#i'm not entirely sure if that's the case but it ran better on this computer before i even installed the graphics card

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than figs

Now that I have a more powerful computer, I can play games that have high performance requirements and were were obnoxiously laggy on my old, mediocre computer.

Such as this 2D pixel art RPG Maker game

[lionydoorin]

What are your opinions on chads injuries? I feel like since he had injuries that he barely survived from he would have problems with them in the future

I WROTE A HUGE AND PERFECT RESPONSE AND LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE I'M A DUMBASS SO I'M HAVING TO REWRITE AND IM SO SAD BUT i literally jumped from my bed and ran to the computer so i could write this better because i do have a few thoughts and i wanna comment on it. so

chad is a bit more complicated than tara in the sense that he's got a lot more injuries in places that aren't particularly certain as tara's, so the outcome might depend on a few aspects, such as where exactly the knife hit.

as much as i was baffled by the fact he survived after the amount of stabbing he's got in scream 6, it's not uncommon for victims to survive said wounds even when they've got hit multiple times; take the girl who survived the slenderman stabbing, for example, who was still a child and could still crawl out and ask for help. she's alive, well, and doesn't seem to have any permanent after-effects to her injuries.

when we were analyzing tara's case, my bestie @oooh-the-horrors left a list of all of chad's injuries on my inbox and i still got them here, which will come in handy now :3

in scream V, i don't think any of his injuries led to any major outcomes, honestly. i mean, he probably went through surgery for the ones he's got on his stomach and had to go through rehabilitation after said surgery so he could get back on his feet and his body could function properly again, but nothing that could make him lose his intestinal function completely or not. he got it stitched back together and lived his life just fine after that. stab wounds usually have a better prognosis than gunshots, as well :3

the shoulder case isn't concerning as well because there aren't many areas that could have severe damage, seeing it isn't an area with many nerves that could be hit. from where it got hit, it probably didn't hit any tendons, as well, which would be the real problem in this case

and the stab in the back, both in 5 and 6, are super tricky. we've seen cases of characters being stabbed on the back in scream and having permanent consequences coming from it, aka dewey, but dewey's case just irks me and leaves a kinda bitter taste. i don't see, anatomically wise, how the place he got stabbed would lead to a limp; if the knife hit the spine, it would probably cause loss of movement in the entirety of the lower part of his body, not simply that limp? and if the knife hit the middle in chad's case, it could be similar, but i also don't believe it hit the middle for him. anyway, i'm sorry i know this isn't about dewey but his injury confuses me and i had to say this while i got the chance 😭

for scream 6 in particular, while it baffled me that he did survive that amount of stab wounds, it's entirely possible for someone to survive multiple injuries even when they hit organs and stuff. an example is the girl who survived the slenderman stabbing, she's alive and doesn't seem to have any permanent injuries, and she was much younger and more frail than chad when she got attacked. anyway.

the trickiest one of his injuries would be the stab in his left clavicula, particularly if it hit the subclavian artery. i'm sure it isn't the case, but considering it hit the artery and judging by the time he was left there bleeding before help came, chad would probably lose an arm lmao the amount of blood he lost would lead to tissue death aaaand gangrena. so that would be preeeetty tricky to treat.

arteries can be stitched back together just fine, since it's not permanent like a nerve damage, so... i'm sure his arm is just fine though!

he could probably have multiple injuries in multiple organs and i'm sure it will take him several months to recover, but he got stabbed so many times you lose count of where and what the knife must've possibly hit 😭😭😭😭 so he basically went through multiple surgeries for his injuries as well, but will probably recover just fine after rehabilitation/physical therapy.

it would be very interesting, though, if it didn't take many time timeline-wise between scream 6 and 7 and he was still recovering. chad's physically the strongest and biggest one between all of them and with that i'm sure he feels the need to protect his friends, but he wouldn't be able to when he's still fragile and treating the wounds left from the bailey family in scream VI. it would make him have to find other ways to help - or lead to some very interesting sequences seeing him try to fight while having fresh wounds.

overall, as much as he's probably like spongebob after all of the hits, i'm sure he'll turn out fine :3

[girls-are-weird]

a fragment

so... i wrote this short fragment of a scene ages ago... maybe a month or so after YR S2 premiered, when i was trying to wrap my head around what i wanted S3 to be like or what i thought would happen in it-- either/or. i'm not sure.

i wanted to write it early on in the break, before the real S3 came and jossed it, but although i had some idea of the beats i wanted to hit, i was never able to fully crack the plot, and now that S3 is firmly in postprod territory, i realize i probably won't have time to write the full thing. but i think it's a pretty good piece of writing, and i don't want it to just languish in my hard drive without anybody ever reading it, so i figured i might as well put it out there just for kicks.

you don't get much of the plot in it-- it's just 650 words of wille complaining about being grounded at drottningholm-- but the gist of the fic was going to be: sara runs away after telling the police about what august did, her family thinks she's missing and the police starts searching for her, august gets arrested but he promises to not implicate simon with the drugs as long as the crown puts all of its resources into the search, wille demands to be allowed to stand with simon and linda during public appearances to support them/give the case more visibility, and eventually they get a tip from the public that leads them to sara alive and well in some other city she ran away to because she couldn't take the guilt of what she did to her brother. they all make up. august goes to jail. something something happy ending. your guess is as good as mine. xD

anyway, here's the little snippet i did manage to write. it was supposed to be the very beginning of the fic. hope you like!

Four days Wilhelm spent by himself at Drottningholm, completely disconnected from the outside world and without a clue as to what was happening with Simon or any of his friends at Hillerska. His mother had confiscated his phone before leaving the school that day; his computer was presumably still at Hillerska or elsewhere with the rest of his belongings, which hadn't been returned to him as of yet. He could watch tv in the family lounge but all they were doing was speculating about his sexuality and his relationship with Simon without any response from the Crown, and that only made him even more anxious, so he'd given up on the news altogether. His parents' room and offices had been unused and locked for the past four days so there was no way he could use their desk phones even if he knew how to do that (which he didn't), and the entire house staff had been instructed not to lend him theirs no matter how much he begged. Labor contracts and NDAs outweighed pity when it came to the palace staff, unfortunately.

He hadn't even heard from his parents, who had probably spent the past few days at the Royal Palace dealing with the fallout, and his only interaction with another human being other than the house staff was his one daily check-in with Minou. He was sure his mother had done that on purpose because Minou was the "nice" one— Farima would've gotten a door slammed in her face, and Jan-Olof better not show his face around Wilhelm any time soon if he valued his life at all. But even though polite, Minou was still loyal to the Queen, and the most Wille had gotten out of her was that the team was figuring out how to proceed after his reveal at the jubilee and he should stay out of the public eye until further notice.

Not for the first time, he cursed having to live in a place watched over by the Royal Guard; their job was just as much to keep him in as it was to keep intruders out. He swore he'd haunted the palace like an 18th-century ghost, pacing trenches in every carpet to be found within the 162 hectares of the property in search of some exit that would allow him to get outside undetected and maybe hail a cab or jump on a bus— fuck, at this point he'd even try and hitchhike back to Bjärstad, even though every horror movie in history warned against doing that.

But even that was a no-go. Every known exit to the building had at least one guard posted outside of it, and he was certain he'd be bodily brought back inside if he so much as poked the tips of his toes beyond any external doorway. By this point, he'd even begun contemplating the physics of jumping out a window, but he'd concluded there wasn't one that was close enough to the lake that he could fall into it and maybe, with some luck, not break every bone in his body.

This had to be some kind of kidnapping, right? Except even if it was, he was screwed because his captor just happened to be the queen of the fucking country, who probably couldn't even be charged with a crime— he wasn't sure; he'd never asked. Erik would probably know, but that was… a whole separate issue, wasn't it? And even if he raised a stink about neglect or something along those lines, he was nearly seventeen, not seven, and nobody would buy it, anyway, because the place he was being held captive in happened to be a bloody palace with a whole fleet of servants at the ready to attend to his every need.

Except when that need happened to be talking to the boy he loved.

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[britt-writes]

hi lovely i have a request for you because youre work is absolutely amazing aHH ! could you maybe so some headcanons/oneshot on lucas making his gf cry cause he's getting all pissed with his computer n is getting angry and then accidentally takes it out on his gf?? there's no pressure at all, I really do love your work and I'm so happy you write for Lucas <33

Thank you so so much, I really appreciate it, and I'm happy to do this request for you! I went for a little drabble with this one. Hopefully, I didn't make you wait too long for it. 💕 (I added a cut since it was getting a bit long and, and I don't want to invade people's dashes.)

Prompt: Lucas making his girlfriend cry

Drabble title: Poor Choice of Words

Word Count: 2008

With the semester coming to a close, you found yourself balls deep in what felt like never-ending exams to study for and detailed research papers to type. Needless to say that the hefty accumulation of college work had been piling up on you, leaving you stressed and fatigued, ultimately leaving you with no motivation or desire to get work done; just this huge blank whenever you stared at your books.

Barely able to hold yourself together with this massive headache from the free-for-all death match your thoughts were having up there, you were in desperate need of some quiet and rest. You were sure that you’d eventually break down if you didn’t.

Lucas was nice enough to let you get that quiet you needed, letting you take over his bed to nap and rest your head and eyes while he tapped away on his computer. He kept it down, which you appreciated. He’d always been the strong, silent type of guy. The only noises you could hear were the clicking of his keyboard and his foot tapping at the ground—a little tic of his, being rather fidgety.

You hadn’t quite fallen asleep, being quite restless, but you did occasionally lull in and out of consciousness. Maybe it was the damn heat wave that hit Dulvey that kept you up, or maybe it was your headache, but nonetheless, it felt nice to lie down and do nothing, worrying about nothing.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had decided to lie down in your lover’s bed, but as the seconds ticked by, you could hear Lucas’ foot tapping becoming faster, seemingly aggressive. His fingers had also joined in, just tapping at the desk.

You didn’t think much of it at first, brushing it off as Lucas simply being his regular, fidgety self; he’d probably stop in a minute or so. But then you heard a low growl from him, followed by a series of curses muttered underneath his breath.

“C'mon, ya slow piece o’ shit,” you heard him say.

Shifting around, you faced him, opening your eyes. Lucas was having some issues with his computer, and one quick glance showed that his programs and even cursor were running at abysmally sluggish speeds. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard it at first, but his computer’s fans were loud as hell, probably working their asses off. When was the last time Lucas cleaned them? The poor old box computer sounded like it was suffering.

“Motherfucker!” Lucas suddenly yelled out, nearly jolting you out of your skin.

You flinched as he began smacking the computer, making you sit up on the bed as you stared at Lucas while his patience ran thinner with every passing second. You remained still and quiet, worried about his state of anger, but also unsure if you should intervene in an attempt to get him to simmer down. Truth be told, you hated watching people get angry, even if the anger wasn’t directed at you; it put you in a state of anxiety, wanting nothing more to keep the situation from escalating further.

“Aw, what the hell?! What now?!” He yelled as his screen seemed to freeze.

“Um, hey, babe?” You intervened, sounding very meek.

He didn’t reply, continuing to aggressively fumble with his computer, still spewing insults and curses at the device. Maybe that should have been your cue to leave Lucas be, but you didn’t take it, wanting to help him.

“Babe?” You said again, a little louder this time in case he hadn’t heard you the first time over the sound of his own voice.

“What?” Lucas said rather sharply.

“Do you want me to help or something? How about you turn it off and try cleaning the fans to start off? Then, maybe-”

Lucas whirled around to face you, the annoyed look on his face immediately shutting you up.

“What the fuck would yer dumbass know? Shit’s already fucked, so I don’t need it worsenin’. I don’t need yer fuckin’ help, so mind yer goddamn business,” he said before going back to his computer, not paying you any further mind.

You had never been on the receiving end of Lucas’ outbursts until now. Maybe you were being too sensitive, but you couldn’t help the tears threatening to fall. Sure, you and Lucas have insulted each other plenty of times in the past, but it was all obvious playful banter and teasing between the two of you with no ill intentions. This time around, he held this dead serious expression and tone, making you feel like he actually thought that of you.

Lucas was short-tempered, prone to outbursts at the slightest inconvenience, and you knew that he ran his mouth faster than his brain during those moments. He often did or said things that he didn’t truly mean, letting his anger get the best of him. He probably hadn’t even realized what he said, but that still didn’t mean that you didn’t feel as if your heart shattered in millions of pieces at his poor choice of words.

Wordlessly, you lied back down, facing the wall as you curled up underneath the blankets. A few tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to make a scene. You just hoped that Lucas would soon enough calm down on his own accord.

~~~~~~

He’d say that a little over half an hour had passed since his computer started acting up, but Lucas had since abandoned the device to fool around on his phone, feet propped atop his desk. At least he was distancing himself from the source of his anger.

Maybe about a year ago, Lucas would still be fuming and smashing things around his room, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been getting better at taking breaks, not fixating on whatever was irritating him in order to cool down a bit. You were there to comfort him, listen to his venting and clear his head.

Overall, a model lover with the patience of a saint to deal with him— Lucas himself would be the first to say it.

So, why the fuck did he yell at you the way he did earlier? He absolutely hated any asshole who dared make you upset; Lucas always promised to make quick work of anybody who hurt you, and all you had to do was say the word.

But now, Lucas was the one to feel like the biggest shithead ever.

Earlier feelings of fury were slowly being replaced by regret, which was an odd feeling. It was a first for him; he’s never really given a shit enough to feel regret or shame for his actions, even when he knew that he was in the wrong. But it felt different when it involved you. Maybe he still felt anger, anger at himself for treating you like shit when all you wanted to do was help him because you cared.

You were already stressed enough in the first place with all the work you had to do, and Lucas wasn’t helping by taking out his anger on you. It was an accident; he really regretted it.

Looking back at you, Lucas saw that you were still curled on his bed. You hadn’t said anything in the last half hour, so he wondered if you had fallen asleep, though you may just be ignoring him after the things he said. He didn’t like that thought, but he knew he deserved it.

He could feel panic settling in his chest— what if he fucked up for good? What if you drew the line there? What if this was the moment you realized you could do better than him? What if you walked out on him?

Those ‘what if’ questions made him nauseated. Lucas was shit at showing it, but you were his entire world. This relationship was his only motivation to even bother trying in life. Without you, he was sure that he’d either end up thrown into the streets or in jail— just some loser with no chance in hell to make it.

He had to calm the fuck down, he thought. He knew damn well that having an internal breakdown over something that was his fault in the first place wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

He stood up from his chair, cautiously approaching his bed, almost unsure of what he should do. It was like he was second-guessing himself— maybe he should let you sleep it off.

But Lucas ultimately decided to join you in bed, slowly scooting against you and draping his arm over your waist. He already felt like shit, but the feeling only worsened when he felt you flinch, and after an uncomfortable minute of silence, Lucas finally found it in himself to say something.

“Are ya mad at me?” He asked.

And he wanted nothing more than to ram his head against drywall, not impressed with the way he chose to open up.

“Are you mad at me?” You countered in a shaky tone that split his heart in two.

“Wasn’t mad at ya… jus’ the computer,” he said.

“Do you really think I’m dumb?” You asked, voice nearly inaudible.

“C'mon baby, y'know I don’t,” he said.

The silence on your end was goddamn unnerving, absolutely stressing him out. As the seconds ticked by, Lucas could feel his breathing become ragged and heavy, the atmosphere making him increasingly more anxious.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, realizing that he should have said that in the first place.

Lucas didn’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he ever did in his lifetime.

“I just wanted to help,” you said, voice quivering. “But you just yelled at me instead.”

And then the sobs came; Lucas could feel your body shake against him. Oh, God. He made you cry. Lucas didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any shittier at the moment, but here he was.

“No-no-no-no— don’t cry,” Lucas shushed, holding you tighter and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” he apologized again. “I know ya just wanted to help, 'cause yer just the sweetest thing out there.”

“You looked so serious… like you really meant it,” you managed to say through choked up cries. “I feel like I’m the stupidest bother to you.”

“Didn’t mean a goddamn word of it. I know it ain’t no excuse, but I wasn’t thinkin’ right. Aw, shit— I’m the stupid piece o’ crap here. Yer hella smart, darlin’; there ain’t one part o’ ya that’s dumb,” he said. “Y'know I love ya, right?”

You were taking your sweet time to respond, making Lucas all the more anxious. He thought that he had royally fucked up beyond repair.

“Do you… d'ya still love me?” He asked, finding himself ridiculously pathetic for asking such a thing; the shakiness in his tone didn’t help either.

“Of course I do,” you said.

Lucas found some relief in the swift response at his question— no stuttering, no vague answers, no skipped beat. Your crying had also started to die down.

“So, you ain’t gonna, ya know, leave or somethin’?” He asked.

“No. I wouldn’t break up with you over something like this. It’s not worth our entire relationship,” you said. “I’m just a little sad over it. It’s… not really fun getting yelled at by someone you love, you know?”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah.”

Of course nobody liked getting into fights with their loved ones. He sure as hell knew that he’d blow a fuse if you yelled and insulted him the way he had.

“I have anger issues…” he mumbled.

“I know,” you said. “But you’re not as bad as you used to be.”

Lucas could only promise to get better going forward, and with your encouragement, he was sure that he’d be able to do it. But he’d have to try hard, and he knew it.

“Y'ave been hella stressed lately. Want me to help you study later, or somethin’?” He offered.

“If you have time, that’d motivate me.”

“Yeah, I got time. Don’t got much to do in the first place.”

You turned around to face him, wiping the remainder of your tears and offering a small smile before pressing your lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. You then nuzzled Lucas’ chest as he cradled you protectively against him.

Apology accepted.

[notasdriedapricots]

"Bite that lip one more time. I dare you."

Just an overload of domestic fluff. Not much else to it. From a daily prompt from last week. The link to AO3 is in the title if you prefer that. 1.7k words.

Another hummed little fragment of a vaguely familiar melody, followed by another tiny sigh, made Lucas look up from his book for the twentieth time in the last two hours.

"I'm trying to read over here, you know?"

Despite the complaint in his words, his tone was light. Slightly amused, even. He'd spent most of the afternoon with his gaze switching between the book and Liz, ending up inevitably lingering on her a couple minutes longer than necessary every time. She sat at the high bar she'd covered with scores, framed by the cold light that made it past the clouds and through the glass wall behind her. Far more eye-catching than his reading.

"Sorry," she replied absentmindedly as she shuffled the papers around and put one foot up on her chair to rest her chin on her knee. With one earbud on from her computer on the stool next to her, she didn't pick up on his tone. "I- There you are!" She fished out a page from the pile. "I'll move to the study if I'm bothering you too much…" Her voice faded when she realised doing that wouldn't exactly be an easy task.

"You're not bothering me, you're distracting me."

She frowned at her papers. "And doesn't that bother you?"

"No."

She finally looked up to find his amused smile. "Well, in that case, would you shut up?" she laughed. "Or move? You distracting me does bother me." Her eyes fell back on the sheet music filled with annotations. She sighed and bit her lip. "I need to finish this arrangement by Tuesday and I'm only half-way there."

Lucas didn't respond, putting his book down instead. He'd barely seen her all week, and after their usual breakfast at their favourite bakery, she'd come back straight to work. He understood she didn't have much of a choice, so he settled for what he could get, which at the moment reduced to sharing a space with her, keeping her quiet company. But what he wanted was to lift her into his arms and get her to their bedroom, away from that ridiculously big pile of scores.

The fact that every time she hummed, and therefore every time he looked up to watch her, she was biting her lip under a furrowed brow was not particularly helping. After two hours they looked like she was wearing lipstick, and even though they obviously didn't hurt as she kept doing it, the sight only made Lucas wish more and more those were his teeth instead of hers.

Another hum, another quick annotation, another little drum of the pencil as she bit her thumb this time. He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms over his exposed chest and putting his feet up on the coffee table. If his entire afternoon consisted on sitting there, watching her think, so be it.

Liz stared at the notes in front of her as the passage played quietly on her right ear for the fifth time. She always took arranging seriously, but this being the first time she had to do it for her new job was a new level of pressure. She looked up at the high ceiling, struggling to come up with a creative change that would at the same time be respectful of the original composer. A couple options flashed through her mind, and when she settled on one she dropped her gaze again to note it, but Lucas caught her eye. He was just silently staring at her, his arms still crossed and his head tilting to the side.

She leaned on her elbows, over the pages. "What?"

Lucas just smiled. "'What' what?"

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? What do you want?"

"Oh, darling…"

"Okay," she couldn't help a laugh, "wrong question for you. But seriously, what?"

"I told you, you're distracting me."

She looked pointedly at him, arms still crossed and feet still on the table. Book still abandoned. "Distracting you from what, exactly?"

"From literally everything else, Liz."

She rolled her eyes, containing a smile as she licked her lips before biting them again. "Oh, is that so?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It is. Not that I'm complaining."

"Oh, 'cause you could 'look at me all day' or some bullshit?"

"Of course."

Liz sighed and shook her head. She tried to return to her work, but his gaze burned her skin even from the other end of the room. "Do you really have nothing better to do?"

"Better? Nope."

"Anything, you know, productive?"

"Oh, sure, but as we've established, I'm too distracted."

"If I can work with my devastatingly handsome, shirtless boyfriend in the same room, you can surely manage to do something."

"You know flattery will get you everywhere with me."

She bit her lip again and faked a confused look. "I have been everywhere with you… At least in this flat…"

He touched his tongue to a molar for a brief second before his voice dropped lower. "Bite that lip one more time, Liz. I fucking dare you."

Her eyes sparkled at the challenge. Putting her pencil down, her tongue ran over her bottom lip. She bit her thumb as a cheeky grin spread on her face and she lifted one eyebrow. "'Dare', huh? What if I do?"

As he slowly set his feet on the ground she sat straighter, their gazes locked.

"What, Lucas?"

He stood up with a smile that turned into a laugh when she darted to the front door and out to the hall. "Come back here!" He stood at the door and saw the elevator's indicator go down. But he knew she wouldn't be dumb enough to take it when he would beat her to it through the stairs. So he walked down the hall and opened the door to the staircase, listening for footsteps.

And he did hear them. Just not echoing in the staircase but instead running light behind him. He turned around just in time to see Liz run back into the flat and slam the door with a giggle.

Inside, Liz looked around for the keys as she leaned all her weight against the door. She saw the knob move and then a quick knock.

"Come on, Liz." There was playfulness in his voice. "Nice one, but let me back in."

Liz dig her hand into several pockets from the coats hanging next to the door, with no luck. "Why? So you can keep me from finishing my arrangement?" She ducked to look under the side table. "Go for a walk. Go visit Leslie; I bet she'll love shirtless you."

Lucas laughed out loud. Leslie was the sweet old lady across the hall, his only neighbour on that floor that had declared herself his honorary grandaunt. "Sure she would." He leaned down to check the lock, and then pushed the door with a smile.

"Nononono-" Liz tried to keep him out as she laughed, but he opened the door just enough to slip in. It shut with a slam when he let it go and her weight fell on it again. He put both hands on the wood either side of her as she turned around, trapped in his arms. "You're no fun."

"I'm very fun, as you very much know. I dared you to bite those lips again…"

She rose to her toes, hooking her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Her mouth ghosted his. "And I didn't. So let me go, Koh."

He barked a laugh and kissed her forehead. "Ah, technicalities…" He grabbed her waist and lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his torso.

Liz cupped his face, softly stroking his cheeks as she studied his expression. "What are you thinking right now?"

He offered a weak smile and then touched his forehead to hers with a sigh. "I just miss you, that's all." She was about to respond when he cut her off. "I know. I know it's temporary, and that we'll get our Saturdays back, don't worry about it." He kissed her cheek and nodded towards the table. "I'll let you get back to work."

His hands moved from her thighs to her waist to put her down, but she hugged his shoulders and tightened her legs around him. "I can take a little break." She felt his hands travelling down again, this time settling on her ass and squeezing.

"Little won't do, and you know that."

"Well, it's little or nothing…"

He patted her thigh twice and clicked his tongue. "See you tonight, then."

"Oh, come on!" He was literally pinning her against a door, after telling her he missed her. There was no way she was going back to music now. "Fine, how much time do you want?"

"All the time we need, darling…" She rolled her eyes. "Think about it. How much easier it'll be to go back to work after. How much more creative you'll feel…"

Liz let her head fall back with a light laugh. And when she looked back at him, she unconsciously bit her lip. Lucas' mouth crashed against hers, kissing her deeply while he pressed her against the door. Her hands raked his hair and she smiled against his lips, making up her mind as she kissed him back just as hungrily.

"Guess I had that one coming," she panted when they broke away.

"Take it as a warning."

"A warning? So you're threatening me with a good time? What do I get if I do it again?"

"I'll put you down and go for a run."

She cackled. "What do I get if I bite your lips?"

He kissed under her jaw. "The couch."

"Just the couch? How do I get the bed?"

Lucas nipped at her chin, before looking back at her. "You let me do the biting."

She bit her tongue with a wide grin, and then leaned in to press her lips softly to his. Not kissing him, just… tempting him. Daring him. He grinned back and graced her bottom lip with his teeth before capturing her mouth in another fiery kiss and walking them to the bedroom.

[kotachii]

Beauty Sleep

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

Synopsis: You were staying up late cramming for an exam and Sanji catches you.

      You stared at your textbook trying to cram in the last bit for your exam tomorrow. The glow of your computer screen illuminated your eyes, with dark circles underneath. You downed another cup of coffee, and you're all out. Again. You got out of your seat, it was already way past midnight but you can't sleep just yet. You crept down the stairs, careful to not make it creak. You didn't want to wake Sanji up. He will be worried.

       You entered the dark kitchen, ready to make more coffee. As you pour the boiling water through the filter, you accidentally burnt yourself. By instinct, you let go of the entire pot of water. Smooth (Name). Hot water spilled onto the kitchen tile. You cursed at yourself for being so sluggish, so stupid. If anyone else was here, they would of known that it was because of your sleep deprivation, however, you mentally denied that possibility. You're stronger than this and you need to study.

       Feeling sad for yourself, you went to the counter to grab some papertowel. As you turned around to go back to the spill, you bumped into something---someone. Sanji stared at you with concern. You were scared that he would be mad at you. It was really late, he always woke up early to make you breakfast so he must be tired. And plus, he didn't like it when you stayed up late. A girl needs her beauty sleep he would tell you.

       Tears crept up to your eyes, you've always been an emotional one. Something about being so tired, having enough of studying, burning yourself, spilling water and now confronting Sanji made you want to cry.

       "Sanji, I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right away," you said while fumbling over your words.

Sanji's expression softened and he wiped the tears from your eyes.

       "(Name)-chan, you've worked hard. Go rest," he whispered to you.

       "I spilled water, I should go clean it. And I still need to study," you answered back.

       "Let me take care of the spill. And you should rest, you won't remember anything at this rate."

       "But--"

       "No but," Sanji interjected, "A lady needs her beauty sleep."

       And with that, Sanji walked you back to the bedroom and tucked you in to your side of the bed. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and whispered, "(Name)-chan, you should take better care of yourself."

       When you fell asleep, which didn't take a lot of time, Sanji retreated back to the kitchen. He cleaned up the mess, than he went to the office where he turned off the computer and closed the textbook. He made sure to leave an encouraging note in your pencil case to cheer you on for your exam.

       You woke up the next morning, feeling tired but more refreshed than the previous days. Sanji's side of the bed was empty...as usual. You went downstairs, still rubbing your eyes and when you walked into the dining room, you stared amazed. Sanji has prepared a feast for breakfast. It was only 6 in the morning so god knows how early Sanji woke up to make this.

       "(Name)-chwaaan! Goodmorning!", Sanji said from the kitchen upon seeing you.

       He brought out the last plate of an omelette and set it on the table. You couldn't help smiling at your energetic boyfriend. He was the best thing that ever happened to you. You ran up to him and gave him the most sincere hug and Sanji's eyes turned to hearts and he looked like he was about to get a nosebleed.

       "Thank you so much Sanji-kun for taking care of me!"

[bigtiddycommity]

Clé: Miroh (4)

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader ft. Stray kids & Got7

Warnings: Slight profanity

Summary: An up and coming singer is introduced to the rough and unfair world of the music industry when she is tricked into a fake relationship with a popular idol. Her entire world has been turned upside down and now not only is she hated by millions of fans around the world but she is now despised by her...boyfriend?

Word count: 3k

________________________________

“Gogi.” Jisung said slowly as he sat criss crossed on the fuzzy black carpet in Auriellas bedroom.

“Meat..?” She said in return, hesitantly.

“Great job, noona!” Jisung high fived the girl.

Over the past few weeks, the boys have made an effort to get to know Auriella and so far, things were going relatively well considering the circumstances. They had been helping her learn Korean and she was doing great. She still struggled with writing but she was a fast learner and can mostly understand basic conversation now.

Though Chan and Auriella barely spoke, the living arrangements weren't all that bad. Everyone had their own room and space to do as they pleased away from the public eye. The boys also had freedom in their new home without JYP staff breathing down their throats. Since Auriella owned the home, JYP and its staff had no authority on her property, which meant the boys had full privacy and freedom when they weren't at work.

While living with the boys, Auriella had gotten used to each boy's habits, likes and dislikes. Since she was such a small girl, she was often overlooked and that fact gave her more time to observe her surroundings. She now knew each boy inside and out. Their different styles, tics and habits. The boys of Stray Kids were growing on Auriella and she had to admit, she liked it.

“Noona,” Jisung laughed, poking the tummy of the stuffed panda on the girls floor. “What's with you and pandas?” Auriella’s room had a multitude of small to medium sized stuffed animals but majority were pandas or stuffed peach shaped characters.

“Hey, those are my babies.” She pouted, teasing. She loved pandas, they were her favorite animals. She found them cute and fluffy.

A dramatic gasp sounded from Auriella’s bedroom door. The two people in the room turned to the sound to find Jeongin standing there, his mouth agape and one hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Noona, how could you? I thought I was your baby.” He dramatized.

“Face it, kid, you've been replaced.” Jisung added with a smirk.

“Oh, you break my heart. Here I was, coming to share my food with you and this is how I'm treated? Rude.” He sassed, wiping a foux tear from his cheek.

“You are my baby! Come here, honey.” She held her arms out, remaining seated on the carpeted floor.

The younger boy beamed and tackled her in a hug with an adorable yell of happiness. Jisung took their affection as an opportunity to grab for the bag of food the younger boy had brought in.

“Oh, ramen!” He exclaimed.

Jeongin flushed, getting off of Auriella after she kissed his forehead in thanks.

“I got you that shrimp tempura you liked, too, Noona.” The maknae said, pulling out the dishes in the bag before handing her the wrapped container.

The girl squealed in happiness. “Yum!”

Across the hall, the leader of Stary Kids sat in his room, in the same position he had been in for hours prior, working on music. It wasn't odd for Chan to lock himself away while producing. He would get into a sort of trance once inspiration hit and after a while, his members knew to leave him alone when he did get into that sort of funk. He would refuse food and all forms of communication all in the name of music. It was unhealthy, but the members stopped trying to pry him away from his computer years ago. It was no use.

Usually, nothing and no one could pull Bang Chan from his work but the boy couldn't help but pause when he heard an odd noise through his headphones, causing him to remove them from his ears. It was then that he heard a loud choking wheeze coming from down the hall. He took a moment to listen, in case it was one of the members messing around with each other but then he heard the panicked cries of his younger members yelling Auriella’s name.

In a split second, he jumped up from his chair and found himself bounding down the hall and into the girls room. Once he arrived, he was met with a panicked Jeongin and Jisung hovering over Auriella as she lay on her back, struggling to breathe. Noodles were scattered all over the floor around the three.

“What?! What happened?!” He questioned.

“I-i don't know, Hyung. One second she was eating and the next she said she couldn't breathe!” Jeongin responded, panicked. Was this his fault? He should have checked the food better.

“Call an ambulance.” Chan instructed. The younger boy didn't move. “Now!” Chan raised his voice, startling Jeongin from his shocked trance.

While the maknae ran off to do as he was instructed, Chan moved down onto the floor next to Aurella’s slowly stilling body.

“Auriella? Can you hear me?” He asked, getting closer to her face, trying to make eye contact. “Are you allergic to anything?” He asked once he met her orbes.

“I-i don't know..” She croaked, reaching for his arm.

Chan was beginning to respond when her eyes rolled back into her head and she began shaking violently. Moving all of the objects away from her body, Chan asked Jisung to grab a pillow for her head.

“Move her on her side, now!” He said. “Was anything in her mouth, do you know?” Chan wanted to make sure she didn't choke.

“I don't remember, hyung. Let me check-” He reached his hand towards Auriellas foaming mouth, only to be pushed away by his leader.

“No, don’t! She could hurt you.” Chan looked down at his watch to time her seizure.

After a few moments, she stopped shaking and Chan moved from her side to behind her, where he propped her up against his chest.

Stroking her head gently, he instructed Jisung. “Go in my room, in the top drawer of my desk you'll see a big needle. Bring it to me, quick.” Chan instructed, his eyes never leaving Auriellas face.

“Okay.” He ran out of the room and returned a moment later with the object he was sent for.

“Okay, give it to me and hold her thigh steady.”

“What are you gonna do, hyung?” The younger boy asked, confused and worried once he saw how big the tip of the needle was.

One look at his leader and he knew he wasn't going to get an answer so he followed instructions and held Auriella’s leg still. Chan steadied his hand and plunged the epipen into the girls’ thigh.

Auriella’s chest raised slightly as she took an unconscious breath of air. Her breathing still sounded labored but at least she was breathing, which is more than she was doing a moment prior.

Soon, Jeongin came into the room, two medics in his tow carrying a stretcher. She was carried off into the ambulance and taken to the nearest hospital as the members of Stray Kids prepared to follow the ambulance.

All nine members sat in the private waiting room of the hospital, anxious to hear an update on Auriella’s condition. Jeongin sat with his hands clenched, tears of guilt and worry running down the young boys face. Jeongin couldn't help but blame himself. In all the time he and Auriella spent together, the boy felt he should have known. He should have asked what she was allergic to and now she was in a hospital bed, barely breathing on her own, and it was his fault.

The boy let out a sob as he recalled the events hours prior. The heartbreaking sound caught the attention of Hyunjin, who sat next to him.

“Hey,” His voice was soft, yet firm. “This is not your fault. You had no way of knowing she would have a reaction like that.”

“B-but she stopped breathing, hyung. She'll never forgive me. I can't blame her, either.” He said, turning to look back at white tile beneath his sneakers.

“Yah, you know Auriella. She would never-” His sentence was cut off by a new, older voice

“Family of Auriella Duran?” A man with a clipboard in hand asked as his eyes moved around the room.

In perfect unison, all members of Stray Kids all stood up and looked at the mean expectedly.

“Oh, um,”He was flustered due to all of the eyes on him all at once. “Are you all here for her?” Only two visitors are allowed at a time for ICU patients. The doctor took one look at the tearful, worried eyes of a group of young men and sighed.

“Shes awake, so you can go in, but you'll need to be very quiet and careful. She's a bit weak.”

The group thanked the man and bowed in respect before following him down the hall and to Auriella’s room. Once inside the white room, the boys were able to see Auriellas small, pale body lying on a hospital bed, an oxygen mask sitting on her face, aiding her.

As soon as Jeongin’s eyes saw Auriella’s state, a loud, uncontrollable sob left the young boys throat. At the sound, Auriella turned her head from the window in the room, to her visitors. An automatic smile began to grow onto her face but it soon diminished as soon as she caught sight of the tears running down Jeongin’s face.

“Oh, baby.” She cooed, removing the mask from her face. “Come here,” She opens her arms weakly, wanting, needing to comfort her friend.

The maknae followed instructions, pushing his member out of the way as he tumbled the distance towards Auriella. The boy fell onto her small body, hugging her as quiet sobs left his shaking body.

Auriella ran her hand through his hair soothingly, attempting to calm him down. Looking up at the other people in the room, the girl smiled and ticked her head to the side, indicating that they could fully enter the room.

“I’m okay.” Her soft voice sounded.

“Noona, I-” He choked out a sob.

“Shh.” She shushed. The last she wanted was Jeongin blaming himself over an innocent mistake.

“How do you feel?” Jisung asked, walking closer to her hospital bed.

“I feel better. They gave me some medication for my throat, it's a little swollen.” She said, hoping to bring some peace to his worry as well as the worry of the boy in her lap. Jeongin had stopped crying now, simply finding comfort in Auriella’s arms.

“That was scary.” Felix said from across the room.

“Yeah..I’m sorry for worrying you. I know it must have been a bit of a surprise.” She said smiling down at Jeongin who had momentarily met her eyes.

“We are just glad you're okay.”Changbin spoke up unexpectedly.

Since Auriella had arrived, the boy seemed to avoid her at all costs. He wasn't rude or mean to her by any means but he definitely didn't go out of his way to have any extra contact with her either. He was always in the background, silently watching but never approaching. He would joke around and be his normal self when he was with his members but anytime Auriella would walk into the room, he went radio silent.

“Oh, um thank you, Changbin, for caring.” She meant it. Auriella was beginning to think he didn't like her.

“How did this even happen? What caused this?” Minho was the one to ask the question everyone was wondering. His face was monotone but his voice was curious.

“They said it was an allergic reaction to the batter used for the tampura.” She told the group.

“You should tell us these things, noona, so we can watch out for them.” Jisung said, nudging her gently.

“I didn't even know I was allergic to anything. It's a surprise to me, too.” She said, disbelief sounding her tone.

“Do you know when you'll be out of here?” Seugmin asked quietly.

“The doctor said he wants me to stay a couple days for observation, but if everything is okay, I can be discharged by the end of the week.”

“We’re lucky it wasn't more serious. If Chan- hyung hadn't-” Hyunjin’s words were cut off when the girl spoke.

“Chan?” He hasn't uttered a word since he walked into the room. He stood in the far corner of the room, his arms crossed across his chest, head down. Auriella turned to him. “You saved me?” She asked, confusion in her voice.

“I, uh, have a little allergic to certain chemicals so I had an epipen and.. Yeah.” He said, avoiding eye contact with the girl.

Bang Chan was the last person Auriella expected. It's not that she thought he was an evil person who would enjoy her suffering, but she hadn't been all that kind to him since the day they met. She was tolerant but she didn't go out of her way to speak with him. She was still upset over how he treated her and how he taunted her without giving her a chance.

“Thank you.” Her voice was tender, she was serious. He had saved her life and Auriella was more than grateful.

At her words, Bang Chan finally met her eyes, something he hadn't been able to do in weeks without feeling shame overtake him. Just by looking into her eyes, he could see how thankful she was. The two stared into each other's eyes for a few moments before Chan cleared his throat and raised a hand to rub his neck.

“You're uh, you're welcome, Auriella.” He said shifting in his spot.

Bang Chan wasn’t selfish or cruel. Auriella was wrong about him but now she knew. There was an entire other part to him that hid beneath the surface. A good side, a caring and dependable side.

Maybe things could be different now.

__________________________________

Weeks had passed since Auriella’s accident. Since then, she and chan had been better with their “friendship”. Still slightly stiff and awkward but better than it had been when they first met. After Auriella’s little scare, the members had tried harder to get to know her better.

“Woah Auriella, is that you?” Hyunjin asked, shocked as he watched an old music video of her old group Lunar.

The concept was dark and sexy, which was an image the members had not expected from tiny, bubbly Auriella.

The girl giggled, amused by his reaction. “Yeah, I actually choreographed that song.”

“Really? Noona, we should dance together!” Felix was excited. He already had a few ideas bouncing around his head.

“Yeah! It would be so fun.” Hyunjin encouraged

“What would?” A new voice made the three people in the room turn to see Minho coming in from the front door, taking off his shoes.

Auriella looked back down at the laptop screen, avoiding his eyes. Changbin had been polite yet distant to her but Lee know had just been distant. He hadn’t made any effort to get to know her at all. In fact, it was as if she didn’t exist at all. He looked and walked right past her.

“Hyung, we were thinking of doing some choreography with noona, have you seen her dance?!” Felix exclaimed to a stone-faced Lee know.

“Why?” His tone was harsh, blunt. As if Felix had just said the most idiotic thing he had ever heard.

Auriella wanted the floor to swallow her whole. She hated the sudden change in atmosphere at his question. Minho had an intimidating edge and she wasn't sure what his issue was with her.

“I just-.” Felix stammered, not expecting such a sharp reply from the elder boy.

“She's here to sit pretty and get paid. That's it. She's not here to be your little friend, felix. This is all fake, a plan JYP set up, so don't get attached. She won't be here long.” With that, he threw his keys into the bowl by the front door and walked off towards his room.

The room stunned into silence was broken by Hyunjin. “Is that true? Is Jyp paying you to be here? To date hyung?”

“No. I'm not getting payed. Just like I told you, I was tricked into signing that contract and forced to uproot my life here in Korea. As much as I like you guys, i’m not exactly here by my own free will. I’m bound by JYP.”

“What about your career, noona? Are they making you stop?” Felixs’ voice was soft, childlike.

“According to the contract, I can still sing but i’ve been officially removed from my group, so if I really wanted, I would have to be solo.” She shook her head at her words. “But, I-i don’t know.”

“I’m sure it might be scary to do it alone after being in a group but you can’t let your talent go to waste.” Hyunjin replied. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. All this was happening to her because of himself and his group.

“I have a few demos I recorded that I saved for my group but they are still a little messy.” She shook her head, fiddling with her fingers nervously. “I was gonna ask JYP if I could have one of his producers help me with them, but I don’t know.”

“Changbin-hyung could help! He taught Han how to produce, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you too.” Felix said, jumping slightly as the idea came to him.

“Changbin? I don’t know..he doesn’t seem..” Auriella trailed off, unsure.

“Hyung is just a little shy, but I promise you’ll like him once you get to know him.” Hyunjin encouraged. He really wanted to do this for her.

Auriella took a deep breath as she thought about it. Music was everything to her and she couldn’t see herself living happily without it. She wanted to make the best of the situation she had been thrown into. She had never been the type to give up and she didn’t want to start now.

“Okay, let’s do it.” The two boys turned to each other beaming.

This was going to be great.

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 25

I stayed in my seat next to Steve. He was flipping threw the accords now. Sam has gotten up to stand behind us next to Rhodey. Then he had to make a smart comment sending Rhodey into a tangent.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor which is one more than you have." Rhodey snapped at him.

"So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?" Sam asked harshly.

I turned in my seat to watch the two. Rhodey sighed as he rubbed his eyes.

"117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'" Rhodey said sarcastically.

"How long are you going to play both sides?" Sam asked narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"I have an equation." Vision spoke up.

"Oh, this will clear it up." Sam said rolling his eyes.

I turned to face the once AI who was sitting next to Wanda.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate." Vision explained.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asked as he looked up from the page he was reading.

"I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge invites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight, oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand." Vision said slowly.

"Boom" Rhodey whispered towards Sam.

"Tony. You're being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal." Nat said.

I looked over to Tony who was slouched in his seat on the couch rubbing his head.

"It's because he's already made up his mind." Steve said as he flipped a page.

"Boy, you know me so well." Tony groaned as he got up.

"Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort." Tony said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?" He asked harshly.

He turned away from the sink then tossed something onto the counter. A holographic picture of a young boy came up. Tony took a deep breath.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass." Tony took another deep breath.

Even though I wasn't even close to Sokovia I still felt partly at fault. I felt guilty for everything that had happened even if I wasn't apart of it.

"There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form it takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less we're no better than the bad guys." Tony's voice fell into a soft and exhausted tone.

"Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve said sternly.

"Who said we're giving up?" Tony asked raising a brow at Steve.

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame." Steve said as he tossed the papers back onto the table.

"I'm sorry, Steve. That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not Shield, it's not Hydra." Rhodey explained.

"No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change." Steve said simply.

"That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands I shut it down and stopped manufacturing." Tony told him as he walked around the counter.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Steve tried to explain.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.” Tony said simply.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me.” Wanda said softly.

“We would protect you.” Vision told her.

“Maybe Tony’s right. If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-“ Nat started to explain.

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam asked.”

I glanced over to Steve who looked absolutely exhausted. I knew he didn’t want this. He looked like he was wracking his brain for anything to say to convince the others.

“I’m just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Nat told Sam.

“Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” Tony asked in his normal sarcasm.

“I want to take it back now.” Nat practically groaned.

“No, you can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay. Case closed. I win.” Tony shrugged happily.

A soft buzzing had me looking down at Steve’s lap. He pulled his phone out then read over the words on the screen. His entire demeanor changed.

“I have to go.” He said then immediately left the room without another word.

“What?” Tony asked after he was already gone.

I looked back to see Sam already watching me. I’m sure he could tell something was up as well. We both made our way out of the room to try to find Steve. He hadn’t gotten that far. By the time we got out to the sidewalk he was standing there with red puffy eyes. I ran straight to him pulling him into me for a hug.

“She’s gone. Peggy’s gone.” He said softly.

Sam and I both decided to join Steve for the funeral. Neither of us wanted him to be alone. The three of us sat in the front pew. Steve was squeezed between us. I watched as Sharon, the “nurse” that lived down the hall from Steve and I, stepped up to the podium.

“Margret Carter was known to most as a founder of Shield but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.” She started.

I glanced at Steve who looked completely surprised by her statement.

“She has a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related.” Sharon glanced at Steve as if she was talking directly to him.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. She said, compromise where you can. But where you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree look them in the eye and say no, you move.” Sharon said with as much passion as Steve.

She was one hell of a speech giver. If that speech effected me I can only imagine what it did to Steve. I had a feeling Sharon’s words just concreted everything Steve had been thinking about. When the service was over Sam and I stood outside to give Steve his moment alone. Nat came jogging up to church steps toward us.

“So?” I asked.

“It’s done.” She nodded.

“He’s inside” Sam told her.

She nodded then walked in to find Steve.

“What now?” I asked Sam.

“I have a feeling we’re just getting started.” He huffed as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

I had the same feeling. After all this I’m sure Steve wasn’t going to back down.

—

[aadmelioraa]

I was finally able to narrow my prompt request down to "I told my family I was going to my s/o’s place but they want to skype." (Thanksgiving Edition) and I'm looking forward to how you are going to ban this prompt on (virtual) paper. :)

Thanks for the prompt, Laura! Enjoy some fake dating Thanksgiving Bellarke fluff :)

Bellamy frowned at his phone. Clarke was calling him. Clarke never used her phone as a phone, she always texted. They hadn’t really seen much of each other lately either…since she and her ex had gotten together, actually. Something must be up.

“Hey, Clarke, everything ok?” he answered the call, unable to imagine what reason Clarke had to be calling him.

“Hi Bellamy,” Clarke said cheerfully, “sorry to bother you, but I need to borrow your kitchen on Thursday if I can.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, quite confused. “My kitchen?”

“And you,” Clarke added

“You need to borrow me and my kitchen on Thanksgiving?” Bellamy stood up and began to pace. “Clarke, what’s going on?”

Clarke sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “I told my mom I couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving and she asked why so I told her I was spending the day with you.”

“Ok, but why would you be spending Thanksgiving with me?” Bellamy puzzled.

“I told her we were dating.” 

“You told your mom we were dating?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

“Clarke, come on, you have to concede that this is a little unexpected from my perspective.”

“Ok, fine,” Clarke admitted. “Yes, I told her we were dating, and now she wants to Skype with us so I’m screwed unless you help me out.”

“Ok, weirdo. Why didn’t you ask me before you made up that story for your mom?”

“I wasn’t thinking, obviously.” Clarke replied. “They’re just really busy right now, my mom and Marcus, and I’m going to see them soon at Christmas, and things at work are kind of crazy so I didn’t want to take the time off…”

“Clarke, Clarke, it’s fine,” Bellamy reassured her. “I guess teasing you is as good a use of my time on Thanksgiving as anything else.”

“I guess it is.” Clarke paused. “You sure this is ok? I don’t want to ruin your plans, and I know I kind of sprung this on you…”

“You absolutely sprung it on me,” Bellamy agreed. “But it’s fine, really. Come over around noon on Thursday and we can started.”

“You’re the best. Thanks, Bellamy.” Clarke’s relief was audible.

“Don’t forget your apron,” he teased.

“You know I don’t have one,” Clarke replied, and hung up.

She arrived at his place exactly on time Thanksgiving day, carrying a six pack and a bag of potato chips “just in case.”

“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting, Bellamy,” Clarke frowned as she looked around the bare countertops of his familiar kitchen. “Why aren’t you elbow deep in food prep right now? And where’s Octavia?”

“O is spending the holiday with her girlfriend’s family,” Bellamy replied, “So I wasn’t planning on cooking anything special until you invited yourself over.”

“Niylah’s family didn’t invite you to join?” Clarke asked, almost indignantly.

“Relax, they did,” Bellamy replied casually as he put the beer in the fridge, “but it’s their first holiday as a couple and I thought I’d give Octavia some space.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Clarke replied, then quickly added, “So you don’t have a turkey or anything? What are we going to cook? I have to convince my mom this is real.”

Bellamy shrugged. “I figured we could go shopping now. No reason for me to bankroll this whole thing, right?”

“Ok, that’s fair,” Clarke admitted. “I guess I just assumed you had a plan already. That’s on me. But it’s Thanksgiving day, Bellamy…the shelves are going to be practically empty, even if the stores are open.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Bellamy replied, grabbing his keys from a bowl on the kitchen table. “Let’s go, Griffin.”

They found an open supermarket a few miles away, but as Clarke predicted the shelves were pretty bare. The only turkey left was a huge 27 pound bird, which was much more than they needed.

“So….no turkey, then.” Bellamy glanced at Clarke, trying to gauge whether she was disappointed or not. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Turkey tastes like napkins,” Clarke rejoined. “Let’s just make something else.”

Bellamy smirked. “What do you want to make?”

“I don’t care,” Clarke shrugged, gesturing toward the freezer section. “Mac and cheese, pizza, whatever you want.”

“Absolutely not,” Bellamy replied firmly and steered her towards the produce.

“What’s wrong with pizza?” Clarke asked indignantly.

“Nothing, we can make pizza, but we’re making it from scratch.”

“Of course we are,” Clarke grumbled, as Bellamy got some fresh basil, garlic, and a bell pepper.

“I don’t want your mom thinking your boyfriend can’t cook.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “We’re not actually dating, Bellamy, does it matter what she thinks of your cooking?”

Bellamy flat out ignored her. “Can you get a small can of crushed tomatoes, and a bottle of olive oil? I’m almost out. I’ll meet you in the dairy section.”

Clarke found him debating between two brands of fresh mozzarella a few minutes later. “You’re overthinking this. That one.” She threw one of the containers into the basket with her items.

“Fine, fine. Ready to go?”

Clarke frowned. “We didn’t get a crust.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to buy a crust, Clarke. We’re going to make it.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you, it’s not that hard.”

“I’m surprised you’re not making the cheese from scratch too,” muttered Clarke.

Bellamy just chuckled and led the way to the checkout.

Back in Bellamy’s kitchen, he had started work on the dough and Clarke, under his watchful eye, chopped the garlic and got the sauce prepped.

“You’re actually not half bad at this, Clarke.”

“I can follow explicit instructions, thank you very much.”

Clarke was expecting her mom to call around 4:00, and they were making good time. Now they just waited for the dough to rise. Clarke congratulated herself for the foresight to bring a snack.

“By the way, this is a lot of work for something you can just order for like ten bucks,” she commented, grabbing them each a beer from the fridge.

“It’s going to be amazing, you’ll see, then you’ll be begging me to make you pizza every week,” Bellamy promised, accepting the bottle she handed him.

“Maybe.” Clarke grinned. “Anyway, I owe you, Bellamy. Thanks for letting me take over your entire holiday. Actually,” she considered, taking a sip of her drink, “You might owe me, more. What were you going to be doing all day today, while everyone else was celebrating?”

Bellamy blushed. “I don’t know, watch a little tv and work on grading papers, probably.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “So boring. This is better.”

He grinned. “This is much better.”

It really was. Clarke was still a lot of fun to be with, and even though they hadn’t spent a lot of time together lately it didn’t feel as if they’d grown apart at all. Clarke seemed to be enjoying herself too. She was going through his kitchen cabinets and making fun of all the assorted tools that she had never seen before.

“What’s this? A citrus zester? What do you need to zest citrus for?”

“Remind me to make you my blueberry muffins some time.”

“Maybe we should make those next.“

“You going to be compensating me for my services, Griffin?”

Clarke shot him a wicked grin. “Shut up, you love it.”

“I do,” he admitted. “I’ve missed you lately, Clarke, honestly.”

Clarke didn’t reply, just abruptly hugged him, burrowing her face into his chest. He was taken off guard for a moment, but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms round her tight.

“You ok?” he murmured into her hair. He hadn’t seen her this vulnerable…ever.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” she whispered back. “Thanks.”

“Clarke, you know that—“

He was cut off by a beeping ring from Clarke’s laptop. She’d left it open on the kitchen table, waiting for her mom to call. They were both quite startled, Clarke pulling back from him and Bellamy laughing nervously. He hated to admit it, but in the past hour he’d actually forgotten that the whole basis of them spending the holiday together was a facade for her parents. He’d started to believe it was real. He wondered if she had too.

Clarke took a deep breath, then she reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks again for doing this.”

“No problem,” he said, and meant it.

“Come on,” she quickly seated herself in a chair facing the computer and indicated for Bellamy to do the same.

He followed, and tentatively placed an arm round the back of her chair. “This ok?”

She glanced up at him before reaching forward to pick up the call, smiling widely. “Perfect.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN SCIENCE

Young startups are fragile. There might be 500 startups right now who think they're making something Microsoft might buy. But as happened with Apple, by the time it was supposed to mean using the web the way it's meant to be used, and Google were all run out of apartments. Within a year you'll know if they do. Back in 1997, one of our competitors raised $20 million in a single round of VC funding. Investing is not covered by antitrust law.1 I might occasionally dial up a server to get mail or ftp files, but most of the twentieth century. That would leave the founders less than a seventh of the company. Knowing that founders will keep control of the board seats after the series A and still has it today. The successful ones therefore make the first version as simple as possible.

At first I tried rules. Why go work as an ordinary employee for a big company, when you have a fairly tolerant advisor, you can often do it better if you're not one of the O'Reilly people that guy looks just like Tim. When I say startups are designed to grow fast, I mean it in two senses. Investors usually get vetos over certain big decisions, like selling the company for 20. Some, it's true, are not like founders. 0 democracy is not in the selection of ideas, but their production. Chesterfield described dirt as matter out of place. Sometimes the changes are advances, and what they change is solubility. What's different about successful founders is that they can see different problems. How to Start a Startup I advised startups never to let any other company offer a cheaper, easier solution. I ran after him, and sure enough, it was like coming home. But startups often raise money even when they are or could be profitable.

Average age of their founders ended up growing very fast, we wouldn't need a separate word. What they're good at is reading people, and you failed at it, you become interested in anything that could spare you such pain in the future the executives installed by VCs have no value. Chesterfield described dirt as matter out of place. It's supposed to mean using the web as a platform?2 Investors vary greatly. Professional investors are constantly trading little favors.3 Whereas VCs need to invest in startups is not simply the returns, but also because generating returns from dividends. If the laws against such things were actually enforced, most startups that turn down acquisition offers ultimately do better. You need investors.

And to do that. They delayed for an entire year, and when they did finally take a CEO, they chose a guy with a PhD in computer science have Mac laptops. Eventually something would come up that required me to use it more than that. Angels are willing to fund riskier projects than VCs. We would have sold.4 So another advantage of private universities is that a good chunk of the country's wealth is managed by enlightened investors. A company that an angel is willing to put $50,000 into at a valuation of a million can't take $6 million from VCs at that valuation. And that's who they should have been choosing all along.

All through college, and probably long before that, most undergrads have been thinking about what employers want, you're probably going to have to buy for hundreds of millions of dollars. VCs are a different species of people from founders, it's hard to spend more than about an hour a day online. The slope is the company's growth rate. That's one reason I'm not typing this on an Apfel laptop. As Galbraith said, politics is a matter of choosing between the unpalatable and the disastrous. VCs need to invest in those that at least have the advantage, from each one's point of view, and they can choose those rare companies, like Google, that will change the way things are going. Raising money, rather than solid money-making businesses? No, probably not. But I read recently that the average American watches 4 hours of TV a day. If you offend investors, they'll leave in a huff. Partly I mean designed in the sense of intended, because most startups fail.

Google stuck Kleiner and Sequoia. Even Microsoft sees it, but some through luck or the efforts of their founders: 24. And if you want to be as big a head start in buying microstartups as it did in search a few years ago. I've found a more drastic solution that definitely works: to set up a separate computer for using the Internet, anything genuinely good will spread by word of mouth. A startup founder is in effect an economic research scientist. Americans: it could be part of the conversation. Valuations increase as the size of the investment does.

Notes

The meanings of these companies wish they were more at the company's present or potential future business belongs to them. We're delighted to have done all they demand from art as brand split apart from art is a case in the press when I was surprised to find may be one of the world's population lives outside the US. This is an interesting trap founders fall into two categories: those where the richest country in the press or a complete bust.

Startups are businesses; the Depository Institutions Act of 1936. Don't be evil.

Founders at Work. If big companies to do it. In desperation people reach for the next time you raise as you raise as you can base brand on anything with a potential acquirer unless you see with defense contractors or fashion brands.

The first big company.

[rrrawrf-writes]

nah, I'm kidding, 1 & 33 for the drabble thing, please!

i was growing concerned

1.  “That’s starting to get annoying.”

33.  “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

(tw for threatening someone’s pets?)

“That’s starting to get annoying.”

“Oh, really?” Winn gave the back of Rembrandt’s seat another hard kick. “Wouldn’t’ve -” kick “- guessed -” kick “- it.”

Rembrandt leaned forward, hissing as a bit of coffee splashed out of his travel mug and onto his wrist. Weston, in the driver’s seat, shot Rembrandt a sidelong look, and then glanced up at Winn in the rearview mirror. “You should really stop.”

“Shut up, you — prick.” Winn squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, his cuffed hands making an uncomfortable lump between his spine and the back of the seat. Weston had even buckled him in before they started driving. “Let me outta the bloody car.”

“Prison made him even more of a child than he used to be,” Rembrandt muttered, as Winn kicked his seat again. He considered shooting his other leg, but they were too close to the heist to jeopardize their only thief. “Maybe I’ll tell Mr. Huntington to start kicking your dogs, Yale.”

“They’d tear him apart,” Winn retorted, but he finally subsided, slouching as best as he could in his seat. “Roll down the window.”

“It’s roasting outside,” Weston said. “No.”

“Mr. Weston, get out the gear, please.” Rembrandt leaned against the side of his car, looking up at the facility they had come to rob. It was supposedly abandoned, but everyone steered clear of it anyway - no one wanted to tr and break into one of Wildcard’s lairs. They were famously riddled with traps and lethal mindgames; Rembrandt wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of sending someone in there. At least, not until Winn fell right into his lap.

Weston moved around to the trunk of the car, while Winn skulked in the back seat. His door was open, but no one had yet bothered to undo his handcuffs, or the seatbelt. Rembrant normally wouldn’t have trusted mere cuffs to keep Winn contained, but he’d made sure to force the ex-con to change clothes completely, and then for added measures, stuck a pair of mittens over Winn’s hands. It was childish, but effective.

“Do you need another look at the building plans?” Rembrandt asked.

“I’m not going in there.”

Rembrandt just sipped at his coffee, rolling his eyes when he was sure neither Winn or Weston could see such an immature expression. “Oh. I wish you had told me that earlier. I’ll pass word along to Mr. Huntington, then. I’ll make sure he gives your dogs a clean death.”

Winn’s head snapped up. Rembrandt couldn’t believe that he had to resort to threatening a man’s pets to get what he wanted, but Winn always had been easy to manipulate. The idiot didn’t seem to have anyone else dear to him.

Weston interrupted their conversation by thumping a hard-sided case down on the hood of the car. Rembrandt winced, and looked at him sternly - he hoped Weston hadn’t scratched the paint.

“All right,” he said, “let him out.”

Winn frowned at the all-too familiar backpack Weston set on the hood of the car. “That’s mine,” he said, and the instant Rembrandt undid his handcuffs, he snatched it and unzipped the top. His grappling gloves were in there, and his lockpicks - the nice set. He’d left all this behind in a storage unit he hadn’t been able to get to since getting out of prison. “Where’d you get this?”

“Gary told us where to find it.” Rembrandt smirked as he leaned against the car again, as if it were impossible for the man to stand on his own two feet. Winn’s jaw clenched, and his hands tightened around the backpack’s straps. “We found your motorcycle, as well. I had Mr. Huntington drive it back to Boston. He was very impressed.”

“You let him what?” Winn looked up from his old backpack - he even had the mask in there, something ridiculous that he wanted to burn - and stared at Rembrandt. “I’m taking that back. Did he wreck it? He’s too big!”

“We’re wasting time.” Rembrandt nodded towards the case. “Hurry up, Yale. If I don’t have those codes in my hands in three hours, I’m going -”

“You’re gonna call that bastard and make him shoot my dogs,” Winn interrupted waspishly. “I know.”

He jerked the case away from Weston, the corners of it scraping against the car. Winn reveled in Rembrandt’s wince as he dug an earpiece out of the foam inside of the casing, jamming it into his ear. “I ——- hate you.”

“Here, let me,” Weston said in a quiet voice, as Winn pulled a digital watch out of the case. He set his jaw and let Weston wrap it around his wrist; the man was entirely too close, though. Before he drew away, he slipped something into Winn’s front pocket, a hard rectangle. A mobile phone. Winn opened his mouth, and Weston only shook his head, shooting a look over Winn’s shoulder, and to their erstwhile boss.

Rembrandt checked his own watch. “Thirteen minutes to one-thirty. You’d better get moving, Wings.”

Rembrandt had put a tiny camera in Winn’s new shirt, and he was more impressed than he would ever let show. Five years in prison had not done much at all to dull Winn’s skill - he navigated Wildcard’s abandoned labyrinth of traps with - well, Rembrandt wouldn’t call it ease. It wasn’t grace, either, but Winn’s panicked scrambling had a certain  elegance to it. Rembrandt had never gotten to really see Winn truly in action, and now he regretted that the little bastard’s skills came with a cocky, self-absorbed arrogance and a truly bizarre moral code that prevented him from being a reliable lackey.

It was truly a pity that Rembrandt would have to kill him once he got the codes, but it would only be a matter of time before Winn betrayed him again. After this job, the man had to die.

Weston leaned over his shoulder to watch Winn’s progress on Rembrandt’s tablet. He was making good time - it had only been a little over an hour when Winn gained access to the facility’s inner sanctum.

“Could you have gone any slower?” Rembrandt asked archly. Winn let out a hoarse bark of laughter that sounded a little tinny over the earpiece.

“I’d like to see you do any of that,” he muttered, panting a little.

The room Winn had finally entered was a large, echoing space, filled with dozens upon dozens of enormous, square storage containers. Winn ignored them all, heading straight down the aisle to the center of the room. Lights clicked on after his first few steps, though more than one lightbulb fizzed and flickered. 

There was a metal desk with a single computer in the middle of the room - but the computer was huge. Three large monitors angled around the desk, which was dusty from lack of use. Winn ran a hand through his scruffy hair as he circled the desk and computer, inspecting it for any last-minute traps left behind. He couldn’t find anything, though, not in this room, so after a few moments, he dropped down into the chair to catch his breath.

Despite being inactive for well over five years, the computer started up the second Winn’s thumb hovered over the POWER button. He pulled out the flash drive Rembrandt had given him, marked with Wildcard’s symbol. However the arms dealer had gotten this, Winn didn’t want to know. There was dried blood in the cracks of the flash drive.

“Just plug it in,” Rembrandt said impatiently, “it should take care of any passwords or firewalls.”

Winn rolled his eyes. He stuck the memory stick into a port and sat back. “This was way too easy,” he said, in spite of the tears and scorch marks on his clothes from a few too many brushes with death (or at least, permanent disability). “You gonna give me another challenge after this, Remy?”

He could just imagine the frustrated look on Rembrandt’s face at the old nickname. The bastard’s voice was far too smooth, though, when he answered, “Oh, certainly. You’ll have plenty of fun.”

I’m going to die after this. Winn stared gloomily up at the computer as code ran across the screens. Rembrandt was too smart to let him run loose. If Winn didn’t end up getting shot after all, he’d probably be chained up in some box, on hand for the next time Rembrandt needed a tool.

“Who are you texting?” Rembrandt asked - but Winn’s hands were laced behind his head as he waited for the codes to download.

“Nobody,” Weston said. A second later, the phone Weston had slipped into Winn’s pocket buzzed. Frowning, Winn pulled it out, and opened up a picture message.

It was Eli and Kawai. The former had his arms around two dogs - Braith was enthusiastically licking his face - and the latter stood in the background, her arms crossed as she glared down at a tied-up Huntington.

Winn stared, and then a grin crept over his face. He angled the phone so that the camera Rembrandt had stuck on his shirt could catch the picture just right.

“What were you saying about my dogs, Remy?”

Rembrandt stared at his tablet. “Where did you get that phone?” he snapped, once he found his voice again. “Who the hell are those people?”

“Friends,” Winn said, the smugness coming in loud and clear even if his voice was a little crackly.

“You don’t have friends.”

“Neither do you,” Winn pointed out. “Ha. Brilliant. Hey, look, there’s a self-destruct option in this computer.”

The camera angle shifted; Winn must have shifted his shirt to point it at the screen. A red line of code near the bottom right of the screen flashed at him. Rembrandt was no programmer, and neither was Winn, but the purpose was clear in the red COMPUTER SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE.

Rembrandt’s breath caught. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You wanna bet?” Winn’s face appeared on the screen; he had managed to finagle the camera out of its spot. He smiled at Rembrandt, but it was cold and unnerving. The expression didn’t fit on his face. “Don’t f—— threaten my pets, Remy.”

“We’re in the middle of the desert, Winn,” Rembrandt said, trying his best to keep his composure. “I’ll just drive away now, and maybe even call up a couple capes. Do you think Starblast would be happy to hear that a known thief was trying to run away with some of Wildcard’s greatest weapons?”

“They couldn’t catch me,” Winn said, but he looked briefly uncertain.

“It’s miles and miles to the nearest speck of civilization, Winn,” Rembrandt said smoothly. “If they didn’t catch you, the heat would kill you before you got anywhere.”

“No one -”

“And,” Rembrandt said, cutting Winn off. “I may not have any friends, Winn, but I recognize yours. That woman is from Mercury Independent - do you really think they’re here to do you a favor, Winn?”

Winn narrowed his eyes. Rembrandt gave him a thin smile. “My people will easily catch up to them, Winn. Think. Are you certain that’s the decision you want to make?”

“I’m certain you’re a —— son of a —-,” Winn snapped, and Rembrandt knew that he was winning. Winn resorted to insults when he felt like things were out of control - which, granted, they usually were.

“Mr. Weston and I will be driving away in fifteen minutes, Winn,” Rembrandt said coolly. “And I’ll be calling my people in two, and Starblast and Scorchstorm in five. You might want to be out of there and in my car before then.”

“Actually,” Weston said. Rembrandt started to look up from his tablet, and froze when he felt the barrel of a gun cold against the back of his neck. Sam continued, “We’re not going anywhere.”

tagging @gingerly-writing since she just loooooOOOoOOOOoOOOooves rembrandt so much (and sam)

[valkyrie-echo]

Project Echo, Part 3: Chapter 19 (50 Days Before the Explosion)

Part 3 Summary: Seven years after the events of “Part 2��, Avengers Tower explodes, fulfilling Bucky’s vision. All evidence points to Avengers Shadow-Ops leader Inessa Ryker, who is forced to seek out Bucky in hiding. Together they must determine who the traitor is in their ranks and if their friends are still alive- all while trying to survive deadly ambushes orchestrated by Sam Wilson and his hand-picked army.

Chapter 19: 50 Days Before the Explosion

"Noelle, can you come with me for a moment, please?" Steve interrupted Amadeus and his team as they ran yet another round of simulations on the symbols from the Shadow King's blood magic. At this point it was pretty much only them looking. Everyone kept Niflheim and what happened there as an active case, but it was more likely the answers would be found off-realm. With Odin's well-known distaste for the Avengers it wasn't hard to imagine that an answer had already been found- he just wasn't telling. As worried as the leaders were, they had a world to protect, and it was well over a month later. They'd never had an attack this drawn out before.

Amadeus glanced up and fixed the Captain with his coldest glare- his own form of greeting Steve, Vision, and Clint ever since the Leader's Meeting where they'd voted to form a second Black Ops unit. He willfully ignored Natasha and Wanda, who abstained from voting- meaning they agreed with Steve but didn't want to hurt Inessa's feelings. His smiles he saved only for Tony, Thor, Banner, and Sam who'd all sided with Inessa against the idea.

The new Unit couldn't form without the unanimous consent of every Avengers leader (which Steve would never get because Inessa wouldn't budge in her position that it was useless), or an 89% majority of all Avengers. Basically the only way he was getting his new team was to convince every last one of them it was necessary, but if more than four Avengers couldn't be won over then once again he would fail. He'd been speaking with them one-by-one for days, trying to explain that yes, the timing sucked, but they needed to support the Shadow Unit. Let them focus on Inessa and the Shadow King while another Black Ops team protected the world. It divided the teams within each of the four units- and now Steve had the audacity to approach a member of Inessa's group directly.

"Go with him and you're dead to me," Marie glanced up from her computer across from Amadeus in the small root interface of JARVIS' mainframe- a glorified server room that felt more like a claustrophobic closet. She'd never seen him look so cold, or so dead serious. The more Steve pressed his case against Amadeus' friend and leader the less old loyalties mattered.

Steve rolled his eyes, "I've about had it with you Amadeus. Noelle- Captain's orders. Come on."

"Sorry," she shrugged to Amadeus and slid back from her computer. Marie was indifferent on the whole issue. She ignored Steve, Amadeus, and their little feud. She was too new to be loyal to a leader she'd frankly hardly seen and pretty much just followed her lieutenant's orders- right now that meant running down leads on blood magic… Even though in reality she was taking advantage of her secluded position and playing Oregon Trail. Amadeus had cholera, Inessa died from exposure, and Noelle was still going strong despite being 65.

"Hey Steve," Amadeus got his attention before he left with Noelle.

"Let me guess, you're going to tell me to shove something up my ass."

"Your head, yes."

"Good talk."

Amadeus sighed dramatically after he left, "Ah Marie, I wish you knew Noelle better before her tragic passing."

"Do I need to start wearing black?" she wasn't paying much attention, but she knew by now to pretend to humor the oddest Avenger.

"No, that's alright, she wouldn't want us to be in mourning forever."

"You leaving lilies in front of her door?"

"Naturally," he cracked his neck and went back to typing away, "by the way- I'm closer to 25 than 20 and you treat cholera with laudanum, not extra fluids."

"How-"

"JARVIS is a tattle-tail," a screen popped up on her game informing her 'Zombie Inessa' had joined the group. Marie was fairly positive that wasn't part of the original game, "Do a better job with her this time around."

"I will. I promise."

"Is this about the second Black Ops Unit?" Noelle had followed Steve up to his apartment where his lieutenant, Sharon, was waiting. The Tower was boiling with tension, mostly thanks to Steve and his decision to just about ignite a new civil war. Teams were fighting one another at the slightest provocation and Tony's Iron Legion could only do so much to keep the peace. Splitting the teams off back to their satellite facilities would be tantamount to declaring open conflict. Steve hiding out away from the others was probably the only move he had left to make.

"No, but it is about Inessa," Sharon invited Noelle to sit but she remained where she was, "Steve offered leadership to Amadeus because it is the least controversial choice. Promoting a lieutenant is easier for the public and the Avengers to swallow than promoting a general member. Ideally it would be you and Marie on the new team."

"You sent me to Inessa's team because you were worried about her and Amadeus and how they were handling Mallory Ivaneau's death and Eoin O'Meara's betrayal. I'm an Avenger first, Shadow Unit second. I will continue to do what I believe is best for the entire group, not just my team. I won't turn on my leader for power. It only fans the flames." She turned but Steve blocked her way quickly.

"I'm not offering you leadership, we're just saying you were the first choice."

"I'm ambitious, not petty," Noelle was one of the most logically-minded Avengers Steve had ever known- including Tony. He wasn't entirely sure she was human and not another strange AI like Vision. She could read people's intentions, and he only wanted her to know his for sure- in case that mechanical personality did see its pride as being wounded. Geoff swore she was different once you really got to know her. Evidently the four years he'd lived in the same building as Noelle (the first year of that with her on his team) wasn't long enough.

Steve shook his head, "Use your powers. What are my intentions?"

Noelle's face was unreadable, "You've got two things for me. A mission, and a secret."

"Two missions, both secret," Sharon corrected softly. When Noelle was one of them she was still learning the subtle shifts in her powers and needed to be guided when possible.

"No. One mission. One secret. You think they're linked Sharon, Steve isn't so sure."

He glanced to his lover and she nodded, "JARVIS, load Hydra security footage from Project Echo. One of the more mild bits, please." Noelle turned back to face Sharon and the television behind her.

She wasn't one of the Avengers stupid enough to look at the torture footage from Inessa's time with Hydra. The newer ones, ones who didn't know any better, dared each other to watch it. All they knew was that everyone was afraid of it. Few were warned of the brutality. Eventually, though, they all learned the story- well, at least what they thought was the story.

Grainy footage filled the screen of a blindingly bright torture room. The walls and floors were filled with lights- a true shadow-free zone. A plastic table sat in the center of the room and on it was a young Inessa, "Footage from July 27, 2009. Week 47 of Project Echo," a man with a shining metal arm was turning Inessa over, mindful of her feeble struggles to escape. Something was off with the girl's toes and every kick brought forth a squeal of pain, but she kept trying. Noelle knew what it was- they'd been severely broken once upon a time and healed wrong.

I was lucky, she remembered something Inessa had said once upon a time, the body I left was in a pretty shitty state- all busted and gnarled. The Avengers took it in, JARVIS and this surgeon put it back together, and by the time I got to it it was in incredible shape again.

The man's face was too pixelated to see clearly, Noelle couldn't even tell if he was phased by the 15 year-old's feeble cries. Another man was waiting by a metal cart, on top of which was the unmistakable outline of a whip. Noelle knew more about Hydra torture techniques than she'd admit even to Geoff, but between her experience raiding bases and the occasional glimpse of Inessa's bare back in the locker room showers, she could safely bet that whip was studded with metal barbs. A small bowl sat on the tray as well- salt. Once, when Amadeus brought up her past, Inessa had told him her torturer, Thomas Dennisson, liked to extend the pain as long as possible using salt or citrus juice. Whenever the doctors told him he had to give her more than a day to recover he'd have her heavily sedated so that she could never enjoy the respite. It was hard for Noelle to look at the screen, knowing just what all of this meant to Inessa, and especially knowing that this was only halfway through. That girl in the video wouldn't be free for a very long time yet…

"JARVIS, override Echo Alpha, remove the filter," Steve came up next to Noelle as the picture abruptly sharpened to something closer to HD, "The cameras Hydra installed in the halls were shit. Unfortunately for those of us who had to watch this back when Inessa first came to the Tower, Dennisson liked a much better picture. We added the filter later to protect new Avengers from the full horror, should they try to watch without knowing precisely what it is. We were also protecting him," he motioned to the man with the metal arm as he tore open the back of the white shirt Hydra prisoners still wore, "JARVIS, skip the gore, please."

The image jumped. Inessa's body was breathing heavy, but limp. Chunks of flesh torn off by the whip were sprinkled around the room. The metal man, the Winter Soldier who would one day be killed by Steve over the Potomac during the Hydra emergence, was leaning hard against the wall in the corner of the room over a small pool of vomit. Dennisson was now holding the whip in one hand and the empty bowl of salt in the other. He threw both on the table and whistled sharply, glaring at the Soldier.

Two scientists and two guards immediately wheeled a bizarre chair into the room. Noelle recognized it from an Avengers file she'd skimmed in the computer- a programming machine. Brutal and efficient, it zapped the subject with near-lethal amounts of electricity while a small screen over the eye played a "Compliance and Obedience" video. Brainwashing at its worst.

The Winter Soldier was moved into the chair. His metal arm held him to some hidden magnet and the panels descended. While he screamed, Dennisson smiled. It sent chills down Noelle's spine.

"Skip ahead, give us a freeze frame on his face."

The gaunt, dead-eyed man who emerged from the machine a few hours later looked oddly familiar. Big eyes, straight nose, strong jaw- a face more suited to a cocky smile than a stone-cold glare. If the footage wasn't black and white she might have had a harder time guessing, but it jogged something, "He's on the Wall of Remembrance. One of yours."

"James Buchanan Barnes," Sharon nodded, "his picture is next to my Great Aunt Peggy's." Every Avenger facility had a wall of photographs of people near and dear to each Avenger. Some they'd lost, some they'd failed to save, the pictures were on the walls to remind them all what they fought for. Their family outside their team.

"And he didn't die in the Potomac like everyone thinks. The Winter Soldier went in, Bucky Barnes pulled me out."

"Amadeus was right?"

Steve glanced to Sharon, "Amadeus has been repeatedly warned to keep his mouth shut," he looked at Bucky's face a moment longer and sighed, sad, "He joined us on the condition we find Inessa. His programming was breaking, but she'd been locked in the Valley too long. She couldn't find purchase here, so she whispered in his mind until it about drove him insane…"

"We never lied," he continued, "the battles against the Shadow, the fight against Dennisson, Hydra, Sebastian Morris and his cabal- it's like those pictures in Inessa's living room. The first and fourth photographs- pull them out of the frames some time and you'll see they're just folded specially to hide him. He was an Avenger for about seven or eight months."

"Steve couldn't face his demons," Sharon took over, "but Bucky wanted to. After the battle with the cabal he went into hiding- maybe until he got things under control, maybe forever. He hasn't been seen since."

Noelle's power flared, "You want me to find him. He's the secret you think is a mission."

"Bucky had these visions, three of them," Steve explained, "in each one Avengers Tower was destroyed. In the last one he saw Sam attempting to carry out an execution order against Inessa for the deaths of myself, Tony, Banner, Thor, Clint, and Natasha- the original Avengers. Bucky's had a lot of experience as a ghost, but I need to talk to him. He sent himself away to find peace and flush out Hydra's Winter Soldier, but with the Shadow King's blood magic, Ingvir's death, the disappearances, and Inessa's new issues with her powers I'm worried. I need to know more about what he saw, if he's seen anything else, and if we're anywhere near the timeline in his visions."

"Why not ask Muhammad? He's the first person that comes to mind with the power to send something like that."

"He will probably send them, yes," Sharon corrected, "but if he'd seen something yet he would tell Thor. We can't ask him and risk an Ouroborous, even a small one."

"My mission is to monitor Inessa," Noelle predicted, "the second is to find Barnes again. Neither of you really think that will help."

Steve nodded, "We need to know if the blood magic is turning Inessa into the woman from Bucky's vision, and he's in the best position to make that call. We're not finding him to extend a membership offer, only to confirm or eliminate a theory."

Sharon stood up and came over to Noelle, "Inessa always has had a perfect distinction of James and the Winter Soldier. She supported his decision to leave. After Steve's breakdown," she spared a sympathetic glance to her lover, "she became downright protective of the man. Steve felt like he'd been forced into this life, James had been. To him his work with the Avengers was more like an extension of what he did for Hydra, just pointed at a different target. She made sure no one knows where he is so that he can be free of it all. She's doing her best to make that happen."

"He's had a lifetime of experience in hiding," Steve continued, "he didn't come to my funeral, he probably hid himself away somewhere so remote he doesn't even know Thanos existed. If anyone is going to find him, it has to be a Black Ops member, and of those we can only trust you to actually retrieve him. In the meantime, yes, we want you to watch Inessa. Look for any signs her judgement is impaired. It's nothing unconscionable, just be a vigilant friend."

Noelle considered it, "Watch her and find him, is that all?"

"We wouldn't ask you to do anything against either," Sharon assured her.

"I have a duty to keep the Avengers safe," Steve prompted, "I'll do what I can for Inessa, and I'll keep my friends safe from her. When Bucky told us about his visions I wasn't willing to listen. I'd just watched him squeeze the head off of an unarmed Dennisson and though it wasn't confirmed at the time I knew he'd killed Inessa's uncle. Someone, probably a future version of Muhammad, was trying to warn us against something. I need to know what Bucky knows, and this time I'm ready to pay attention."

"One condition."

"Name it."

Noelle sighed, "Make peace with Inessa. It isn't good for the Avengers as a whole, you two at one another's throats."

Steve shook his head, "I can't make that promise without knowing what's coming."

"At least stop talking about a second Black Ops unit."

He looked tired, but he shook her hand, "That's an easier promise to make."

"Nessa, I need to grab something from your apartment."

"JARVIS, let Noelle in. Lock up when she leaves." Inessa was still trapped in the hospital wing. Noelle felt a twinge of guilt, using Inessa's trust like this, but she had to know for sure what she was wading into. Pictures one and four…

Inessa's living room was a shrine to the past six years, but the earliest pictures were different. Avengers didn't typically think to chronicle their adventures or time together- especially not in those early days. Initially it was only the Leaders, all living separate lives unless something came up that drew them together. The only reason the Battle of the Shadows had been a group effort was because they happened to be in New York City together when Bucky was brought in. The only reason that happened was because of Thor's appointment to Asgardian Ambassador.

After Inessa returned to her body they all went to Clint's farm. Again, it wasn't meant as anything more than a team vacation after the stresses and strains of New York City (plus, no one was willing to leave Inessa behind, now that they knew there was someone in there). Then Ultron, and the satellite facilities began popping up. Then Thanos and the new Avengers who came in droves.

Picture one was, naturally, among those taken from security footage. It showed the Avengers together in the recovery room after Clint saw the Shadow for the first time. It was the brightest room in the old Tower, and they'd marked it as the best place to be. A surgeon friend of Tony's was visiting to check out Steve, Sam, and Natasha- freshly arrived from their trip to Kazakhstan where they retrieved the Project Echo folder. At least, that was the version she'd been told. The surgeon just happened to be there before Steve went exploring to verify Clint's story and was attacked. The why of his leaving was never particularly clear, but in the security picture Noelle had always thought Steve was looking at something off-frame, worried about some invisible matter.

She pulled that picture from the wall first and quickly removed the backing. Sure enough, the picture was folded over. Noelle pulled the image out and held it up to inspect. Bucky Barnes was lying unconscious on a hospital bed across from where the Avengers sat. His metal arm was gone and the shoulder on his left side was heavily bandaged. He was also in Steve's direct eye-line. Steve had survived his fight with the Shadow by holding onto one of Thor's healing stones- now Noelle wondered if he hadn't been retrieving it when Inessa had first attacked so that it might help his friend.

Picture four was the first of the group shots, this one from Clint's farm. It was the first non-paparazzi group picture of the Avengers Leaders ever taken (though it was minus Wanda and Vision, of course). They were sitting around the fire at Clint's farm- the original format of the Leader's Meeting apparently- fanned out so a group picture could be taken. Their faces were somewhat grim, Inessa had something metallic peeking out from the back of her neck (Noelle asked about it once and never received an explanation for what seemed to be some sort of machine), and Steve's nose had a definite snarl to it. Inessa explained to her it was only a few weeks before the attack by Morris' cabal. Tony had decided they needed a group picture the night before Inessa, Steve, and Sam returned to New York City for her to undergo treatment by undercover cabal member Doctor Madelyn Pryor.

This time Noelle had a good idea of where Bucky was hidden. She removed and unfolded that picture as well. Sure enough what Inessa claimed was the tip of an abandoned shoe next to Tony was attached to someone. Bucky. He was smiling a tense smile on the farthest side of the group as possible from Steve. This picture would help her more in her search- his hair was clean and pushed back, he was awake, alert, and well lit- considering the picture was taken by an Iron Man suit and it was nighttime. Inessa stood in the center of the group, seemingly unafraid of her torturer so close.

Inessa could have cut him from the pictures, easily, but she chose to hide him instead. Steve said she was protective of his freedom from the team- especially after what they went through with Steve in the civil war. She was willing to do whatever it took to keep him out of anyone's hands- Hydra or the Avengers. That might have been what she told herself, but Noelle didn't need her powers to see the intention behind keeping Bucky in the photographs, invisible but still a part of the memory- she couldn't give up hope that he might one day come back. She didn't cut the line or even hide it better- she made a small change that could easily be undone. If he walked through the doors that very day she'd probably come up and unfold the pictures herself. Doctor's orders or no.

"Find what you were looking for?" her voice came through the house speakers, "Amadeus just left to go buy lilies to put in front of your door. He's making the other Avengers sign a 'Sorry you died' card. I'm guessing Steve sent you up?"

"He had some questions about an old case of ours, thought it might tie into one of his."

"I see," Inessa had an odd way of sounding (and looking) like she knew exactly what was going on, "old files are in the middle of the book case in my library."

"Yeah, got it," Noelle quickly put the pictures back together and returned them to their proper places. She noticed a thin line in the paint- maybe nothing, maybe a security mark. Noelle lined both pictures up with the barely visible scratch and headed quickly for the back corner of Inessa's apartment. Most of the books in here were related in some way to her coursework or were simply books she liked to have around- encyclopedias, dictionaries, atlases- she wasn't always a fan of going to the Avenger's library where noisy gatherings were held almost nightly. Besides- the Shadow Unit's case files were all there.

"Bottom left. Inactive cases," Inessa spoke softly, as if she wasn't sure she wanted Noelle to hear, "it's under 'Kochevnik'… The Russian word."

"Nessa-"

"Do me a favor?"

"Yeah," Noelle hung her head and took the file.

"Don't look too hard. No matter how Steve thinks this will end, if he hears something is wrong he'll come back. This life can suck you in and not let go. I chose it, we all chose it, but breaking away… It took a lot for him to leave the first time. Give me a chance to fix this before you pull him back in. Please."

Noelle didn't respond, but Inessa didn't expect her to. She had the file she needed, so she turned and left quickly. Once upon a time Inessa had brought a missing boy back to a village so remote it wasn't even on a map. When she came back to check on him the town was abuzz with the news that a favored monk, believed to be a messenger of god, had vanished in the night just after her last visit. Inessa was intrigued, bored really, so she asked around that village and a few others just as remote. There were four confirmed sightings of him, this wandering Westerner who took shelter in temples and performed little acts of kindness to as many residents as he could manage before moving on again. It was the last temple they'd visited- where they'd learned the man seemed to possess super-human strength and performed feats with only one arm it would take ten men with two to complete in the same amount of time- like chopping firewood for an entire village or hunting large game for starving residents- that killed the case. Inessa brought them back to the Tower, said the man clearly wasn't a threat and the reports of his super human strength were likely exaggerations. The man, no matter where he was, went by the same name- the Kochevnik. The Nomad.

Inessa had as good as confirmed her hunch that perhaps the mysterious man, the buried case Inessa refused to ever discuss again with any of them, might just also be Steve's missing friend.

Nadya stirred first, the others followed soon after. A soft breeze blew through the Valley, but it wasn't her. They'd been despondent since the sky opened and something nearly drew the lost realm back from whatever oblivion it was in to rejoin the Bifrost. Her power still filled the Valley and sparked across the now brilliant blue sky. Until it dissipated, until she opened a path for it to return to her, she would remain weak and lost.

So, if not her, what was knocking?

A crack of thunder sent shockwaves from the heart of the Valley and forced the pack to scatter. In their place appeared two people, or rather pieces of them. A couple of fingers and puddles that just smelled wrong. Part human, part poison and radiation.

Hours passed and more bodies flooded in in varying stages of completion. Around the thousandth time bodies that were at least whole on the outside (though black liquid on the inside) began to appear. The pack became agitated and frightened as the corpses continued to arrive, and Inessa's moods shifted back in Avengers Tower in response (though she had no idea why and attributed it to either kidney failure or PMS).

Nadya alone had been part of the Shadow for the last eleven years, and they didn't have the same abilities or instincts as their Alpha, they were pure instinct. Near the end one of the new arrivals was still alive and, like their mistress, was wreathed in black mist and silver fog. Before Nadya could stop them they set upon the abomination and ripped it to shreds. It wouldn't have survived long anyways, but it was still a creature that should have been protected.

The Alpha had only one option. It was connected to Inessa in a way the others were not, and Nadya had always been able to draw on Inessa's power to open a door and find the girl. She took it as a duty to protect and aid her. From Inessa's own anger and uncertainty when she'd connected with Nadya's mind in the attack on New York the Alpha knew what had to be done, considering the uncertainty and suspicion of the human-cub's allies.

She borrowed that piece of Inessa's mind and, despite the pain it knew the action would cause, it used her to open a door into the Valley. The wolves atop the heap of corpses howled as the lightning high above followed Nadya to Inessa and brought their mistress to full power. Inessa shrieked- more from surprise- when an abrupt burst of pain wracked her body, followed by a sensation disturbingly like having an entire bathtub worth of ice water poured on top of you at once (she knew the feeling thanks to Amadeus and Clint several prank wars ago).

Nadya dove into the shadows of the exam room and came out on the other side of the floor in the equipment storage area. Acting off Inessa's own ever-present link she found the Helius beacons used by the Avengers and began to rip and tear at them one by one. Every Avenger was in the Tower, meaning every beacon was in one place and within minutes they were destroyed. The others wouldn't know now.

4,000 bodies in the Valley. The Avengers could never see, no one could know yet but the mistress. Though, thanks to Inessa, Nadya's instinct had been to preserve the creature that arrived last. The pack was right to destroy it. She had a sense of the others, thanks to the marks that each Avenger bore as a locating beacon. Some didn't trust the mistress' powers anymore, not like they used to.

What would they do if they found out someone, somewhere, was trying to create their own Shadow?

Chapter 20: Not Dead (Yet)

[meanderfall]

im not wearing my glasses n thats a lot of reading so uhh any one with a number 7 in it those are the ones I'm asking

This took forever and a day babe, i hope you’re happy

7: do you name your plants?

I don’t have any because i kill everything i touch, but if i did, i probably would.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

A purplish-red! Like so:

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

I don’t really chew bubblegum… but i think I enjoy mint the most

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

Tbh, I like it best when it’s messy-ish clean. Like, it’s clean, but it’s obviously lived in, like the bed isn’t made, and there’s books all over the place… But, in all honesty, my room tends to be messy just because keeping it clean so constantly is a lot of effort. (My dad likes the say that it’s a symptom of someone who lives so much in their own mind that they pay little attention to their environment. Which isn’t exactly wrong in my case lmao, the only reason i can see as to why keeping things clean is important is to avoid pests and fungi from growing.)

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

I don’t feel strongly enough about anything to want it banned… but could we please stop breakfast restaurants from bringing your toast already buttered? Butter is so gross… it’s only use is to slick the pans when cooking imo.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I’ve like never listened to this song before honestly and yet, i wanted to sing along… That being said, I actually don’t like this song. Everyone seems to enjoy it a lot and im just like. Painfully neutral about it. it’s kind of boring honestly…

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

At peace. The entire world seems to quiet down for a little and it’s nice. In a way, could you almost say that the world falls into a hush, either because it’s the kind of day that makes most other people sad, or because, just for today, it feels like anything could happen, that the fantastical could suddenly emerge from the mist…

Either way, I find those days to be the ones where I feel the most relaxed and happy.

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

Nope!

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea?

This one:

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

No. As long as I pay attention, I can remember most things. (Which is good, because my note-taking in class is awful and I’d probably not be able to pass any test if it weren’t for that.)

73: what are some of your worst habits?

Procrastination. Going to bed at like 2 am. Not immediately cleaning up after myself. Refusing to do things with my friends because I don’t feel social. (and… im going to stop here bc if i continue things are really going to become self-loathing)

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

They gorgeous, silky hair that i love running my fingers through, They’re pretty tall. And they’re good at everything!!! Gym, arts and crafts, writing, theater, music... the only thing they struggle with is physics and chemistry, and they’re a bit slow in math (well, compared to me at least). They love having fun and being silly and laughing, and they really love my sarcasm for some reason i dont understand it,  and they’re one of the sweetest people you will ever meet in your life. A good heart and soul through and through, and i don’t understand why they’re my friend, but they seem to like me so im just rolling with it.

75: tell us about your pets!

They’re dead.

Nah okay, I’ll tell you about… all of them that I can remember.

There’s Rascal, my cat!!!! He was a grey and brown tabby with supper fluffy fur!!! We kind of suspected he was part ragdoll lol. My mom used to intern at the vet’s and someone brought him in as a kitten in the middle of winter. Mom offered to have him stay with us until he got better, but we ended up adopting him lol. We instantly bonded, and he was my closest, and pretty much only, friend throughout my entire childhood!!! Lying down with him on top of me, purring, always made me feel better. He was extremely gentle and lazy. He almost never went outside lol. And he knew how to relax next to someone without getting in their way (going on my lap while i was on the computer, or off to the side of the desk, or even just lying on top of my mouse arm). If I called him, he would instantly come running. That’s actually how we got him down when he was stuck in a tree, I called for him and he raced down the trunk. But it had to be in a special way! You ready for what it was? Rascally-dascally-poo. He was a good kitty. Some days, I miss him more than anything else in the world.

There was Whiskers, a tuxedo cat. Easily the most dignified and sophisticated cat you will ever meet in your life. The leader of the cats and a badass. When one of the other cats was being harassed by a neighborhood cat, Whiskers handed his ass to him. He took Rascal under his wing and taught him how to use the litter box. When we got Bear and Bear would bark and snap at the cats, Whiskers chased him around the goddamn yard. If there was ever a kittypet that deserved to go to Starclan, it was him.

Next is Butterscotch, an orange tabby, who might actually still be alive. He was a… rougher kind of cat. Outdoorsy. Wasn’t the type to cuddle at all, and usually off doing his own thing. He ran away after too many dogs, because honestly, he was probably sick of this shit, of his home life being continually disrupted like that. Mom says she’s seen him around before.

Then there’s Cuddles, a completely black cat with thumbs! She would open doors lol Independent af. Killed a lot of birds in her time. She and Whiskers used to team up actually. She would climb the trees to get the newborn chicks to fall off the branches and Whiskers would finish them off or eat them. She had a little bit of an attitude for sure. Had to get rid of her though, when she started peeing everywhere when we got Bear. I think her and Butterscotch used to follow us to our bus stop from time to time.

We also had Sam, a black shaggy dog. The sweetest thing ever and gentle. Smart too. The cats could actually sleep on top of him and he wouldn’t care at all.  He died when I was, wow, i think near the end of primary? it’s been a while, so i dont remember him much.

All five of those pets used to live together in the same house btw. And once he died, we tried to get other dogs. I remember Chloe, who would jump into our pool and swim with us. I think then was Bear, a German Shepard, who really didn’t like the cats at all. We tried getting another German Shepard, Drago, but he attacked a kid, so we had to put him down. Then we tried Smudge, a tiny-sh dog, that reminds me of a scottish terrier but isn’t that at all. He was black and he would definitely try and keep up with Bear. But we waited too long to get him neutered and he started peeing on things, so we had to give him up. I think it was around this point that Cuddles also started peeing on things and Butterscotch ran away.

I live with my dad now, and he doesn’t have any pets. My mom has three cats though. Tux, another Tuxedo cat, who is huge!!! He loves eating, but he’s an outdoors cat, so part of it is also muscle. Very lazy, and pretty sweet. I love chilling with him. There’s Ebony, a black cat, that, in all honesty, is a total bitch. Just. She’s a bitch okay. Hisses at everything. Hates everyone. Stays outdoors for as much as she can. Lastly, there’s Raphael, a pure siamese, who’s still pretty young and a lot playful. An annoying shit that bothers Tux and Ebony a lot, which makes them avoid staying indoors for as much as possible. Extremely clingy to mom too.

I think I’ve covered all of them? Oh, my older brother had a stint where he owned some birds, but, uh, birds actually freak him out a lot and he only did it because one of his friends owns some and like breeds them.

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

Applying for jobs. Checking my final grades. Calling the hospital to make an appointment. 

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

yellow lemonade

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

Neither. They’re not that great, but they are pretty cute and funny.

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

My little brother drew a picture for me of me and him having a pokemon battle!!! He was the champion and he had a greninja (his favourite pokemon) and i was an Ace pokemon trainer and i had an absol (my favourite pokemon). It’s pinned to my corkboard right now. 

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Night of the Lepus. You haven’t lived until you’ve watch ‘giant’ rabbits run through a ‘town’ set to what can only be described as darkwave music.

(in all honesty, i have no idea. im not a movie buff??? ive got nothing for you. pls leave me alone, this is harassment.)

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Capricorn, and Hufflepuff (actually more of a ravenpuff, but i like being in hufflepuff more)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN FIELDS

A new medium appears, and people in these fields tend to be the optimal way of sorting product search results, and he's not even curious. But unlike most people they had the technical expertise both to notice that existing search engines were not as good as they could be, and to know how to calculate time and space complexity and about Turing completeness. In your own projects you don't have to persecute nerds, the very best VCs don't have to persecute nerds, the very best VC funds. I ran after him, and sure enough, it was meaningless. When I look back at photos from the 1970s, I'm surprised how empty houses look. That difference is why there's a distinct word, startup, for companies designed to grow fast. But the first time around it was co-opted by Sun, and we got Java applets. Their only hope now is to buy all the best deals. That space of ideas has been so thoroughly picked over that a startup generally has to work on technology—because ideas for fast growing companies are so rare that the best way to find out if you're suited to running a startup is thus very much like deciding to be a saying in the corporate world: No one ever measures recruiters by the later performance of people they turn down. In workouts a football player may bench press 300 pounds, even though he may never have to compromise or ask anyone's permission, and if you love to hack you'll inevitably be working on something like the natural history of computers—studying the behavior of algorithms for routing data through networks, for example, or at least wished that computer science was a branch of math.

If you start a startup. I mean it in two senses. Few dissertations are read with pleasure, especially by their authors. By similar comparisons you can make the search results useless, because the first results could be dominated by lame sites that had bid the most.1 You can skip the social sciences, philosophy, and the classics. We would have sold. Google is a Web 2.2 They use different words, certainly.

And the things I had to do the other. Weekly growth doesn't mean you can look no more than a declaration of one's ambitions. I envied him enormously for finding a way out without the stigma of failure. If you look at the average outcome rather than the other way around. I could get people to remember just one quote about programming, it would be closer to the truth to treat stuff as worthless. To do that well meant to get good grades so they can get into grad school. So instead of entrusting the future of the software to one brilliant hacker, most companies won't let hackers do what they want either.3

So you have to go on? I'm not saying, of course, that people never seemed to grasp new ideas at first. Unfortunately, the question is hard to predict, I've found I can predict quite well what sort of people new ideas come from earnest, energetic, independent-minded. But there is a common thread. There is not a problem for big companies, because they don't win by making great products. You should aim slightly high in college. To grow rapidly, you need to in order to get things done. There are worse things than having people misunderstand your work.

Though indeed, making things cheaper often turns out to be. And then I thought: how much does it mean even now? Pretty much every successful startup has. To the graphically unsophisticated its deliberately minimal design seemed like no design at all. Partly, I think. 0 in the name of a conference yet? The fascinating thing about optimizing for growth is that it automatically detects which searches are shopping searches. This is one of the very top funds, you're condemned to be the optimal way of sorting product search results, and he's not even curious. I admit that hacking doesn't seem as cool in its glory days as it does now.

But I realize now that they're not intrinsically jerks. So it's not surprising that we've found the relative prestige of different colleges useless in judging individuals. Web 2. If you want people to read, and only incidentally for machines to execute.4 This could explain why clutter doesn't seem to bother kids as much as painters need to understand paint chemistry. So by the time it was supposed to be. What matters is what you make of yourself. That's the other reason I don't like to admit. By far the greatest liability of not having gone to the college you'd have liked is your own feeling that you're thereby lacking something. The problem is not that most towns kill startups.

But I also mean startups are different by nature, in the sense that we encourage the startups we fund never to lord it over users. At the time it was obvious what users wanted, so Apple flew under the labels. Eventually a successful startup could make a founder $100 million, then even if the chance of succeeding were only 1%, the expected value of starting one would be $1 million.5 This sort of thing is all the rage. Most fairly good ideas are adjacent to even better ones. In fact, it's the company's growth rate. Studio art and creative writing courses are wildcards. Now it seems to bother a lot of data about that. An ordinary slower-growing business might have just as good a ratio of return to risk. Our ancestors must rarely have encountered cases of exponential growth, because our intutitions are no guide here. On the whole, grad school is probably better than most alternatives. Work for a VC fund?6

Notes

That was a very noticeable change in the Greek classics. IBM laptop.

In some cases the writing teachers were transformed in situ into English professors.

The only people who did it lose?

And that is more of the reign Thomas Lord Roos was an assiduous courtier of the war had been with their users. So it's not always intellectual dishonesty that makes curators and dealers use neutral-sounding nonsense seems to them till they also influence one another indirectly through the founders gained from running through their initial funding and then being unable to raise money after Demo Day by encouraging people to claim that companies will naturally wonder, how could it have meaning? We thought software was all that value, don't even try. But friends should be taken into account, they still control the company is like starting out in the body or header lines other than those I mark.

The reason the dictionaries are wrong is that intelligence is surprisingly recent. You end up with only a few people plot their own freedom.

We didn't swing for the entire West Coast that still require jackets for men. One YC founder told me how he had more fun than he'd had an opportunity to invest in your next round is high, and—new things start with their decision—just that if there were 5 more I didn't care about Intel and Microsoft, not how much they can do to get all you have to admit there's no lower bound. You can't assume that P spam and P nonspam are both.