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coke-and-candy · 5 years ago

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A Little Competition Never Hurt Anyone: Part One

Alya is hoping that her contest entry, that she wrote about a certain someone, will finally be the solid proof that Marinette needs to open her eyes and see that Lila is not a bad person. Unfortunately, sometimes the best intentions can be misguided and trust misplaced...

This is a little fic idea that I have had for a while now. I’ve read plenty of salt-fics and I think it’s time to let go of the bitterness that the writers have instilled in us over their poor decisions and writing of the characters we love. Let’s start the new year with a little heartbreak and a little bit of redemption. :)

Edit: Now on FF.net! (link) and AO3 (link)

Part 2! (link)

Alya Césaire was many things…

She was a blogger, an up-in-coming journalist, a proud self-proclaimed superhero enthusiast, passionate, stubborn…

But most importantly she was determined.

It was this unstoppable force of will that was one of her greatest strengths. In her mind at least—her parents and the Paris police department may have a few choice words in regards to her obsessions at times, specifically when it came to recording akuma battles for the Ladyblog…

But she couldn’t help it! Once Alya set her mind to something, she committed her heart and soul to it. She would move mountains and cross oceans to achieve the goal that she had set herself. It also something that, in her mind, made her a good friend. The blogger would never hesitate to stand up for her friends and she was most definitely a ‘ride or die’ type of gal when it came to the people she held dear to her. There wasn’t anything she wasn’t willing to do if it meant helping out the people she cared about.

It’s why she was so invested in making Adrinette happen, her bestie, Marinette, deserved to have her happily-ever-after and get the guy of her dreams. The young Chinese-French biracial fashion designer deserved to have some good karma come her way. She was always working so hard to help everyone else achieve their dreams and goals, killing it as class rep, designing for big names like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, helping out her parents in best bakery in all of Paris, AND she was such a big help when it came to watching the twins so Alya and Nino could have an extra date or two (even if they did tend to dump them on her last minute…).

So if anyone deserved for the universe to smile on him or her for all the good that they do it was Marinette Dupain-freaking-Cheng.

Alya would fight anyone who said otherwise.

The only other person that Alya personally knew who did as much good was Lila Rossi, the new girl who had joined their class a few months into the school year.

The Italian student had already done so much and was continuing to do so much good for the world! What with her numerous charitable works around the world and all the other awesome stuff that she had done, such as rescuing Jagged Stone’s kitten and consulting with Hollywood directors for their next big film projects, just to name a few things. Alya honestly couldn’t remember them all… Plus! Being Ladybug’s BFF!

If Alya didn’t live in Paris, which was currently being terrorized by some major jerk that used magical butterflies to use people’s emotions against them and turn them into unpredictable monsters, AND hadn’t met Marinette—someone with QUITE the impressive resume all on her own (like seriously, that girl was too humble sometimes)—Alya would have thought that Lila was a bit too good to be true…

But Paris had taught her that NOTHING is as impossible as it seems.

Plus, why would anyone lie about those kinds of things? Alya had no reason to NOT believe Lila when she suddenly had to leave town for a few days in order to attend a fundraising event halfway across the world for homeless animals.

So one would think that Marinette and Lila couldn’t be anything BUT friends, considering how amazing both girls were but that was were everything stopped making sense.

After all, they were both kind, selfless, supportive, cheerful people who were fun to be around and both of them were well accomplished, bright young girls.

But for some reason Marinette just didn't want anything to do with the other girl. The moment Lila was mentioned Marinette would start to close off or not partake in the conversation until it had moved on to a new topic. Or if they were all hanging out as a group, Marinette would put as much distance between her and Lila without just straight up leaving. She never wanted to do any group projects with Italian girl, unless they were randomly assigned, the fashion designer always bailed on girls only activities if she knew Lila was going to be there, and would leave earlier if they didn’t tell her.

Alya just couldn’t understand it. Lila was a nice, sweet, and amazing girl! She was sure that if Marinette would just set her jealousy aside for a minute she would be able to see that and then she and Lila could become great friends.

The aspiring journalist knew that Marinette was capable of it too! She had been able to do it with Kagami

The two Asian girls were now really good friends and were hanging out more as well. There was a steady stream of pictures from Marinette’s Instagram showing the two of them having fun together. Even though Kagami was her main competition when it came to winning Adrien’s heart, it didn’t get in the way of the two of them going out for tea or watching those weird Brazilian dramas they both seemed to like. Hell! The female fencer had even now made it up onto Marinette’s famous picture wall along side all of her other friends from class.

So why couldn’t Marinette do the same for Lila?

Lila didn’t even like Adrien that way! Lila had told Alya that in confidence. So what if the Italian got to model alongside the younger Agreste and spend a lot more time with him? That didn’t mean that she was going to steal him away from Marinette. Lila was NOT that kind of girl.

It was starting to really wear on Alya that two of her closest friends—who were also two of the most amazing people she had ever met—couldn’t be in the same room together without some sort of drama starting up. It usually ended with Lila in tears and Marinette leaving because she was unwilling to apologize. For all of her journalistic and reporter skills Alya could not come up with a logical reason as to why Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Lila Rossi could not be friends.

Then, one day, after another one of these drama filled episodes (they had been talking about their intended Lycee coursework plans) Alya had gotten a notification her phone for an upcoming contest and was struck with inspiration for an absolutely ingenious plan!

If Marinette was unwilling to get past her own jealousy and pettiness and see that Lila was genuinely good person then it was up to Alya to prove it to her… and she knew just the way to do it.

La Compétition Olmpe de Gouges.

One of the biggest and most prestigious journalism contests in all of France that was open to all school age and university students. With many former winners, especially for the higher levels, going on to win other highly sought after internships and being accepted into some of the best journalism programs from around the world.

The theme for this year’s competition: future leaders.

According to the prompt, students would have to write and present a biography about a young person who showed promise as a future leader, the impact they have already had in their community, their achievements, their possible impact in the future, and why it is that they are someone for the world to keep an eye on.

And the young blogger knew exactly whom this prompt would be perfect to write about.

Lycee was just around the corner and Alya wanted to start her Lycee career right with a few professional internships or recognitions underneath her belt. She used to think that her blog would give her a big boost when it came to her extra-curricular activities but after meeting Lila… well it just made Alya realize that she needed to step up her game.

Even just placing in the top twenty would be a big boost for Alya’s writing resume!

Double bonus if this was finally what could convince Marinette to swallow her pride, apologize for not really giving Lila a chance, and FINALLY everyone could friends.

This was a win-win situation all around!

The only downside she could possibly see is if Marinette remained stubborn and refused to face the facts and evidence that Alya was about to practically layout in front of her.

But Alya was confident that she could write and a create a presentation good enough to, not only make it to the final rounds, but ALSO convince the budding designer that she had been wrong about their newest classmate this whole time.

As Alya sat down at her desk she opened up her laptop and pulled up the webpage for the contest and made sure to carefully study the rules, guidelines, and the criteria that the entrees would be judged on. Sloppy work was not something Alya planned on turning in. She pulled out a notepad and started brain storming and outlining some ideas she already had, as well as everything she knew about Lila. Sure there seemed to be some blanks and inconsistencies but Alya was just pulling what she could from her memory at the moment.

Lila had done so many awesome things and she was currently doing even more at the moment that it was hard to keep track of everything. She would have to ask her for more information later but for now Alya was content in just brain storming and outlining. Editing and proofreading may not always be something she always got a chance to do, especially with some of her more recent blog posts, but news tended to happen quickly. Blink and you would miss something. Luckily, the contest deadline was not for another six weeks so Alya had plenty of time to clean everything up and get her facts and sources straight.

It was best to get all of her ideas out at once and then go back to organize them later, just to make sure she didn't lose anything she wanted to touch upon in her entry.

The next thing she had to do was make sure that no one knew what she was up to.

She wanted this to be a surprise.

Alya had realized early on that the best way to get Marinette to agree to something was to not give her enough time to overthink things like she tended to do. Even thought it was a little harsh sometimes… but it was honestly for the girl’s own good.

Sometimes a little spontaneity was a good thing, and Lila had told her the other day about how she had volunteered with a charity that specialized in helping with mental health disorders like anxiety and depression. She had then told her all about the new study that was showing promise by putting people with anxiety into situations where there was no chance for them to think about what was ‘supposedly’ stressing them out and thus teaching them that those stressors were no big deal after all. It was still in the early stages of testing but Lila had assured her that the people she was helping were already making major progress in dealing with their anxiety.

Plus, when Marinette did finally get a chance to see her work Alya wanted to make sure that Marinette listened with an unbiased opinion and an open mind.

As Alya continued to write everything she knew about what Lila had done and was currently doing, and all the reasons as to why she was definitely someone who would be sure to make a huge positive impact on the world in the future, she could feel a sense of pride in her friends and in herself.

How lucky she was to have crossed passed with someone so selfless and so remarkable. Especially, when you factored in the fact that Lila didn’t even need to wear a mask and use magic jewelry to do good in the world. But what did she expect from someone who was Ladybug’s best friend? It made sense that someone as awe-inspiring as Ladybug was bound to be close to someone like Lila.

The more Alya brainstormed the more her excitement for this contest grew. She could already picture it…

Her giving her presentation in front of all of her friends and family, Marinette and Lila putting their past beef behind them and hanging out like the good friends Alya just knew they could be…

Alya just knew that this contest was the key to it.

She was absolutely sure of it!

And she was determined to prove it.

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We all know where this is going...

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duchessofostergotlands · 5 years ago

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Maybe I'm just really negative, but I was super surprised to see that the collection is only for sale for two weeks... it just seems so short for it to actually make the impact they want? But what do I know? 🤷‍♀️ love your blog btw, hope things are going well! Also, not sure if it matters: Reitmans is a Canadian clothing store/company that has a few subsidiary stores, one used to be Smart Set (I think those are closed now?).

Waaaaaaait a second, TWO WEEKS? Did I read that right? What a bunch of miserly jerks these companies are. It’s basically free advertising for them and all they have to do is give 1:1 (at cost not retail) for ONE ITEM each and they’re only going to do it for TWO WEEKS???? I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion). I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion) /// While I do think the Smart Set could be a bit better it seems to be a wonderful start! One thing though that I adore about Meghan is that she seems to be so excited about everything that she does and that excitement is definitely infectious!!! /// Something I really dislike is the type of garments. The dress is very flattering, but the pants have a high waste that in overweight people like me gives us the “crotch chub” effect lmao. Most of the clothes only look good on a certain type of woman. Add that to the limited sizes and 😬😬 /// So it looks like that shift dress comes in hot pink (it looks red to me?) but only blue and black dress purchases get donated to Smart Works? Weird. The Jigsaw jacket and pants they’re linking to are part of Jigsaw’s pre-existing Paris line of work wear. While the shift comes in extended sizes, I’m not impressed the jacket and pants only go up to a UK 16. And I’m interested in how the 1x1 will work. Idk it’s all weird // I’m honestly disappointed with the line. It’s a great cause but all the pieces were existing in at least one of the retailers, just re-done for the line, it’s only 5 pieces, sizes go up to 16UK (14US), they’re made in polyester and the campaign for smart works will only last 2 weeks? Idk it just spiralled into a “let’s make it look like we’re good” kind of line // I don’t know why but I thought each brand was launching a “look” for smart works, is it just one place has the shirt, another the trousers, a third the purse etc? // I really want to love Meghan’s idea, I really do. But I can’t.

Ok so I decided to combine all the messages I got about this in to one kind of master post. My plan is to go through what I liked and what I’m not too fond of. I don’t know which one should go first so I’ll put headings and you can read them in your preferred order haha. I should hopefully hit most of the points:

The Good

I talked about this before but I think Meghan’s really underrated skill is being able to spot gaps and understand where she can add value. Having worked with public donations, I related to a lot of the issues she pointed out and I think it’s very astute of her to be able to quickly pick that up for each organisation

Once again, women of colour were front and centre. The women modelling in the campaign were representative, they had different body types and attitudes too. I think that commitment is really impressive

Although some things are in more limited sizes- I think one of the items anyway- most things go up to a Size 24 which is more inclusive

I think we’ve already seen that there’s going to be a huge uptake in the clothing line so I expected that they’ll report a really big result

Her behaviour around the collection so far has been pretty adorable. From the behind the scenes videos to today, she has seemed genuinely excited and passionate. She’s obviously worked hard on the project and when you watch videos I think you want to back her up!!

She’s doing what I have complained about royals not doing in the past. She is doing something with a tangible end result. They will be able to say they gave x pieces to the charity whereas most royal projects have no clear outcomes or outputs. It still doesn’t tell us the impact but it’s better than we normally get from royals!!! More of that please.

The Less Good

I don’t like 1 for 1 models and that’s just an unavoidable fact. I’ve talked about it before and my opinion hasn’t changed since: https://duchessofostergotlands.tumblr.com/post/186776510814/hi-jess-you-said-you-didnt-like-the-one-for-one

I don’t like the clothes. I’m not going to go into a huge amount of detail because this is exclusively personal preference and nothing to do with the merits of the project but I know someone will ask so let’s get it out of the way. They’re too old for me personally. I do get why they went the basic route and re-used things though as it’s quicker and easier

“It’s not a hand out, it’s a hand held.” I mean, it is still absolutely a hand out. I know what she was going for but the dictionary exists. And it’s still a project where vulnerable women are supported by the whims of the privileged. I am a bit concerned at some of the narrative emphasising the purchaser which plays in to what I talk about in point 1

The things she pointed out when she was at Smart Works were that donations “can be a potpourri of mismatched sizes and colours, not always the right stylistic choices or range of sizes.” Now I don’t know if her project actually addresses that issue. It provides high quality clothing but with a one for one model it means that whatever people are buying, that’s what the place gets. It isn’t saying “how many of each item of each size do you want and need to create a more cohesive wardrobe?” and then providing it to them. Something that’s interesting about relationships like this, as a Fundraiser who has managed similar relationships, is that a lot of times when they say “10p from every product will go towards x charity�� that’s not true. We have a relationship like that with a corporate organisation and they tell us what they’re going to give us in advance based on projected sales. The money you pay doesn’t come anywhere near us. For smaller projects it might be different but that’s how we do it so we can budget and forecast. It’s possible that Meghan has actually done that but that leads me on to my last point….

The “Doesn’t Fit Into Either Category”

I have quite a few unanswered questions. I’m sure that some of these are answered and please do share links with me but I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going for the fine print, the terms and conditions. So:

I read in one article that proceeds would be going towards the charities rather than just products. Is this true?

If it’s not true, where is the money from sales going?

Have they had an agreement like the one I mentioned above that guarantees a certain number and mix of items for the local branches and uses the 1 for 1 thing as more of a selling point?

If it is a 1 for 1 model, does that extend to colour choice and size?

Are each of the pieces being sold in a different store or is everything available in every outlet?

This isn’t Meghan’s fault, there’s no reason to think she knew about this, but it is so shady of M&S to put a pink version on that is exactly the same but doesn’t benefit the charity. After Meghan saying they put purpose before profits, that’s a dick move from them

Overall

Meghan has clearly put a lot of heart and soul in this project and I think identified a real gap where she could have a meaningful contribution. I personally don’t think that a 1 for 1 model is the most effective way of meeting that gap and although there are plenty of positives I think the cook book was a more comprehensive project than this one

#meghan markle #british royal family #ask #anon

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Betting on the Bullseye (25/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala for Boston's Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation.

What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.What she truly doesn't expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: When I get home and have a few minutes, I’ll update the links that are missing on here. Tumblr does not like for people to post on their phones🤷🏻‍♀️ But anyways, here’s a new chapter thanks to a very rainy day in Venice that has me holed away in my room 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tag list: @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs

“So why are we doing this at your house again?” she questions as Killian puts their luggage in the back of their cab.

“Because I have a longer dining room table. There’s more space for food and people, even though we usually set out the food and then eat in the living room or out on the deck if the weather is nice.”

“Ah, yes, Thanksgiving on the beach where I can still wear a dress with no thermal leggings. This is living the life.”

Killian rolls his eyes at her. She can’t see him, but she knows that he does it. She slides into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt up while their driver messes with the knobs on the radio. It’s kind of weird not being in a car by herself or being in Killian’s car when getting to his house from the airport, and she really feels that when the driver eyes Killian as he settles into the car as well. Overall, she’s aware that people know who he is, that he’s a public figure. Hell, it’s kind of how they met, but it’s not something she thinks about anymore until they’re getting dinner and people either stare or stop him. Honestly, since they’ve been together, she hasn’t even watched anything that he’s in except for Highland Waters, and that was mostly because she wanted to know what happened after the premiere.

Okay, she needed to know what happened. It was a fantastic show.

He’s simply Killian to her. What he does for a living only matters to her because she’s proud of him and happy that he does what he loves.

But that doesn’t keep their driver from driving a little recklessly on occasion from continuously looking back at him. It’s weird, and she tries to ignore it as much as she can as she and Killian talk about tomorrow and this weekend. It takes an hour to get home, and she doesn’t really want to think about how much that costs, but then they’re dragging their bags inside and turning on all of the fans so that it can get a little air circulation. This place is mostly the same, but she can see a few subtle differences. All of his plants are gone, and she knows that it’s because Will coming over to water them every other day wasn’t a great system in the large scheme of things. Other than that, it’s really only the little things. A few picture frames are missing, a couple of books on the shelves that she knows are now on a shelf in their place despite the fact that they still have boxes absolutely everywhere after being there for a month.

She’s pretty much living out of boxes.

That’s fine with her, but she’s honestly a bit surprised that Killian is able to live like that with how organized he is. She’s been busy at work because of the charity gala in two weeks, and Killian had to fly back out here for some more screen tests for his movie. They’re having trouble finding his wife for it, even if she is deceased for most of the movie, so he’s having to go to the studio every time they think they have someone who he’ll have good chemistry with.

She never thought she’d say this, but she’d feel a hell of a lot better if the casting directors could find a woman Killian has chemistry with.

They’re busy and all over the place, and most of the time when either of them gets home, they collapse on the couch out of sheer exhaustion and the slightest bit of laziness. Mostly exhaustion, though. When Killian’s home, he joins her after work to run, and they’re far too competitive when, really, they only need to be jogging or something to keep themselves in shape. At least he doesn’t join her at the gym. He goes there on his own. That may kill her. Or both of them.

(She could probably kick his ass in a lot of things there.)

So they’re busy and not always in the same city, but she never thought that it was going to be that way. She knows that Killian is going to be gone sometimes, but she absolutely cannot get over the fact that they’re not having to make these crazy schedules just to see each other’s faces. They come home to the same place, and she’s infinitely glad for that.

Even when she wants to watch TV before she goes to bed and Killian wants the only sound to be the humming of the ceiling fan.

Or when he wakes up ungodly early even though she’s the one who has to go into work.

Living with him full time has definitely taken some adjustments, and she knows that it’ll take a few more, but she kind of thinks that they’re rocking it. They’re probably closer than they’ve ever been, and not just in physical distance, and only this tiny, miniscule part of her is freaking out over living with someone again.

And that tiny, miniscule part is mostly the part of her that likes to sprawl out in bed by herself sometimes or not wash her hair for three days.

Dry shampoo is a miracle worker.

“We have to dust,” Killian mumbles as they walk into the kitchen and flip the switch for the lights to come on. “And light a few candles. I think I’ve got some in the closet. It’s not that bad since I was just here, but I probably need to hire someone who’s more professional than Will to keep everything from getting too stale in here.”

“It’s not bad at all, babe,” she sighs as she takes the few steps to the pantry and walks inside so that she can find the candles, pulling out a few that smell like cinnamon. “You’re just more specific than most people, but we’ll get it all fixed for tomorrow.” She grabs a lighter out of the cabinet, and lights one candle on the island. “When is the food you ordered going to get here? Because it will take far less time to dust and clean up down here than it will to cook.”

“I scheduled it for two, so it about an hour and a half. Do you want to work in the dining room while I do the living room?”

“Sounds like a plan, my man.”

“Well that’s a new one,” he laughs, his lips ticking up into a smile while his brows move across his forehead, his annoyance over needing to clean fading a little bit.

She shrugs and presses her lips together. “It rhymes just the same, though I think I might stick with Stan even though that’s not your name.”

“And yet I respond to it.”

“Because I’ve trained you well.”

She doesn’t wait for his response before walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the closet where he keeps all of his cleaning stuff. It took her awhile to figure out everything in this house, but now she’s got it down pretty well. Sometimes Killian’s organizational systems are a little confusing, but since they’re now the same at their apartment, she knows it a little better.

It doesn’t take long to quickly clean everything up, dusting the shelves that are full of trinkets and nice plates, as well as going ahead and setting the table. Killian’s got flowers arriving too, so she gets a few vases out. They should probably take some of these home with them on their flight, or at least ship them. She’s been so undecided on just how many plates they need because it’s only two of them, but since they’re now apparently hosting both Killian’s family and her friends on Christmas Eve, they need more than she thought.

No part of her minds having everyone over. She’s actually really excited for everyone to meet. It’s been so weird having two huge sides of her life not even know each other, but that’s happening now. Killian figured out the logistics of it last week and asked her if she’d be okay with it, and she’d barely batted an eye.

They have to get the apartment unpacked, though. Luckily, it’s only Liam’s family and Anna and Kris staying. Robin is staying to spend Christmas with Roland’s mom’s parents, and Will is working. She’s going to miss them, but she had no idea where they were going to sleep if they came too.

Hotels exist, but she really doesn’t want to make everyone stay in a hotel when she’s over the moon to get to spend the holiday with so many people she loves. She’s had enough lonely ones. A packed house is a good thing. Mostly.

Plus, Killian looked giddy asking her about it, and she wants him to stay that way. There’s been enough darkness.

They finish most of their cleaning when the food and flowers arrive, and after sorting through it all, she sets up the arrangements while Killian gets started on the pies that he’s making. She’d offer to help, but baking is not her thing. Cooking is something she’s getting better at, but baking – that’s a task for another day. By the time she’s added light and color back into the house, it’s nearly time to eat dinner, especially since her body is still in a different time zone, so she wanders back into the kitchen where Killian is humming along to the radio as he concentrates on laying the dough down for his pies. He’s got his tongue sticking out the slightest bit, his teeth most likely clamped down around it, and she has to stifle her laugh at the intensity of his gaze.

At his pie.

Get you a man that looks at you like Killian looks at his pie, she thinks to herself.

“You know people are going to eat that and then it won’t look nice anymore, right?”

“If I were to use that logic, why do you put makeup on in the mornings only to wipe it off at night when you could simply go all day without it?”

“Because I like it, and I don’t mind occasionally stressing out over the evenness of my eyeliner.” He doesn’t look up at her. He simply raises a brow, and she gets his point. “Are you saying me looking nice is equivalent to your pies looking nice?”

Now he does look up at her, his eyes darkening for a moment as his gaze flickers up and down her body, his tongue running across his bottom lip in a move that is honestly indecent. He should not be allowed to do that when she’s not prepared for it.

She’s never prepared for it.

“Well, darling, I don’t mean to compare you to a pie, but you’re both absolutely delicious.”

Her cheeks heat even at the ridiculousness of his words, and she simply shakes her head back and forth. “I can’t tell if you just made pies better or worse with that comparison.”

“Well, we can test that theory out tomorrow after everyone goes home.”

“Or while they’re here if you’re feeling extra adventurous.”

“Scandalous, Swan.”

“I’d say your bedroom door has a lock, but I don’t trust anyone in your family not to break through them. So, yeah, we’ll definitely test it out after they leave.” She taps her fingers on the countertop while Killian goes back to work. “So what are we going to have for dinner tonight?”

“Cereal.”

“A man after my own heart.”

“That’s what I’m going for six days out of seven.”

“What are you doing on the seventh day?”

“Resting from the exhausting job that it is having to romance you.”

“Charmer.”

“I know.”

They spend the rest of the evening prepping for tomorrow, but they’re both exhausted and fall asleep just after the sun completely sets over the water. It’s been awhile since she’s been to California, longer than it usually is, and she’s missed waking up to the sound of the ocean outside. Yeah, they have a view of it in Boston, but it’s definitely different. It doesn’t smell like sand and salt on their balcony, and the sounds of the city drown out any possibility of the ebbs and flows of the ocean reaching her ears.

Each has their own charms.

California to her always means she’s on vacation, though, so she can wake up in the mornings and appreciate it all a little more.

Except right now she’s awake at four in the morning because of whatever mini version of jet lag she has. She’d be a mess if she ever travelled out of the country.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian mumbles into her skin, tightening his arm around her waist and pulling her impossibly closer while he buries his face into her neck, nose and scruff brushing against her and soothing her. He’s not usually groggy in the mornings, is usually not one to lay around in bed to do nothing, but she really appreciates when he does. It’s nice, relaxing, and if she has an itch on her back that she can’t reach, Killian can get it for her.

Killian Jones: Actor, brother, uncle, boyfriend, boating enthusiast, back scratcher.

That’s obviously what goes on his resume. Not necessarily in that order.

“Says the man who has obviously been awake for awhile.”

He grunts in response and tightens his arm around her waist again as his fingers fidget against her t-shirt, messing with it until she can feel the warmth of his hand splayed out against her stomach, tapping against her skin but never moving up to mess with her breasts. He’s very obviously exhausted, and she finds a bit of comfort in it as she shifts herself to get more comfortable so that maybe she can go back to sleep as well.

She doesn’t. Or she can’t.

Her breathing never steadies, her eyes never stay closed, and after an hour of trying with Killian’s steady breathing against her neck, she gives up and reaches for her phone to check it again.

Mary Margaret: Please pray for my sanity today as I spend it with David’s family. James is here, unexpectedly, and I’d shave his head while he’s sleeping if I didn’t want to set a good example for my children.

Emma: They don’t have to know it’s you.

Emma: Sorry, though. I know that he sucks, but this is your one holiday this year with all of David’s family! You can do it!

Mary Margaret: I liked you better when you were cynical.

Emma: No you didn’t. Go eat a pie. You’re not you when you’re hungry.

Mary Margaret: I’m feeding Brody, which is my excuse to get out of the room since everyone in this family wakes up early. Why are you awake?

Emma: Time change. I tried to go back to sleep, but it didn’t work.

Mary Margaret: Would it be dumb of me to ask if you’re up cooking?

Emma: It would. Killian and I prepped last night, and everyone is coming over at two to help.

Mary Margaret: Look at my baby growing up hosting a holiday.

Emma: You are one year older than me.

Mary Margaret: Yeah, but we all know I’m the mom friend.

Emma: Literally.

Mary Margaret: Call me tomorrow, and we’ll share horror stories, okay?

Emma: Promise.

“Who are you texting?” Killian mumbles into her skin, kissing up the cords of her neck until he’s nuzzling his nose just behind her ear so that she can feel a mixture of the heat of his breath on her skin and the coolness of his lips and his tongue as he teases the lobe. Really, she can feel every inch of his body pressed into hers from head to toe. His scruff is burning her skin even with its softness, and his hand is moving from her stomach so that his fingertips ghost over her right nipple, gingerly palming her breast while she feels an ache curl between her thighs. And it doesn’t help at all that Killian’s erection is pressing into her ass.

Well, it might help. But only if she wants to do more than lounge around.

She kind of wants to do more than lounge around.

“Mary Margaret,” she whispers in response, craning her neck to give him more access even though he seems to be pretty determined to work just below her ear in that spot. “She’s talking about how much Thanksgiving with David’s family sucks.”

Killian clicks his tongue at the same moment that his fingers tease her nipple, applying the slightest bit of pressure that has her arching her back as much as she can, which causes Killian to emit a groan that runs straight to her core, heat further pooling between her thighs.

“Isn’t today a day about being thankful?”

“Only if you don’t have a shitty family.”

He hums in response to that, his lips and his hands still doing wonderous work while she feels her heart tick up a beat – and then one, two, three more. He’s very lazily working her up in the early morning light, most everything still covered in darkness except for the smallest bit of light coming through the windows that fill the walls of this room. She’s still tired, exhaustion running through her, but the only place she can really feel it lingering is under her eyes, the slightest of aches remaining.

“You’re beautiful,” Killian murmurs against her jaw as the hand that’s been resting under her head urges her to twist her neck. She does, and even in the uncomfortableness of it all she’s glad for it as his lips move over hers, softly at first before their tongues curl together as her hand reaches to grab the back of his head, fingers threading through the softness to keep him from moving.

It’s not the most graceful of movements or positions, but she doesn’t care with the way her entire body is tingling, pleasure and anticipation and love all rolled into one. Living with him for the past month, waking up with him nearly every day, has been so damn wonderful even when it’s too hot or too cold in the apartment, even when one of them elbows the other and steals blankets. But what she really likes are the moments like this, the ones as positively dirty as the way Killian bites down harshly on her bottom lip while rocking his hips into her ass and the ones that are as innocent as her tracing the skin underneath the dusting of hair on his chest.

She’s never been this emotionally intimate with anyone despite Killian not being her first love. Or maybe it’s because of that. Maybe she’s loved and lost and learned. Maybe her, maybe both of them, being willing to open themselves up to each other after knowing the heartache that it can bring is what allows them both to be this trusting.

This loving.

She pulls back when she has to breathe, her chest heaving while heat continues to simmer below the surface of her skin threatening to break free, and Killian’s hands move from her breasts and down her stomach, his nails digging into the skin of her hipbone while she watches his eyelids flutter open, the blue barely visible despite their closeness. That’s when she arches her back, when she aches for more, and the moan that passes through Killian’s lips is one she wants to remember forever.

“Emma, bloody hell, love.”

“Are you complaining?”

“God, no,” he growls while his hand finds its way under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, deft fingers quickly teasing her in a way that has every inch of her skin prickling and hair sticking up while he teases her. “I’d spend every morning riling you up like this if it were physically possible.”

“I know, if only my old man had the stamina.”

He nips at her neck then, sliding a finger inside of her at the same time, and with the buzzing in her ear, she can’t quite hear what he’s saying. She’s sure that it’s something about aching muscles and it being physically impossible for anyone, but honestly, she doesn’t care. All she cares about is the way that he’s building her up. They’re still fully dressed, haven’t moved from the way that they woke up, but she’s still experiencing on of the most glorious lazy mornings of her life.

And that’s exactly how it goes. Killian doesn’t seem to be in any hurry despite the fact that she can feel him straining against her, and he takes his time working her up higher and higher and higher while his lips continue to move against hers or against his neck. She’s in a haze, everything blurry around her, and when she tries to move positions, Killian doesn’t let her. Instead he whispers in her ear for her to be patient, and she listens.

She listens to everything that he says, every sweet caress and dirty word. He’s a talker, always has been, and sometimes she wonders how the kindest man she’s ever known can think of things to say that would make nearly anyone blush for weeks on end. She knows that he has his rough and dirty sides, that he’s not always the man who will laugh at her dumb jokes with genuine affections, but sometimes it’s easy to forget with the softness that he’s always showing her.

“Move your shorts down, darling,” he groans, moving his hand away from her core just as she felt that her trembling was about to stop and turn into a wave of release.

“Bastard.”

“Technically, no.”

She chuckles into the pillow while she shimmies her bottoms off of her, taking her underwear with them. It’s not the most graceful thing in the world, especially with the ache that’s still remaining between her thighs, but then Killian is grabbing her leg and lifting it over his bare hip while his cock gently slaps against her. The friction is wonderful, deliciously warm and slippery, and she’d stay grinding against him if she didn’t know just how good it feels when he’s inside of her.

As she turns her head to kiss him again, wanting to be connected as much as they can, he guides himself into her, stretching her with his thickness and the angle while he settles inside of her. She has to squeeze her eyes shut even more tightly and stop the movements of her lips as he begins to gently rock inside of her, the depth and the position driving her back into the madness that she was so close to getting a few moments ago.

Like everything else this morning, it’s a slow push and pull that reaches every inch of her, her blood running hot through her veins while her heart beats an unsteady rhythm that she’s not sure she ever wants to beat steady again. Killian’s arm tightens around her stomach while her hand stays anchored in his hair, the other bunching into the sheets, and she stretches her leg out a little more as Killian shifts to go deeper inside of her, the both of them groaning with the movement and the change.

For some reason this morning feels different, like they’re closer somehow, but she knows that it’s not true. There’s no added meaning to the thrust of his hips or of the way that his fingers continue to tease her breasts or her clit as his lips move against her mouth and her jaw. It’s all the same, but she wants to savor it, savor the gentle rocking, the gentle push and pull.

She wants to savor this love that she’s somehow managed to find.

She wants to savor not hitting the bullseye over a year ago.

She wants to savor hitting it in an entirely different way.

When her release hits her, a shudder runs through her while her muscles tense, the heat of her body and Killian’s body wrapped around her intense while her heart thumps against her ribcage. She knows that she says his name, she really does, but for a few seconds, she’s not exactly sure what’s going on until Killian’s hips start thrusting into hers at a quicker pace. She can hear the slap of skin, the rhythm of his thrusts, and for a moment she thinks it might match up with the waves outside as the bedroom begins to lighten, the sun rising above the ocean outside and welcoming the day.

The start of her day might be better.

He’s thrusting with purpose, the moves sharp, and she can feel him pulse and twitch inside of her when he reaches his release, coming undone with a muttering of her name and his love with her and a “fuck” about every other word. They both take a few moments to breathe, their bodies moving in tandem as sweat rolls over both of their skin, and she can still feel the hot twitch of Killian inside of her. He must feel it too because he thrusts up into her while his lips form into a smile in the back of her neck.

She can’t see it, but she knows.

“I love you, my darling,” he sighs into her ear, a whisper soft enough to diminish any of the roughness he just displayed. “You are the thing I am most thankful for in this world.”

Her heart practically breaks through its chambers, her ribcage, and then her flesh at his words, and she shakes her head into the pillow, scratching his scalp with her nails. “Did you just fuck me so that you could make a joke about Thanksgiving?”

“It was my intention.”

Laughter rumbles through her chest, and she twists her head again to look at him. This time she can see the blue of his eyes, the lightness of the blue mixed with the darkness of desire, and she leans down to kiss his nose.

“You’re the most ridiculous man in the world.”

“Aye, I’m thinking about getting that monogrammed on my towels.”

“I love you,” she laughs, kissing his cheek just over his scar while she idly thinks that they’re going to have to wash the sheets if they don’t move soon. She doesn’t want to move, especially with the way Killian’s fingers are tapping against her stomach. “You come in second on my list of things I am most thankful for, KJ.”

“And what would be the first?”

“All of the food that is currently in your freezer.”

His entire face scrunches up, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and she wishes her phone was in her hand so she could capture that moment. She’ll try to memorize it all the same.

“I’d argue with you, but the food downstairs is damn good. And I feel like eating like a king today and then taking a nice nap with you and possibly Aiden.”

“Aiden?”

“He gets tired when he eats too much.”

“I don’t really think he’s going to be eating the feast today. He’s one and a half.”

“Aye, I know, but he’ll try.”

They do eventually get up and get out of bed, their lazy morning quickly dissolving as they each shower and get ready for the day. Killian can get ready so much faster than her, and she hates it as he steps in and out of the shower in the time it takes her to run lotion up and down her leg and wash her face. A part of her wants to curl her hair and do her makeup nicely since it’s a holiday, but she decides to let her hair dry naturally, the curls framing her face and trailing down her back while she pulls on a pair of light wash jeans that have holes in the knees and then finds her cream sweater in her suitcase. She’s relaxed here, and she really shouldn’t have to feel any other way.

She doesn’t bother eating breakfast when she gets down to the kitchen. Instead she takes the cup of coffee Killian hands her and sips on it while he runs through his checklist of everything they need to today. There’s really no reason for him to worry because once everyone is here, they’ll have more help than they know what to do with. Sure enough, Elsa and Aiden walk through the door a quarter before two with Liam, Anna, and Kris trailing behind them carrying bags and boxes of food. Aiden wobbles a bit as he runs to her, and she quickly scoops him up and kisses his cheek while he babbles to her as much as he can.

“Oh my God,” Anna squeals, dropping her bags onto the counter before she’s wrapping Emma in a hug, squishing Aiden between them, “I am so dang excited to see you! It’s been too long. Seriously, you cannot let it go that long again.”

“You guys are coming in for Christmas next month, right? That’s not long.”

“True,” Anna huffs, pulling back and smiling up at her. “We’re going to be there and see your pretty new place. Elsa has shown me pictures, and it’s just gorgeous. I bet it’ll look great with the Christmas decorations.”

“It’d look great if we could get everything unpacked,” Killian adds, and she rolls her eyes.

“We’ll get there.”

“I’m surprised Killian isn’t already there,” Liam says as he walks toward her and kisses her cheek in greeting while his fingers reach out to mess with his son, taking him out of her arms. “We all know the man and his ways. He’d go sleep deprived if it meant he could have everything in order.”

“That is so hypocritical, babe,” Elsa points out as she starts getting ready to pop the turkey in the oven. “You both are exactly the same, and Killian is likely that way because of you.”

“That is not true.”

“It definitely is.”

“Liam is much more specific,” Killian says, but she doesn’t believe that.

“I think you might win that, KJ.”

“I still cannot believe this family argues over who is more anal about cleanliness.”

“You married into it, Kris.”

“Technically I married Anna whose sister married into it. I never expected to be this close to you all, but when all of our parents live overseas, shit happens.”

“Language,” Robin whistles as he, Roland, and Will walk into the house, everyone a mess of limbs and greetings. Obviously no one here knocks or rings the doorbell. They really need to work on that.

“But what are we talking about? What shi – shoot?” Will stutters, his gaze falling to the ground when Robin glares at him even though Roland is not paying any attention to them as he talked to Killian, his hands moving all over the place while Killian makes sure to intently listen to every word.

“About how you’re all foreigners celebrating Thanksgiving with one American,” she tells Will, jumping up on the counter so that her feet dangle over the edge.

“Technically my son is American. He was born here, as was his mum,” Robin sighs, and she knows not to press any further on Roland’s mother. Killian’s told her the story of her death, and she doesn’t need to know more.

“Aiden is too. Well, we all are now. We just weren’t born here.”

“And Elsa makes the desserts to prove it,” Killian points out as he sets out a few wrapped plates on the counter next to her before coming to stand between her splayed legs, settling himself there while his thumbs rest just above her hipbones for the briefest of moments while he brushes his lips over the corner of her mouth. “They’re Kanelbullar, which is a cinnamon roll. You’ll like them.”

“Did you make these for me, Els?” she asks, wrapping her arms around Killian’s shoulders and leaning her head to the right so she can see everyone.

“You know that I did. I stopped making Liam’s favorite dessert because he complained about it last time.”

“You complained about the turkey, and I still prepared it.”

“Oi, you can’t have Thanksgiving without the turkey, mate. That’s just wrong.”

“We could have a Cornish hen or something.”

“It’s not the same. If I wanted knock off food, I could have stayed at the bar.”

“You could still go back,” Killian mumbles to Will, twisting his head to look at him before he’s looking back at her with his brows moving across his forehead and his lips curling into a wicked grin. His face is stupid attractive. “Who knows if Liam is going to mess up the turkey or not? He claims to cook it, but we all knows it’s usually Els or Anna.”

“Stop,” she mouths, running the tips of her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “He’s going to poison your food or something, and then I’ll have to unpack all of those boxes at home by myself.”

“That’s why you’re concerned with me getting poisoned?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tapping against his neck. “Again, you’re only second on my list of things I’m most thankful for.”

“Bloody hell,” Will groans, and she doesn’t bother to look over at him. She knows that his face is disgusted. “Can you two get a room?”

“We could, but you’d probably still be able to hear us.”

She scoffs as she slaps the back of his head, her lips gaping open at the disbelief that he just said that. Killian doesn’t have a response. He simply winks at her before stepping out of her embrace and moving back to the island to help out Elsa and Robin who have been very diligently getting all of the food ready while Anna and Kris run around with the kids who are hopefully not paying any attention to this.

“Anyways,” Liam sighs, settling himself down on a barstool, “yes, we make an odd Thanksgiving, but I am personally a fan of a holiday that means I can eat without shame.”

“Amen to that.”

“There should be a little shame.”

“Definitely not.”

“Nope.”

“I say calories don’t count today, but I’m also wearing loose jeans.”

Once everyone settles down, it’s a mess in the house as they get everything ready. Everywhere she turns there’s someone to run into or step away from. She can’t imagine what it’s like for those people who over thirty family members who all come together for one day. The food is one thing, but it’s got to be overwhelming to hear that many voices at once. She’ll never know what that’s like, but she enjoys the small group of people that they’ve got, especially as it keeps growing with her friends, even if they aren’t here.

It’s a nice day out today, the wind having calmed, so she moves all of their dishes out to the table on the back deck so everyone can eat out there with the view of the ocean in the background. Anna helps her get a folding table out to keep some excess food on, and while everyone else is working inside, they take Roland and Aiden out to the sand while Anna catches her up on work and life lately.

She tells her all about the new television show she’s designing costumes for and about how she and Kris might be moving to New York because of it, and excitement fills her as she thinks about having them on the east coast as well. It’s not super close, but it’s closer than this. Though she does wonder if Anna will be this peppy and excited to see her if they were able to see each other a little more often.

Most likely. She’s pretty sure that Anna is always this happy.

“Emma, can I go swimming?”

“Do you think your dad will let you go swimming in that cold water in your nice sweater, Rol?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I can catch a fish for us to eat.”

She barks out a laugh while she picks Aiden up from the ground and dusts his legs off. “I don’t think we’re eating any fish today, Rol, but maybe we can go swimming on another day?”

Roland shrugs before his steps line up with hers, and she’s glad to have avoided some kind of tantrum. She’s not too sure if he throws tantrums, but kids are weird. Not being able to swim could have somehow pushed one of his buttons.

“My dad has a girlfriend.”

“I know. He told me.”

“He kisses her.”

“I would hope so.”

“Dad says that you’re Killian’s girlfriend and that he kisses you.”

“This is true,” she laughs, glancing over at Anna who can do nothing but hold her hands up in defeat. “I am Killian’s girlfriend.”

“Are you guys going to get married?”

She nearly falls into the sand, face first, and brings Aiden down with her, but she manages not to, digging her toes into the ground and steadying herself while her entire face heats. A seven year old just asked her if she was going to marry Killian. Of all the people who she thought would bring it up first, it was not Roland.

At least it’s not in front of more than just Anna.

Oh shit. Anna’s definitely going to tell everyone about this.

“I don’t know, Rol,” she answers honestly. “Maybe.”

“But don’t you love him? Dad says he can’t marry Gina because he doesn’t love her yet. But I heard you tell Killian that you love him.”

“That’s a good point,” she sighs, racking her brain to try to figure out how to have this conversation. “You shouldn’t marry someone you don’t love, and I do love your Uncle Killian. But I don’t know if we’re going to get married. Not right now at least. Maybe later.”

“Are you going to have cake when you do?”

“We’ll have cake, yeah? Why don’t you run inside and see if the food is ready, okay?”

Roland nods his head, the curls flopping on his scalp, before he’s running off, sand kicking off behind him while Anna takes a step toward her and locks their arms together.

“You are not at all smooth.”

“The kid caught me off guard,” she whines, adjusting Aiden in her arm. “I wasn’t exactly expecting an interrogation about my intentions with Killian. At least not from Roland.”

“You figured Liam would give you one?”

“Nah, he’s already done that.”

“True. So,” she starts, bumping her shoulder into Emma’s, “are you going to marry Killian?”

“Anna.”

“What? It’s a fair question. You let Roland ask.”

“That’s totally not the same,” she groans before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t know. We’ve – we want a future together. We’ve talked about it, but, like, in future type turns. If he asked me, though, I’d say yes.”

She always thought the admission would be terrifying, but surprisingly, it’s not.

It’s…natural.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I love that ridiculous fool, and I trust him with every single fiber of my being.”

“Swan,” Killian yells from the deck, his voice trailing away as it reaches her, “get your fine arse up here so we can eat.”

“Language, Jones,” she shouts back.

“I promise you that is actually the more appropriate comment I wanted to make about your assets.”

“Ah, true love,” Anna sighs, resting her cheek on Emma’s shoulder while she tries to contain her laughter.

“Something like that.”

#betting on the bullseye #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic

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backtothestart02 · 7 years ago

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Hazy - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: My top voted for end-of-may fic is finally up! Or, at least the first chapter. @my-precious-wa-jewels is desperate for another chap asap, so perhaps I’ll do one more chapter when I start writing WA again next month. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy! This will be my final WA fic posted (unless people start donating through my Girls Inc fundraising page, in which case I’ll follow through on my promise to write something sooner. ;p).

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

Chapter 1 -

We are the Flash.

Barry smiled softly to himself in his sleep, the phrase running over and over in his mind, warming him, filling him with a sense of assurance and love.

When I put this ring on my finger, it wasn’t just about your or me anymore. It was about us.

How did I get so lucky, he wondered? To have Iris West not only be his best friend, his confidant, his constant support, but also to have her love him so passionately, so fiercely. She was his alone, and that fact honestly sent him into a tailspin sometimes. He might not have felt the past six months in the same way she did, but he knew how in love with her he was and how nearly losing her last year had gutted him every night and day. He could only imagine what she’d been through. Sex and love declarations and rainy days filled with cuddles were certainly helpful, but it was the unchanging feelings and loyalty between them that kept them as strong as they were.

He had to admit that Iris’ insistence and then outburst during couples’ therapy had made him worry a little. It was an oversight he could have avoided if he’d just sat still long enough during their quieter moments to pay attention, to see how she was silently suffering because of his lack of care, of realization.

Well, they’d fixed that now. Everything was okay. She’d saved his life, so he could save the day, and then he’d saved them by hearing her and listening and reacting in a way that healed.

When they got home, they shared another heart-to-heart, resuming their earlier interrupted conversation. But not much more needed to be said. At least not verbally. Arms wrapped around each other, lips and bodies connected in the most intimate way, euphoria; that solidified all that had been said and done between them earlier. There was trust and reassurance and happiness again. He knew everything was going to be all right.

And so, it surprised Barry that come morning – far earlier than either of them needed to be up – he opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bed. What’s more, the bed didn’t look familiar, and neither did the room.

What the…

He looked around, pulled back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. He was in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants – not what he had gone to bed in – and when he found a bathroom and looked in the mirror, there was patchy scruff all over his face. Making a mental note to shave as soon as possible, he left the room to explore what he could only guess was supposed to be his apartment.

He didn’t know why he thought that. Maybe he had been kidnapped. Maybe he’d left to go somewhere, gotten drunk, and – no, you idiot. You’re a speedster. You can’t get drunk.

But it didn’t feel like either option anyway. It felt like this place was his.

He spotted a cell phone across the disgustingly messy room and snatched it from the table it lay charging on. Luckily his fingerprint worked just fine – knew it was mine. The background was different. Not a picture of Iris or anyone he knew. Just…black. Weird.

He found Iris in his contacts though and exhaled a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

He pressed the phone to make the call and then waited.

“Hello-”

“Hey, Iris, listen-”

“You’ve reached Iris West-Thawne. I’m unavailable to answer the phone right now. Please leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks! Bye!”

His mouth ran dry. The phone slipped through his fingers. At the very last second, he caught the phone and set it back on the table, but his hands were shaking.

“No. No, it can’t be…” He shook his head, wandering over to the couch and sitting down.

Had he gone back in time again? He couldn’t remember running that fast or deliberately thinking of a moment in time to change. He couldn’t recall anything except going to bed with Iris that night – Iris, his fiancée.

Besides, Eddie was dead. He was dead.

The phone started vibrating on the table where he’d left it, yanking him from his confused, mortifying state. He swallowed hard, horrified to investigate. But the curiosity ate at him. After all, it could be someone who could clear up this giant mess, who could tell him this was a dream.

IRIS CALLING

He stretched out the ring, so it lasted forever, so he could make a decision on whether or not to answer. He waited for it to end for as long as he possibly could. Then, he picked it up.

“Hey…Iris,” he said on a strangled breath.

“Hey.” He could practically feel her brows furrowing over the phone. “What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on?”

She was silent for a moment, probably not believing him for crap – especially if she was still his best friend. He didn’t blame her. He was still in too much shock to believably pretend everything was normal – whatever constituted for normal wherever he was. He was also a terrible liar.

“I, uh…just wanted to reach out, see if you were busy.”

“Nope, not too busy,” he said quickly.

Slow down, Barry, he scolded himself.

“Okay, well, um…you still haven’t RSVP’d to our invitation yet.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, though he had a pretty good idea who the ‘our’ was referring to.

“Invitation?”

“The anniversary party?”

No, no, no.

“Um…”

“For me and Eddie? Barry, we talked about this. It’s our two-year anniversary. You promised me you’d at least think about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Yeah, what?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

A pause, then the happiness bubbled out of her.

“Really, Barry? You’ll come?”

He forced a tight smile. You’re my best friend, Iris, he would’ve said if this was the timeline he knew except with Eddie not having died. But he didn’t know what they were to each other here.

“Just remind me of the address, date, and time, and I’ll be there.”

He knew from the barely detectable sigh that he’d been given this information multiple times before, but he decided to play dumb.

Because what came next was the last thing he could have ever prepared himself for.

Iris and Eddie lived at his and Iris’ loft. The party was in two days – ironically the day Barry had his first successful date with Iris. And the time was to the minute of when he’d arrived back at STAR Labs with Iris after having saved her from the Samurai just a few days prior.

“I know it’s a weird time,” Iris was saying. “But I figure no one will actually come at that exact moment, so why not let my husband be particular about this one little thing?” She laughed lightly.

“Right,” he said numbly.

“Barry, are you sure you’re okay?”

One thing. He had to ask her one thing.

“Iris…are we best friends?” he asked.

“Of course. Barry, of course we are. We always have been.”

Well, that’s a relief.

“What’s happening? Is something going on you need to talk about? You know you can tell me anything.”

He seriously doubted that; at least with this Iris.

“I know,” he said instead. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“You’re sure.”

“Positive. I’ll see you at the party, Iris.”

Click.

He tossed the phone further down the couch where he sat and ran a hand through his hair. He then pinched himself about a dozen times to see if maybe he was dreaming. He’d heard sometimes that worked.

It didn’t.

He slumped back into the couch and let the drowning feeling consume him.

What. The. Hell.

*Also posted on AO3.

(FFnet link is currently inactive - will update post when problem is fixed)

#westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #hazy #chapter 1 #ngl i prob made this one the most voted for bc i posted a preview of it #i regret nothing lol

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becausethornbushes-haverose-blog · 7 years ago

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Since I’ve missed a few days, I’ll just make a post about everything. It’s super long, so if you don’t read it, that’s ok.

Fuzzy stuff

Shameless plug: Red Canary Tattoo in Thurmont, MD is doing a fundraiser for Cuddles Cat Rescue where you pay either $20 or $60 for a tattoo (it depends on what you pick) and they’ll donate the money to the car rescue. My mom and I are totally going and I think other people should go to. You can get more than one tattoo. I plan on getting two!

For the girls

This week, I’m thankful for Mariah and Emily.

Mariah and I have been friends since our freshmen year of college. We lived on the same floor in freshmen housing and had the same FYS. We became friends because us and like two other people were actually the only theatre people in a theatre FYS so of course we bonded. Then, we lived together over that summer to help Ira and Robert (RIP) build the set for Pygmalion which required a 40ft turntable. Building that was a lot of fun, plus the adventures we had in our house were weird and insane as well. There was one time when I was home alone, Mariah had gone to work at FiveBelow, and I was in our room with the door closed and I kept hearing weird noises from downstairs. I was NOT about to walk down there, but I just stayed completely still in my bed and turned off my music so that I could listen. Here’s the really scary part, after about 5 minutes of complete silence, I decided that I heard nothing so I turned my music back on and went back to doing what I was doing. WELL, as I calmed down I heard a noise again and noticed that it sounded like a doorknob being jingled, like someone was trying to open the front door or break in or something. I thought that it was coming from downstairs so I get up and went to open my door. It was my doorknob that was twisting. Someone was trying come into MY room. I backed up and looked under the door and no one was there, but that doorknob was CLEARLY shaking. I told whatever the thing was to go away because I wasn’t going to let it in because it seemed angry. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had something following me around. I used to feed it candy when I was little and my mom would be creeped out by it. Usually it’s super nice, so I knew it wasn’t my little friend. The doorknob continuously moved for 30 minutes. I called Mariah in a panic and told her to come home because I was terrified. Luckily she was coming home anyway and we walked around the house to see if anything was weird and nothing was. THAT NIGHT, both of us woke up at that same time not knowing and saw a huge black figure standing in the middle of our room. Mariah thought she dreamed it. I couldn’t stop staring at it and couldn’t go back to sleep so I knew it was real. It’s still something that I can’t explain. I have no idea what it was or why it wanted to come into my room so badly. Anyway, after that she went away for a year to study in Germany (like how cool is that?!) and she bought me a mug from pretty much every place she visited. I collect mugs so I was completely excited and grateful for them. Then, we actually lived together our senior year and continued to have adventures. The thing about Mariah that I admire is that she’s incredibly dedicated to whatever she sets her mind to. Her friends, her career, everything. It’s crazy. I don’t even know how she does it. Well, I kind of do because I did live with her twice, but still. She told me that wherever she goes, she will buy me mug and she’s kept that promise so far. I actually just got a mug from her from Ramallah, Palestine and it’s beautiful. Our friendship is something that I’ll always value and cherish.

And then there’s Emily. Emily is my sister in Alpha Psi. We were taken by our big at different times, which makes us sisters, not twins. I met her my freshmen year, she was a sophomore. She was the stage manager for Hairspray, I was the light board op, so we had to share the booth together. I am SO glad for that because we bonded so quickly. We both ended up getting sick during the show, so we a bucket of cough drops between us that we shared. We also totally danced during that whole show and swooned over Daniel playing Link because that boy can sing. Emily really wanted to take me as her little, but she planned to study abroad in the spring that year so she couldn’t take me. Steve got me, Emily’s big, and just solidified our bond. We spent our next two years together just gross sisters and hanging out and growing together as people together. We took a drama therapy class together and it sent us down a dark hole of feelings. After the class we did our self revs in, which we decided to do on the same day so we could be in crappy moods together, we went to Taco Bell and ate our feelings in the greenroom. We had so many girls’ dressing room talks where we talked the things that were bothering us. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding (which I didn’t end up actually being because of life), but I remember that on spring fling my junior year, we skipped all of the festivities and went to pick up her wedding dress. A bee flew in the window of her truck and landed on her leg. Emily is allergic to bees everyone… She was on the verge of a panic attack with this thing on her leg, so she pulled off into a gas station and handed me a lid to a Pringles can and told me to scoop the bee off of her leg. She jumped out of the truck and was yelling at me to get it off of her. People were staring at us while this was happening. I did scoop it off and it flew away, and we both just started laughing hysterically. We got her wedding dress and then went back to McDaniel. We spent the rest of the day laying outside on a blanket drinking peach iced tea and eating chicken Caesar salads because it was beautiful out and we wanted to enjoy it. When it was time for little picking that year, we each brought blankets and pillows and cuddled on the floor. When we each got our littles, we screamed because it was an exciting time, and then immediately planned out our clues and how we were going to confuse our new littles. I love this woman. Emily is one of the strongest women I know. She’s been through so much and I love how much of a fighter she is. She inspires me to kept fighting. I wish we were able to hang out more, but sadly, she lived in Ohio with her amazing husband and little boy. I’ll make it there one day.

I love these women with all of me. I can’t help it. They’re both so strong and inspiring. I wish I had their drive and courage. They influence me to be better. I can’t imagine my college life without them. So much would be different. I’m glad that I’ve been able to get to know them and share a huge part of my life with them. They will forever hold a special place in my heart.

#thankful

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violetren · 8 years ago

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Remember This

For Day 1 of Supercat Week 3.

You can recall everything about your soulmate and things that occurred while in their presence with perfect clarity.

To read on AO3 click ~here~

Additionally can be read on ff.net by clicking ~here~

Or just read it here.

Winn had that look on his face again. Some combination of soft affection and hero worship. As if Kara had hung the stars, instead of just getting his favourite flavour muffin to go with his coffee when she went for her mid afternoon coffee run.

She’d only gotten him one to justify buying one for herself as well.

It was an excuse-muffin, to avoid questions about her fifth afternoon snack of the day. Since Miss Grant was temporarily out of her office to attend a meeting at Carter’s school, which meant Kara had more than enough time the more administrative aspects of her work done without also running off to complete errands based on Miss Grant’s whims. Coupled with a very peaceful day in National City, Kara had little to do other than eat away her boredom, and shuffle around already finished paperwork.

So the only reason it happened to be Winn’s prefered Raspberry Swirl was because it was available and Kara was a good friend. If given the choice between an excuse-muffin she knew he’d like and an excuse-muffin he’d tolerate of course she’d chose the one he’d like. If the Raspberry Swirl had already sold out then she would have gotten him a Double Choc or a Blueberry.

Looking at the slightly too happy smile she was receiving Kara decided that maybe she should have gotten him a Blueberry instead.

“Raspberry Swirl,” Winn said, waving the muffin enthusiastically, “You remembered my favourite.”

And there it was. The reason for Kara’s discomfort. He’d been pointing out instances of Kara remembering details about him for almost two weeks now.

She knew why. It was one of those weird human things to do with finding their perfect match. Their soulmate.

It was an odd concept for Kara. Krypton didn’t really have anything like it. Afterall Kryptonians hadn’t put much stock in romance. Only advancement and logic. Relationships were calculated transactions, to strengthen and maintain social structures, and pass on the best combinations of genetic material. A certain level of compatibility between personalities was accounted for because hostile pairings would ultimately be detrimental to society, but it was all very clinical. Religious focus, political views, opinions of different guilds. Nothing about emotions or romance.

On Earth there were no such systems. Everyone just did their own thing, advancement could be a factor in relationships but a much higher premium was placed on affection. Above all else though, humans valued the bonds of soulmates. Something that was apparently determined by their ability to remember one another.

According to every book, teacher, website, and every scrap of gossip Kara had heard as a teenager, it was impossible to forget even the smallest detail about time spent around your soulmate.

It wasn’t like having normal memories of your loved ones. Memories that could fade over time no matter how cherished. Memories of times spent with your soulmate could be recalled as easily and as if you’d clicked on computer file, and as vividly as if you were living the moment all over again. Or so Kara was told. As someone who was technically a genius and had learned the entire english language over the course of a weekend, the ability to remember things didn’t seem like an accurate way to determine closeness with another person.

So she knew what the wide eyed look on Winns face meant. She knew why he was so quick to point out when she remembered things. He thought they might be soulmates.

Kara had never really noticed his crush on her before he’d started behaving so excitedly over small friendly considerations she had made. Little things that were nothing, but apparently everything. Like picking him up some Red Vines during an errand for Miss Grant because he’d mentioned he was out of snacks. Or sending him the occasional link to an article about a game or a piece of technology they had been talking about earlier in the week.

She was just being a good friend. A nice person. None of what she was doing was new. She’d been remembering for more than a year now. It was only the past couple of weeks that Winn had started to make it more than it was.

“Well you’ve only saying it’s your favourite since I started working here Winn,” she said, trying to brush it off. Winn didn’t seem deterred. In fact if the way his eyes crinkled was any indication he probably thought she remembered the first time he’d told her what his favourite muffin was.

Next time she was definitely getting him a Blueberry excuse-muffin.

Instead of hanging around to hear more about other instances of ‘remembering’ Kara escapes back to her desk, hoping for a phone call, or an email about a misfiled piece of paperwork, to give her something to do until Miss Grant returns to the office. Anything to put off the inevitable rejection she’s going to have to give Winn. She knows it will have to happen soon, but she refuses to do it while they’re at work.

It’s almost half an hour later when Miss Grant’s private elevator finally dings. In that time Kara has managed to finish her own muffin, (chocolate pecan. Not nearly on the same level as Eliza’s pie but good enough to tide her over until she can next convince Eliza to make one) comb through Miss Grant’s emails for the past hour and arrange them from most important to least for when Miss Grant get’s the chance to check them, and made a tiny bouquet of origami flowers out of post it notes, with their own little post it note vase.

“Kiera.” The doors to the elevator haven’t even finished opening when Miss Grant calls for her. Kara is on her feet in an instant. “Cancel my three thirty. Then call that little place on Eighth street. Have them deliver the same selection I ordered the night of the fundraiser they held for the national park after the fires in september.”

Miss Grant doesn’t even look at her she walks out of her elevator shooting off orders. Her focus is reserved only for her son who exits the elevator with her. Kara has no idea why he’s here instead of finishing his school day, but Miss Grant looks reasonably relaxed so Kara holds off reaching for her phone to call the Catco legal department to investigate Carter’s school. She also doesn’t balk at how Miss Grant doesn’t spare her a glance as she speaks to her. In a year and a half of working at Catco she’s grown used to it. Especially on the rare occasions that Carter is around.

“Yes Miss Grant,” Kara says, sitting back down at her computer to open Miss Grant schedule and find the contact details of the photographer she would be cancelling on.

Miss Grant and Carter stop in front of her desk as she reaches for the phone. Kara looks up a polite smile on her face, her hands hovering over her keyboard. Miss Grant is watching her with the slightest frown. An expression Kara has learned to recognize as Miss Grant thinking on something, rather than being displeased with whatever Kara was doing.

“Was there something else Miss Grant?”

“Have our order delivered at home, I’ll be leaving once I collect some things from my office.”

Kara nods once, then begins drafting an email explaining the sudden cancellation to the photographer. She would call them later to set up another meeting. She hears Miss Grant tell Carter to wait by her desk while Miss Grant gathers her things, but doesn’t look up from her screen, trying to find another timeslot to offer the photographer within the next two days. After having gone over Miss Grant’s schedule a half dozen times already during her slow afternoon it only takes Kara a few minutes to draft and send an appropriate email. Miss Grant is still at her desk, searching through one of her draws.

Carter looks a little awkward hovering between her desk and his mother's office, and Kara takes a quick look around to see if anyone else has noticed his discomfort. The answer seems to be no.

“Would you like to come sit down,” Kara asks softly.

Even then Carter startles at being spoken to. Kara wants to kick herself but instead smiles at him, aiming for calm and friendly. Moving slowly she rises out of her chair and steps behind it, offering it to Carter with a small flourish. He stares uncertainly for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but when Kara keeps smiling, he tentatively returns the expression and steps forward to take a seat.

Kara has to hide her shock. In the six times he’s visited the office since she started working here this is the first time he’s been so close to her without his mother directly at his side. It’s nice to think that he’s starting to feel comfortable around her.

“Feel free to use the computer or whatever, I’m just gonna order your food, then I’ll go see if your mother needs help finding whatever she seems to be looking for,” Kara says, nodding in the direction of Miss Grant’s office, where Miss Grant is still rifling through her desk draw.

Carter doesn’t say anything just nods, determinedly looking anywhere but Kara herself. It’s more acknowledgement than Kara has come to expect during his visits. She feels her smile widen a notch and picks up her phone.

She takes a half step back from her place behind Carter’s seat to lean against the ‘L’ shape of her desk, looking into Miss Grant’s office, where her boss still seems to be looking for something. Kara’s brow furrows slightly as she tries to think what Miss Grant could possibly be searching for.

The call connects before Kara has realised she’s dialed, still too busy watching Miss Grant rummage through her desk.

“Hello, Diego, it’s Kara Danvers from Catco.” Her tone slips into sunny assistant mode easily, even as her brow crinkles at watching Miss Grant let out a huff of frustration. “I need an order of spinach and red pepper quesadillas, with a side of pulled pork taquitos, and some of your black bean guacamole, to go please. With low fat cheese for the quesadillas and taquitos, and extra chilli in guac.”

Miss Grant finally seems to find what’s she’s looking for as Kara reconfirms the details of the order and gives the delivery instructions to Diego. She lets out a small huff of ‘finally’ before slipping what looks like a memory stick into her handbag. She exits her office just as Kara hangs up the phone.

“Ready to go sweetheart?” Miss Grant asks Carter, any trace of her earlier frustration gone. Carter doesn’t answer the question.

“Mum, you’re not gonna believe it,” Carter says instead. “Kara guessed exactly what we wanted to order for our early dinner.”

Miss Grant tilts her head to the side curiously but smiles at her son.

“She didn’t guess darling, I told her what to order.”

“You told her to get the same meal from the place on Eighth Street, that we ordered like a year ago mum,” Carter says, with a tone that would suggest an eyeroll from a child with lesser manners than Carter. “There are like three places on Eighth Street that we order from mum. And it was more than a year ago!”

“Yes well, Keira’s my assistant, it’s her job to remember details like that,” Miss Grant says waving a hand dismissively. Kara bobs her head in agreement, but doesn’t say anything. Carter has clearly only been addressing his mother. He’s gotten more comfortable with her for sure, but she doesn’t want to risk the progress she’s made by interrupting a conversation he’s started.

“Mum, no-one remembers details that well. She even remembered to ask for extra chilli in the black bean guacamole.” Carter stands and hitches his schoolbag on his shoulders. “Even you forget to ask for that sometimes, and then you complain that the beans take away too much of the kick.”

“Have you stopped to think that I occasionally have mexican for lunch, and that’s why Keira knows how I like my guacamole,” Miss Grant asks, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off of Carter’s shoulder as he steps around the desk. “Now come on, it’s time to go.”

Kara has to bite her lip to keep from scoffing, but Carter doesn’t hold back. Mexican food is something Kara has never known Miss Grant to order for a meal without Carter. It’s mostly lettuce wraps, and salads with burgers, interspersed with orders of sushi and other japanese cuisine.

“Don’t you scoff at me young man,” Miss Grant says swatting at Carter’s shoulder playfully. She starts shuffling him towards the elevator. Kara springs around them, to press the call button on the elevator. “As you said it’s been over a year, she knows how I like my guacamole the same way I know she prefers the potstickers from Chow Hong’s rather than Palace of Plenty.”

They’re stepping through the threshold of the elevator when Carter stops to look at his mother.

“You said it’s her job to remember what you like to order,” he says slowly. Miss Grant seems to physically prevent herself from rolling her eyes, and nudges Carter the rest of the way into the elevator. In a practiced move, Kara reaches blindly into the elevator to press the button to the ground floor without entering it. “But you’re her boss. Why do you need to remember where Kara prefers her potstickers from?”

For the first time since Miss Grant came back to the office they make full eye contact. Kara gets only three seconds to see the shock in Miss Grant’s green flecked eyes, and see the way her mouth opens and closes ever so slightly as she tries to find the words to answer Carter’s question and then the doors slide closed.

Kara continues staring at the space where Miss Grant and Carter had been occupying just a moment before, turning over every word Carter had said since she’d hung up with the restaurant. Suddenly it seemed so crystal clear what his statements had been implying. But it couldn’t be could it?

Suddenly the vivid colour of Miss Grant’s eyes, widened with shock swam across Kara’s vision, and Kara felt her breath stutter in her chest. She knew she had never seen Miss Grant’s eyes catch the light quite like that before. She knew because unprompted Miss Grant’s, Cat’s, eyes began to whir through her mindseye. Shifting from turbulent brown in the dim lighting of her office towards the tail end of an all-nighter, caused by the incompetence of an overseas office, to the sparkling green Kara had witnessed one summer afternoon out on the balcony when Cat had been on the phone to Carter, when he was on vacation with his father.

“Hey Kara.” Winn might as well have materialised from nothingness for all the attention Kara was paying. He clapped a hand onto her shoulder, not seeming to notice the way she jumped at the contact. “Can you remember what it was we ordered from that new Cambodian place last month? I was thinking we could get it again for games night this weekend, James said he’s never had Cambodian.”

Blinking owlishly Kara looks down at the hand on her shoulder and then follows the arm back to it’s owner. Winn smiles at her expectantly.

“Sorry, I can’t remember,” Kara says, too numb from her sudden realisation to feel bad about the way Winn’s face falls. “Excuse me, I have to go talk to Alex about something.”

She’s already in the door to the stairwell before Winn can reply.

#supercat week #supercat #fictions #chirping wren

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years ago

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SNAPSHOT: VIAWEB, 631,631, JUNE 1998

Quite the opposite. Of course, big companies won't be able to give advice about how to make money, and making money consists mostly of errands. But if you look, there are probably twenty sane ones who think Start another company? They do it in the future, and the site rules discourage dramatic link titles. Graduate students who want jobs as professors of x will write dissertations about it. By which I mean not that it has to make something physical, but that it has to make the company his full-time on a startup, you don't know whether your overall uncertainty is mostly justified or mostly bogus. Once you take money from my parents was that I didn't ask my parents for seed money, though.1 An advantage of consulting, as a business, are 1 that effectively all the returns are concentrated in a few big winners, and 2 that the best startup ideas seem at first like bad ideas. When you do, you've found an adult, whatever their age. Most only come into effect if the company were being founded anew. It's a lot like being a founder, here's a deal you can make with yourself that will both make you happy and make your company successful.2

If you start with them, you'll have to earn your keep. If you're one of these people, you probably shouldn't even go to work. The Airbeds just won the first poll among all the YC startups in their batch by a landslide. The junior people will tend to respond to a challenge from an adult in a way that acknowledges their dominance. VCs' offices on the north side of Sand Hill Road reminds you that there is some limit on the number of startups and think this can't continue. When we got into such a scrape, our investors took advantage of it in a way that a name-brand VC probably wouldn't have. To answer that we have to be very disciplined if you take the consulting route. A couple weeks ago I tried displaying the names of funding sources also tend to be used as the names of funding sources also tend to be more conservative for their kids. This is a good thing. I'd like the site to grow, since a site that caused them to make a lot of questions, we all agree on this. Seriously, though, that if you get funded by Y Combinator.

Whether or not this is a smart move to put a startup in a place with restaurants and people walking around instead of in an office park, because then the people who know that a high performance car looks like a Formula 1 racecar. Typically these rights include vetoes over major strategic decisions, protection against being diluted in future rounds.3 Don't get too deeply into business models.4 After ten weeks' work the three friends have an idea. But that wears off after a few months. Unfortunately picking winners is harder than that. There's a lot to like I've done a few things we don't. You can demonstrate your respect for one another in more subtle ways. One test adults use is whether you still have the kid flake reflex. It takes a conscious effort to do this?

It's that way with most startups too. The buildings are all more or less the same, their exteriors express very little, and work fast. Talk slowly and clearly at the audience. Arguing two sides of a case may be a net win for founders, who ought to be working on their startup for a whole year before being squashed by Google Calendar.5 So if you're ready to clip on that ID badge and go to that orientation session, you may also be ready to start that startup. In the earliest phases—often when the company is sold. It's often mistakenly believed that medieval universities were mostly seminaries. But don't give them more than four or five numbers, and only did after repeated nagging from our lawyer, who was also, fortunately, his lawyer. These can get a lot of people think they're too young to start a company.

The most obvious is valuation: they'll take less of your company.6 I started writing the essay, and even now I find it kind of weird. It's not what they originally set out to do—in the process of writing it, they had become extremely formidable. But sure enough, I thought, they did call them essays, didn't they? Don't be misled by this optimism. Some angel groups charge you money to pitch your idea to them. That's true. We may be seeing another such change right now.

Since there didn't seem any way to answer the question, and the right to get one's investment back first if the company were being founded anew. The example of a startup's history that I've presented is like a compiled program you've lost the source of.7 Fred Wilson published a remarkable post about missing Airbnb. Before they can judge whether you've built a good x, they have to run later. 7% more data about their trajectory. The outer limit may be as low as 16. How do you tell if you're independent-minded enough to start a consulting business you can then gradually turn into a product company, and all the previous shareholders' percentage ownership is diluted by a sixth. Talk slowly and clearly at the audience. Then would-be founders are often surprised that investors expect them either to sell the company or go public. It reminds you that the opposite of down and dirty would be up and clean.

They started projects of their own. And not just inexperienced angel investors, but part of what it might have been.8 It's also true that there are good ideas that seem bad. Kids a certain age would point into the case and say that they wanted to fund professors, when really they should be funding grad students or even undergrads. The adult response to that's a stupid idea, is simply to look the other person in the eye and say Really?9 If you can't already do it, and have your clients pay your development expenses. It's possible you could meet a cofounder through something like a user's group or a conference. It's easy to convince investors you're worth talking to further.10 Don't try to seem more than you have. But if someone posts a stupid comment on a thread, that sets the tone for the region around it.

Your primary goal is not to describe everything your system might one day become, but simply to convince investors there will be other equally broken-seeming ideas in the future. If you were talking to four VCs, told three of them that you accepted a term sheet. Already eaten. I think this is what drives a lot of people think they're too young to start a company. Including, I hope, the problem that has afflicted so many previous communities: being ruined by growth.11 We're Jeff and Bob and we've built an easy to use web-based database as a system to allow people to collaboratively leverage the value of investors' connections. By accepting the term sheet, the startup agrees to turn away other VCs for some set amount of time you have to become Tom Hanks.

Notes

We didn't swing for the coincidence that Greg Mcadoo, our contact at Sequoia, was one firm that wanted to. When we work with founders create a portal for x instead of just assuming that their buying power meant lower prices for you; who knows who you start fundraising, but getting rich from a past era, than to call the years after 1914 a nightmare than to call you about it.

Never attribute to the extent this means anything, it causes a fundamental economic shift away from large companies.

Which is probably not do that? Photo by Alex Lewin. There are some good ideas buried in Bubble thinking. But he got killed in the other: the source files of all.

The top VCs and Micro-VCs. You can safely write off all the mistakes you made. You can still see fossils of their assets; and with that of whatever they copied.

Incidentally, I'm just going to give them up is the most important things VCs fail to mention a few old professors in Palo Alto, but conversations with VCs suggest it's roughly correct for startups is a meaningful idea for human audiences. For the price, they tended to make Viaweb.

Founders at Work.

By this I mean this in the time quantum for hacking is very vulnerable to gaming, because the broader your holdings, the bad groups and they unanimously said yes.

This is actually a great idea as an idea that there were some good proposals too. If you want to pound that message home.

People and The Old Way. In a project like a winner. Greek philosophers before Plato wrote in verse, it is very common for the measures the federal government took during wartime.

Some genuinely aren't. The Quotable Einstein, Princeton University Press, 2006. Is what we now call science. I meant.

Many hope he was a refinement that made them register. When one reads about the prior probability of an ordinary programmer would find it hard to compete directly with open source project, but essentially a startup: Watch people who make things: what determines rank in the Valley, but the number at Harvard since 1851, became in 1876 the university's first professor of English Studies.

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