#kids this is why you should have an actual folder system you follow for saving files and actually name those files

[mithrandirl]

“Hmm… So— hmm…”

Barriss liked to describe herself as a quick thinker. Somebody who could look at a situation and assess it with a cool head. She was having a hard time coming up with a logical explanation for what she was witnessing right now though.

“Hmm,” she said again.

"Are you gonna keep hemming and hawing or are you gonna help me out of this? We don��t have all day here, Offee," Ahsoka snarled between gritted teeth. Though that may have been because of the position she’d wedged herself in more than any frustration directed at her friend. Nothing about Ahsoka screamed comfortable right now. "And you owe me for that time with the worms."

That got Barriss’ attention. “You mean the time I told you to kill me, is that the time you mean?” she huffed petulantly. “You know what, fine, whatever, we've moved on from that. But what the—" She stopped herself from cursing just barely, and took a deep breath. Ahsoka is a dear friend, she reminded herself. A dear, dear friend... "What is going on and why are you—" She waved a hand around.

"In Rex’s quarters?"

"Well, yeah, that. But also—"

"Stuck in… what is this, a footlocker, a crate? Well, I don’t know what I’m stuck in here. That’s kind of the reason I called y—"

"Okay, yes, and—"

“The dress, yeah. Is it ugly? Padmé said it was in fashion but I kind of don’t believe her. I haven't actually seen it yet because of the, you know, the blindfold—"

"Ahsoka! Why are you in a— a ball gown! And a blindfold?! And what is wrong with your—” She wanted to just indicate Ahsoka’s whole person at this point because there wasn’t one part of her that she could say was normal. In the end, Barriss decided on just waving at her from top to bottom again, even knowing that she couldn’t see it. “What is going on?!"

"Oh." A sheepish smile crept onto her face, and Barriss imagined she would have avoided eye contact if, you know, she was looking at Barriss in the first place. "Well, it's a long story..."

.

"So you stepped on a poisonous plant on your last mission— which plant was it again? You know I took that botany course a few years ago—"

"I don't know what kind of plant it was, Barriss."

"Well excuse me for trying to get all the—" she grunted with the effort it took to shove Captain Rex's desk back into place, "facts straight while I help you cover up your crimes!"

"Sorry, sorry! I really don't remember what the healer said the plant was called. All I know is that my leg went numb where I stepped on the plant thing—like really numb, like I still can't feel it—and I lost my vision. Both temporary they said, and if Rex hadn't gotten me the antidote right away it could have been worse."

"Okay, that explains the blindfold—wait, no it doesn't. Why do you have a blindfold on?"

"Oh, well, my vision came back already, but my eyes are still really sensitive to light. And I kept squinting at everything and couldn't go outside without getting a massive headache so finally they just gave me this." She slapped the side of her head where a piece of thick black cloth wrapped around her lekku and covered her eyes.

"Mhmm. "

"Still can't feel my leg though. Not looking forward to the pins and needles if it's anything like when your limb falls asleep and then it wakes up again, you know what I mean?"

"And the ball gown?"

"Oh, well, I was out dress shopping with Padmé before this. There's some big formal thing she wants me to go with her to. Sounds lame, if you ask me. But Skyguy said I had to since I'm not cleared for any sort of work yet."

Barriss paused in her task of righting the various 'pads and miscellany of objects the Captain kept on top of his desk. "And you're still wearing the dress you bought?"

A timidly guilty look passed over Ahsoka’s face then. "I guess I didn't actually buy this one. I should probably return it once we're done here... Don't give me that look! It was a stressful afternoon!"

"You don't know what look I was giving you and it wouldn’t have been quite so stressful if you didn’t leave an embarrassing comm message for your captain detailing your massive crush on him..."

Ahsoka crossed her arms, but encased as they were in the great puffy sleeves of the dress, she could only manage to grab opposite wrists. "I have a vivid imagination. And I thought we agreed not to bring that up again. I told you, it was an accident. I didn't know I'd called him. I lost my comm in all these fluffy layers of the dress... Are you done with the desk yet?"

Barriss sighed as she picked up the last pen from the floor and set it in a cup with the others. "Yes."

"Good, now lets steal his personal comm and get out of here."

"How do you even know his comm is in here? Wouldn't he keep it with him?"

"Because he's in an all-day training with the other Captains and he always leaves his personal comm in his room when he’s on duty."

"Mhmm."

"Look, can you just get it? It's in the second drawer on the right, the key is wedged in the seat cushion of his chair where it's ripped a bit."

"You couldn't even get the key out before you toppled everything over in the room?"

"I'm blind, okay? I tripped on the footlocker by the door and lost my balance because—"

"You can't feel your leg, I know."

"Thank you, now can we hurry it up? I don't know what time it is but I feel like it's getting close to end of the training."

"Training let out at 1600 and I took my personal comm with me today."

Even though she had a blindfold on, Barriss knew Ahsoka's eyes had widened to saucers, probably because Barriss' own eyes were wide with a mix of horror and humor. This definitely made up for the brain worms.

"Captain! Didn't see you there," Ahsoka said loudly. It might have been smooth if the situation was... well, not what it was.

"Yeah, I got that."

Barriss finally stood from where she had been kneeling next to the desk chair and looked curiously at the key she'd just fished out of the cushion. "Ahsoka, you can probably manage the situation from here, right?"

Ahsoka's lips were pursed so tightly that it looked painful. She gave a tiny, furious shake of her head, which Barriss ignored.

"Excellent." Barriss stepped around her carefully and brushed past Captain Rex still frozen in the doorway of his own quarters, pressing the key to his desk drawer into his hands as she did so. "Captain," she acknowledged formally.

"Commander Offee," he replied automatically, and stepped aside fully so she could exit.

"See you later, Ahsoka! Make sure to tell Captain Rex all about—"

Ahsoka's indignant screech of embarrassment and rage was the last thing Barriss heard before the door slid shut. She smiled to herself, satisfied that she could be of help to a friend in need, then walked down the corridor with a new spring in her step.

[dos-oroguitas]

madrigal grandkids in minecraft headcanons

Isabela

Isabela Madrigal would be off to a flowery hills/ plains biome in order to pick flowers and.. get a bucket of lava? Not sure where she's going with this but anyway..

Usually in the nether? for some reason? Maybe she likes the flora there.

Most likely be armor-less with bonemeal and flowers the only things in her inventory.

She wouldn't be the builder, rather she'd be the decorator. She would fill the Minecraft houses up with flowers.

Favorite flowers? Probably Allium, Cornflowers, and the Wither rose.

Bonus (flower?) block: Cactus

If her builds get destroyed, she will lure you into a false sense of security and then place lava on your feet.

Aesthetic skin for her character.

Luisa

Luisa would most likely be the one who gets her siblings and cousins some gear.

Most likely to be decked out in armor. And in the first in game day no less.

Storage room extraordinaire. Luisa would most likely have an auto-smelt/ auto storage room system.

Would probably be in charge of fighting mobs, especially when it comes to Isabela who's practically running around and only armed with flowers.. plus a bucket full of lava.

Mirabel

The actual builder of La Casa Madrigal in Minecraft.

Inventory is filled with different blocks to build, build, build.

Especially loves the loom and would most likely hoard sheep wool to make pretty banners. Most probably would make pixel art or banner art in Minecraft.

Most likely to die first in game. Probably from running around and not seeing a massive ravine in her path.

"Ay! How should I know that the ravine was right there!"

Probably has Mizuno's texture pack installed.

Dolores

Has a YouTube tab open for relaxing songs to vibe with while playing Minecraft.

Probably tamed a parrot so she could quickly be informed of nearby mobs.

Absolutely loves note blocks and the juke box, pig step supremacy.

Fills her Minecraft room with parrots.

Mutes the group call since it's always composed of Camilo shouting that he was being chased by mobs, and Mirabel and Isabela arguing about their builds.

Camilo

Has his siblings/ cousins skins saved in a folder so he would trick them in game, to give them free stuff.

Most likely to rig someone's base with red stone connected to bells he stole from villages he passes by. Only to annoy.

Though he would accidentally manage to set a build on fire..

He was promptly banned by Isabela before he begged to be let in again with the condition he'd be careful.

Would probably get lost since he can't figure out how to navigate with the coordinates. Even with the help of the compass.

/spawn or /teleport is on because Camilo can't find his way back when he wanders around.

Randomly attacks his Tio Bruno.

Antonio

Sweet little baby Antonio would have tamed every tamable mob in Minecraft.

Of course with the help of Mirabel.

His Minecraft room has every mob you can think of. From ocelots to axlotls. It's crowded but he says he likes it that way.

With the help of Camilo, he manages to build cozy homes for each mob.

Constantly has dogs following him everywhere he goes.

The baby uses default Steve Skin.

Bonus!

Bruno

Bonds with the kids in this block game.

Lives in a square dirt shack next to Mirabel's gorgeous and aesthetic build with a crafting table, a furnace, and a bed.

Most likely to wear only leather armor he finds while looting the villages with the kids because for the life of him he can't figure out how to craft other upgraded armors.

Probably has the 'Rats Mod' installed.

Can never understand why he's being attacked by Camilo but just goes along with it since hey, it's bonding with the kids!

Achievement unlocked: Best Tio Ever.

Don't ask how I came up with this. I was playing Minecraft then poof! Headcanons.

[boydidthatgowell]

the two times ethan yelled at mark and the one time mark yelled back

requested: no

pairings: amyiplier, platonic crankiplier

summary: ethan begins to over think and doubt his abilities to meet mark's expectations after he notices how quickly tyler learned to edit. he expressed his emotions in an unhealthy way, in the end, mark is there to reassure ethan that he is good enough.

this takes place in february of 2017

shit shit shit

ethan was on the brink of a meltdown.

the editing program had crashed before he could save the file. and when he opened the project after restarting the monitor, the gameplay timeline had removed all of the splits and zooms. this meaning: nothing was lined up. the gameplay was longer than the actual facecam video.

ethan could feel his heart begin to sink. out of everything that could have happened, this was the worst.

after tyler's first edit, ethan thought that if he perfected the video that mark assigned him, he could prove to mark that he was worth keeping around, that he didn't deserve to be replaced.

something that ethan learned that day, is that apparently the type of monitor he used didn't work well when rushed. evidence being that the second he started rushing to check if there were any old copies in the auto save folder, everything froze.

everything.

the mouse, the keyboard, the entire system just ... stopped.

and of course, there was no use in worrying about it. to his knowledge, there was nothing he could do to fix it. the situation should have been fairly easy to explain to mark, amy and kathryn.

... should have been.

it was about the time that ethan was going under the desk to unplug the mouse and keyboard when mark and tyler walked up the stairs, coming from the main room.

tyler stopped mid - sentence when he saw ethan. yet, he wasn't the first one to speak.

"hey man? did something happen?" mark questioned, walking towards the desk and crouching down.

ethan was startled, he whipped his head around to see a confused mark and tyler's legs. he couldn't quite see all of tyler since he was still under the desk.

ethan crawled out from under the desk, unable to explain himself. mark stood with him, face to face.

"what happened?" mark repeated, crossing his arms nonchalantly.

" ... uhm, okay, so everything was fine!! i was close to rendering it and the video was perfect, you would have absolutely loved it, but, but it uhm, it crashed!! everything went down and when i went back into post, i tried to see if there were ... if there were any auto saved copies because all of the splits had been removed for whatever reason but when i went to check for copies, it all froze!! everything!! i'm honestly so sorry i don't know what to do and it's just so ... i'm so sorry, mark. this is one hundred percent on me and i promise i’ll fix it somehow."

mark smiled in a bewildered manner and cocked his head, "ethan, it's fine man. it wasn't your fault, no need for stress. how can i help?” he offered, uncrossing his arms and shooting an empathetic expression at ethan.

“i don’t ... i don’t need help, mark,” ethan plopped himself back into the white chair, pressing restart on the computer for the third time, “i have it under control, it’s ... everything’s fine!!”

the harsh tone caught the other two off guard, given, this was ethan ... ethan never raised his voice unless he was kidding around or excited about something. mark shared a similar concerned look with tyler, and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by ethan’s trail/mumble of nonsense that sounded something like: 

“it’s okay, it’s okay. the video should be done within the next couple of hours if i can get this damn thing working again.”

ethan sighed briefly as he was finally able to type his password in again and the system began to gradually come back to life. he soon became fixated on replacing the cuts that had been mysteriously trashed.

“ ... alright, man. if you need anything, tyler will be at my desk. i have to run up to best buy for another memory card ... for the uh ... the live stream on friday.” there was no point in mark wasting his breath, as ethan wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to what was being said.

tyler mouthed something to mark, and mark gave a reassuring nod towards him, gesturing at the youngest of the three.

------

thursday, eight fourty seven in the morning.

amy, mark and kathryn were all in the parking lot, chatting about preparation of the upstairs office, booting up the power strips and marking things off the checklist for the charity live that would be happening the next day.

“wait, why ... why is ethan’s car here? he usually comes in at nine fifteen.” kathryn pointed and chuckled at the dark blue four door sitting at the end of the lot.

mark approached the front door and pulled his keys out of his pocket, “it seems it’s unlocked, too.” mark ignored kathryn’s observation and huffed. “the door?” amy felt the need to clarify.

no one clarified though.

the girls dropped their bags at the front of the bottom floor, making their way to the right of the building to gather camera equipment to move it to the computer room.

mark didn’t follow, though. he calmly walked up the stairs, and to no one’s surprise, ethan sat at his work space, clicking away at some video timeline. the lights were off, so the only thing illuminating ethan’s face was his screen. mark didn’t even bother circling around the railing. he stood on the second to top step and rested his elbows on the white rail, holding three to - go cups in one of those cup carrier thingies.

“morning.” mark stated, more to get ethan’s attention than anything. “oh, good morning!! weird, i uh ... i didn’t even ... come in ... hear you - hear you come in.” ethan smiled half - heartedly. he pulled sweater paws over his hands and  tiredly rubbed his glassy eyes, adjusting to the morning light spilling through the windows. mark sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, finishing that last step and walking over to where ethan was seated. the older male reached over the younger one’s shoulder and dangled one of the cups to the left of ethan’s face.

“here, coffee, bud.”

ethan blinked through the sleepiness, “hey!! thanks mark.” he yawned mid - sentence.

mark set the cup reserved for tyler on the table in the center of the room, taking a cautious sip of his own coffee. he, at last, dropped his bag at the foot of his desk and leaned against it, practically sitting on it. he observed the obviously exhausted boy as he hurried to render a section of the project he was working on. ethan shook his head dramatically and spun his chair towards the one standing, “so!! did you get the chance to check your business email this morning? i sent you the finalized video that i exported yesterday evening. i was gonna have you review it and give me some feedback? i was just curious if you’d gotten it yet because i worried it would’ve had some trouble getting to you because of the computer problems yesterday that did get worked out, by the way - “

“and by yesterday evening you mean a quarter past four o’clock this morning, right?”

ethan shut his mouth quickly, turning his attentiveness near his screen once more, “ ... mhm.” he bit his tongue, shifting it around his mouth a bit.

mark really didn’t have the energy to watch a stressed ethan ramble, it was a pain for both of them. he liked to think he’d known ethan long enough to pick up on the fact that if ethan was hiding something, no matter what it may be, he’d purposely talk a lot to cover it up.

mark sipped at his beverage again, twisting the cup in his hand, “did you sleep at all last night?”

ethan pepped up his attitude slightly, “no, but you can get so much done if you don’t sleep. it’s fine, it’s not like i’ve been up for three days straight.” he chuckled lightly, scanning his eyes over the fourth bar in the timeline, double checking subtitle checkpoints.

mark stopped his meaningless hand motions and squinted. he clicked his tongue, “but you have.”

ethan frustratingly lifted his hands from the keyboard and folded them under his chin, turning his neck to look up at mark, “i’m sorry?”

mark placed his half empty coffee cup on the edge of his desk and placed his hands back on the surface, using it for balance, “almost every file, email, whatever, that i’ve received from you in the past ... not only three days, but almost week, i’m pretty sure, has come in at anywhere from one to five a.m. i’m not saying you haven’t slept in a week, but if you’re sending me messages in the dead hours of night, and then spending ... what? eleven? twelve hours a day here at the office ... when do you have time to sleep?”

ethan couldn’t speak. he’d been called out. there was nothing else to it.

“no, really ethan, tell me. i want to know. tell me when you have time to sleep.” mark pushed, raising his eyebrows, watching as ethan’s eyelids drooped.

“like ... seven to nine. usually. sometimes less.” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact.

“two hours?”

ethan huffed angrily, “yes!! jesus fuck, mark, yes. yes. i have a horrible sleep routine. but look, man!! i’m here, right? i’m alive ... right? great!! no reason to fucking worry.”

i will make mark proud of me. i will complete more projects than tyler will ever even be able to comprehend. he won’t replace me. i’m a great editor.

ethan’s hands were practically shaking, and he hadn’t even had any of his coffee yet. however, he removed his hands from his face and hovered them over his keyboard again, thinking about what he was going to do before clicking the tab button a few times.

mark groaned in a fed - up manner and reached out to use his foot to drag ethan’s chair towards him.

“mark, what’re you - “

mark placed both of his hands on either arms of the seat, trapping the younger one and looking down at him, “first of all, do not raise your voice with me in my office. secondly, i need you to go home.”

ethan gritted his teeth, “you what?”

“i need you to go home and sleep or i need you to sleep on the couch. you will not work today.”

“you’re being ridiculous, just let me - “ ethan attempted to push himself back towards his work space. the attempt failed terribly, though, as mark just gripped the seat tighter, “you will not work today, ethan. that is an order. as your boss, i am telling you that you will take a nap today, and you will not work again until i see that you’re well rested. do you understand?”

“i don’t need a nap, i can push through it.” ethan protested, choosing to fixate his stare at mark’s torso rather than his face.

“do you understand me, ethan?” mark repeated, uplifting his eyebrows and making his voice quieter, yet clear somehow.

ethan thought for multiple seconds and gave up. he wasn’t going to win this argument, no matter how badly he wanted to. mark was his boss, and he couldn’t risk losing his job when that was the last thing he needed. he shut his eyes momentarily and nodded, “yeah. okay.”

mark grinned approvingly, “thank you,” he let go of his grasp on ethan’s chair and stood up straight, “there should be a blanket on the couch ... the yellow one.” he watched as ethan pushed himself from his spot and weakly trudged to the couch, where he collapsed. within minutes, he was out like a light.

------

ethan fluttered his eyelashes, chatter awakening him.

“hi tyler!!” was all he could hear faintly. at first, he was sort of confused and his mind was cloudy with exhaustion. a few seconds after becoming aware of where he was and what had happened, he rubbed his forehead and sat up on one elbow. he glanced around the room, no one was on the second floor other than him.

what time is it ...

he glanced over to the wall clock.

two p.m.

it was two p.m.

he had wasted five hours of precious work time, all because mark had ordered him to.

i should have argued more.

he shot up off the couch swiftly, barely making it to his computer in two steps. he desperately slid his mouse around the mouse pad, remembering he hadn’t actually shut his computer off, and just let it fall into sleep mode. the first page to pop up was the file folder for all of the projects he was in charge of. he sped through all of them until he found the one he’d been working on that morning. he needed to finish it before lunch so he could start working on a markiplier makes around four p.m.

just his luck, lunch was an hour and a half prior to when he’d woken up.

great, i’m behind.

“oh, you’re awake.” amy’s voice lingered.

ethan whipped around to the top of the stairs to see amy, mark and tyler close behind, “y ... yep!! i feel great, and, uhm ... i’m working on getting this sketch rendered and finalized by four, and then the markiplier makes should be finished by around - tonight. tonight, it’ll be done.” ethan smiled, unknowingly why he did. all of his actions at that moment were kind of involuntary anyways, given, he had just come from a semi - deep slumber.

“right, that’s fine. take your time with it, bud. tyler just got here to help us set up and sort cords and power strips into sections so we’re prepared for tomorrow morning. kathryn just went to the dollar store to grab us snacks for the stream. and, yes i made sure to ask for nerds, because i knew you’d want them.” amy explained to ethan. “yeah!! thanks dude. i promise that i’ll help you guys out once i’m finished with this.”

mark held his tongue whilst he and tyler started taking the camera and tripod out of their respective cases.

“of course, just, like i said,” amy made her way closer to ethan, “take your time. no one is rushing you.” ethan grinned in response, to which amy ruffled his hair and walked to the other two boys.

------

thursday, eleven fifty two at night.

all five of them were in the office, discussing their plans for the live stream.

while ethan would usually be laying face - up on the floor during these types of meetings, he was now seated in front of his computer.

the only one on their computer, to specify.

normally this would be fine, but, they were trying to talk, and ethan was clicking away like it was no one’s problem.

“and we’ll definitely play that spongebob movie game, that’s why i bought - “ 

click ... click click clack

“ ... hey bud, you can save and exit now, we’re done working today, alright?” mark kept civil, creasing one leg to rest on top of the other and looking over at ethan from the rest of the group. he beamed pleasantly, that was to no avail, though, as ethan paused for a couple seconds before tapping against the keys again.

mark had an endeavor to wrap up the meeting without being cut in on. that didn’t work out for him, regardless.

“we’ll definitely have to get the xbox out of the storage room sometime tonight though, or we’ll forget about - “

clack clack ... click ... click click click clack

“ethan, it’s okay man, you can put everything away now. you can pick up where you left off on monday. don’t worry about it.” mark didn’t show any signs of smiling that go - around. he only examined the boy once more.

“mm, yeah. okay, okay.” ethan mumbled, continuing his speedy pace of editing.

mark locked eyes with amy, expressing mild anger. amy showed sympathy towards her boyfriend, “it’s okay, pay no mind.” she mouthed inaudibly. mark suspired noticeably, “i may have to dust an old flash drive, so please stay patient with me as i - “

click

“ethan - “

“mark!! what?”

“ethan.”

“i’m trying to work - “

“ethan!!”

the yelling match was expected.

mark’s fist against the desk was not.

ethan, along with everyone else, jumped slightly at mark’s quick course of action.

the youngest of the group stood, astonishingly, tranquilly.

and just ... walked out.

he didn’t bother to grab his phone, keys, or glasses. he simply just, walked down the stairs and pushed open the front door to walk out.

mark pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply and choosing to follow after his distressed friend. he refused to look at the others as he practically sprung out of his desk chair and sprinted through the office, trying to get outside.

ethan was faced away from the building, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket and his entire body quivering.

“hey,” mark started, “i’m sorry for getting mad, i shouldn’t have done that ... but, please, what’s going on with you?”

the blue haired male turned around, laughing in disbelief, “what’s going on with me? really? so, tyler just ... walks in here one day and you guys decide to make a video where he edits some ... some shit gameplay and ... and he ... he sits at my desk and ... and uses my desktop to edit your video and then you have the audacity to say that he did better than you thought he’d do? really? without even ... and then you don’t even have the courtesy to reassure me - ... anyone that he won’t be replacing someone on the team? you can’t even take the time to say that he’s not better than me ... or amy? or ... or kathryn? seriously, mark? you are unbelievable sometimes, fucking ... “

mark had barely made it three paces out the door before his jaw hung open ever so slightly, thick eyebrows furrowed, “is ... that really what all of this is about? is this seriously a jealousy thing? if it’s a jealously thing ethan, just know that you don’t have a reason to feel,” mark stopped to take a deep breath, “ ... to feel envious of tyler. i can swear to you, you have nothing to worry about, ethan. falling under editing and film skills, he is nothing compared to you. i don’t want you to feel like you have to prove yourself to me.” he softened his voice a little, not wanting to frighten the smaller boy anymore than he already had, “you don’t have anything to prove to me.”

ethan clenched his jaw and began to shake harshly, slow, chilly wind blowing through his colored hair and putting a subtle blush on the tip of his nose. he fought the urge to cry. out of everything that could be happening right now, he definitely didn’t need his boss to see him act like a little bitch.

despite his wishes, two tears fell from his right eye as he blinked, “ ... i,” ethan looked down and gave a miserable smile at his grey sneakers as he did his best not to break out into a full sob, “i just wanted you to be proud of me, man. i wanted to show you that i could ... exceed past tyler’s abilities so you wouldn’t fire me and replace me with him because ... i don’t know, i really like this job, mark, i really do!! ... i just don’t wanna lose it because there’s someone better than me.”

mark muddled his face and shifted his stance, “i am proud of you, i am so proud of you ... what do you mean? did you see what you did in a date with markiplier? that shit was insane. i don’t understand.” he felt comfortable enough to take a couple steps closer to the other.

a twenty pound lump formed at the base of ethan’s throat, haziness overtook his vision and his knees began to feel as if they were as weak as mechanical pencil led. “i don’t deserve this job. i’m not good enough. i don’t meet your expectations, mark. i don’t work hard enough. there’s someone better out there.”

the eldest felt his chest crumble, “you’re joking.”

ethan cocked his head, and then completely understood what his boss had stated.

he shook his head disapprovingly.

“you work incredibly hard, man. are you serious? you’re so motivated and driven to create all the time. which is awesome. i’ve, honestly, i’ve never met someone as self - prompted as you. your work ethic is, most of the time, flawless. other than when you sleep for less than two hours and work for sixteen, yeah man, you’re a fucking legend in post. editing, filming, directing, audio work, all of it, you’re amazing. you are good enough, ethan. for me, for amy, for kathryn, for tyler. there’s no one i’d rather have in your place than you ... i am so glad i hired you. we’d be no where without you.”

ethan sniffed inward and took a deep breath, “can i hug you?”

“absolutely, bud.”

[e-vasong]

Leverage AU ideas

Submission (Hey, it looked like tumblr sent this to me under your real name, so I’m not gonna say who submitted it just in case that was an accident, but @ submitter if you want credit feel free to hit me up with a URL or something, or reblog this and @ me or whatever!):

 Idrk how tumblr works but, for your leverage au: Vanya is Reggie’s real daughter which is why she has the violin but she was neglected bc reggie was obsessed with the others. The others are jealous of Vanya for her normal life/being Reggie’s real kid.

Eventually however she comes to the for help (probably bc of Lenard) and she helps them and they become a real family.

Maybe at some point she gets infected with a bio weapon that could kill everyone (maybe lenard tries to sell it to the commission) or learns dangerous information and they all have to save Vanya!

Oh God.  (Presuming these are about the Reginald-As-Archie-Raises-The-Kids-As-Criminals AU.)  These are so good.

The others are all homeless kids or kids from the system that Reggie plucked out and adopted because he saw tendencies in them that he believed, with training, could make them the best team of criminals around.

And this all translates so well to the canon dynamic where Vanya/the rest of the family both don’t really process the abuse endured by the other party.

Reginald neglects Vanya in favor of the others; tells them they have potential.  And when Vanya asks to join in on the lessons he tells her that she has no talent at all.  He tells her again and again how he chose the others, and the implication is clear.  That if it had been up to him, he never would have chosen her at all.

Meanwhile, the others are jealous of Vanya, Reginald’s biological kid.  They’re always aware, on some level, that he only took them in because he thought they might be useful--that it was money and power that brought them into his care, as if he’d bought them.  That he could always just...put them back, in a way they feel he can’t do with Vanya.  They look at Vanya, who spends her days practicing the violin and studying normal school subjects while they have to devote their days to things like disabling laser grids, swindling people out of their funds, and getting beaten into the ground in martial arts training, and they’re--they’re jealous.  Of course they are, even if they don’t know it.

It takes them a long time (though not as long as in canon, I think) to realize they never should have blamed each other.  It was always their father.

Instead of writing a tell-all book, Vanya turns over a bunch of information to the FBI.  Their father gets arrested, a handful of the siblings get their covers blown on an important job and almost get killed by the mark’s henchman.  It’s a shitshow all around.  Their dad’s the only one to go to jail, though before he serves any real time a sniper takes him out through a courthouse window.  They can’t figure out who did it; the mystery haunts them all for years.  The others don’t get caught, but they’re still furious that Vanya almost got them killed.

(And later, much later, Vanya will join up with her family to run a con.  Some of them haven’t let go of their suspicion and hurt yet.  She doesn’t quite blame them, but it still stings.  But here’s the thing.  There are always people out there looking to exploit weakness.  And Vanya will argue with her siblings.  Diego will snap: don’t pretend like you care, you almost got us killed!

And Harold Jenkins will be waiting.  Once a young homeless thief and grifter himself, Harold heard of Reginald Hargreeves collecting prodigious young criminals off the street and begged, begged Hargreeves to take him in.  Hargreeves had sniffed, shouldered the child out of the way.  If you really had any talent, Hargreeves had said, you would have conned me into it.

But Reginald Hargreeves’ vision had always been flawed.  Harold is no perfect criminal, but he’s a dangerous one.  And when Vanya storms out of the team’s homebase in the torrential rain, Harold pops his hood up, plasters the gentle, personable smile of Leonard Peabody onto his face, and sets his con into motion.)

They all split ways for a while, the way I described in my other post.  Allison keeps grifting.  Falls in love with a mark, Patrick, at one point.  It ends badly.  Ben and Klaus are a hacker/thief duo, except Ben has more scruples about who they victimize than Klaus, and it makes things tense as hell between them sometimes.  Diego is working as a ‘retrieval specialist’ with an intense moral code and a willingness to turn on anyone that hires him if they prove themselves shitty enough.  Luther gets out of the life and goes to live in the same apartment complex as Vanya.  They end up staying close the whole time, with Vanya giving music lessons out of her apartment and Luther teaching martial arts classes.

And then they all get a missive.  An invitation, a promise of a job.  Luther almost throws it away, but Vanya stops him.  We should check it out, she says.  And so they do.  And there they find all the others: Diego, Allison, Klaus, and Ben.

And Five.  Five, the brother they’ve long thought dead.  He looks tired.  And after he fields their frantic embraces, their questions, and even lets them cry on him a bit (though he doesn’t look very happy about it), he leans back, and he tells them he has a job to offer them all.

He gets a chorus of rejections almost immediately.  Vanya presumes she isn’t invited.  Luther says he’s out of the game, and Allison says she’s trying to get out.  Diego mainly seems skeptical that Five has anything worth offering.  Klaus wants to go back to his apartment and not take jobs that are like, hard, or anything.  Low risk only, please.  Come on, Ben, let’s go.

Ben shoots Klaus a furious glare.  Actually, he says.  I can make my own decisions, Klaus.  I want to hear what Five has to say.

Five has to repress a grin. Ben has always been Five’s favorite brother.

Five puts a manila folder on the table.  His siblings pick it up, start passing it around.  It’s not long before they’re frowning, clearly distressed by what they’re reading.

“His name is James Moore,” Five says.  “He’s seven years old.  He has a rare blood disease, but there’s a new experimental treatment that his doctors believe could save his life.  His insurance company is refusing to pay for his treatment; they keep forcing the family to jump through loopholes.  It’s a, uh, company policy that they didn’t include in the contract.  Stall paying for treatment until it’s too late.  Commit a moral atrocity, let innocents die, profit.  Y’know how it goes.  Age old story, really.”

“I don’t con sick people,” Diego says, and Five rolls his eyes.

“Good, because that’s not what I’m suggesting.”

“The insurance company?” Allison catches on first.  Ben follows suit, eyebrows shooting up as he realizes what Five is saying.  “You’re suggesting we con Perseus Insurance?  Owned by one of the most powerful men in the world?  That Perseus Insurance?”

Five leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees.  He’s planned this speech.  He has a plan to take down the Commission, but it involves moving a lot of pieces very, very slowly.  And if he can take down some other bad people along the way?  Good.  But he needs a team he can trust.  He needs his family, which means this pitch needs to work.  

“The rich and powerful take what they want,” Five says slowly.  “Right now, James and his family,” he gestures to the Moore file, “are suffering under an enormous weight.  I’m suggesting that we provide...leverage.”

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 1]

(Prompt: I did it. I finally did it.This is one of many chapters. I started this a solid six months ago, or so, and struggled. But it’s based off “Prisoners (2013)” with Jake Gyllenhaal who I’m lowkey in love with. That said, having seen the movie is helpful but not life altering. Takes place present day, years after the case was solved. And seeing as Conyers is fictional [well, Conyers, Pennsylvania] I took liberties with where it’s located in Pennsylvania. Sue me. Just be glad I didn’t choose Scranton. I almost did.

And as someone with a forensic psychology background, I tried to keep it pretty on point which means it’s a little more boring than the movies make it out to be.)

Pairing: Detective Loki (David) x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language. Mentions of abuse.Brooding.

+++

Detective Loki wasn’t happy.

Well, he wasn’t usually a ray of sunshine, but today he really wasn’t happy.

An understatement, to be sure.

Detective Loki was filled with fury and a sort of passionate anger you could taste, if only he opened his mouth long enough to let it escape his lips.

But he didn’t.

Looking at him, standing in front of the whiteboard in the large conference room in the precinct, anyone would think him an average detective doing his work. The sleeves on his white button-down were clasped at his wrists, his shirt buttoned right up to the neck as it always was and without a tie. Unusual, but not strange in any way. Black pants hung off his hips, a black belt holding them up, his badge and gun strapped to him. His dark hair, as always, was slicked back and his icy eyes were focused.

He looked like an average detective. A gorgeous one, to be sure. He’d had his share of married women coming in for ‘noise complaints’ just to try and catch a glimpse of the man. And his heart, of course, that gentle space he pretended wasn’t so soft, had given him away. He was average as hell, save for the collection of tattoos he had gained in his troubled youth, at least. 

Everyone in the damn precinct knew he wasn’t. Average, that is.

“Detective Loki? Agent (Y/L/N) is here. Should I send her in?” The young officer had pulled the short straw, a rookie kid who had started a few months ago. David didn’t know him well, but he did know his name. He knew everyone’s name.

Blinking hard a few times he placed his hands on his hips, eyes staying focused on the whiteboard, “Don’t really have a choice do I, Anders?” It was rhetorical. He knew he didn’t have a choice and he was vaguely aware Officer Anders would be too nervous to answer.

A moment of silence lapsed before Detective Loki rubbed his face, “Send her in.”

The Captain had warned Loki about this days ago. The disappearances in Conyers, they had realized, were not just isolated to Conyers. They spanned into Noxen, Benton, White Haven, and even out to Catawissa. 

After ten disappearances were linked together from the different towns and cities, the Feds were finally called in.

“With all due respect, Captain, I can work this case on my own.” David’s voice had been collected at first as he stood in the Captain’s office, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed.

The Captain looked frustrated. He was, really. He’d been on the phone with five different precincts to coordinate information and speaking with the Feds on how to proceed. Everyone was pissed. No one ever wanted the Feds involved, “I get it, Detective, but orders are orders, you know that. And the Bureau wants us to let one of theirs in. I don’t get a say, and frankly neither do you.”

His voice raised now, “What about the Dover and Birch case? I got those sons of bitches on my own, the Feds didn’t even know about it until I caught them!” He was leaning forward.

O’Malley had gone from frustrated to pissed, “Just shut up for once and cooperate, OK? You work alone, I get it, but with the Black Rose case the Feds are involved and you’re gonna have to play nice. Or at least tolerable, understood?” 

Looking at the pallid yellow wall to the left of him, David kept his eyes narrowed, his mouth in a straight line. Unspeaking, he turned and walked out of the office. 

Fucking Feds.

Fucking Feds indeed. Footsteps, soft and light, were muffled still by the old, grey carpet with strange geometric patterns on it in the building as she walked towards the conference room. The case was already drilled into her head. Names. Dates. Locations. Buildings. Abduction theories. So far, Conyers had three of the ten abductions which was why they had sent (Y/N). 

Other precincts had also gotten federal agents, but Conyers was special. Detective Loki was special. That was part of the problem.

When she stepped in Loki didn’t even flinch, save for the sharp blinks as he stared at the board. There were faces, three in fact, two men and one woman, smiling brightly. Next to each was the location of abduction. How did they know?

“Kind regards to Detective Loki,” (Y/N) broke the silence as she walked to the circular table nearby, placing her stack of folders and black messenger bag down. She was, of course, reading off of the note left with the black rose at each location the abductions had taken place.

David turned, a reminder flashing in his head to play nice, reaching out to take the woman’s hand, “Detective Loki. You’re Agent Y/L/N, correct?” 

She was surprisingly stunning, he realized as he took her soft hand, stained lightly with blots of ink. Y/N looked softer than he expected, not like someone who’d ‘seen some shit’ in their day. He imagined on the street he’d have done a double take, subtly, if she walked by. He wanted so bad for her to be ghastly. Appalling. For her breath to smell and for her to sound whiny. He wanted a reason to be irked by her but so far all he found was that she was… lovely.

She smiled gently, “I am. Pleasure to meet you, Detective,” she took his hand firmly, shaking it, the tattoos not going unnoticed. Not much had, really. She knew about David. She’d asked for his file and his background. His cases solved. Any reports. And per her own curiosity, she had asked for a personal history on file. It had surprised her, just slightly, that he’d made his way from a delinquent boys’ home with dabbling in petty crimes in his youth to a top ranking detective. It wasn’t a common theme. But he was a good man, despite everything she read. He had taken the Dover and Birch case hard, forced to take a leave after it all settled. No follow-up evaluation was done in small towns like this. 

When Loki drew his hand back he kept his lips pursed into a thin line, turning back to the board, “So the feds wanted a shrink involved? Did they send a shrink to every location or just Conyers?” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed by the woman standing in a simple grey sweater hanging loosely off her shoulders and a pair of blue jeans and black Converse shoes. Not exactly ‘shrink’ material, really. Not that one would notice. Except David. He liked it, though. He liked that she seemed to fit and that she wasn’t trying too hard. Or being blase about the whole thing. He liked that she wanted to talk about the case and not prod about how he was doing or how cold it was. She was his type.

Fuck.

She inhaled sharply. Yale didn’t prepare you for how to deal with cops in high-profile cases. The bureau had warned her that she’d be unwelcomed and especially given she was a profiler; she was the one with the psych background. Sure, she’d done her criminology bit, but she’d never used her weapon. Hell, she didn’t even keep it holstered on her person. But Detective Loki knew that. She was that type.

“Well, Detective, Conyers was where the first two abductions took place, though the third a couple weeks after. And as you well know, your name was personally left at all scenes. Of course, in the other cities Detectives Miller, Warren, Riley, and O’Toole were all named in their notes as well. I suspect that if we don’t get moving soon, more notes and more roses will come up. I’m here because this is where it started and profilers start at the beginning.” Her voice had stayed steady and cool as she watched him, her form and posture unmoving, his doing the same.

The world paused for just a moment as she eyed David. Detective Loki. Man hardened by the system who had saved the lives of many. Who had rescued a father trapped and left for dead. She saw the religious-themed tattoos, the juvie ones on his knuckles. She saw his clean cut hair, shaven face, shirt buttoned higher than most but with no tie to speak of. She liked that. He stood out without actually standing out. And god… he was hot. Ah, shit. No. Stay professional.

It was quiet as (Y/N) stepped up to the board, able to see that while half focused on Conyers, the other had the abduction sites and pictures as well as the detectives named. There appeared to be no pattern. Nothing as of yet. Just names. Detectives.

“May I be candid with you, Detective?” She stood next to him, arms crossed in front of her chest as she stared at the white board.

Almost confused, David glanced over, not making a comment about being informal, “Sure.”

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes a moment and composing herself before looking back up at the board, “I don’t think any of them are alive.” 

A look of anger fell over Detective Loki’s features, though perhaps not directed at Y/N as he turned to her completely, “How the fuck would you know that?” 

On some level, he knew it.

Hostile. Well, of course.

“I don’t think they lived long after being abducted, Detective. I don’t think any of them did. Why kidnap ten adults and just… keep them?” She looked over at him, aware she’d hit a nerve.

Loki was perturbed as he narrowed his eyes, “We didn’t find any evidence of a struggle at any of the scenes. No blood, nothing broken, all perfect. Why take people peacefully then kill them?” He was drawing on his many years of detective work, and (Y/N) knew that. He was bright and he was skilled. It was why he had been allowed to work as the lead. The other detectives named hadn’t been so lucky. They were all too involved. At least, they weren’t as good at hiding it as David was.

But she shrugged, “Ted Bundy got women to his car before they even knew what happened on a regular basis. So that’s why I’m here, I guess. Make it make sense.” Concern fell on her features, Loki watching as she reached up and took a picture of Frank Cohen. He was about forty, blonde hair styled well on his head. Went to temple regularly with his wife and kid. He was a banker at a local credit union and had no real ‘enemies’ to speak of. A neighbor who hated that he didn’t keep up his lawn. Wife’s friend who’d tried to flirt with him. He was average.

Placing the picture back up, she reached across Detective Loki who silently stepped back, watching as she took the second picture. Liana Lopez. Dark hair hanging by her shoulders, early thirties, Hispanic, Catholic, didn’t attend services save for bigger occasions. Left behind a husband who was cooperative, a man who had relied on his wife for work as he’d recently been injured working construction. 

That one went back up and she looked at the third without taking it down. Another caucasian man, this one only twenty-five, recently married to his husband. That one had first been the first and thought to be a hate crime, potentially, but with the rose and the note, and then the others, that had been ruled out. None of it made sense.

There was no discernable pattern, and it really pissed off both of them.

“This guy isn’t Ted Bundy. He’s worse than a psychopath,” Loki almost snarled out the words. In truth, he was aware that the individuals taken likely weren’t alive. What had frustrated all the precincts was where, then, they had gone. Why go through the effort of abducting people quietly, but leave a message behind to tell the world what happened? 

Kind regards.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Y/N squinted before looking at the scenes, “The words are very… well, they’re formal, but they aren’t sweet. They’re taunting, but you knew that already.” She stood, walking to the corkboard again and squinting as she eyed the abduction sites. 

Well, presumed abduction sites. Why leave these anywhere else? No other places in the surrounding areas had signs of a struggle, the dogs and forensics had dug through cameras and they all seemed like these were the spots.

She turned to David, “Why does someone give a person a rose?” She raised an eyebrow.

Loki looked almost bored, though it was annoyance. He’d already asked himself this twelve times, “Sign of affection. So why a black one?”

She shook her head, “Yeah, but that’s the thing. The letter was left for you. The letters for the other detectives as well. But you…” she appeared to get distracted by her own thoughts, not unusual for the quirky woman, squinting again as she walked to the round, grey table and took the top file.

David was almost intrigued now, beginning to find himself drawn in, as he watched her, knowing there was some kind of process. He was still impatient, however, and still quite salty about the FBI coming in, “What about me?”

Pulling a few pieces of paper out, she grabbed a color copy of something out and walked over to David, “The last abduction was in Conyers, which you know. All the other detectives have been pulled off the cases for being too involved. But not you,” she glanced over at him, watching his face change as he glanced at her, then back at what was a copy of the last note, “No, you’ve stayed on. And this last note- here!” She pinned it to the board, pointing at the lettering, “The lines are darker. Thicker. The pen changed. Not the font or the style, but this note has more care put into it. Up until now, the notes all looked fairly carbon-copied, you know? But this one is-”

Quiet.

Staring at the lettering silence fell once she stopped herself from finishing. 

Years ago she had felt that same pang in her gut she was feeling now. That overwhelming sensation of dread and panic. She felt it when she had watched the clip of a video someone had posted near a crowd where a murder had taken place. She had felt that gut wrenching sensation as his face appeared. It was hard to spot a murderer because at the core, she knew, everyone had that potential. But some had that piece.

Detective Loki was not endeared by any of this, though. He didn’t buy the idea that suddenly he might have mattered to this killer more than anyone else. Thicker font. Who cared? People lose pens. And he was going to say that before Anders entered once more, a look on his face. The look of a rookie who had never had to say those words before. Never had to tell a detective what he’d just heard. The look of a man who’d vomited before walking in.

That look.

He was falling over his words. Tripping and stumbling over them. He was grasping for them.

But it was Y/N who frowned and spoke quietly, “Just tell us where they found them.”

[lmjaem]

jaemin has been going back and forth about the idea of having the track uploaded. sure, he's had his some of his tracks on his soundcloud. but this particular one was much more aggressive straight forward than the kind of songs he had there so far. all he wanted to say were tucked in this lyrics. but as the pointer hang over the upload button, he takes a deep breath, leaning back, and switching windows instead to listen to the song one more time. this is what his friends and a few followers have been waiting for these past few months now. he's been silent about his experience in the show, not an actual conversation with anyone but haechan. now, the world will hear it in its full uncensored glory.

as soon as he started writing the lyrics down, he felt the frustration brewing inside him. just like the day after the reality sinks in and he sits in the couch, re-watching the previous episodes and then keeping up with the new ones. his process is perhaps typical, he writes down without thought, just pour out everything onto the paper, let his hand grip onto the pencil as hard as he felt like it, sloppy hand writing, vague phrases, nerdy references, anything and everything goes down. that's the first stage. the words are what he usually focuses on first, because as outspoken as he is, there needs to be a certain way words are delivered or sentences are constructed otherwise they could be misunderstood.

BREAKING NEWS, THE KID FROM SEASON 5 TOOK HIS MICROPHONE OFF THE CAMERAS GOT TAKEN AWAY AND HIS CUSPIDS STARTED TO GROW (BACK), THIS IS UNLIKE HIS REIMAGINED TRACKS, HE'S A PRODIGY IN SLEEVING WHEN YOU PRESS PLAY, THIS TRACK WILL HIT THE AIRWAVES MUCH HARDER THAN VALVIDIA AND SPLASH BLOOD ACROSS THE FRONT ROW

honestly, he isn't worried about what people are going to say or what they'd think of him, that ship has never docked. if all that mattered to him at all, he wouldn't bother with this dream to become an idol. jaemin shifts in his seat, nodding his head as the beat goes on. he sits in the dark room, the screen being the only source of light, making his eyes hurt a bit after doing the backing tracks for the last four hours. he remembers recording this part a handful of times, thinking the feel wasn't right at all. hearing it now, passing up on sleep and some breaks in class is worth it. he held his breath when he let donghyuck first hear it, but he was sure his boyfriend is glad that he's ble to talk more about his feelings.

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE AT THE TOP? Y'KNOW GRAVITY DOESN'T REST ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE WE SIT NEXT TO EACH OTHER IN THIS PIT A LOT OF PEOPLE SAY THIS IS A PETTY MOVE, TASTELESS AND RUDE BUT I'M HUMAN (RIGHT?) I NEED TO FEEL GOOD AND SAY WHAT I HAVE TO SAY THIS RUDE KID WILL THROW SOME PUNCHES BET IT WOULDN'T EVEN HURT (YOU) NONE OF YOU WILL PROBABLY COMMENT OR THE MEN IN SUITS WILL STEP IN MOLDED TO BE THICK-SKINNED WITH POLISHED SMILES AND GOOD MANNERS (BULLSHIT) BUT YOU LOST YOUR SHOT, BROKE THE DOME, WHY ARE SHIFTING LANES NOW?

it feels good. being able to articulate these feelings that he's had to keep inside of him for weeks. the track has been sitting in his laptop for weeks, finished but needed some polishing. in those weeks, he sat in silence and went on with his life thinking it would remain just another dark thought at the back of his mind. he wasn't one to engage in things that would not bring about anything beneficial. but when he thought about how it could help his mental state, give him a peace of mind. he thought maybe discourse doesn't always have to be a two-way thing, nor did it require a response.

A SHIT TON OF EMPTY PROMISES, ENCOURAGEMENTS ALL FOR THE SAKE OF COMPANY IMAGE BET YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER MY NAME, STILL YOU'D SAY I HAVE STAR POTENTIAL BUT KEEP LISTENING, I'M SURE YOU WOULDN'T FORGET ME OR THIS SONG YOU'D TAKE THE CD BUT NOT FOR MY DEMOS, BUT TO PUT MY FACE ON BILLBOARDS GET HIGH TIMESLOT RATING, MORE SOCIAL MEDIA HITS, MERCH ON DEMAND, WHO CARES IF I HAVE MEDIOCRE TALENT AS LONG AS I SOLD OUT THE SHOW, RIGHT?

if anything, jaemin felt cheated. he had been following the industry for pr!zem, knowing the hows and whats in order to support them like every fan would. he's one of the biggest fansites in the fandom. n jaemin should have known better. and yet he found himself hoping that things would be different, he thought maybe, just maybe this time it would be different. (who knew he still have that kind of faith for anyone or anything else but haech?) it was foolish of him, and that's why this track exists.

LET'S ALL DANCE TO A DIFFERENT TRACK NOW, I'M READY TO LISTEN TO YOU (NAH) JUST DON'T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL BUT THAT'S NOT HAPPENING, IS IT? SO LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR THIS TRACK EXISTS BECAUSE THE PLAYING FIELD WAS TIPPED ADVERTISED AS OPEN TO ALL, BUT THESE ARE THE SAME FACES DIDN'T REALIZE THAT I WAS LUCKY, FELT LIKE THE LOTTERY MORE THAN ANYTHING I ALWAYS THOUGHT STAYING UNIQUE AND TRUE TO THE MUSIC WAS ALL THAT MATTERS BUT I GUESS ALL THAT'S BABY TALK IF SOMEONE HAS BETTER CONNECTIONS

despite knowing this is something he'd probably do eventually, jaemin still felt good about finally hearing it like this. it's finished, ready, and perfectly encapsulates the emotions and ideas he wanted to deliver. it was just a matter of how deep people will go into his lyrics, it's as much as a diss track as a wake-up call of sorts. but something inside of him did change after the song. a setback isn't going to stop him from writing more. he stopped for a while and thought about quitting, but what would that do for him? he refuses to let them win. he hates the idea of that of all things.

BUT REALLY I WROTE THIS SONG TO SPEAK MY MIND, DO WHAT I COULDN'T ON STAGE BECAUSE SOME COMPANIES NEED RAW CONCEPTS FOR THEIR UPCOMING COMEBACKS HERE'S A HEARTFELT ADVISE TO THE CAPITALIST USING MUSIC AS A COVER UP, PAY PROPER WAGES, TREAT ARTISTS RIGHT, AND WEAVE SOME HUMANITY IN YOUR BUSINESS CHARITY WORK DOESN'T EQUATE TO COMPASSION, VACATIONS AREN'T A PRIZE, IT'S A RIGHT STOP PUSHING PEOPLE TO BRINK OF A BURNOUT, OR TO LIVE SECRET LIVES THAT'S HOW BUTTERFLY EFFECTS COME ABOUT, GROUP BREAK-UPS, AND DISS TRACKS, YOU'RE LISTENING TO ONE RIGHT NOW.

he was hoping by the time he reaches this part of the song, he'd have changed his mind and let the song stay in the folder. it's usually easy to just brush off his frustrations once he's talked about it or wrote about it. but there was still that desire to have it uploaded, for it to reach the audience and for absolutely everyone to hear. it goes beyond this particular song though, there was the urge upload his older demos, even the ones he wasn't very confident in. he can't let his anxieties hold him back, can't overthink things at this point. he's already put himself out there the minute he admitted this is what he wanted to do.

THIS WORLD IS FALLING UNDER THE MERCY OF GREED IF A CONVENIENT OPPORTUNITY COMES, THE FALLEN WOULD TAKE IT WHO CARES IF IT'S HYPOCRITICAL OR IRONIC, AN OPPORTUNITY IS AN OPPORTUNITY I GUESS IN A WAY I UNDERSTAND IT, BUT THAT's JUST HYPOCRITICAL I'M GONNA BEGIN THE OUTRO, EVERYTHING IS OUT IN THE OPEN AFTER ALL WHAT IS THE POINT OF TRYING TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND AND SEE WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR EYES CLOSE AND HANDS OVER YOUR EARS? IF THERE'S ANYTHING I PICKED UP FROM ALL OF THIS IT'S TO CHANNEL EVERYTHING TO MY MUSIC AND KEEP CREATING MASTERPIECES THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING OF A MASTER PLAN THERE'S MORE I'M ABOUT TO DROP BUT I'M SAVING IT FOR MY NEXT TRACK NOW THAT'S HOW YOU DO A PROMOTION YOU TELL THE TRUTH (DON'T GET CAUGHT)

this is the part he's convinced that he's lost it, and he shakes his head and sighs as he hits upload. "open system it is." he mumbles as he gets on his feet, a small smile finally break on his face as he sees it finally up.

LYRICS / FLOW REFERENCE INSTRUMENTAL

[dinosaursmate]

WIP folder meme

The Rules: List the names and a short description of all the files in your WIP folder, then tag some fellow writers to do the same.

I was tagged by @lululawrence​ and @fullonlarrie​. 

Now... first I will list my ACTIVE wips, as in, ones that I’m hoping to put out in the semi-near future.

Sabrina the Teenage Witch AU - the next fic you will see from me! It’s my big bang and it’s very nearly completely complete

Cheating fic aka Into You AU - I randomly got the idea for this one whilst watching the video for Into You by Ariana Grande and although it went off track a lot it turned into quite the beast. I was blocked whilst writing my big bang and I took a break from it and hammered out a baffling 35k of this fic lol not too much else to say except the obvious, but it’s not a cheating on the other type scenario. I think as far as cheating fics goes this one’s tame

Space AU - This one WILL come out this year! lol. Louis leaves earth to move to another planet and help set up a new settlement there. He’s in charge of recruiting civilians and he recruits Harry. 

Delirium AU - Some of y’all who have followed me for a long time are probably sick of hearing about this fic BUT I am determined to get it out this year (unless I struggle with it then I may save it for next year’s big bang). It’s an AU of a YA book trilogy about a dystopian society where love is illegal and seen as a disease.

Camboy Louis - Ugh I KEEP forgetting about this fic! It’s a f/nf where Louis is a camboy and Harry is a famousish viewer

Other WIPs that are basically rotting are:

Bebe fic - Ugh I had so much passion for this one when I started writing it lol but it’s a fic that’s vaguely along the lines of John Tucker Must Die but not quite. Bebe is an exchange student living with Harry’s family and she and Louis find out they’re dating the same guy. It wasn’t actually inspired by the JTMD film, it was inspired by the BTY video haha I HOPE to pick this one up, it’s not a complete lost cause unlike the following fics lol...

Disneyland fic - This fic just kind of stalled but this one was inspired by my trip to Disneyland where Abu kept harrassing me and so I began to write a fic where Louis is at Disneyland and Harry is a character who keeps harrassing him lol

Big Brother AU - Not much to say about this one. I’ll probably not write this cos there’s too much complexity to it (it might not seem like it but it’s complicated and requires METICULOUS planning lol)

Bus fic - This was supposed to be my choose your own adventure fic. Harry and Louis meet on a bus, and I won’t tell you much else in case I ever get the urge to pick it back up haha

Cloudbusting - omg I forgot this one existed! I mean, it doesn’t really. I have a doc which has a few lines of what is basically mind vomit that I had after rewatching the video for Cloudbusting by Kate Bush (hey, did y’all know the Dad in that video is DONALD SUTHERLAND?!) basically, the dad creates a machine that can control the weather, and some point in life I decided that would make a good AU?

Plane Crash AU/Deserted Island AU - I have always wanted to write a plane crash au, then I decided I wanted to write a deserted island AU. Idk. so I thought i’d combine them, but didn’t really come up with much.

Pole Dancing AU - Oh yes this has a few Ks but I got bored with it. It was basically Harry taking pole dancing classes and Louis is the teacher

Boyband fic - ohhh BOY. Okay I spent a lot of time on this fic when I first got into the fandom and it’s.... LONG. But it’s badly written and probably problematic and I just don’t have the courage or inclination to sort it out. It’s a boyband AU basically, the boys are in a band together but it’s... not the same

Kid fic - I actually sometimes think about writing this one. Basically Gemma has a little girl and gets offered an amazing job abroad for like... a LOT of money and can’t afford not to take it but she doesn’t wanna uproot her daughter so she leaves her with Harry and Louis is her teacher

Personal Shopper AU - This was gonna be another Friends AU based on the Rachel/Joshua storyline 

Heavy on my Mind sequel - Exactly what it says. But I’m not confident about that fic as it is and I really just don’t like the sequel LOL it’s actually finished (bar betaing and editing) but I just. No...)

Music Video AU - I wrote this and got it betad but then me and Jacky both agreed that it didn’t feel finished so I wrote a fair amount of a second half but I just never finished it. I should since there’s so much written but, meh. I posted the first half on my Ko-Fi page before I deleted it. It was basically a famous/famous where H&L were solo artists and they collab and only meet when they film the music video.

Blackpool fic - I almost didn’t include this but again it was an early fic that I wrote beginning to end but it’s... problematic lmao I do still have a craving to write a fic set in Blackpool but I’m setting the Delirium AU in Blackpool so hopefully that’ll get it out my system haha this fic was Harry thinking he was straight and going on holiday to Blackpool and meeting Louis blah blah blah

And last but not least...

Labyrinth AU - Okay.... idk why I left this to the end, because I’ve always said I can NOT leave this fandom without writing this fic. I had written ONE unpublished fic in this fandom when I decided to write a Labyrinth AU back in 2015 and I messaged @mommotommo on Christmas Day and was like omg I just got a good idea.... basically it’s kind of borderline crack fic? And I have a lot of it HAND WRITTEN. Harry is the son of the Goblin King and now rules the kingdom but he’s not very good at being evil? Anyway he kidnaps one of Louis’ siblings and Louis goes into the Labyrinth to get them back. Featuring: Liam as his companion along the way. Harry kidnapped Liam’s puppy and poor Liam didn’t get to the centre in time so the puppy got turned into a goblin and Liam was trapped there forever.

[swanandapirate]

A Muted Hue of Grey (2/14) -- CSBB

Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.

Well, until things get complicated, that is.

Rating: M (later mentions of violence, alcohol abuse, and sex)

Wordcount: 4131

Links: ao3 // ff.net // chapter 1 

A/N: Here's chapter two to finally answer those questions of how Emma is going to handle this very inconvenient situation. Though I do have to say that if this cliffhanger was already difficult to handle (looking at you @sambethe 😉) then oooooh boy have I got some things in store for you.

Eternal gratitude to my two favorite internet people in the world: my betas @acourtoftruelove and @ofshipsandswans who turned this jumble of sometimes incoherent words into an actual fic. 

Also major thanks to @shady-swan-jones for her banner and all of the cool art that she is posting and will post!

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

Shit, shit, shit.

There went her cover.

Way to go. She definitely deserved the Private Investigator of the Year award. Stellar work.

Emma opened her mouth and filled her chest with air, only to release it again without an answer.

“Can I help you, lass?”

The question still hung in the air. What should she—could she—even answer?

Jones lowered his eyebrows, not content with the lack of response, of explanation.

The heat of his hand on her felt like it was two hundred degrees, his touch burning through her clothes and onto her skin. It was almost painful for how long it remained there, not moving, not leaving, just comfortably—for him at least—wrapped around her upper arm.

Emma shook her head, trying to shake the feeling of fumbling clumsiness. She smiled, flashing her teeth. “I’m sorry for bumping into you. I don’t know where my head is today.”

He tilted his head and Emma internally berated herself for not being more convincing. For not being more prepared. He was not buying it and that put her in big trouble.

His head remained cocked, his messy eyebrows moving into a frown.

“You’ve been walking behind me for a while, I feel.”

She needed to get out of here, to run as fast and as far as she could. But his hands were still on her, locking her into place, preventing her from dashing away. Running would also completely blow her cover; if he saw her following him again, his suspicion would not only grow but be confirmed and she’d be compromised. How on earth was she going to explain that to her boss?

It was out of the question, for both her own pride and reputation, and for the clause she’d signed as part of her contract. There was no room for failure, only for success, which left one option.

She had to lie. Had no other choice than to think of a plausible cover that would explain it all and maybe take Jones’ wary look away. But what would do the trick?

“I’m sorry?” she said, apologizing for the second time in the span of a minute. Emma grimaced as she realized that too. “It’s just that— I—” Anything, just think of anything. “I have this feeling like I know you and I know that doesn’t condone the stalking but I was trying to figure out why I’m having this feeling. You aren’t a movie star, are you? A famous rock star?”

She was about to continue her list of possible—very impossible—professions he could have but it seemed the two options she’d given him had done their job.

He looked at her dazed.

“I’m guessing that’s a no. I don’t know where I could know you from, if that’s the case. I mean, this is my first time in London and I doubt you spent a lot of time in Boston.”

Take the bait, take the bait.

“I did actually.” Every word came out more surprised than the last. Jones seemed surprised himself. If only he knew.

She was acting and it felt like the fakest thing ever, it felt like she was being obvious, like the over-expressive, melodramatic actors in daytime soaps the moment they discovered their wife had had an affair with their twin brother and she was now pregnant with no idea who the real father was. Shocked .

“What?”

He interpreted the question wrong and completed his own statement.

“Spend a lot of time in Boston.”

“You did? Really?”

Of course, she knew this. She’d memorized his biography, up to every trivial fact like which Bostonian coffeehouse he frequented and what his order consisted of. She even knew where he lived. Close to where she used to. An odd thing their paths never crossed.

“Aye.” Killian slowly nodded. “I lived in Boston up until last year. I moved back a couple of months ago.”

“Huh.” She let her lips form a smile that read something in the lines of this person is currently pleasantly surprised. “Guess it’s not that far-fetched I actually know you from somewhere.”

“I suppose not,” he was forced to agree. “But you don’t seem familiar, if I’m being entirely honest,” he then said apologetically, his lips somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

“I don’t really try to stand out.”

She didn’t like to stand out because it made her job easier, a shadow in the night, a flash of movement during the day; it left her subject unsuspecting, unguarded and it was the easiest way to gain information and to get the job done. She didn’t like to stand out because that’s what led to problems back in the foster system. Standing out led to being singled out, being ostracized from the group. It led to bigger kids stealing her dinner, taking away the few dollar bills she managed to save. In short, it led to heartbreak and hurt. Laying low was a tactic, something ingrained into her being, perhaps that’s why she excelled at doing what she did. Maybe that was why she spent most of her life alone. Not lonely, per se, but alone .

And it was finally something that did not taste bitter in her mouth, that resembled the actual truth. This lying to his face, after the short amount of time she’d done it, was a whole different thing from spying on him from afar. She signed up for the latter, the former wasn’t how she liked to do things, how she liked to handle her work.

Jones’ eyes reflected the rays of light emitted by the sun, flecks of grey standing out in the sea of blue.

In an instant, a moment as fast as a fingersnap, she became aware of their unfortunate placement; it was as badly chosen as the place where the tween had picked out to take her selfie earlier. The irritation Emma had then experienced was now endured by other people, people trying to pass but they could not because of the blockage the two of them were creating. Jones seemed to come to the same realization as he apologetically smiled at some angry-looking people, his right hand delving into his hair to scratch the back of his scalp. Emma mentally added it to her list of information. Killian Jones had a tic, a tic which was quite adorable. She wouldn’t add that last bit to her folder, though.

They looked at each other and the clumsiness of the people swerving left and right, the slight embarrassment due to the angry glares caused them both to hesitantly snicker, a connection forming through the shared amusement.

With resolution and completely in sync, they stepped out of the way, much to the content of the passersby. As soon as they did, the cacophony of the city fell away; only a subdued buzz remained as they fled away towards a small alcove of sorts. It wasn’t more than a glorified dirty corner hidden from view, graffiti sprayed on the otherwise grimy walls, puddles of suspicious substances covering the floor. Not that she was paying attention to those, Killian wasn’t either.

They were only watching each other in almost silence.

It brought a kind of intimacy, let the calm slowly descend onto the two of them. Two new lovers might search it, two experienced ones might treasure it, but Emma and Killian were neither. Far from it even.

They barely knew each other.

He barely knew her, they hadn’t even talked for more than a minute.

So the intimacy was odd. Unsought.

“This is going to sound a bit forward of me,” Killian finally broke the silence, “but would you like to continue this conversation in a place that’s slightly more suitable and reeks slightly less of piss?”

There was no other acceptable answer but yes. Declining would mean she’d rather stay in a shady alley than go somewhere with him. Even though she didn’t really owe him anything and she had every right to say no, it was quite an offensive thing to say. And nothing in his conduct or words had warranted such an insult.

“Yes. To the ‘no piss’ thing,” she specified after a beat.

It may have sounded as a joke, a jest to add amusement but in reality, to Emma there was nothing humorous about it. It was Emma trying to backtrack, recede to a place where it was safe and where she could blend into the shadows again.

Killian perceived it as a joke. He rumbled a laugh before looking over his shoulder, scanning the street for any oncoming groups of tourists or traffic, and, after the briefest brush of his fingers against the edge of her hand, he led the way.

It was accidental, nothing more.

It was just to signal that he was leaving, nothing more.

All things she told herself but failed to convince her, did not manage to omit the tingle in her flesh his touch had generated.

There was no use to think about the reasons behind his actions. She didn’t need to think about it, all she needed to do was follow him, continue and maintain a shallow conversation, end it with a friendly smile and an insincere “I hope we see each other again”, and disappear; never to be seen again, never to encounter each other again. It would require a moment to collect her thoughts and strategize, come up with a new tactic to bring this assignment to a fruitful end but those were worries for later.

The thing she needed to worry about now was how to converse with someone she already knew everything about, someone who wasn’t allowed to know anything about her. It didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for a topic of conversation.

Lost in her own thoughts searching for a subject other than how hot the weather was today, she was too busy to pay attention to her surroundings or Jones. Emma’s absent-mindedness resulted in her not seeing he had stopped moving in front of her and almost running into him again. Jeez, a second time would not only be embarrassing but also a testimony of pure clumsiness.

And she didn’t require any additional unnecessary touches and even more tension, she’d had quite enough of that for one day.

He didn’t speak or explain the sudden emergency brake situation that had just taken place, but twisted to face her. He stared at her. Only stared, his gaze scanning her face. It felt like a judgment, as if he was trying to figure out something but Emma hadn’t the slightest idea what that might be.

“What?” she eventually settled for plain out asking, her curiosity and impatience getting the better of her.

It jostled Jones back to reality, his eyelids moving to blink away the hitch.

“Killian,” he said. “That’s my name.” His head softly shook. “I realized I hadn’t introduced myself yet.”

“Oh!” Yeah, she hadn’t thought about asking his name because she already knew. “Nice to meet you.” Lifting her hand, she extended it towards him but as she did, the urge to retract came instantaneously. What if the feeling she’d tried to shake off earlier returned? This time, she couldn’t hold static energy accountable or pretend it was just an itch. It was too late, however, as Killian’s hand enveloped hers, a flood of warmth following.

She could attribute that to body heat, she supposed.

“I’m Emma.”

She stopped there to retain a kind of simplicity, of mystery. It was better for him not to know a lot about her, but Killian thought differently as he raised his eyebrow and nodded at her to continue.                                                                 

“Emma Swan,” she completed begrudgingly.

The name—her name—brought a smile upon his face and Emma wanted to ask why, wanted to smile along before she remembered. No attachments.

“Swan?” he questioned. “Really?

An affirmative nod.

“What’s yours?” she asked, perfectly aware of how she shouldn’t already know it. But it was the normal thing to do when two strangers met for the first time.

“Jones,” he replied. “Couldn’t be more generic than that. Although, I could be named Killian Smith, but that wouldn’t ring quite as good, I think.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Killian Jones is a good name.”

“So is Emma Swan.”

“Thank you.”

They began walking again, a slow pace and now next to each other instead of Emma letting him leading the way.

“I once knew a chap called BJ Dickerson, that wasn’t a good name.”

“No way,” she said in disbelief and when Killian nodded, she frowned. “Whatever his initials stood for, it could not have been worse than BJ Dickerson.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, trying to suppress his smile. “His parents called him Bachelor-Januarius. He wasn’t even born in January. I don’t think his parents were too fond of him, poor lad.”

Emma couldn’t help herself as she burst into laughter, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Killian stopped attempting to not laugh, his chuckle joining her giggle, the two sounds blending perfectly. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, she wiped them away with the pad of her thumb as she tried to compose herself and catch her breath.

Once she did and once they focused on walking again instead of laughing, she came to the pathetic conclusion that this was the first time she’d laughed—really genuinely laughed without any inhibitions—in quite some time. Long enough for her not to remember when or where or why. She should’ve expected that to happen seeing that she left all her friends back in the States.

Coming to a halt before a Pret A Manger establishment, Killian gestured with his head to propose entering to which Emma agreed. It was the afternoon, the peak hours of coffee-craving businessmen and women already gone so they were able to sit in a relatively calm environment. A young man greeted them and they both smiled in return.

The table they chose to sit at carried remnants of its previous occupants, some drops and crumbs scattered across its surface. Before sitting down, Killian reached for the napkin dispenser, grabbing two and swiping them across the table, getting rid of the traces and clearing it for them. His prosthetic motioned towards the chair opposite of him, inviting her to take a seat. Before he did too, he searched for a trashcan and disposed of the napkins.

It gave her some time to prepare, to take a calming breath and wipe her sweaty palms across her jeans as she went over the battle strategy again. It was one she was familiar with but it had been some time since she had utilized it, since she needed to. This resembled one of her bailbonds dates. The ones where she had to drag her words through a process of hemming and hawing, giving an altered, watered-down version of the truth while keeping it believable. The purpose now, however, wasn’t to expose the target but to prevent herself from being outed by them.

“Would you like something?” Killian asked with a friendly smile when he returned.

“Umm,” she thought for a second before answering, “A hot chocolate would be fine.”

“Great, I’ll be right back,” he told her.

Another big difference with her past as a bail bondsperson; back then she acted as seductive as possible, bending her body the right way to sit and show off some cleavage, watching her date the right way by batting her eyelashes, pretending to get tipsy after two glasses of red wine (her alcohol tolerance was better than that). But nothing like that now, a hot chocolate was as far from being seductive as it could be.

When the steaming cups—hers the aforementioned hot chocolate, and his a plain cup of coffee—were placed on their table, Emma wondered for a moment why exactly she chose a warm beverage when it was sweltering hot outside. But she had never been the healthy juice cleanse kind of girl and, once she took a hesitant sip and the chocolaty taste coated her tongue, she forgot all about the outside temperatures and could only think of her tastebuds reveling in the taste. It was okay at best but she couldn’t remember the last time she had taken the time to enjoy some.

God, why was she getting emotional about a cup of mediocre hot chocolate.

Killian drank from his cup as well, flinching. It would appear his cup was mediocre at best too. He grabbed the container of sugar that stood on the table and poured some into the black liquid.

“So what did you do back in Boston, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emma asked, the comfortable silence not sitting well with her. It was too comfortable when it should be anything but.

He looked up from his cup of coffee, his expression open and kind, before he answered, “I did technical writing for an engineering firm.”

“Sounds interesting.”

He took a sip, the sugar clearly helping, before he shook his head with a tiny smile.

“It wasn’t,” Killian said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I quit. I got sick of it all and I needed something new.”

An idea formed in Emma’s thoughts, a lightbulb in the center of her mind that gradually became brighter and brighter until it glowed ever so powerful and made everything so clear. How to respond, what to say, how to proceed.

“What company did you work for?”

She just met the man, some curiosity was allowed, was even expected. Conveniently, that granted her the opportunity to steer the conversation to where she wanted it to go, to subtly guide Killian to a place where her act was believable and unsuspicious. Innocent.

Emma let her head rest on her hand, her chin propped up on her palm and her fingers spreading across the apple of her cheek.

“It was called Spencer Mechanics,” Killian answered.

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “I think I just figured out why you seem so familiar.”

Well, she just came up with a story to explain why he seemed so familiar, but semantics. More or less.

“You have? Do share,” he encouraged, slightly leaning closer in intrigue.

“A friend of mine once had a shitty temp job there and I came to her rescue with lunch sometimes. I probably saw you in passing a couple of times. I have a weird memory like that. Don’t ask me what I ate for lunch two days ago, but faces often stick.”

She could see him considering it—her story—for a moment, most likely wondering if it wasn’t too much of a coincidence, but dismissed the matter after having thought about it for a moment of silence.

“I apologize for not remembering yours,” he spoke again. “It’s a face worth remembering.”

Emma suddenly wished she hadn’t ordered a hot beverage but a cool one instead so she could cool her body down, rub the cold condensation against her heated, red cheeks. Why is she getting so flustered over small things and comments? Jesus. She had been flirted with before, so why was Jones different?

The answer wasn’t difficult to find, all she had to do was look up and there it was, visible in the way his eyes exuded sincerity and authenticity and the small smile that followed, as if the comments weren’t made to get something but simply to tell her, to make her aware of how things were from his point of view. A genuine compliment without any ulterior motives. She had to admit that had been rare in her previous experiences.

She didn’t want to be flustered, but she definitely was right this minute and Killian saw it too, a little cocky smirk appearing on his lips and then immediately disappearing again as he widened the distance between them again by leaning against the back of his chair.

“Do you like living in London?”

“I’d say so. Moving here was pretty hectic, however, I’ve been here barely three weeks and there are so many things to take care of.”

Rent, for one; money, her dollars wouldn’t get her far here; transport, she felt the loss of her beloved bug.

“It’s a big transition, isn’t it?” He nodded sympathetically. “I’m from here and it was still quite an adjustment for me.”

“Did you live in the States for long?” she asked before drinking the last of her beverage and placing the cup back on the table.

Seven years.

“About seven years,” he confirmed her information.

“That is a long time.” Her eyebrows shot upwards in something fluctuating between agreement and appreciation.

Killian shrugged before shifting the focus back onto Emma. “How long are you in London for?”

“A couple of months. It all depends on how much my boss likes the work I do.” That was true, Jones just didn’t need to know what exactly it was she did.

“What do you do?”

She should’ve seen that one coming, fuck.

“Oh, I don’t want to bore you with it.”

She waved it away, a fearful smile appearing on her face. It wasn’t more than a slight arch to hide the way she was clenching her jaw.

“You wouldn’t,” he assured her, lowering his head to meet her eyes, a sign he was a good listener, a kind one at that. For once, she wished her date—he wasn’t that but for lack of a better term he was—would only think about himself, talk about himself without asking about her, self-centered and selfish. Killian wasn’t, however. “I’m interested.”

Which was what she needed least, interest. In her and what she did.

“I’m um… what you would call a bail bonds person.”

Killian blinked and shook his head simultaneously, both obvious signs of how he was taken aback by her profession—even though it was her previous one and not her current, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Really?” he asked, yet again confirming his surprise.

Emma couldn’t help that her answer sounded just that little bit prickly. “You sound surprised.”

Her prickliness was justified, though. Because it was getting tedious and monotonous, the misogynistic air that hung around the oh’s and really’s and the you must be joking’s.

Because everyone sounded surprised. Men especially. They thought women weren’t powerful enough, were too emotional to succeed. It was why she was a bailbonds personand not man. She was a woman. And a damn powerful one.

“Only because I’ve never met a bail bonds person before. How on earth could that ever bore me?”

“It all sounds really exciting but in the end it’s more paperwork and boring stake outs than anything else.”

She toyed with the empty cardboard cup of her hot chocolate, her fingernail denting the ridge before letting her hand compress it, until the cup was completely flat.

His eyes fell on the camera now safely stored in its bag and hung across the chair Emma sat on.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you during one.” His features turned worrisome.

“You didn’t,” she reassured.

Lie.

“I was simply exploring a bit.”

Lie.

“I haven’t had the time yet.”

Truth.

“You’d never come to London before moving here?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. “Sometimes it feels like I have absolutely no idea where I’m going. I’m just following the masses.”

Emma assumed that they knew where they were going—at least vaguely. She just let the stream carry her, calmly floating along and she’d see where she would end up. Killian, however, clearly disagreed.

“You shouldn’t! London is better than the masses make it out to be.”

“If you feel inclined to be my personal tour guide, feel free to,” Emma joked.

“Well, there’s an idea.” Killian smirked.

“I was joking,” she explained, the panic rising inside. She was already regretting her words. Why did she have to say that and give him ideas? “I don’t want to claim any more of your time.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured and Emma wished he didn’t. “I was going to go to the library but I wouldn’t mind taking a stroll about the town.”

A creature of extreme habit and he was altering his routine. Changing something almost set in stone. For her.

She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

They stood up, their chairs scraping against the floor. Killian took Emma’s crushed cup and his own, still in its original state, and threw them into the trash. She smiled to thank him while attempting to get that lightbulb in her head to work again, for it to provide another story she could use to her advantage and get out of this situation. But it stayed completely dark and so she followed him outside.

“Welcome to the real London, Emma Swan.”

In the masses of the crowd, they disappeared together.

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

Fun fact: I actually know someone who is called Januarius and he wasn’t born in January either. I hope you liked it! See you next Thursday!

[ahgaru]

[Day6 Fic] Don't Stop The Rain

Who missed me on Tumblr? Lol. No one, ofc. But in case you were one of the Once/Twice series readers (That Young K x Reader fic, Once is a coincidence twice is not), or you don't read on other platforms where I posted this (ao3 or aff), here's another Day6 fic. Only this time, it's Jae x Reader. And I'm not sure if it'd be as good as the other but hope you'll enjoy.

Pairing: Jae x Reader (Fluff) Word count: 2,271 Characters: Day6 members, minor mention of Got7

I remembered an anime scene the moment I woke up with the guy and girl sharing umbrella, then I saw a twitter post right after that a rain + umbrella is romantic but.... What if the guy isn't kind at all to share his umbrella with you? 

Chapter 1: Umbrella

It's frustrating when it's raining and you don't have your umbrella with you. But that frustrating moment could turn into a romantic one when there's an attractive guy holding an umbrella beside you--like those in books, movies or dramas, where the guy would offer to share his umbrella. A new love could bloom--or not.

"Aw man, it's raining real hard," the silver-haired guy utters after a groan before glancing at you "You don't have an umbrella?"

"Huh?" you flip your head to look at him, a bit startled, and you can't help but adore his tiny eyes covered by his silver hair. He tilts his head waiting for an answer "Uh, no," you shyly respond with a hope of him to offer his, or at least share it with you.

"That sucks," he just shrugs before looking ahead again and finally taking a step out of the shed.

"What the actual--" confounded with what just happened, you try to gather every ounce of self-restraint to not throw a shoe on him "What a jerk"

Letting out a sharp breath, you hug yourself because it's getting cold and step back so you won't get wet from the rain. You look up to the gloomy sky as you bite your lower lip to stop it from quivering.

It's been almost 10 minutes and you're still hugging yourself, looking down as you wait for the rain to stop.

"Hey! Here," you suddenly heard a not-so-familiar voice. Looking up, you see the stranger from before towering over you with his left arm stretched, holding a spare umbrella.

Maybe he's not a jerk after all. Trying to hide the small smile on your face, you gesture a small bow of gratitude before stretching an arm to reach for the umbrella. "Thank--"

"Woops," he pulls back his arm before you could even have contact with the umbrella. "It's not for free, though" Your forehead furrows "Nothing's free in this world, Lady"

You exhale a sharp breath of surrender before rolling your eyes, "Fine. How much should I pay you for it?"

"Uh-uh", he moves his left index finger left to right as a 'no', "I don't like money. How about a coffee? Since it's cold anyway. Oh! But I don't usually drink coffee. How about a lobster, maybe?"

You squint your eyes in disbelief, "Foget it" A lobster for an umbrella? Man, that's an expensive exchange. I take back what I said. He's really a jerk. A total jerk.

"Okay, then how about chicken? There's a nearby chicken place over there. And I swear, I swear, Man, their chicken is to die for"

"Why don't you just die for it then?"

He shrugs, "I'm sure I'm not the one who'd be dead if I can't go home tonight. I don't have anything important with me that need not to get wet," he eyes the folder, between your chest and arms, containing a lot of files that you need to attend to later. Mr. Park, your boss, would surely kill you if you won’t finish the revisions and of course, if you get those drafts wet and damaged. “I’ll go ahead then.” He says before he turns to take a step away from the shed.

Making a tighter grip on the folder, you take the offer, “Fine! Chicken it is.”

With a wide smile painted on the stranger’s face, he turns around and paces back to finally give you the umbrella he got from a convenience store, a few-minute walk away from the park you’re at.

You walk behind him, struggling a bit with your things, while he, on the other hand, is humming cheerfully as he take small steps with his free hand in his pocket. You glare at him with every bit of annoyance from your system. He doesn’t have a plan on helping me, does he?

“Stop glaring, Missy. I can feel you shooting daggers on me.” He chortles softly “Remember, I just saved your little ass”

“Whatever! And F.Y.I. Mister, my ass ain’t little”

With a smirk on his face, he looks at you over his shoulder, his eyes travel from your head to feet and finally rested on your face. Your eyebrows furrow more.

“Can you not?!”

He sniggers causing his shoulders to move (and causing your stomach to flip and your blood rushing) as he finally faces you and walk towards your side. Your raise a brow and he answers it with a shrug.

“Go,” he motions you to continue walking “I’ll walk beside you. You might go elsewhere to escape if I walk before you.”

Rolling your eyes for how many times now, you sigh and start walking again. The edge of his lips raises again as he take a glance on you without you noticing. He’s so tall that you need to tilt your head almost 75 degrees just to look at his face when he’s just a feet away from you.

He suddenly takes the folder from you which causes your eyes to widen in surprise.

“You walk so slowly. And you might drop these papers and blame it on me and won’t give me that chicken that I want”

You scoff. He’s just so unbelievable, isn’t he? But somehow, you didn’t regret going to the chicken place with him because, yes, he’s actually telling the truth. Their chicken is really to die for.

You both keep eating and your mind becomes busy on thinking of whether to ask anything, say something or just continue to be quiet. You eye him not so subtly and you can’t help but curb yourself from smiling. He looks like a kid enjoying his favorite meal.

You also don’t know if it’s a relief or not that he isn’t saying anything either. You’re about to open your mouth to say something—maybe to ask his name, whether he lives around—but he stands up and utter his thanks before winking at you.

“Gotta go. Next time again”

“There won’t be any next time

He shrugs “We don’t know anything about that. Who knows? We might see each other tomorrow again and the next day after that, and the day after, and the—“

“Whatever. Just go”

He beams, even his eyes are smiling, which causes your heart to make a loud thump. What the heck was that? He mouths ‘See you’ before finally leaving the place.

You finally let go of the breath you don’t know you were holding. You put a hand on your chest and feel that your heartbeat is beating wildly. Why does he need to be cute? You shake your head to erase the thought. No, that’s not right. I mean, why does he need to be a jerk?

“I—“, you get startled by the sudden voice and there he is again standing beside the table. He looks at you a bit with mirth from being surprised. You exhale sharply before glaring at him. “I forgot to tell you, just in case you’ll try finding it later, I’ll take the umbrella with me. It’s stopped raining anyway"

With mouth agape, you just look at his back, your eyes following him as he walks towards the exit. You shake your head again. He’s really unbelievable.

After taking a shower, you take a seat in front of your computer. As if on cue, your phone rings. Your boss is calling you to tell you that he’ll give you until before you live for work tomorrow for the revisions instead of giving it to him first thing in the morning.

You didn’t have a chance to speak because he ended the call right after he told you his concern. You stare at your laptop for a minute, trying to absorb what just happened. You take your phone again to call someone.

“Wonpil!” You exclaim the moment the person on the other line answered “Mr. Park extended my deadline for the revision. And he told me to just rest tonight.”

There was a long pause before he utters a word, “Mr. Park? The Park Sungjin?”

“Yes. He gave me until before I leave for work tomorrow.” A cough can be heard from the other line. You’re pretty sure that Wonpil, your Animator best friend who also works in JYPSoft, is surprised by what he just heard. The CEO, Mr. Park Sungjin, can be approachable and nice but for him, a deadline is a deadline.

“For real?” He confirms in disbelief “But the 3D artists need your concept tomorrow for them to start modeling the characters”

“I—I don’t know. Shall I just ignore it and work for it tonight instead of resting like he said?”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, you called another person.

“Dowoonie,” you bite your lip for a second “Did Mr. Park call you?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Aren’t you going to work with the characters tomorrow for the new game we’re making?”

“Yes. And the non-organic modelers will also do the assets. We would also like to start right away so they’d be textured and give them to the riggers so the animators could work on them as early as possible, too. Why? What’s the matter? You’re having a hard time with the concept revisions?"

You let out a long sigh before shaking your head as if he can see you. “No, no. It’s nothing. Anyway, thank you. I’ll hang up now.”

Forgetting about the call, you pick up the stylus and move the drawing tablet closer to you.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Erase.

Scratch.

Flip.

Scratch.

You groan as you put your stylus down and slump your upper body and arms on the table. Without permission, someone’s face enters your mind. That slender young man, with his mischievous smile, silver hair, tiny eyes—his overall features that make him look as if he jumped straight out of a comic.

You sit back straight and move the drawing tablet away. You take a blank paper and a pencil and start scribbling. Your hand moves as if it knows exactly what it needs to do. Sometimes, you feel more comfortable drawing traditionally than digitally. You feel more of you are invested to it. That’s why every time an idea comes to mind, paper and pen are your best partners.

You start striding towards Mr. Park’s office the moment you dropped your things on your desk. He is quite surprised to see you peeking through his office door.

“You still have until 5pm. What makes you come here?”

“I’m actually done already, Sir”

He furrows his brows and motions you to continue. You walk towards his table and place the revised concepts. When he sees the first page, his eyes squint before he takes a look at you.

“Why does this character seem familiar?”

Your heart suddenly starts beating fast. “Pardon, Sir?”

Mr. Park just smirks and shakes his head. He… smirked? “You can go rest for today. You can go to the Rec room, grab some coffee, have a date or whatever”

“Sir…?”

He lands a glance on you again. This time it’s a firm glance. “You heard me. Now, go before I change my mind”

The moment you step out of his office, you go straight to Wonpil right away to tell him what just had happened.

“He told you to go to the Recreational Room, where you can play or chill, when you actually need to meet a deadline today?” He asks “Are you sure? I mean, yes, we can go to the Rec Room anytime we want especially when we need our minds to rest and gather some creativity but not on the day of the deadline. You know that”

“Exactly! That’s why it’s weird. He even told me that I can go grab some coffee or have a date or whatever”

Wonpil suddenly grabs your arm and leans closer to you to whisper, “Maybe he likes you? And maybe he’s hoping you’d ask him for coffee?”

“What? That’s ridiculous, Pil”

Brushing aside your best friend’s remark, you spend the day trying to work on more concepts even when you don’t know if your revisions were already approved or need a few more revisions again. The CEO didn’t tell you anything. And it’s almost time for you to leave work but he hasn’t called you for more modification or change. Maybe it was approved?

 You open your bag and check your stuff, taking the umbrella out of your bag, getting it ready just in case it’s raining again. You don’t exactly hate the monsoon season. You don’t really dislike the rain either. It’s just that, sometimes, it really is a hassle.

You are about to leave your desk, bag already slung, when Wonpil calls your attention causing you to put your umbrella on your desk.

“Dowoon said they’ve already worked on with the new characters for the Fortday. So I think the new concepts were approved?” He shows an assuring smile before tapping your back “Now, go ahead. I’ll stay for a little bit more”

You happily walk out of the building. You’re only strolling for 3 minutes but it’s already starting to rain. You halt for a bit, look up to the murky sky and heave a sigh. You open your bag to get your umbrella but it’s nowhere to be found. That’s when you realize, you forgot to get it back from your table. With another sigh, you walk fast towards the shed where you also took covering from the rain yesterday.

“Told ‘ya! We’ll meet again”, the silver-haired asserts with a smug.

Chapter 2: Chicken

Also on: * AsianFanfics * archiveofourown * twitter

Fics masterlist: Daelisix’s Fics

[allenmendezsr]

Email Marketing For Authors

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[aspiratixxn]

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None at the moment

Summary: 

If the perfect blank canvas walked in, wouldn’t you want to paint it too? Or in which one Wei Wuxian colors the entire world of one Lan Wangji.

Start from the beginning [AO3] [Tumblr]

-----------

Closing the shop is as much of an ordeal as opening it in the mornings. It follows the same procedure, putting the tools into the autoclave and disinfecting every single surface anyone has touched, which is everywhere. A-Yuan sits sleepy in Mianmian’s chair as Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang clean to the sound of quiet alternative playing through the speakers. 

“So. Your brother.” Wei Wuxian leans against the pole of the mop. He’s been meaning to upgrade to a swiffer at some point but ah well, someday sometime. “I didn’t know he was getting a tattoo, much less with those two. Who’s that Lan Xichen anyways? Never seen him around.” 

Nie Huaisang laughs as he takes down the pinned designs. They cycle through a few folders every week to give people fresh perspectives on their styles and such, plus it makes this place look far more lived in. “Well, they’re new in town I think. Lan Xichen and his brother. Moved into da-ge’s apartment complex maybe,” he counts on his fingers, “four or five days ago? Like super new. Anyways, apparently Lan Xichen’s the kind to bring osmanthus cakes to the neighbors and da-ge had Jin Guangyao over and bam, just met like that!” 

Wei Wuxian isn’t all that prying about other people, especially when it comes to people like Nie Mingjue who could and would break your spine in half if you bugged him. Not that he would to his little brother’s friends but Wei Wuxian was never quite sure of how real the threat actually was so he chose instead to keep a low profile. “So then they’re friends now?” He quirks an eyebrow when Nie Huaisang begins to snicker. “Not friends?”

“Oh definitely friends. But y’know how da-ge and Jin Guangyao have known each other for a really long time?” Wei Wuxian nods. Family friends or something brought them together and since they were close in age, they had become close. Friends isn’t necessarily the right word in Wei Wuxian’s opinion but he’s not here to judge. “Well so they’re dating-”

“WHAT.” Wei Wuxian’s screech wakes A-Yuan who makes adorable grumbling sounds as he clutches a pillow close to him. “What.” Wei Wuxian whispers, eyes huge and it’s all Nie Huaisang can do to not fall over laughing.

“Yeah, so they’re dating, it’s a long story,” he whispers back between giggles. “It was really weird cause they’ve never seemed like, to like each other but I guess stuff happened when I wasn’t looking. And they’re dating and whatever and according to da-ge, Lan Xichen just kind of naturally fell into it.” 

“Soooo, a trouple?” Nie Huaisang makes a face at the term (it’s always sounded weird to him) but shrugs and nods anyways. “Wow.” Wei Wuxian kind of feels like he needs to sit down. Moreso at the shock that 1) Nie Mingjue dating and 2) Nie Mingjue dating Jin Guangyao and 3) Nie Mingjue dating Jin Guangyao and also dating new in town handsome man Lan Xichen and 4) deciding to get matching tattoos together within a week of knowing each other. “Huaisang, d’ya think this is your brother’s way of proposing or something?” He’s met with a shrug and a semi-mischievous smile. Wei Wuxian knows exactly what that means and sighs, turning instead to finish mopping instead of thinking about that whole mess. He doesn’t miss how Nie Huaisang sneak up to him, holding the binder of designs to cover half his face. 

“Soooo, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang sing-songs next to Wei Wuxian, eyes alight with amusement. “I saw you were, ehem, captivated by Lan Wangji?” 

A dreamy sigh. “Yeah, he’s just. So pretty.” 

So pretty. Dressed beautifully in a long coat, plain white shirt and jeans. A difference from his earlier look in slacks and a button up. Wei Wuxian wonders why he was dressed up in the morning like that. He sees again those red-pink ears, adorable especially with Lan Wangji’s lips pressed together. Pretty, pretty shades of gold hazel eyes that Wei Wuxian swears he’s never seen before. Nie Huaisang snorts, nudging him with the corner of a design printed on stiff paper. 

“Well, my da-ge managed to snag his brother in a week so I don’t see why you couldn’t do the same.” Wei Wuxian feels like she should be kind of offended by that. Nie Mingjue isn’t exactly the romantic type. He snickers at the thought of Mingjue doing something sappy and romantic. “Though admittedly that Lan Wangji looks kind of like a stick is up his ass into his brain.” 

Wei Wuxian sighs, another dreamy sigh, “Yeah, he does.” Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes and shoves him. “Hey!” 

“Yes, yes, let’s just get this cleaned up so you can take A-Yuan home. Isn’t it spaghetti night?” It’s a wonder that Nie Huaisang remembers these facts when Wei Wuxian doesn’t, and it’s his own goddamn schedule! “And I bet Wen Qing asked you to get something from the store.” Bullseye. 

Wei Wuxian lifts up the mop and turns the wet end towards a scandalized Nie Huaisang, who books it quick next to A-Yuan, leaning over dramatically and loudly saying, “A-Yuan! Save me! Your Xian-gege is being mean to me!” Which leads to A-Yuan standing between him and the mop, arms outstretched and a pouty look on his face.

“No being mean Xian-gege!” Nie Huaisang sticks out his tongue at him and it takes all of Wei Wuxian’s meager self control not to smack him in the head with the mop. “Xian-gege!” He looks down at A-Yuan who’s making the hands to be picked up gesture. “Can we go home yet?” 

“In a sec bud.” Wei Wuxian finishes the mopping at lightning speed and shoves all the supplies away before scooping up A-Yuan who shrieks with joy. “Huaisang, are you going to come over for dinner or are you gonna go moon over Jiang Cheng?” For his credit, Nie Huaisang only sputters a little bit. 

In the end they split ways, though Nie Huaisang promises to stop by later that night for late night baking. A-Yuan gives Sang-gege a big hug goodbye and then they’re off, walking down the bustling street to the local market to get some milk and some tiramisu for Wen Qing. 

“Wei-gongzi!” Ah, Wen Ning, right on time by the radishes. It’s like the Wen siblings have a sixth sense for where exactly Wei Wuxian is going to be. It’s kind of uncanny. “Wei-gongzi! A-Yuan!” Wen Ning skids to a stop just before them, his backpack looking dangerously full to be running like that. 

“Wen Ning, what’s up? Why the rush?” Wei Wuxian leans against the little race car cart they got where A-Yuan sits and fake honks at people passing by. The car contains the long awaited milk, a whole tiramisu cake, some vegetables of varying colors, and right now Wei Wuxian is debating adding radishes or not. He doesn’t particularly like them but Wen Qing and A-Yuan do so he shrugs and takes one, plopping it in as Wen Ning catches his breath. 

“Oh! Uh, well I just didn’t want to miss you guys.” Wen Ning readjusts his load and stands tall (or not that tall) with a grin. “Plus today’s spaghetti night and I brought,” he lowers his voice, “the good stuff.” Wei Wuxian flings an arm over his shoulders and pulls him close, with which Wen Ning takes squeaking.

“Wen Ning, you sir, are the light of my life, my beloved little brother.” Wen Ning flushes and scrambles. 

“Don’t let Jiang Cheng hear you say that! He’ll have my head.” He can already imagine Jiang Cheng puffing out his chest, face toasted redder than a lobster as he complains about how ungrateful Wei Wuxian is for being adopted into the Jiang family and if he wanted so badly to have Wen Ning as a little brother he should just marry Wen Qing or something! Which Wei Wuxian may have considered at one point in his life but a few caveats to that plan have yet to be solved. Namely Wen Qing being distinctly not into Wei Wuxian (for a variety of reasons she has disclosed many times) and that she wasn’t really all that into men to begin with. But she was a damn good friend and back when they were all worried about getting deported, Wei Wuxian had offered without hesitation to marry Wen Qing and claim Wen Ning as family. Thankfully it hadn’t come to that but he maintains that he would’ve done it anyways.

Besides, they were the ones who introduced him to adorable A-Yuan who, ever since they first met, has always been the first priority in Wei Wuxian’s heart. A-Yuan was Wen Qing’s cousin’s sister’s something or another kid. An orphan. Wei Wuxian knew how dangerous that could be with a kid that young and had called up a lawyer immediately, processing adoption papers faster than anyone thought could be done with that convoluted system. 

Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian wander the grocery store aisles, debating over what type of juice to get (peach in the end) and if they should buy fruit sandwiches or not (they did). They leave with significantly more stuff than they came in with. The only saving grace is that Wei Wuxian’s apartment isn’t too far off, a block and a half. The well lit building greets them with a soft glow.

In the past, Wei Wuxian had lived in some shady ass places. When he first started Yiling Tattoo it was small and struggling. He hadn’t made a name for himself yet and though Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang helped out sometimes, they weren’t mainstays either. It was really just Wei Wuxian busting his ass, churning out designs every day and building up his presence. Infamy some might say, for his policy of never turning down a tattoo request at the time. Obviously he’s developed standards since then but it was rough.

Since he’s gotten A-Yuan though, his life has changed so much. He’s only had A-Yuan officially for around six months now but he hauled his ass out of his old ratty one bedroom apartment and got himself a much nicer one. He and A-Yuan share a room and a queen sized bed but it’s okay because A-Yuan loves sleeping with his Xian-gege. He bought real furniture and tableware instead of keeping his tattered college age couch (that has definitely seen some shit) and eating off paper plates. He learned to cook and bake just for A-Yuan. He has A-Yuan’s doodles posted up on every possible surface along with his own renditions and it’s a beautiful chaotic mural that he’ll hate to take down if he has to move. 

He and Wen Ning kick off their shoes at the entrance and he passes over the groceries to Wen Ning so he can stoop and help A-Yuan with the velcro on his light up sketchers(™). A-Yuan might be a little sleepy but that doesn’t stop him from pulling Wei Wuxian to the living room floor and pulling on his sleeves.

“Ah, don’t worry Wei-gongzi I can start! Let A-Yuan play around with you for a little, he’s been a good boy today.” Wen Ning has the warmest look as A-Yuan echoes his sentiment, pulling hard on Wei Wuxian’s sleeves as he breaks out his markers with one hand as best as he can. 

Of course Wei Wuxian caves, sitting down and shedding his jacket, exposing lines and lines of black that course up his arms in every which way. His entire left arm is filled pretty much with doodles from when Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang were practicing designs on skin for the first time. He had liked the marker drawings so much that he asked them to tattoo him right there and then and they, surprised, had agreed. His right arm is a bit more symbolic, with tattoos designed by Wen Ning and Wen Qing and reflecting all the events in his life. He likes to reminisce over them to remind himself of where he came from, how lucky he has been his whole life. He’ll tell them to A-Yuan as bedtime stories, building nostalgic memories in his heart and maybe instilling them in that curious mind too. 

He leans against the couch and turns on some music, something quieter to fit the cozy atmosphere. He settles on lo-fi versions of classics, starting with put your head on my shoulder. Wen Ning hums quietly along as A-Yuan colors in flowers and mountains from Huaisang, colors in lotus flowers and dragons from Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian must have dozed off because the next thing he knows is Wen Qing knocking on the door and being let in by her brother. She looks tired but satisfied so the meeting probably went well enough. She sets her bags at the dining table and ties up her hair, quietly speaking with Wen Ning. Though she shoots a look at Wei Wuxian, it softens when she sees him colored up and down by A-Yuan, who is currently filling in storm clouds in shades of pale pink and baby blue. He raises a hand in apology, knowing he should be helping with dinner but he can’t bear to pull away. Wen Qing, in all her patience, understands and waves him off. 

There’s tiramisu in the fridge. He mouths at her and she laughs, a sound of chimes and bells. Wei Wuxian looks over the scene and thinks ah, I am blessed. It’s a good day and he can’t be more thankful for it. 

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

Lan Wangji is not having a good day. 

It had started with a slightly out of place morning. Waking up at 5am was normal but for some reason, he had woken up closer to 5:30 and that was already no good. Lan Wangji prided himself on having a set morning routine, starting with an hour of meditation and stretching before making a light breakfast and packing up all his items for the day. Sometimes, if he felt particularly inclined, he might also make something extra for lunch besides the night before leftovers. But since he woke up late, that meant he had to cut his meditation time and it left him feeling irritable at best.

He had nearly forgotten one of his musical scores and had to turn back on the way down the stairs to get them, leading him to quicken his pace. And by some cruel twist of fate, someone had rudely body slammed him, sending his papers everywhere. 

Lan Wangji is strong. He has always believed that a healthy spirit lies in a healthy body. Thus, he was also mildly surprised, among his annoyance, that this other person had managed to topple him at all. If he studied physics perhaps he’d understand how that worked but regardless, he had been stuck picking up his musical scores and trying to avoid having people step on them and his fingers as he did so. He hadn’t even been listening to the other man’s babbling until they had looked up and fallen silent. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

Lan Wangji had looked up too and been met with stormy grey eyes, wide with awe. Ruffled hair quickly slung into a low, short ponytail that exposed his pierced ears, silver and black glinting in the mid morning sun. A pair of lip piercings too, on the left bottom lip. If he squints a little, he swears he can see a silver ball on the other’s tongue. His ears burn as he averts his gaze down, which wasn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done. He’s met with a solid chest and lithe arms and rough hands. Rough hands holding his music scores. In a mess. 

All of a sudden, any… Well, whatever that feeling was is gone. It’s replaced with disdain as Lan Wangji snatches up the sheets and storms off, throwing a harsh shameless in his wake. 

Yeah, today’s not a good day. 

Lan Wangji makes it to his class with time to spare, which gives him time to calm himself. He brushes through his hair with his hands, quietly musing that he needs a haircut soon. It’s getting long and he might need to tie it up soon, just like that man from the morning. With another flush, Lan Wangji shakes his head and shoos those thoughts again. After all, it’s not like he’ll ever meet him again right?

It takes a special kind of luck for this to happen,  he’s sure of it. He had gone home after lunch, spending the afternoon practicing in his guqin in his apartment. Each note plucked methodically, clearly. The silence between speaking volumes. His brother had knocked on his door later, when the sun was just beginning to cast it’s glow across the cityscape. 

“Wangji, come with us.” Lan Xichen’s tone, while gentle, brooks no argument and Wangji sighs, throwing on his Gusu coat before heading out. 

“Where?” Lan Xichen has gotten very accustomed to his younger brother’s monosyllabic conversational skills but he doesn’t seem inclined to answer in a fruitful manner.

“You’ll see.” Lan Wangji just sighs quietly and trails after the gaggle that is Lan Xichen followed closely by Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. Originally, Xichen and Wangji had moved into the same apartment together. Xichen had, of course, gone around greeting the neighbors and had apparently met, liked, and essentially moved into Nie Mingjue’s apartment, leaving Wangji alone in their own. Not that he minded necessarily, since his brother would still return and sleep at their own place sometimes. They cooked together in the evenings and both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao were frequent guests. At one point, Mingjue had even offered to have the brothers move in, as his apartment was one of those three bedroom ones. But Wangji had declined, citing his need for his own space. Xichen on the other hand, had decided to have it both ways, spending most of his time at Mingjue’s place but still remaining on the lease and paying rent at his own apartment, used mostly as a workspace now. 

It’s not that convoluted a story but Wangji finds himself lost in the process somehow, and of course Xichen isn’t going to reveal anything. So Wangji just doesn’t bother asking. If his brother is safe and happy then that’s enough.

His thoughts dance around that particular subject until he bumps right into Nie Mingjue’s solid back, taking a few steps back with a quiet apology. Mingjue accepts it with a wave of his hand and Wangji looks up to see where they are, only to be met with bright red text that reads Yiling Tattoo. 

Huh?

Lan Xichen does not hesitate to step inside and neither do his two lovers. Wangji is left outside alone momentarily, senses assaulted with… Actually, nothing bad at all? It smells disinfected mostly though the front waiting area does smell more human. The music that plays is not blaring rock and roll or metal, rather a happier style of indie/alternative that Wangji doesn’t mind. As he steps inside and towards the counter, he marvels at the sheer number of stunning designs that cover every inch of the walls, from the simplest infinity symbols to the large dragons that soar across to the delicate dancing, laughing fairies. It’s beautiful. So caught up with studying every design, in fact, Wangji doesn’t notice who’s at the counter itself until he hears a book slam and turns his head to be faced with that very man who ran into him that morning. 

Said man has shed his jacket, revealing art inked all over his arms and neck. Wangji wonders briefly what it might look like across the rest of his skin. He’s got a… seductive, for lack of better wording, smirk and his eyes dance with a kind of hunger that makes Wangji want to step back. “So, what’s a beauty like you doing here?” 

Lan Wangji knows his ears are burning and it’s all he can do to keep it from invading his cheeks. He scours his brain for an answer of some kind, feeling annoyance at how forward this man is but also some kind of molten heat he can’t describe. His brother, of course, saves him again with that sharp smile of his. An appointment, with Wei Wuxian. It takes a moment for him to process what he’s heard and his eyes widen fractionally as he glances at his brother’s back.

Xichen is getting a tattoo? No way, uncle would absolutely have his head if he did that. But then… Why would they be here? 

Wei Wuxian is gesturing for them to follow and though Wangji doesn’t necessarily feel like he should, he gets a light tug on his sleeve from his brother as they begin to walk back. Whatever silliness in Wei Wuxian’s demeanor has vanished, replaced with an easy going professionalism and pride. 

The shop is beautiful, just like the front. Clean, ordered in different work stations. Wangji’s eyes flit back and forth, taking in the rows of inks that sit on Jiang Cheng’s table and watching as Nie Huaisang finishes a touch-up with a smile. The back room is well lit though the walls are more black than white with the sheer number of designs pasted. It must have taken years to amass this collection. 

Wangji takes the seat furthest from the desk, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up straight. He's not particularly listening to the conversation at hand, instead studying the way Wei Wuxian’s hands twirl his pen, how he rests the end on his lip. How he chews on his lip as he’s thinking, brow furrowed in concentration. How his penmanship is atrocious but quick and deft. Watching Wei Wuxian engage in a conversation in his element is an art in and of itself and Lan Wangji finds that he can’t look away.

The consultation must have taken hours but to Wangji it feels like minutes. He notices that Wei Wuxian has a small dark mole on his ear lobe. He notices that Wei Wuxian will stick his tongue out ever so slightly when he draws. He notices that Wei Wuxian doesn’t brush back his hair that has come loose from his ponytail. And Wangji finds that he wants to reach out and brush it back himself. 

Seeing the design drawn up is a process no less stunning than when Wangji is composing music. And just like any artist, Wei Wuxian presents it with pride. Wangji is no fool, he knows beauty when he sees it. He inhales sharply, eyes tracing the carefully painted flames. How Wei Wuxian managed that with a ballpoint pen is far beyond him but it looks like they were painted with an ink brush, licking towards the edges of the page. The moon peeks out behind darkly shaded clouds, an illusionary glow seeming to shine from the paper. And the flowers, so delicate, blossom right before Wangji’s eyes, swaying in the wind that feeds the flames and moves the cloud. It’s a living art piece. It’s beautiful. 

Wangji is shaken out of his reverie by the sound of the printer and though he knows that his expression likely has not changed during this, he wonders why Wei Wuxian stares at him with the intensity of the sun. The forms are signed, the meeting wrapped up and Wangji stand with slightly stiff knees, from tensing up the whole meeting. He hadn’t even noticed. 

Exiting the backroom reveals a much quieter space with many patrons gone. They make their way back to the counter with Mianmian pulling up a schedule and asking for their availability. Jin Guangyao answers quietly while Xichen pays and Wangji is once again startled when he hears his own name, his brother gesturing at him. Emotional support. Wangji chokes on air and only just manages to not send a scathing glare at his brother. 

Wei Wuxian smirks (dear god) and says something in that purr of his and Wangji blushes despite himself. He throws another shameless out and turns, striding out with his heart beating erratically. Xichen isn’t too far behind and he’s laughing, laughing. The audacity of it. 

“Well, Wangji, it seems like you might be seeing more of him after all.” Wangji jerks his shoulder away from his brother’s touch, fuming quietly. 

The rest of the night is just as slightly off as the morning. He ends up taking his dinner late, leading to something less nutritious than usual  being made. He doesn’t take his usual thirty minute meditation break before starting work and that makes his brain feel like a hive of bees. He makes a third mistake on his guqin and his entire body decides, that’s it for the night. Nothing is working as it should be. As Wangji slides the guqin into its case carefully, tucks away his sheets into their proper folders, he laments those thirty minutes that he had somehow slept through. A small part of his mind whispers, ah but you would not have met him had you woken up like usual. And Wangji sighs, puts his head down on the table, and grips his hands into fists. 

This is ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous. And yet all he can hear is a quiet so, what’s a beauty like you doing here?

[jedifighterpilot2727]

Failing Physics

Just a heads up but I'm going to try and go through my prompts on here the next few days, and some of them will just be little short fics that don't get posted on AO3 so I’ll try and tag everything appropriately!

The story of how Lexi and Taylor meet - AKA the rom com beginning that no one asked for but I decided to write anyway.          

Taylor is failing physics.

She’s not even exaggerating at this point, because it’s right there; written in red ink on her test paper.

Forty-six.

She didn’t even know test scores could go that low. Granted she’s also never taken college level physics, so that probably has something to do with it.

Once again, she curses herself for forgetting to sign up for the mandatory science class until the last possible minute; because of course the only option that fit in with the rest of her schedule had been physics. Of course.

Groaning, she watches the rest of the class file out, debating on whether or not she should cut her losses and drop out of school entirely or try and beg the professor for extra credit. She isn’t exactly sure what extra credit in a physics class would look like, but it couldn’t be THAT horrible?

Right?

She watches as Dr. McGregor packs up his bag at the front of the class, debating.

Just as she’s made the decision to throw herself at the mercy of the extra credit gods, she hears a voice.

“Dr. McGregor! Hi! Ummm, I just had one question about the test - “

A figure laden with books steps up to the desk, drawing Dr. McGregor’s attention to her outstretched test paper.

Lexi, Taylor thinks her name is.

That’s a lie.

She knows for sure that that’s what the girl’s name is, just as sure as she knows that Lexi is one of the reasons for Taylor failing her latest test.

It’s hard to pay attention when the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her entire life is sitting just a few rows up.

Lexi, with her dark brown hair, and her bright blue eyes, that stupid sunny smile that absolutely no one should have during an 8am class. She watches as Lexi’s free hand pushes her glasses up her nose before gesticulating wildly at the paper in front of her.

Since she’s been spared from her begging for another few moments, she takes the opportunity to give her crush an appreciative once over. As flustered as the girl sounds, she LOOKS put together, from head to toe. The braid containing her hair looks nearly impossible to wrangle, and Taylor absently wonders just how long the other girl spends on her hair in the mornings. Her outfit just screams ‘money’, from the black designer button up and the brown Hermes belt and the black Givenchy pants . . .

Taylor doesn’t even want to think about how much her loafers cost. Two month’s rent, probably.

She has to hand it to the rich girl though, if she didn’t know fashion, she would never guess that any of it was designer. It was subtle, and Taylor likes that. Not enough to flaunt, but enough that it probably kept the other rich kids off her back.

Well other than the popped collar and the fact that she seems to be debating an answer to a physics test. That probably didn’t make them consider her less of a dork.

A cute dork though.

She considers for a moment that she doesn’t really know much about Lexi other than the fact that she wears designer clothes, sits at the front of the class everyday, and that she never speaks to anyone other than the professor.

Oh and that she’s insanely attractive, but Taylor would have to be blind to miss that.

She’s startled from her thoughts by Dr. McGregor’s voice.

“Now Lexi, I know that you’re only in this class because the Dean turned down your request to bypass it for the higher level course; and I’m also aware that he turned you down only out of spite because of his long standing feud with your mother, but that doesn’t change the fact that in this class we’re dealing strictly with Earth based physics. I understand that on Mars or even Vucarra that the principles determining the result of the test mentioned in question 7 would be vastly different, but this is about how the test would play out on Earth.” He chuckles. "Try to dial back your vast knowledge of extraplanetary physics for this class, please.”

“Sorry, it’s just- the different systems got mixed up in my head, I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t understand the concept.”

“Lexi, you missed half a point on the entire test, you’re in no danger of me doubting your ability to grasp the concept of entry level physics anytime soon.”

That seems to appease Lexi, because she tucks the test paper in one of the folders balanced on her arm.

“Thank you, sir.”

Taylor is standing before she even registers what she’s doing.

Only her feet don’t take her up to Dr. McGregor’s desk, instead they follow Lexi out into the quad.

She isn’t exactly sure which part of her brain decided this was a good idea, but she’s going to blame it on the gay part.

Sappho have mercy.

“Lexi?” She calls out, and the other girl stops and whirls so fast that her papers and books fly everywhere.

Great way to start a conversation, good job Taylor.

“Oh, Rao! Sorry! I hope I didn’t hit you! I just have a really exaggerated startle reflex sometimes.” Lexi blurts out as she scurries around, picking up papers from the grass; and Taylor drops to her knees to help.

“Completely my fault, I didn’t mean to startle you!” She passes Lexi a stack of papers, pretending not to notice the electric current that passes between them when their hands brush.

Lexi clears her throat, but makes no attempt to get up or pull away.

“Was there something you needed?”

Taylor doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes that blue.

“Pardon?”

Lexi’s fingers brush nervously at her glasses.

“You called my name?” Her voice squeaks at the end and Taylor almost melts at the adorableness.

“Oh! Right, sorry. I just - well I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Dr. McGregor, and well, I need a tutor.”

“A tutor? For what?”

She might think that Lexi is simply being mean, but she doesn’t think there’s a way to fake the look of genuine confusion on her face.

“Intro to physics? The class we were just in?” Taylor jerks her thumb back towards the door.

“Oh! Of course! Yeah, no, duh, I mean obviously -“ Lexi shakes her head. “The science center has a really great tutoring program, or I think there are some private tutors posted on the bulletin board outside the lab.”

“Actually,” Taylor hesitates for half a second before taking the plunge. “I was hoping, maybe, you could tutor me?”

She isn’t sure how to read the hesitation on Lexi’s face, so she stutters forward.

“I mean you don’t have to, obviously, and I can’t pay you - because, well broke college student - but I work down at the corner coffee shop, and I can get you all the free coffee you can drink. Plus you’d have my undying gratitude for helping me not flunk out of college.”

A twinkle lights in Lexi’s eyes and one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arches upward.

“I am running a little low on undying gratitude.”

Taylor doesn’t let herself imagine that Lexi is flirting.

“Well, if you can help me pass physics then you will have mine, I have no idea how you even understand what he’s talking about half the time.”

“Oh!” Nervous Lexi appears to be back, tilting her glasses once again before reaching out a hand to pull Taylor to her feet. “My mom has been teaching me physics since I was like, five; so. . . . it’s just kind of . . . ingrained in there, I guess.”

“Five! You were five when you started learning this stuff?!”

“Well, Mama and I would always be worried when my Mom was . . . out on assignment, so we did science experiments. It sort of became our thing.”

“You have two moms?”

That must strike a nerve, because Lexi straightens to her full height, and even though she’s shorter than Taylor by a few inches she looks menacing.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not! Huge lesbian here.” Taylor points to herself, trying not to wince at her own sudden awkwardness. “Just wanted to clarify! It’s always nice to hear about other lesbians having families and succeeding - out there teaching their five year-olds physics!” Lexi seems to have relaxed, but she rambles on anyway. "What does your mom even do? That she knows so much about physics, and that she apparently has beef with the Dean of the science department at USC?”

“You don’t - you don’t know who I am?”

Of course she should have know that a person dressed like they belong in a fashion show for high end tomboy wear would have an ego.

“Should I?”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that; I wouldn’t expect you to know who I am, I was just trying to say . . . .” Lexi trails off with a sigh. “Most people form opinions about me based on my family before they even meet me, so it’s just surprising to hear someone say they don’t know who I am.”

Taylor feels herself relax. Maybe Lexi doesn’t have that much of an ego after all.

“Oh, well I can see how that might throw you off.”

“I wasn’t trying to be snobby or whatever, I just -“

“Lexi, it’s totally fine! I don’t think you’re being a snob! Hell, I don’t even think I’ve told you my name!”

“Taylor!” Lexi blurts. “Not that I’m creepy or stalky  or anything, I just -“

Taylor saves her from whatever apology is about to come by extending her hand for a shake,  warm and giddy off the fact that her crush knows her name.

"Taylor Mitchell, pleasure to meet you.”

Lexi’s handshake was firm.

“Lexington Luthor-Danvers, and the pleasure is all mine.”

Smooth. How could someone go from blubbering mess to suave in exactly 0.25 seconds? And -

"Wait. THE Luthor-Danvers? As in the Luthor-Danvers empire?”

“That’s the one.” As uncomfortable as Lexi may seem with her social status, there’s a hint of pride in her voice at the family name.

“Well, I can see why your mom started teaching you physics at five!”

“She’s kind of a legend among science nerds, so since I’m a science major, pretty much everyone I’ve met here has already known about me beforehand.”

Taylor vaguely remembers ‘the Luthor-Danvers heir’ making headlines on magazines for some sort of scientific research a few years back and she vows to google it when she gets home.

“Well, I’m an art major, and I know absolutely nothing about science; hence the failing grade in physics.”

Lexi’s mouth quirks upward.

“Right, well I can probably help you with that.”

“Like I said, undying gratitude.” She teases and Lexi starts to say something only to get cut off by a shriek echoing out across the quad.

“Lexi!! A little help here! This Dargorian poodle is a little out of control!!” A huge beast streaks by- one that resembles a St. Bernard only without the fur - dragging behind it a person on roller skates.

“Uhh,” Lexi begins stuffing her books into her backpack. "I - I have to go, that’s my cousin. Tomorrow at 1? Does that work for you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Study date? Tomorrow at 1pm in the library, second floor?” Lexi slings the stuffed bag over her shoulder with surprising ease and Taylor tries not to drool.

“Oh! yeah, perfect!”

“Great! I’ll see you then!” There’s a blinding grin tossed in her direction, and then Lexi is gone, running after the animal and its handler.

Taylor still isn’t sure what possessed her to follow her crush and ask her for help; but it’s easily the best decision she’s made all week.

            So let me know what you guys think about this one!! This is the closest to an original fic that I've ever written - all of the speaking characters are original characters - so i'm a little nervous!

[aughtpunk]

McHanzo Week 2017 - Day 6

Exactly one week before Jesse McCree retired from active duty Soba and Udon laid four eggs.

They didn’t actually lay the eggs, explained his loving husband, Hanzo McCree, for the first of many times. His dragons parted with a fraction of their energy in order to summon dragons for their future children. Then they created crystal cocoons around said energy to protect the summoned dragons until the children were born. The fact that said method looked a lot like laying eggs was purely a coincidence.

Children? Jesse had asked. The thought of having a family with Hanzo had crossed his mind, moreso ever since the accident.

Children, Hanzo responded. He was smiling. Beaming. Scared and hopeful, like a good parent should be. So was Jesse. They sat together in front of the eggs often after that day, wondering about what the future would bring. And what the exact child-to-dragon ratio would be.

***

In the biggest twist of all, Jesse loved paperwork. He found it relaxing in it’s own odd way. Something about checking off boxes, signing in triplicate, organizing folders within folders within folders within sub-directories scratched an itch Jesse didn’t even know he had before he got the desk job. And since that meant Commander Fareeha Amari didn’t have to do any paperwork it was win-win for the both of them.

It was because of Jesse’s rather intense filing system (that made Hanzo purr every time he described it in detail) that let him discover the out-of-place file on his computer’s system shortly after its creation. A rather innocent looking file that even followed his naming convention. He might have even opened it and signed it blindly if it wasn’t for the movement in the corner of his remaining eye.

“I know you’re there, Sombra. Come on out.”

Silence. Jesse sighed. “Kerrigan? Fantasma? Course, I could always call you Mar-”

A bright explosion of blue and white light burst in front of Jesse as Sombra appeared. She held up her hands in defeat. “Fine! Fine. I will accept that ancient codename, but only this time.”

“Howdy Sombra,” Jesse said with a tip of his hat. “How’s the Mister and Misses?”

“He’s on a world tour with some ‘fresh young talent’ from his school and she’s busy working on the reconstruction of Seoul,” Sombra said as she sat down on the edge of Jesse’s desk. “And me, you ask?”

“I didn’t, but continue.”

“I’m here on business.” Sombra flicked her wrist and the file on Jesse’s computer opened with a musical bweeoop. “A little bird told me that you and Hanzo are looking to adopt.”

“Not exactly, but I can’t help but notice that these are adoption papers. That I and Hanzo have mysteriously already filled out. Care to explain?”

Three pictures popped up on Jesse’s screen. Sombra leaned over and pointed to them as she talked. “Clark, six years old. Was going to Lúcio’s school until a week ago when his parents died in a car crash. His extended family has washed their hands of him due to his hearing issues-”

Jesse felt his cell buzz in his back pocket. “Sombra-”

“-His extended family have also had their various assets liquidated and put into a savings account for Clark but don’t tell Lúcio that-”

His phone finally stopped buzzing only to start again right away. “Sombra, hang on-”

“The girls are sisters, Seo-yun is eight and Min-seo is three. Lost their entire family during the attack on Seoul and were badly hurt on top of it. Seo-yun lost her right arm and doctors say Min-seo is going to need at least a basic exoskeleton bracing to walk again-”

“Sombra!” Jesse slammed his hand onto his desk loud enough to interrupt her. “Sombra, sweetheart, before you tell me about anymore kids that just break my heart-”

“There is one more now that you mention it-”

“Could you just, and this is all I’m askin’, could you just explain why you want me and Hanzo to adopt these kids in particular?”

Sombra’s knowing smile grew into a full-out smartass grin as she flicked her wrist, changing the pictures on Jesse’s computer to ones that were clearly taken during medical exams. The boy was putting up a fight while getting a shot, the oldest girl having a basic prosthetic fitted, and the youngest being shown how her exoskeleton worked.

All three children had dragon tattoos wrapped around various parts of their body.

“Because, my dear cowboy, they’re your kids.”

Jesse’s cell finally stopped buzzing only to be followed up by the ‘you got a text’ chime. He fished the phone out of his pocket and wasn’t too shocked to see missed messages from Hanzo and a single text.

The eggs hatched.

“You mentioned there’s another kid, right?” Jesse said, not taking his eyes off his phone. “Where’s their pictures?”

“They’re a, let’s say,” Sombra snapped her fingers and the photos on Jesse’s screen vanished, “special case. I can bring you to them if you’d like. I’m sure Dr. Klockner’s done by now.”

“Doc Klock, wait wait wait, the kid’s here?  Here  here?” Jesse stood up fast enough that his bad knee complained with a loud pop.

Sombra touched the side of her head. “I believe they were brought in last night, and, yes, here comes Dr. Klockner to speak to you about it. Shall I give the two of you the illusion of privacy and leave?”

“Might as well. And Sombra?”

“Yes, cowboy?”

Jesse smiled as he sent Hanzo a text comprised mostly of smiling emojis back. “You can go ahead and push through that adoption paperwork.”

***

Out of all the potential futures Hanzo would daydream about, the one he never thought would come true was ‘homeowner’. But there he was, standing side-by-side with his husband in front of their brand-new home. A simple house, nearly identical to the other ones in the neighborhood, but it was close to the Hanamura Watchpoint (formerly Shimada Castle) and big enough for the six of them. Because there were six of them. Because he had a family.

“Penny for your thoughts, darlin’?” Jesse asked as he wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. In theory the two of them were supervising the move while other people did all the hard work.

“I was thinking about how angry Satya will be when she finds out you are forcing the new recruits to help us move in.” Hanzo stepped aside just in time to avoid one of said recruits as they stumbled by holding far too many boxes for their own good.

Jesse placed a hand against his heart. “Sugarplum! Don’t make me sound so cruel! All these nice recruits volunteered to help a pair of old men out.”

Hanzo gave his husband, the love of his life, a look. “One. We are not old.”

“Considerin’ I was certain I’d be dead before my twentieth birthday forty-two is pretty damn old-”

“And two, I overheard Agent Riggs and Agent Caroline saying that this, ‘was way better than doing extra laps’.”

Jesse did his best to not look guilty, and failed, before giving up and nuzzling the top of Hanzo’s head instead. “Do you think we should check on the kids? They’ve been suspiciously quiet. Which means they’re up to something.”

“I am sure they are fine, Jesse. Genji is watching after them.”

“Yeah you’re, wait, Genji and Zenyatta, or just-”

What followed could only be described as a loud, short parade of chaos and dragons zig-zagging through the small crowd of agents. At the head was Soba, roughly the size of a horse, with Clark and his own pocket-sized orange noodle dragon hanging on for dear life. After Soba was Udon being ridden by Seo-yun and Min-seo with their yellow and red dragons wrapped around their bodies in what looked to be a poorly conceived attempt at seat belts. As the laughing children and roaring dragons vanished around the side of the house they were followed by a slightly-exhausted looking Genji carrying his own sleeping child.

“Hey Jesse can you hold Wren for a second thanks!” Genji handed his daughter over to to Jesse before sprinting after the others. There wasn’t any screams or crashes after Hanzo lost sight of all of them, so he assumed everyone was okay for now.

Jesse shifted the somehow-still-sleeping toddler onto his hip. “Did you see Sprue in all of that?”

“I did not.” Hanzo sighed,

“You go find them while I keep an eye on little chickadee here.” Jesse and Hanzo shared a quick kiss before Hanzo slipped away to hunt down their fourth child.

His search did not take long. Sprue had only been in their lives for less than a week, but Hanzo had figured out their habits already and the house wasn’t that big. Still, it took him three tries to find the closet Sprue had hidden themselves in, and that was only because they had figured out how to turn their external LED lights off.

Hanzo opened the closet door the rest of the way so he could sit down next to the young omnic. Their body was still, but the hum of their inner fans told Hanzo that Sprue was awake. All four of their arms were wrapped around their chest, hiding the large dragon engraving underneath. Hanzo waited to see if Sprue would speak first, and when they did not he broke the silence.

“It is okay to be scared, Sprue.”

Sprue lifted their head out of their arms, but said nothing.

“When I joined Overwatch I was scared, too,” Hanzo said, his voice soft, “Terrified. I didn’t know anyone outside of my brother, and even then it had been so long since I saw him last. I was worried everyone would hate me, so I hid myself away from everyone else. Until your father decided he wanted to become my best friend no matter what. He is annoying like that.”

Sprue made an almost-laugh noise.

“Although I hated it at the time I am glad he did. Once I got to know everyone I realized there was nothing to be afraid of. Now I have many friends, my wonderful husband, and you and your siblings. If I had stayed hidden, cowering in fear I would not have any of this. I would not have you.”

A shimmer of purple light passed over Sprue’s dragon engraving. Their whole frame relaxed, but they still did not move. Hanzo understood.

“You may stay here for as long as you wish,” Hanzo said as he stood back up. “But it would be nice if you joined us for dinner.”

Sprue finally looked up. “I do not eat,” they said, their voice staticy from being not quite finalized yet.

“Nor does your Uncle Zenyatta, but he always joins us when he can. He enjoys spending time with us, and we enjoy his company,” Hanzo smiled. “Perhaps you could bring your deck of cards? Your father would be more than happy to teach you his favorite card games.” He dramatically looked around before leaning down to whisper, “And if you sit next to him I am certain he will teach you how to cheat as well.”

Sprue let out a small gasp of childish delight. “Can we go get my deck of cards now?” they asked as they reached to Hanzo with all four of their hands.

“Of course, Sprue. Maybe Papa Jesse can tell you all about the time he almost lost his other arm while playing Texas Holdem.” Hanzo helped Sprue up, making sure they got their footing before letting go. Although Sprue was a full-sized humanoid omnic, they still moved like an awkward toddler who just learned to walk. “Do you know what Texas Holdem is?”

Sprue tilted their head, and the lights across their body flashed in time with their engraving. “A card game where people are forced to remove their body parts?”

“Only sometimes.” Hanzo took Sprue’s hand and lead them back outside. No, this was not a future he would have ever imagined. But it is a present he is glad to have.

(COFFEE)

[evilsciencebros]

Agathrights: This local bug literally lives in a box and Megatron lets it crawl around inside of him to do repairs, News At 10.

evilsciencebros: You made him 10x awesome in ways I never would have expected! I love your fountain of imagination. LMAO *snuggles up inside the warrior poet*

agatharights: I kinda had the vague idea of making him either a true minicon or an uplift a while ago so it was fun to finally flesh that out!Who doesn't want to crawl around inside of megatron. it'd be cozy

evilsciencebros: *huggles the swiss army knife* He's perfect *squishes down into pancake mode*

agatharights: He just squish down.The only problem with being an uplift is that -actual- scraplets will probably follow him if given the chance, because this scraplet is bigger and smarter so clearly it has more food!And i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that a nonsapient swarm of dumb, hungry metallovores makes for poor company, unless you're in an autobot base in which case HEY NEW FRIENDS EAT EVERYTHING

evilsciencebros: The perfect drone army. They're not allowed in the Decepticon base

agatharightsyeah: probably a good idea to not bring those homeThey can't tell the difference between autobots and Decepticons and while Oil Slick is pretty unpalateable to everything (both Junkions and Unicronians refuse to eat him, which is impressive) everybody else...

evilsciencebros: Bless. He probably has a little hidey hole for them, so they don't go wondering off. Either that, or just kills/eats them, like Movie Scalpel did with that creepy worm thing that crawled through Sam's head. LOL. Everything keeps trying to eat Oil Slick and fails miserably XD

agatharights: I'd imagine so. Scalpel can probably eat virtually anything, if given enough time for his teensy tiny mouth, since he's still got a scraplet digestive system.

evilsciencebrosI: eat with his butt

agatharights: They had to remove most of the scraplet mouth/jaws though to make room for an actual brain.

evilsciencebros: Tiny brain. An Archive worth of knowledge. That's an impressive memory chip he's got

agatharights: Excellent quantum linkage with his spark for memory storage. Whatever company made him probably priced him pretty high- he would've been top-tier medical equipment at the time

evilsciencebros: ^w^ He is one of a kind

agatharights: "He is one of a kind" "Because everything else in his production line was disposed of when they became obsolete or were deemed too high-risk." you can even ask Optimus but like "What was Cybertron like?" "It was beautiful, and terrible."

evilsciencebros: it was beautiful...but at the same time, on fire

agatharights: Well, to be fair, on fire was more after Megatron finally started calming down and realized he maaaay have literally killed Primus and was like "Mm. Okay. I'll admit, I got a little out of hand.""Lets...lets just go find a new planet."

evilsciencebros: *sweeps the old planet under the rug.* Don't worry, we can still fix this

agatharights: And then he left Cybertron, a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and somehow by the time he got back Shockwave had made it worse and he was like how did you do this? When I left this was a heap of scrap that was on fire and full of electrical storms? WHY IS IT FULL OF ZOMBIES AND PREDACONS NOW? And Shockwave was like "i thought you were never coming back ever so I panicked"

agatharights: Shockwave is the master of "picked up necromancy as a hobby, made some mistakes"

evilsciencebros: This is what happens when you don't return people's phone calls. they join cults

agatharights: And if there's no cults to join, they make their own, and when you finally show back up they're like heyyyyyy...the good news is, Cybertron's not dead, the bad news is, neither are the Insecticons and now there's so many of them.

evilsciencebros: On the bright side there's a cool spider lady who keeps them in check...when she doesn't wanna eat you herself

agatharights: I dunno about that. Season Three of TF: Matrix is basically slotted to be "Blackarachnia is pissed Megatron ditched her on Cybertron, has been selectively breeding an army of insecticons and predacons to take it out on him" Megatron, and who can blame him, was like "Alright, we need to get everyone we can off the planet before the spacebridges go dark...but do i want to be stuck in a tube floating in space with a bunch of self-replicating cannibals? Do i really?"And then effectively gave the Insecticons/predacons the wrong time/place and took off without them and they've been salty about it for a few centuries

evilsciencebros: Megatron. Can't break up with someone to save his life. Instead changes his phone number and address, and pretends to be shocked when they finally run into each other years later.

agatharights: ...god I'm terrible because the first thing that pops into my head is "Clearly, he learned that from Orion"

agatharights: Since Orion basically ditched Megatron as soon as the Decepticons started getting too hot for him to handle and then Megatron didn't see him again until he was working with Sentinel Prime centuries later.And he was like  " :) This is fine" And promptly murdered them both.

evilsciencebros: Cybertron. Died because of poor communication

agatharights: Pretty much.Which, to be fair, this problem didn't start with Megatron and Orion, this problem probably started the moment Prima was like "Guys, I know the thirteen of us are pretty happy, but what if we made a few billion more people?"

agatharights sent a GIF

evilsciencebros: I don't see any downsides to this.

agatharights: Downsides: Quintessons were like hey, uhhhh looks like you have...a lot of people there. Can we...borrow some??????"no piss off Quintessons"

agatharights: And then Unicron was like HEYYYYY LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE A LOT OF PEOPLE THERE...CAN I DEVOUR EVERYTHING??? "NO PISS OFF UNICRON" (and then Nova Prime was like "Hey, what if institutionalized racism?" and instead of going "no piss off Nova" people were like "yeah okay" and that's Cybertronian history) The ghost of Solus Prime shaking her head like come on you guys I did not make all this shit that can literally cause miracles just so you could immediately start conquering and murdering things but she was dead so nobody listened to her

evilsciencebros: immortals need hobbies too. The only ones allowed to traumatise their OCs are them.

agatharights: "these are my OCs the entire Cybertronain race. original idea, do not steal." (and then the Quintessons, who created Primus and Unicron, were like WHOA PLAGARISM) Also oh no I realized the saddest thing that could happen to Scalpel

evilsciencebros: !!!!!

agatharights: Scalpel would've been an actual Scraplet, if very briefly (probably plucked right from a natural forge) before he was modified into a, well, a person, rather than a parasite. Which is all well and good, uplifts weren't uncommon for a long time, though they're very rare post-war

agatharights: But if he attacked Buster and Buster panicked there'd be a chance Buster's matrix abilities- including the ability to "repair" virtually anything Cybertronian given enough energy, would kick in- and Scalpel could be reverted into a Scraplet. It briefly happens to Ravage, but Ravage shares a spark with Soundwave- so Soundwave is able to re-activate his uplift status by restoring his spark (and Buster is very sorry like yeah okay the Decepticons have regularly tried to kidnap him as a power source but he didn't mean to hurt anyone!)But Scalpel being turned back into a Scraplet, even if it were temporary, sounds like a nightmare for him. Turned into a literally brainless creature (scraplets have no processors- their actions are directly connected to their spark rather than utilizing a processor)

evilsciencebros: ;-; poor baby

agatharights: He keeps biting Oil Slick and then being surprised and angry when Oil Slick tastes bad but he has no memory at the time. So he keeps trying bc Oil Slick carries him off to try and fix him ;-;

evilsciencebros: <3

agatharights: awwgh that's so sad i'm putting that in the "horrible things to potentially do to characters" folder

evilsciencebros: My boys. Looking out for each other ;3;

evilsciencebrosYou should feel bad! Poor Scalpel, reduced to something less than an animals, and poor Oil Slick trying to care for his little buddy.

agatharights: Someone on the team suggests that they should put Scalpel out of his misery, that they don't want to risk him eating someone and producing more scraplets, and Oil Slick gets so angry about it he has to leave for a lil bit, just to clear his head before he does something stupid like drop a white phosphorous grenade on them)He'd have to get fixed, eventually, but until then Oil Slick can keep him in a box and feed him scraps

evilsciencebros: OMG I hope he gets better one day! Poor Oil Slick trying, and failing, to bring Scalpel back, but unwilling to snuff out his little spark.He will murder that human boy >:/

agatharights: jskdlfaj if he confronted Buster the poor kid would be like ???!!! Because he'd have no idea what he'd done, and once he knew he'd freak out and start bawling because he didn't mean to! He's so sorry! He can fix it- he can, he can try, at least? "I don't want to hurt anyone! Please, just lemme try to fix it..."

evilsciencebros: He is very fortunate that Oil Slick is desperate and revenge can wait.Now stop pouring lubricant out of your optics and do your work weird god magic shit.

agatharights: akfdljsaf poor babies. At least Buster can probably undo it. Might take a bit, though, and a lot of energy. he'd konk right out afterwards, and Scalpel just re-grew an entire brain so he's very tired too.

[paige-from-my-book]

Trigger warning, this has a brief mention of sexism/racism. Sorry this one is so short, tomorrow's will be a pretty heavy hitter. Part 4 of Rescued:

"I shouldered the door open with the fox in my arms. The animal was bleeding badly. When I set it on the table, Nick took one look at it and turned to Andrea.

“Hey, this one needs you, I can’t fix that,” he said. His blond hair brushed over his forehead. It had already grown quite a bit in just the month since he’d cut it.

Andrea rolled her eyes, but came over.

“I’m not sure this guy can be saved,” I admitted, tearing up at the thought of the poor thing dying. “I tried to put pressure on the wound, but it just keeps bleeding. It ju-” I had to stop because my tears were choking me up.

“Just go log it,” Andrea said, pushing me aside.

“I should stay here with it,” I protested.

“You’ll only be in the way,” she replied curtly, lifting her arms to actually push me out the door.

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of that, turning and storming out. I sat down at the front computer and started going through the steps to log the fox into our system. Todd came up to me, seeing that I was agitated.

“If anyone can save the fox, it’s Andrea,” he said softly.

“Well fuck her.  She never believes in me, why should I believe in her?”

“She does believe in you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hailey, she’s told me multiple times that she prefers when you work. She constantly tells us to do work like yours. None of the other rescuers care about the outcome like you do. You’re amazing at this, and she notices, even after just a couple months,” Todd said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I sighed and stopped typing for a moment to clear my head and calm down. I had definitely noticed that Andrea’s mortality rates were much lower, as were her rates of the animals having complications after the initial care. She was the best vet here, and possibly in the town. 

After several minutes, I took a deep breath. “How is she so good at saving the animals while being such a bitch?” I finally asked.

“Because I care about the animals,” a voice behind me startled me. I whipped around to find Andrea standing right there, looking at me disdainfully. “I love animals more than people. So I do everything that I can to make sure they are comfortable and cared for. The fox is fine by the way. He did lose a lot of blood, so he’s resting, but he should be okay and make a full recovery.”

Right after she finished saying that she walked away, not even waiting for me to say thank you.

“Yeah, that’s true. She does care for the animals unlike anyone else,” Todd commented. “It stinks she doesn’t get paid more.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, turning back to Todd after looking at the doorway Andrea had disappeared through. 

“Well she hasn’t been here as long as say Nick or Shawn. So she’s not making as much.”

“But she’s twice the vet that they are. Shawn doesn’t even show up half the time.”

“Yeah. She also had to have an internship before any place would take her seriously,” Todd commented, looking through a folder for a specific form.

“Are you kidding? Why?” I asked, shocked. As much as she annoyed me, I could tell from the moment that I met her that she was no-nonsense and brilliant. Anyone should have been able to tell that when she walked through the door.

“I mean, no one would say it, but she’s Indian and not a guy.”

I felt my cheeks flush. I knew what it was like to be discriminated against. I couldn’t believe someone as talented and intelligent as Andrea had to deal with the same thing. “That’s bullshit,” was all I could say.

Todd nodded. “It is. But that’s how it is.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “God this world is fucked up.”

“That’s enough dilly-dallying,” Andrea stepped between us. A faint vanilla scent followed her.

Todd gave me a look that said “Be nice.” After hearing about how hard Andrea had it, I realized I just wanted Andrea to like me. As much as she could get under my skin, I realized the part that bugged me the most was that she didn’t like me, and I wanted her to so badly. And since she seemed to not be in a good mood, I wanted to make her feel better.

“I’ll have you know, madam,” I said, turning back to Andrea. “I have never dillied nor dallied in my entire life.”

I didn’t even have to look back at Todd; I could see him put his hand up to cover his face from my perverphial vision. Andrea stopped searching through a folder in the filing cabinet and slowly turned back to look at me. 

At first, I thought that she was angry. So angry that she was biting her lip. Then she pursed her lips so hard they turned pale and then curled them around her teeth while keeping her mouth closed. It was then I noticed her lips twitch up and realized she was keeping herself from smiling. 

I gave her a toothy grin and raised an eyebrow. In response she sucked her cheeks in, pursed her lips again, and turned back to the filing cabinet. I saw her shake her head as the grin pulled through and noticed a slight shake in her shoulders.

I turned back to Todd, a proud smile on my face.

[airoasis]

Having problem with Lack of Inspiration, Low Energy or Despair? This may be your answer.

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/realestatecoaching/2018/05/22/revolutionary-new-treatment-makes-you-smarter-beautiful-effective-sleep.mp3

What if you knew for sure that something we all pretty much ignore all the time, that we take for granted, could make all the difference in your productivity, your profitability and the speed in which you meet or exceed your goals? I wanted to get find out just how important sleep is, not just from a ‘yea, duh, of course we all need more sleep’, aspect, but with some real research behind it, so we could help all of our clients with this as well as our podcast listeners!

Mathew Walker, Ph.D., and his book Why We Sleep offered both an amazing and enlightening read. Humans are not actually sleeping the way nature intended. In fact, I love how he explains this so succinctly:

· “Scientists have discovered a revolutionary new treatment that makes you live longer. It enhances your memory and makes you more creative. It makes you look more attractive. It keeps you slim and lowers food cravings. It protects you from cancer and dementia. It wards off colds and the flu. It lowers your risk of heart attacks and stroke, not to mention diabetes. You’ll even feel happier, less depressed, and less anxious. Are you interested?” (Yes, it’s sleep!) (p. 107)

That’s right, SLEEP is the ‘revolutionary new treatment’! How many agents, brokers, salespeople who you know (and it may be YOU), go around saying things like, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead… I don’t need more than 5 or 6 hours a night!” It’s almost a badge of honor amongst the most successful among us.

I’ll never forget a closing I went to (in the Eastern half of the country, you attend ‘round table closings’ where everyone is there; you, your client, the other agent, their client, title / closing agent and sometimes even the loan officer). At this closing, I remember that the other agent came blustering in, 15 minutes late, with her hair disheveled, her file folder all messed up and her shirt un-tucked like she just got out of the bathroom or something. Her client looked at her with a bit of annoyance on his face, and she made it worse by saying, “I’m so sorry I’m late guys, I had to stop for lunch on the way – I haven’t eaten in a couple days or slept for a while, I’ve been sooo busy!”

Now I’m sure in her mind this was supposed to reinforce that she was professional, with lots of happy clients, but that’s not how it came off. I thought to myself, “I wonder if I sound like this sometimes too…after all, we do order a pizza after a long day of chasing deals, I’m at least 10 pounds overweight and I certainly don’t follow any sort of sleep regimen!”

In fact, the agent I was referring to actually was and still is a great broker, who actually DOES have happy clients and a great reputation, but I wonder about the toll that the lifestyle has had on her, as well as many of you…

All this leads me to share with you some facts from Dr. Mathew Walker’s book, Why We Sleep. The facts he discovered through his research effect nearly every one of you reading this, so check this out:

· Studies have shown that mortality from heart disease increased between 37-60+% when napping was eliminated in healthy (p. 70)

· Sleep before learning refreshes our ability to initially make new memories. Sleep after learning effectively clicks the “save” button on the newly acquired information. (p. 108)

· Practice does not make perfect. It is practice, followed by a night of sleep, that leads to perfection. (p. 126)

This I can personally attest to on two levels. One, when I was a practicing classical musician, I can recall many, many times where a tough piece of music was worked out overnight through getting significant sleep time. It was so much easier and made more sense in the morning. I remember feeling like this was some sort of mental miracle at the time! Secondly, when learning real estate scripts for presentations, the same thing happened…it all seemed to ‘gel’ after a few nights of allowing my subconscious to noodle it out.

· Microsleep (complete blindness to the outside world for a few seconds) makes drowsy driving more dangerous than drug and alcohol induced driving, combined. (p. 134)

How many of you are wondering right now as you read that about dangerous driving….has this ever happened to you?

Even our kids are effected:

· Sleep deprivation dramatically works against the developmental phase of life when adolescents are most vulnerable to developing psychiatric disorders. (p. 152)

· Teachers work against their intentions (to have students retain learnings) when they end-load exams in the final days of a semester, thus encouraging short sleeping or all-nighters. Instead, there should be no “final” exams at a marking period, but rather more frequent, formative assessments(p. 156)

Dr. Walker lists

· Key factors that have powerfully changed how much and how well we sleep: (1) constant electric light, (2) regularized temperature, (3) caffeine, (4) alcohol, and (5) alarm clocks. (p. 265)

To Sleep or Not (p. 340)

Within the space of a mere hundred years, human beings have abandoned their biologically mandated need for adequate sleep—one that evolution spent 3,400,000 years perfecting in service of life-support functions. As a result, the decimation of sleep throughout industrialized nations is having a catastrophic impact on our health, our life expectancy, our safety, our productivity, and the education of our children.

This silent sleep loss epidemic is the greatest public health challenge we face in the twenty-first century in developed nations. If we wish to avoid the suffocating noose of sleep neglect, the premature death it inflicts, and the sickening health it invites, a radical shift in our personal, cultural, professional, and societal appreciation of sleep must occur.

I believe it is time for us to reclaim our right to a full night of sleep, without embarrassment or the damaging stigma of laziness. In doing so, we can be reunited with that most powerful elixir of wellness and vitality, dispensed through every conceivable biological pathway. Then we may remember what it feels like to be truly awake during the day, infused with the very deepest plentitude of being.

Dr. Mathew Walker’s ‘RULES’ if you will, can be summarized in his 12 Tips For Healthy Sleep.

Stick to a sleep schedule. Go to bed and wake up at the same time each day.

Exercise is great, but not too late in the day (no later than three hours before bedtime).

Avoid caffeine and nicotine.

Avoid alcoholic drinks before bed. (It erodes your REM sleep.)

Avoid large meals and beverages late at night.

Avoid medicines that delay or disrupt your sleep.

Don’t take naps after 3pm.

Relax before bed, such as reading or listening to music.

Take a hot bath before bed (to drop your body temperature the necessary 2-3 degrees F).

Dark bedroom, cool bedroom, gadget-free bedroom (anything that might distract your sleep).

Have the right sunlight exposure. Wake up with the sun or bright lights.

Don’t lie in bed awake (get up if you can’t sleep).

Now that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that taking sleep seriously effects virtually everything you do, what will you change? What’s the cost of NOT changing?

Are you going to be one of those dorky sales people who thinks it’s impressive to brag about how much you suck at sleeping? That’s what you’re doing when you say ‘ah, I don’t need any rest, I’m a stud / studette!’ Dr. Walker’s study showed that you’re literally doing the opposite of what you think when you operate with no sleep. You think you’re pulling more out of life, when in fact, you’re quite literally headed faster for death.

“the shorter your sleep, the shorter your life. The leading causes of disease and death in developed nations—diseases that are crippling health-care systems, such as heart disease, obesity, dementia, diabetes, and cancer—all have recognized causal links to a lack of sleep.” ― Matthew Walker, Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams

Ultimately, you have a lifestyle choice to make. Follow the sleep rules and live longer, happier, more creatively and of course as a result help more people thus making you more profitable….or….keep on ignoring sleep. It’s up to you.