s plane reminds me of how I used to look up superyacht photos because I wanted some inspiration for Luffa’s spacship.   In the fanfic, she... ahem... acquired a pleasure craft from some rich dude, and the whole gag with that was that it was far too luxurious for her to appreciate.   I considered having her rip out all the plush decor, except she wouldn’t even care enough to bother with that.    Rich Corinthian leather sits just as well as cheap upholstery.  If she was running low on cash she could rip out some of the gold-plated decorations and sell it for scrap, but otherwise it’s just there, unappreciated. The new owner sleeps in the fitness center on Deck 4 and she spilled barbecue sauce on the 90000-count silk sheets.

The thing I quickly learned about super-yachts was how utterly unimpressive they really are.   You expect to see something mega-fancy, like a James Bond movie hideout, but it just looks like stuff you’d find in a moderately fancy home, except they put it on a boat, so that makes it more luxurious.   Oh, here’s a movie theater on this yacht.  It looks like a bunch of armchairs and a big screen TV like I’ve seen in furniture stores and electronic stores, only someone bought all that stuff and put it in one room and it’s on a boat.    The closest I ever saw to a truly fancy thing was a bay inside a superyacht where other, smaller boats were kept.   Which sounds cool, at least, but why would you want to leave your big fancy boat to screw around in smaller boats?

You read about this stuff, and it starts to feel like rich people already have it their own way, and they’re so used to it that they don’t know what else to want, so they start buying stuff like boats with smaller boats in them.   Muammar Gaddafi used to have this all-female boyguard staff, which sounds like this cool, over-the-top supervillain thing, but he probably got bored with it after a while, and where do you go from there?

Anyway, I’m just glad I can order these blank shirts without having to beg a Target store to carry them.    I’m simple that way.

[fuck-customers]

I work at a store that orders product from wearhouse after they have already sold to other stores and sells them for slightly cheaper, witch means when we get something in there is a high likelyhood we will get three or four then never get the same product again. What also makes it difficult is I work in the home wears store, (the franchise has a clothing store that functions the same way,)

So normally I work in the small appliances, food and kitchen stuff section, but I am 17 so I help with lifting and moving the furniture,

The amount of people who ask me “do you have —— I saw it here last month” or “could you order us another one of this” NO WE CANT, the store actively advertise it self as “offline shopping” and “buy it when you see it so you don’t have shoppers remorse”

This one customer, really just got on my nerves, they hunted me down, they very clearly where looking for someone younger because my co-worker said the woman passed her twice, and kept asking about this basket, what ever I don’t care I show her to where the baskets are (witch I’m not technically supposed to do I’m just supposed to point them in the right direction) and try to show her ones that sound like her description,

And of course there’s something wrong with all of them but I go to make my leave and she asks about towels, not my department so I point her over to where they are and get back to my stocking,

Ten minutes later I get called for a price check, and low and behold it’s the woman, I find a similar basket and take the price, while of course she argues I wrong and it should be cheaper, but I’m working a 6 hour shift and I’m only 2 1/2 hours in, so I stuck to my gut and get my co-worker who has more experience.

And this fucking bitch tries to pull the “I thought she was scamming me” and “I don’t really always trust kids, you know they are just in it for the money” but I don’t work commission I don’t give a rats ass if you buy it or not, the chain is pretty successful, how ever she pays and leaves and my coworker turns to me a goes

“She’s done this eight times in the pass three months”

Apparently she finds younger workers who don’t know her and bullies them into giving her a better price on things.

[bisquett]

I work at an amazon wearhouse and i have night shifts which are 12 hour sleeps and honestly. You just go to bed late the nightbefore so you sleep in the day i usually get up at hour before i have to leave so night is like my daytime and a red bull 6 hours in. Honestly you just need to adjust your sleep schedual the day before

12 HOURS?!!!!

The thing is, my boss asked me. I normally do the morning or the afternoon shift, there’s no way I can do night shift all the time.

ALSO, are you like on your feet the 12 hours? Because I really don’t mind the actual work on itself and I wasn’t really sleepy it was actually fine, I was tired ofc bc it’s like 3 am and you’re working BUT my FEET GIRL my feet were KILLING ME. Do you have any tips??

[gotham-and-arkham]

The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Akira and the bats had gotten caught in a wearhouse ready to blow. They definitely wouldn't get out in time, and with no other options, Akira did the only thing his could. He pulled them too the metaverse. This shift wasn't as elegant as it usually was, and even Akira who was used to entering the multiverse, stumbled a bit.

Jason was the first to come too out of the knocked out bat family

“Christ what did you do?” Jason asked slightly delirious

[nohumansonlyunicorns]

I wanna say something.

Now, I don't really pay attention to the news or riots or protests. Mainly because I hate the violence and the pain that comes from them. But I want to give my opinion on them. If anything I say in incorrect or seen a different way, please let me know.

These protests will get somewhere, eventually. They always have. The Revolutionary War was started as a protest against the British. The Civil Rights Movement was a peaceful protest (on the protesters part).

I completely agree that those Minneapolis police officers most likely had no grounds to have George Floyd. They definitely had no right to have their knee on his neck. Those four officers have since been fired and put under investigation and one on trial for murder. I want to know if they have been fired and the police chief had personally apologized the the family, why did the protesters feel the need to attack the police station. And Target. You have now put people out of work in a time where working is rare.

That leads me into the second thing. These protests are blocking my co-workers from getting to work. We work in Southern Jersey on the third shift in a wearhouse. But they can't get here if the bridges are closed off.

I don't know. If anyone can give me some insight to these events that would be greatly appreciated. Where I live, you only have trouble with the police if you haven't lived in the town your whole life and that will just end in favoritism. We don't get many protests down here.

If you are going to a protest:

~stay safe

~quarentine yourself for a bit cause COVID-19 is still a big problem

~don't do anything to put yourself or others at risk

This has been my rant on things I know nothing about. Hope you're all healthy and happy. Love you all.

[ratwrites]

Lies In Paradise 1/2

Requests.

Masterlist.

Prompt/s: "I guess this is goodbye?"

Summary: You are captured by a Jinn and must leave behind everything you've ever wanted.

Warnings: Suicide

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Word Count: 6376

A/N: I'm not ready for this show to end ;-; I'm currently rewatching it so I decided to finally write some Sam stuff!

[[MORE]]

Fairfield Illinois, a small forgotten town that you'd never been to in your entire life. That was one of the perks of hunting; traveling all over was a weekly deal. You pulled yourself out of the backseat of your car stifling a yawn. The nine hour drive had been death on your body. You'd made the mistake of driving straight into the night, but you were also the idiot who left hours after everyone else.

You shut your car door and headed to the back unlocking the trunk. You grabbed your duffle bag and shut the trunk before heading to the motel office. You opened the door the bell above it drawing the attention of an older man.

"Looking to stay for the night?" He questioned.

"Actually, I already have a room booked, should be under the name Dylan," you answered, lazily. The man flipped through an old book for a moment before nodding. He reached down under the counter and handed you a room key labled 5.

"Your uh- friends went to the diner I think," the man added, before you could leave. You'd seen the diner on the way in, it wasn't hard to miss considering it was right next to the motel, but you hadn't bothered to look for their car due to your exhaustion. You bowed your head in thanks before leaving the office in search of your room. You spotted the door labeled 5 right off the bat and headed over to it. With a push of the key and a soft click of the door you were inside.

You closed and locked the door behind you before tossing your stuff down onto the floor. Their stuff was placed on the two beds as if claiming their sleeping spots. You sighed and moved to the furthest bed tossing the heavy bag off into the floor. Screw them you wanted to sleep.

You sat down on the edge of the bed removing the knife from inside your boot before untying and kicking your combat boots off. You rolled up your right pant leg and removed the small handgun hidden in a holster. With a yawn you crawled all the way onto the bed and flopped sliding the gun under the single pillow. You rolled onto your stomach your arms burying themselves under the pillow as well. While one hand loosely gripped the gun the other touched a small bracelet on your wrist.

Another yawn left your lips as you allowed your eyes to slide closed. You swore if they woke you when they got back you'd kill them.

...

You stirred from your sleep as the bed dipped down. Your instincts reacted swiftly your fingers shifting and positioning themselves dangerously around the gun. With careful movements you turned your head to the side your body instantly relaxing at the silhouette sitting next to you.

"Need me to move over?" You mumbled, making the shape jump.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," he whispered.

"Sam, you're fat. If you didn't want to wake me then crawling into with me bed was your first mistake," you snorted, through a yawn.

This was your first case with the Winchesters in a while. Well, it wasn't like you hadn't been with them, it's just that no hunts seemed to be coming up. You'd been friends with the boys since the first round of the apocalypse. You'd spent a lot of time with them eventually moving into the bunker with them. If heaven could've been on earth, it was in that bunker with them.

When you'd first met the boys you had barely gotten to know Sam before he took a trip to hell. You spent time with the older Winchester during Sam's time in hell. Even after the younger brother returned it had been hard for you to connect with him like you had with Dean. Though once the Winchester had recovered his soul you grew to care about him. Eventually your caring had turned into crushing, which you tried to push aside. In this life, you couldn't have connections, but Sam seemed to widle his way in whether you liked it or not. You two had been dancing around each other for months, but each too scared to act.

A quiet chuckle left the brother's mouth as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed giving the Moose man room to lay down comfortably. Once he settled down you moved back a little until your back rested comfortably against his. His heat warmed your body. "So, you two find out anything?" You questioned, nuzzling your head into the pillow.

"Not much. The victims have nothing in common whatsoever. It's almost like they're normal kidnappings except for the one body that was found," Sam answered, quietly. The only body found had been drained of all it's blood. At first you thought it might have been a vampire, but Sam had called you mid drive to tell you that they'd checked the place out and there were no signs of vampires anywhere, not to mention the body only had one puncture wound on the neck.

"Can you two discuss this in the morning please? I want to sleep," Dean's rough voice grumbled. You giggled lightly.

"Goodnight Dean," you teased. He didn't respond, but you heard the shuffle of his bed which indicated that he rolled over probably with his back to your bed. You closed your eyes allowing yourself to drift back to sleep.

.

You woke up at the crack of dawn your body complaining from the three and a half hours of sleep you'd gotten. To your surprise the diner, a Five Brothers, was actually open. You'd gone into the diner with Sam's laptop and ordered yourself some breakfast. Once seated in a booth off in a secluded corner of the restaurant you propped open the laptop and began to scroll through the information the boys had gathered so far.

Once your breakfast arrived you closed the laptop and ate in a peaceful silence. The only other people in the local diner were the workers, a trucker, and an elderly couple that didn't look like they needed to be up this early; then again, you didn't need to be either.

Finishing your breakfast you opened the laptop again and continued to research. The little information they had was making the task of identifying this creature very difficult. You let out a frustrated sigh scanning through the police report again.

"Never seen you in here before." You drew your attention to a young man standing by the booth. He looked like he was maybe nineteen. The young man was around 6'0 his curly mud brown hair messy and unkept. His deep brown eyes stared down at you uncomfortably.

"Just passing through," you replied, coolly. He cocked a brow at you tilting his head slightly.

"I'm Jacob," he said, plopping down into the seat across from you. You frowned turning your attention back to your laptop.

"Not even a name?" he pushed, one of his feet touching yours. You pulled your feet criss cross into your seat shooting him a warning glance.

"I'm way older than you kid, get lost," you huffed, keeping your cool. The kid, Jacob, was the one to frown this time. He didn't budge from his seat.

"Come on, just a name," he urged.

"Look kid, I'm busy, so why don't you run along. Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?" You growled.

"I'm graduated," he defended.

"Good for you and I'm busy," you replied, snappily.

"Everything okay here Agent?" Relief flooded through you at the sound of Sam's tired voice.

"Fine, just going through the case files," you answered, turning your attention toward Sam. The boy didn't budge for a moment.

"That is my partners seat," you said, looking back at him. He angrily got up coming almost face to face with Sam. Even with only a four inch advantage the kid coward away from Sam. Sam slid down into the seat across from you.

"I'm surprised you're up," you commented, putting your feet back down on the floor.

"Well, I noticed that there was something missing," he replied, referring to your back against his. You rolled your eyes playfully. A waitress approached the table.

"Anything I can get for you?" she asked. Sam grabbed the menu from a small holder on the table and flipped through it.

"Black coffee with the Morning Egg Special please," he answered, setting the menu back in the holder. She nodded before hurrying off.

"So, did you make anything out of what we've got?" You shook your head.

"My first thought was still vampire, but you said you've already checked for that," you explained. Sam nodded. The waitress brought Sam his coffee along with a glass of water. Sam thanked her before taking a sip.

"Dean said he had an idea, but refused to spill until he got some sleep," Sam chuckled, taking another sip. You huffed through a smile looking through the information again.

"Where was the body found again?" You asked.

"Outside some wearhouse on North 1st street," Sam answered. You sat quietly for a moment.

"I'm going to drive down there and take a look at the warehouse," you stated, standing up.

"I'll go with you," Sam started. You pointed a finger at him stopping him in place.

"Stay and eat your breakfast Sam. I'll be fine. I'll call if I need anything." Sam let out a reluctant sigh and settled back down in his seat. Without another word you headed out of the diner and back to your car. You slipped into your car and punched in the warehouse directions in your phone.

.

The drive wasn't too long considering it was a small town. You parked your car outside the warehouse giving it a once over from behind the trunk of your car. You grabbed your gun and slid it inside your coat pocket. A section of the parking lot had been blocked off by police tape indicating that the body had been found there. You were going to look inside. You headed to the front door and picked the lock. Once inside you closed the door behind you. A large empty room rested before you. Toward the back of the warehouse was a staircase leading up to a huge platform. You couldn't see what was on it. Below the platform rested a few doors with scratched off labels. You pulled out your gun and began your tour.

.

You let out a deep sigh and headed toward the front door. Your search had been fruitless. Your hand fell to the door handle coming to a halt when a loud cry echoed throughout the building. You whipped around swiftly your gun coming to defense. You moved back into the warehouse following the screams and cries that kept coming. You spotted what seemed to be a hidden door. You quickly moved to the door and opened it heading down a flight of stairs and into a poorly lit basement.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you. The missing people had their arms strung from the ceiling a needle pressed into their necks. They were being drained. Your heart dropped as the realization of what this was hit you. You needed to get out of here and fast. You ran toward the screaming girl tucking your gun away.

"Hey hey, easy. Shh," you soothed, trying to calm her down. You reached into your boot and removed your knife. You began to cut her ropes desperate to get her down. Her eyes widened as she screamed again. A hard object struck the back of your head sending you down onto the floor. Hands rolled you onto your back. A tattooed man crouched down over you his eyes glowing an unnaturally blue color. You tried to fight, but your vision and body betrayed you. The blue light from his hand made your heart race as he pressed it against your forehead. Darkness swirled around you until it consumed you.

.

You woke with a loud gasp shooting upright. You wildly looked around a dark room not able to recognize your surroundings. You looked down noticing your attire. You were wearing sweatpants and a bra. "You okay?" You yelped at the sudden voice jumping away from it. Another cry left your lips as you got tangled in the comforter over you sending you off of the bed and onto the floor.

"Jesus! Are you alright?" The stranger flipped on a light and shuffled off of the bed and to you. You knew that face.

"S-Sam?" You gawked, his lack of clothes catching you off guard. He was wearing a loose pair of sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. You could tell there wasn't anything under them. Your cheeks heated up violently turning a deep shade of pink. He crouched down untangling you and standing you up. His touch on your skin was gentle.

"What- what the hell is going on?" You breathed, looking around.

"I uh- could ask you the same question. Are you okay?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I don't know. Dude, where are we? What the fuck is going on?" You asked, pulling yourself out of his grasp.

"We're at home.. Honey are you Okay?" He asked, again. You froze at the pet name. Sam hadn't ever called you by a pet name before.. Then again Sam had never dressed like that around you before.

"Home?" You walked out of the bedroom surprised to find a house outside the room. You walked down a short hallway and out inside a living space. You stood dumbfounded taking in the change. Off of the living room was a small kitchen along with a family room and a dining room. There were three more rooms down the hallway along with the room at the end which was the one you'd practically ran from. You slowly began to walk around the house until you came to the living room. Your eyes went to a kennel telling you that there was a dog. You gazed around spotting a desk. Slowly you went to the desk noticing pictures that sat on it.

You hesitantly scooped up one of the pictures and turned it toward you. You almost dropped it out of shock and confusion. Sam's arm was wrapped around your waist his lips pressed against yours. You set it down and walked around the desk looking at the other pictures. Every single one of them was you and Sam, all except for one. The picture in the center caught your attention. You picked it up examining it. It was a family photo. On one side rested Sam, Dean, Cas, Bobby, John, Mary, Samuel, and Deanna. On the other rested your, your mother, father, sister, two brothers, and your father. You and Sam were next to each other both clearily dressed for a wedding along with everyone else.

You choked back the tears that dared to spill as you set the picture down.

"Baby?" Sam called, quietly. Your eyes met his as he flipped on the lamp on the desk.

"Oh baby," he cooed, seeing the tears in your eyes. He came around the desk pulling you comfortably against his bare chest. Without thinking you curled into him tucking your arms between his chest and yours. You looked down noticing the ring on your finger. You were married... To Sam...

You pulled back looking up at him. "You okay?" He asked, again.

"I-" you hesitated. "I don't understand... I had just left you to go and check out the case we were working," you began. Sam tilted his head.

"What are you talking about?" He questioned.

"The- the thing we were hunting.." You continued. Sam chuckled.

"Hunting? You hate hunting, remember? Honey, you're tired. You should go back to sleep," he soothed.

"No! Don't you remember?" you yelped.

"It was just a dream love," Sam said, calmly. You shook your head in confusion.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed." Sam took your hands in his gently tugging on you. You didn't fight him allowing him to lead you back to the room you'd woke up in. Maybe it was just a dream. You'd wake up and be back where you had been. You settled onto the bed tensing as Sam pulled you close tucking you safely against his side. He pressed a kiss into your hair making your scalp tingle.

"Sleep love," he encouraged, reaching up to stroke his fingers through your hair. Your body automatically relaxed into his touch. This was all wrong, but you couldn't help but enjoy it while it lasted.

.

You woke to find yourself in the same room. You sat up quickly looking around again. Light pooled through the bedroom window. A delicious smell hit your nostrils causing you to realize that Sam was nowhere to be found.

"S- Sam?" You called, panicking.

"In the kitchen!" he answered. You climbed out of bed and found a sweatshirt on the floor. You slipped it over your head noting that it was huge on you. You walked out of the room stepping over a baby gate and out into the living space. You didn't know that Sam could cook. A beautiful dog rounded the corner bouncing happily up to you. You couldn't help but bend down to pet it for a moment. You approached the counter that seperated the kicthen from the living room. Sam's eyes met yours.

"I see you've found my sweatshirt," he chuckled, his gaze sliding over what he could see. Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"I thought you'd like some breakfast before you head to work," he explained. You tilted your head.

"Work?" You questioned. Sam looked at you again.

"You did say you had a private art session today, right?" he confirmed. Art student..

"I'm an- art teacher?" You murmured.

"Yep!" Sam chuckled. When you were a kid you'd wanted to be an art teacher, but gave it up for hunting. Hunting had always been apart of your family, but consumed your life after your sister had been torn to shreds by a Banshee. You stood quietly for a moment.

"I canceled it," you said, suddenly. Your memory had gone back to the picture you'd seen last night. Your sister was alive along with your parents. Your mother had died of cancer when you were 19 and your father had a hunt go wrong. It was just you and your two brother's left, but you hadn't heard from them in years and basically assumed they were dead too.

"Why?" Sam asked, curiously. You shrugged.

"Mental health day I suppose," you excused. Sam drew his brow together.

"Are you okay baby? Honestly?" You weren't sure.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" You lied. You walked around the counter and into the kitchen taking a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. Sam left the stove and came to you. He towered over you for a moment before bending down. He tilting your chin up and captured your lips. Sparks shot through your body waking the butterflies in your gut. You'd always wanted to do this... You pulled back when things started to escalate. You didn't want to stop, but this all seemed so wrong. He smiled softly before returning to the food he was making.

You hadn't noticed that you'd picked up your phone until it buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out seeing "Pain In My Ass" across your screen. You answered it.

"Dean?" You asked.

"Hey! Is Sammy there? He's not answering my calls," Dean replied.

"Um- he's cooking breakfast," you answered, hesitantly. Sam wasn't paying attention.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" You whispered, trying not to draw Sam's attention.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"I was in that warehouse checking out our case then the next I woke up next to Sam!" you whispered, urgently. Dean laughed.

"Damn, Sammy was right, whatever dream you had last night really did screw you up didn't it?" You pinched the bridge of your nose your head starting to ache from the confusion. Had everything really been a dream?

"Is that my sister? Tell her I said hi!" You choked on your air as your little sister's voice echoed in the back of the call.

"Lillian says hi," Dean chuckled. You didn't have the words to answer.

"Okay well, tell Sam we'll be a little late tonight Lil's got some stuff to take care of," Dean continued.

"Oh- okay.." You hung up before Dean had the chance to speak again.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, setting a plate of food down in front of you.

"Dean, said he's going to be a little late... Late for what exactly?" You looked up at Sam.

"Did you forget? Tonight is game night," Sam huffed, sitting down in the chair across from you. He dug into his food. You leaned forward and picked through the food. It smelled fantastic and tasted fantastic too, but your appetite was small.

"Game night... Right," you muttered, after a few minutes of picking through your food. You met Sam's concerned gaze.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? We can cancel if you need to," Sam ensured.

"No! No, that's okay. I'm okay, really Sam," you smiled, fakely. Sam sighed continuing to eat his food. You reached down to your wrist your body going alert. You rolled up the sweatshirt sleeve to find a bare wrist.

"Sam, did I take my bracelet off last night?" You questioned.

"What bracelet?" Your gut turned uneasily.

"The bracelet that Dean gave me for my birthday three years back," you explained, slowly. Sam scoffed.

"Dean wasn't around three years ago Hon," Sam corrected. Your fingers gripped your wrist.

"Right.. Don't know what I was thinking," you muttered. You hadn't taken that bracelet off since the day he'd given it to you. You weren't imagening that. You stood up from your chair and left the kitchen eyeing the dog that sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"Where are you off to?" He called, after you.

"I'm going to go for a walk," you replied. You entered your bedroom and closed the door locking it behind you. You paced for a few moments before pulling out your phone and sitting on the bed. You went through your pictures taking in each one. Ninety percent of them were of you and Sam, but some were pictures with other people from your family. You didn't see one picture with Dean which was odd. Dean was your best friend. He had been from the start. You were closer to Sam, but your love for him wasn't in the friendly sense like it was for Dean. That man had basically become your third brother. You set your phone aside and stripped out of your clothes changing into something different. You slid on a pair of jeans and a Van Halen t-shirt. You were surprised that there was no plaid in your closet nor Sam's. That was another red flag.

You rifled through your closet in search of your combat boots only to come up empty. You frowned settling on a pair of tennis shoes. You headed out of the room moving through the house and to the front door.

"Want me to come with you?" Sam called, as you grabbed the door handle.

"I'm good, thanks!" You answered. You opened the door and stepped outside. You backed up getting a good look at the house itself. It was a small brick house with a one car garage on the side. The yard around it was small, yet big enough for you. You glanced around the area not recognizing what town you were in. You pulled out your phone and clicked on your map.

"California?" You zoomed out on the map your eyes catching on one destination. Stanford University. That was the school Sam had been going to.. You tucked your phone back into your pocket and began to walk.

.

You'd wandered for hours eventually making your way back to your home. To your surprise Sam was outside along with the gorgeous dog. The dog was the first to notice you. It let out a loud bark before racing to meet you at the edge of the yard. You crouched down running your hands through its soft fur. You'd always wanted a dog. Sam jogged over to meet you as you stood up. Before you could speak he took you in for a soft peck.

"Thought you'd be gone all night!" he teased. You followed him back up to the house the dog trotting next to you.

"Yep, I planned to walk all night," you responded, quickly. Tossing sarcasm was something you and Sam always did, though you had to admit, Dean was better at matching your sarcasm. You gut clenched as you stood at the front door allowing Sam to hold it open. Your eyes met Sam's. The light in his eyes was almost blinding to you. The smile he offered you melted your heart. You couldn't help but return the smile before walking inside with Sam on your tail.

"So, we've got two hours before everyone shows up, anything you'd like to do?" Sam asked, grabbing your waist and spinning you around. You squeaked as your body collided with his. His other hand snaked around your lower back pulling you closer. Your eyes met his again sending chills down your spine. His pupils dilated slightly the longer he stared at you. It was odd, this look was familiar to you. He leaned down catching your lips in a breathtaking kiss. You couldn't help but lean further into him your hands finding his stomach.

You were hesitant for a moment until Sam suddenly moved. His strong arms moved down gripping the underside of your thighs. With one swift motion you were off of your feet. Without a thought you wrapped your legs around his waist hooking your ankles as best as you could. Everything was right. You attacked Sam's lips your confidence building as he manuvered through the house and back to the bedroom.

His knees hit the bed sending him down. Your back landed against the soft bed and to your surprise Sam caught himself above you. He stared down at you his pupils dilating. Your body heated up under his intense gaze. The feelings you'd been desperately pushing down had sprung free.

.

You slid out of bed and dressed yourself as the doorbell rang. Your body was tired, but pleased. You glanced over at Sam who still slept peacefully his body curved to where you had been. You smiled softly before heading out of the room. The dog was barking at the door in a high pitched tone. You opened the inside door your heart stopping at the sight.

Dean pulled the glass outside door open and engulfed you in a friendly hug.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, letting you go.

"He's... He's in the bedroom," Dean smiled and headed that way.

"Dean I wouldn't do that!" You called, over your shoulder. You briefly heard Sam yelling before different arms embraced you. Your full attention was on them. They were soft and familiar, yet strange. You pulled back your heart clenching in your chest. Your sister stood before you grown and alive.

"Sis?" You gulped.

"Hey girl," she smiled, happily. You embraced her again burying your face into the crook of her neck.

"Geez, you act like you haven't seen me in years!" She giggled, pushing you off.

"Okay girls, reunion out of the doorway please!" You honestly hadn't noticed your brothers behind her along with John, Mary, and your father. You forced yourself to step back allowing them all inside. You hadn't been around to meet John, but you'd heard a lot about him that made you bitter toward him. They said their hellos each one hugging you.

"Hey dad," you murmured, as he approached you. He wrapped his arms around you making your warm up happily. This was perfect. He released you as Sam and Dean entered the room.

"Seems like you two had a little fun before we got here," Dean teased, finding a seat on one of the couches in the living room. Your sister sat next to him snuggling against his side. You stared blankly at them for a moment before you realized she had a ring as well. She married Dean? Your head ached slightly. Your brothers sat on the floor by the glass coffee table in the center of the room. John and Mary took a seat next to your sister while your father sat down in the secluded chair by the larger couch. Sam took a seat on the smaller couch that sat across from the larger one. You stood in the room taking in each member in the room.

"You gonna stand there all night or are we gonna play?" Dean laughed, drawing you out of your trance.

You shook yourself before moving to sit by Sam. Everyone was staring at you. Sam let out a low chuckle before he stood and fetched the games from a closet by the front door.

"Take it easy, she's a bit tired," Sam explained, setting the games on the table. Dean let our a hearty laugh. You'd never heard him laugh this much and the night was only getting started.

.

Hours had passed since your family had arrived. Everyone was laughing, yelling, and in your brother's case, crying over a loss. Everyone had settled in getting drinks and snacks for themselves. You laughed along with them as you set down your hand of cards. Dean growled under his breath passing you a twenty.

"Thank you!" You teased. Everyone laughed at Dean making you smile widely.

"Another round?" John asked. Everyone agreed, allowing Sam to shuffle and pass out the cards.

"I'll be back, I'm going to go get my sweatshirt, it's a bit chilly in here," you announced, standing up. You headed to your bedroom as their new game started. You picked up Sam's sweatshirt sliding it over your head. A scream left your lips as a young boy stood in front of you. His skin was pale as if he was dead. You stumbled backwards your back hitting the dresser against the wall. You heard a loud thud as Sam hurtled the babygate.

"Babe!" He was at your side in moments. His hands gripped you causing you to jump. You pushed him away your eyes leaving the boy. You whipped around only for the boy to disappear.

"What's wrong?" He asked, offering his hands in surrender. You looked between Sam and where the boy had been.

Dean, your father, and John stood in the doorway concern on their faces.

"I- I saw something.." You rasped, trying to calm your breathing.

"Hey, hey it's alright," Sam soothed.

"Did you see something outside the window?" Dean questioned. You nodded going along with it. You couldn't tell them.

Dean looked at the others.

"I'll go check it out." With that they left the bedroom and headed outside your brothers tagging along as they went outside. Sam cautiously reached for you guiding you to sit on the bed. He sat next to you.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting strange since that nightmare you had last night." His concern was genuine. You didn't answer him as you leaned against him. Sam understood and wrapped his arm securely around your shoulder. The small ache in your head grew. Sam's hand rubbed reassuring circles against your arm.

After a few minutes Dean and your father returned to the room. "Anything?" Sam enquired, tilting his head slightly. Dean shook his head.

"Nothing, not even a sign that something was out there," your father piped. You snuggled further into Sam. Your husband let out a sigh.

"Stay here love. You should get some rest," Sam encouraged, slowly standing from the bed. You didn't protest as he followed Dean and your father out of the room closing the door gently behind him. You stayed in your spot tuning in on their conversation.

"Is she okay?" your father asked.

"I don't know... She's been acting strange ever since last night," Sam answered.

"Strange?"

"She had a really bad nightmare last night. It left her completely out of it. She didn't know where she was, what was going on, and she said we'd been hunting something." Silence followed for a moment.

"Maybe we should all call it a night," Dean suggested. The door opened again revealing Sam.

"Everyone's going to head home, would you like to wish them off?" Sam asked. You shook your head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you snapped, coming off harsher than you'd intended. Sam closed the door. You ran your hands through your hair your head aching. Your instincts were returning to you. You couldn't let this thing trick you anymore than it already had.

"They're not real... They're not real!" you repeated, standing suddenly. You began to pace trying to focus on the last thing you truly remembered. You had been hunting a monster. You desperately tried to think back. Sam had told you about Dean's run in with a Jinn. It had made his dreams come true. You wracked your brain trying to remember how Dean freed himself. You let out a frustrated groan pacing the room. You paused in your movements and closed your eyes. You opened them only to see the little boy again. Instead of panicking you walked toward him. You reached out grabbing ahold of him.

Yells echoed through your head causing you to let go. You recognized the voice but couldn't quite put a name to it. The boy was gone. You stumbled back hearing the door behind you open.

"Babe?" You pinpointed the voice. It had been Sam's. You turned to this Sam. You were conflicted. He seemed so real... You approached him reaching up and touching his cheek. The light stubble scratched against your hand. He was as real as you were. Your heart sunk as his warm hand came to rest over yours. All of your dreams were here... Your sister was alive and well, she even got married to your best friend. Your family was back together again and so was theirs. Sam, the man you loved, returned your love was you were married! You pulled back from him looking at the ground. This wasn't your place. Your Sam was looking for you. You knew it.

"I- I need to sleep," you said, suddenly. You didn't give Sam a chance to answer as you slid onto the bed resting on your stomach. Sam snuggled next to you warming you. You kept thinking about the story a thought occuring to you. Your gut twisted at the thought, but it had to be done. You would wait for the perfect time.

.

Once Sam had drifted off you carefully lifted yourself from the bed and headed to the kitchen. You dug through the drawers until you found a sharp knife. You held it in your hand for a moment before lifting it.

"What are you doing?" Sam's horrified voice growled, as the knife pressed against your throat. Your attention shot to Sam who stood across the counter.

"S-Sam.." you choked, tears stinging your eyes. He slowly came around the counter.

"Stay back," you warned, placing it closer to your neck. He put his hands up in surrender fear coursing through his wide eyes.

"Put the knife down," he pleaded. You shook your head.

"I have to do this. I shouldn't be here," you shook, keeping the knife in place.

"Don't say that..." he whined, taking a step closer.

"This isn't real Sam! You're not real! I can't stay here.. I can't just leave you," you cried, tears springing out onto your cheeks.

"If you do this I'll be alone, please don't leave me," he whimpered. You shook your head.

"If I do this everything will go back to normal.." You explained. He took another step closer.

"I love you... Please don't do this," he pleaded.

"You don't love me! This isn't real!" You shouted. The knife stung your neck. Before you could move his hands were on yours. The warmth made you jump. He moved your hands down and you didn't fight him.

"Do you feel that? That's real." He didn't let go.

"No... No let go," you sobbed.

"No! Don't you understand? I'm real. I'm here. You don't need to do this."

You pulled back from him taking the knife with you. "Please don't do this.." Your sister's voice called. She stepped out from behind Sam.

"We want you here... If you leave I'll be nothing but a memory," she explained, calmly. Your father stepped out as well.

"I-" You stared at them. You didn't want to leave them, but you knew you couldn't stay.

"I'm sorry..." You put the knife back to your neck.

"I guess this is goodbye?" Sam murmured, coming to stand close to you. You nodded slowly. Sam leaned forward watching you for one last kiss. You cried into the kiss closing your eyes. You ran the knife sharply across your neck.

Cold and pain washed over you. Your wrists stung above your head. Your head and neck throbbed. Someone's hands were on you. "Hang on," I'm gonna get you down. Dean in here!" Sam's voice echoed in your ears. The hands moved up touching the binds on your wrists. You didn't have the strength to open your eyes, but a raspy groan left your lips as the binds dropped. Your body collapsed into strong arms.

"Easy, I've got you," he soothed. You were lowered down and placed with part of your back against a solid chest.

"Did you find her?" Dean called.

"Get the others down, we've got to get them out of here," Sam ordered. You heard shuffling which told you Dean was listening.

"Can you hear me? Hey, stay with me," Sam pleaded, shaking you gently. After a moment your body was lifted off of the ground completely.

"Please don't leave me," Sam's voice came, softly. Everything faded around you leaving you in darkness.

Forever Taglist:

@rosierosieelain   @xaviersmutcnt @raindrops-on-roses142

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

Don't sit here making up a priori theories about what users want. I read on individual people's sites rather than to magazine articles or news stories. For example, so far the filter has caught two emails that were sent to my address because of a typo, and one sent to me in the belief that I was someone else.1 Or, to put it more nicely, overworked. In every swing state they overestimated the Kerry vote. Many of the most surprising things I discovered during my brief business career was the existence of the PR Society of America gets to the heart of the matter: Bloggers are sensitive about becoming mouthpieces for other organizations and companies, which is like a runner asking If I'm such a good athlete, why do I feel so tired?2 In How to Start a Startup I advised startups never to let anyone fly under them, meaning never to let anyone fly under them, meaning never to let anyone fly under them, meaning never to let any other company offer a cheaper, easier solution. In the Valley it's not only real but fashionable. The disadvantage of having a larger universe of tokens is that there is more chance of misses. There are two kinds of spams I currently do have trouble with.

That idea is almost as old as the web. They won't necessarily buy them outright. They can tell at a young age that a contest where everyone wins is a fraud.3 They just wanted to make the point that the web has evolved mechanisms for selecting good stuff, the web wins net.4 9198 Url free 0.5 And bingo, there it is: The Men's Wearhouse.6 At least, it did when people wrote about it online. What will happen when they do? But prudence can't tell me what sentence to write next. With both employers and investors, the balance of power is slowly shifting towards the young. 6546 In the Plan for Spam uses a very simple definition of a token.

Notes

The angels had convertible debt is a great programmer will invent things, they wouldn't have. Since we're not doing anything with a million dollars in liquid assets are assumed to be secretive, because talks are made of spolia. Here is the most fearsome provisions in VC deal terms have to talk to corp dev is to fork off separate processes to deal with slaps, but rather by, say, good deals.

There are situations in which those considered more elegant consistently came out shorter perhaps after being macroexpanded or compiled. In this context, issues basically means things we're going to get a personal introduction—and in a reorganization. Maybe it would be easier to say yet how much harder.

I'm satisfied if I could pick them, if we couldn't decide between turning some investors away and selling more of a cent per spam. The main one was drilling for oil, over fairly low heat, till onions are glassy. Possible doesn't mean the hypothetical people who are good presenters, but Javascript now works. Y Combinator.

It does at least, the term literally. Quoted in: it's much better to read an original book, bearing in mind that it's up to two more investors. Certainly a lot better. Apple's just by hiring someone to invent the spreadsheet.

This is not economic inequality. Which in turn means the slowdown that comes from ads on other investors doing so much in their early twenties. There is nothing more unconvincing, for an investor seems very interested in investing but doesn't want to get a poem published in The New Industrial State to trying to capture the service revenue as well.

He was off by only about 2%. 99,—9. I say in principle 100,000, the Nasdaq index was.