#thinking I wouldn’t have enough time to solve a problem I’d copied down wrong. I needed to write this as a kind of comfort

[sammylkcho]

"It’s just that… sniff, I was on the right track… It can’t be that one single number made me take so much longer." You sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks as you tried in vain to wipe them away.

A gentle mwah made you open your eyes, seeing Sebastian's lips softly kissing your forehead.

"Wha– What are you doing?" You rubbed your right eye, wiping away the remaining traces of tears.

"Kissing you, of course."

You frowned in confusion, not quite understanding his sudden show of affection.In moments like these, when frustration took you to your breaking point, leaving you in tears, you’d forget everything around you—even some people. You’d never been comforted with such tenderness, only with words that ended up tormenting you mentally. So Sebastian’s gentle affection still often took you by surprise, like now.

"I’m sure you’ll get a good grade; people who rush things usually end up worse off." He laughed softly, playing with the messy strands of hair that fell over your forehead.

"Besides, you took the time to correct that whole equation when you missed just one number, didn’t you?" he said again, giving you another kiss on your forehead.

You could feel his smile against your forehead; it felt so warm and comforting.You managed a small smile, faint but genuine all the same.

"Thank you, Seb" you murmured, letting yourself melt into the love he was pouring out just for you.

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

Home, finally

one-shot

pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

description: Andy find comforts in someone when almost the whole world is against him. The bond grows stronger between them.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: ANGST!! Fluff, Emotional infidelity (??), age gap (not specified) talk of divorce, crying, broken marriage.

a/n: I have worked hard on this one, hope you all like this, do reblog if you enjoy reading this. Any feedback is appreciated. This is my second work so I am not even sure if I am doing an okay job but I somehow got this idea and just wanted to write about it.

i do not own the characters Andy, Jacob and Laurie.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK OR POST IT ANYWHERE.

I made the moodboard and the divider.

The knock on the door brings back Andy to reality, in a way it saves him from his thoughts. “Sir, are you busy?” her voice calms him, he asks her to come in. “Sir, it’s pretty late, maybe you should call it a day?” It is pretty late, how did it slip his mind? Maybe because his mind is a hollow place right now and ironically filled with so many thoughts.

“Right it’s late, I was actually going through these files” he picks up the file closest to him “Those?” she worries about him, she approaches his desk. “Yeah these, i-“ she interrupts him “Sir, that has been solved at least a month ago”. Andy doesn’t know what to say, well it’s not like he needs to say anything, she understands. Even though Y/n has been his assistant just for a year, she has learned a lot about the respectable ADA Andy Barber. Although the recent turn of events have changed everything. With his son, Jacob been accused of murder and the trial going on, Andy is hardly himself. Each passing day he seems to lose himself gradually and everything else. She genuinely cares about his well-being.

After a minute of silence Andy looks at her, “You should have left, it’s pretty late.”

She smiles. Such a warm smile, Andy feels good for a second, that smile seems like sunshine filled with hope, a reassuring smile.

“I wouldn’t be a very good assistant if I would leave when my boss is working so late, right?”

“I am sorry I didn’t even check the time” The truth is he doesn’t want to check the time, he feels like a failure, and going home will just remind him that. Is it his home anymore though? Doesn’t feel like it.

“You should go home now Y/n”

“What about you? It’s pretty late you should go home too.”

“I think I’ll stay here a little longer”

“I- I don’t want to leave you alone”

Andy doesn’t know how to react, recently he has been so stressed, so self-critical that one ounce of kindness and care seems unbelievable to him. But she, she cares for him, besides being a great assistant, she is a kind and supportive human. Andy thought she may leave the job as his assistant, but she didn’t, sometimes her words ring in his mind - ‘everything will be alright’. Sometimes he just re-plays that in his head.

“Alright then” Andy gives a barely there smile, “I’ll wrap up everything and then we can leave together” She nods and goes out of his cabin to wait for him. Andy is about to leave when his phone rings. It’s Laurie.

“Yeah” Andy says. On the other side, Laurie asks about him being late, says she is scared and nervous and Andy is being very irresponsible. “Listen I got caught up” He tries to stay calm. Laurie scoffs saying what can be more important than his son and his trial. “What do you think I am doing huh? All I do is think about Jacob, try to investigate things on my own as much as I can, I constantly worry about him okay? I may not be the best husband but I try my best to be a good father. I am trying everything I can.” He almost yells. Y/n can hear the muffled voice from outside. Before huffing and hanging up the call, Laurie doesn’t fail to mention that he should have been a better father. He bangs his fist loudly on the desk, he cannot take it more, he- “Sir? are you okay?” she comes without knocking, she got scared. Andy stares at her. “Do I- do I look okay? no. Am I okay? no. Does it matter? no.” He says a bit loud, she stands near the door. “Sir, I-I just want to help. I am sorry” and with that Andy tells her to leave, before she could say anything he repeats himself. “Go home Y/n” She nods and leaves his office.

She is standing outside, trying to book a cab, it’s difficult to find one now, it’s pretty late, it’s too dark to walk home alone. She is trying to think of a solution when Andy comes and stands next to her. “You don’t have a car I know, I’ll drop you” she has to take up this offer even though she doesn’t want to trouble him anymore.

The car ride was silent. When they are almost close to Y/n’s house Andy finally breaks the silence, “I am sorry, I am sorry for snapping at you, I shouldn’t have, I know you’re just trying to help, I lost my cool and I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s alright Sir, I understand.” why does she? Why does she understand? When almost everything is going wrong, when he feels so alone, why is there? She shouldn’t have to deal with him and his messed up life. She can get a better job, and a better boss.

“So that’s me” she says, Andy stops the car.

She hesitates to ask the next thing, she shouldn’t overstep but she just can’t see her boss like this, he seems miserable. “Sir, I am very sorry if I am overstepping but um- would you like to come in? Have some tea? Or-“ "Is there something with alcohol?” he looks at her. “I may have a couple of beers. And I have some wine, not something fancy though” Andy says that will work. So there he is at his assistant’s house having a glass of wine. Surprisingly enough it doesn’t feel awkward, in fact the atmosphere is pretty calm.

“I am sorry that I can’t be more helpful sir, I understand you are going through a lot but please have some faith, everything will be alright.” Andy can’t help but be in awe with her right now. “You are doing so much, you have no idea. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Sir please don’t thank me, I am trying to be a good assistant, I understand things are difficult and maybe not a lot of people are in your corner right now but I am. I have faith that things will be better soon. I am here for you.” He can cry any moment now, with his life being a complete mess, with him feeling so alone, Y/n is giving him hope. The moment is interrupted by Laurie’s call. Andy just picks up the call and stays quiet. Y/n can hear all the screaming and yelling from the other side. Andy just listens. “I am sorry but I am not coming back tonight, just give me this night, please.” He hangs up. Y/n doesn’t know what to say. “Don’t worry, I’ll go back to the office and spend the night there.” She cannot let him stay alone, it doesn’t feel right “You should stay here tonight, the only problem is that you will have to sleep on this couch.” Andy too doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t want to trouble her. As if she can read his mind, she immediately says “It’s alright, I’d be happy to know that you’re not alone tonight.” It’s true, after a long time he doesn’t feel alone, he isn’t alone tonight.

“I know I am being selfish, I know I should be with my family but I need just one night off you know? I am going crazy and if I go back tonight chances are it’s going to be a yelling competition between me and my wife and that won’t be good for anyone, especially Jacob.” He finishes the rest of the wine. “I am not saying my wife isn’t going through a lot too, but even if it is selfish I just need one night, a little time, I-I-“ he cannot finish his sentence before breaking down into tears. He hides his face with his hands and just keeps on crying. Y/n thinks about rubbing his back and soothing him but hesitates. She shouldn’t but she wants to, she cannot see him like this. She gently, very gently places her hand on his back. He is shaking. She can feel it, she can feel all his pent up emotions and stress slowly being let out with those tears. “Sir, as much as I hate to see you cry, sometimes it helps to let out pent emotions, it’s okay, let it out, I am here” Andy cannot stop crying, her words affecting him. Her hand radiating warmth.

After about two minutes, he looks at her, she gradually removes her hand and places it on the couch beside him, making sure not to touch him, he misses the contact of her hand but doesn’t say anything. He wants to say so many things right now but he doesn’t, just says, “Call me Andy, at least outside work.”

“I just want you to know you’re not being selfish, I am seeing you work hard everyday, trying your best, as you said I am sure your wife is going through a lot too, so is your son but then again so are you. You all need to stay functional too and for that do not let all those thoughts take over you. So recharge your self tonight, get some sleep, you have to fight a little longer unfortunately but I have a strong feeling the results at the end will be good. Just hang in there.”

Andy holds her hand. “Thank you for letting me stay and everything else. I am grateful to have someone as kind as you by my side.” She is about to stand up when she realises he is still holding her hand. As if on cue, he leaves her hand, he didn’t want to, she too misses the contact. How can she? What is she thinking? No, no this is nothing but her calming down her boss who is extremely troubled right now. He should sleep now and so should she. Andy too doesn’t exactly understand what is happening, all he knows is that her presence is calming him. Her presence feels like- feels a lot like home. “Alright then, good night, sleep well.” she stands up, about to leave. “Good night Y/n” Is her name actually that good or is it him saying it that makes it so much better. It’s better not to think about it.

“Thank you” Andy thanks y/n for the coffee. The trial is coming to an end in some days and after a long time things are looking minutely positive for them, with Andy’s dedication and to some extent desperation, and with y/n being there as a reliable assistant, they were able to get some evidence that proved to be helpful. Even though y/n has been his assistant for quite some time, after that night, they have grown closer. Andy who used to keep all his worries to himself, gradually let his guard down in front of y/n. They have become friends. He knows he can rely on her, she knows he is trustworthy. “You’re welcome Sir” she smiles.

“Hey y/n?” she turns back and faces him. “Are you free after work today? I was thinking we could go grab some food at the diner? My treat.” She looks confused. “Is there an occasion Sir? It’s not your birthday I know that.” Andy cannot help but smile.

“No I just wanted to give you a treat, after everything you have done for me. I thought this can be like a small gesture of appreciation.”

“Sir the fact that you thought about this gesture is more than enough, I am sure you’re busy with the trial coming to an end, I wouldn’t want to take up your time.”

“Well I am not busy, and you deserve a little break too, you have been working hard, so let’s go to the diner if you’re free. I know you like milkshakes.”

She smiles, he remembers? She may have said once or twice that she loves milkshakes. “Well I can’t say no to milkshakes, alright then.” Andy nods to that.

“This burger is so good.” Y/n said with food in her mouth. Andy chuckles at that. She is so cute. “I am glad you like it.” she nods and slurps her milkshake. Andy has a constant smile on his face, he is happy to see her so happy with just burgers and milkshakes. Y/n is happy, definitely because of the tasty food but mainly because of this gesture. She won’t admit how much this actually, truly means to her. “So Y/n you’re such a good assistant, you know a lot about me, but look at me I haven’t even tried to get to know you much.” She looks up while slurping her milkshake. “No sir-“ He corrects her about calling him by his name. “Sorry, Andy you do know me, besides I have heard how bosses can be super rude and unpleasant so I think I got pretty lucky with you. You’re kind and nice and sweet. Also hey you do know I like milkshakes.” Andy has that smile plastered on his face which now morphs into a laugh. A laugh, after so many days, she smiles at that, she is seeing him laugh after a long time. “Yes I know that, but what else do you like?” She likes making him smile, not that she would say that. “I like cooking, watching movies. I have very few friends, sometimes we go out, but personally I like staying in more.” Andy nods. The next thing he is about to ask, he isn’t sure whether he should, he doesn’t want to cross a line, but somehow he really wants to know it. “Are you dating someone?” She wasn’t expecting that. “Um no, i haven’t even been on many dates actually, the last time I was supposed to have a date and I got stoop up. I have an ex but i don’t even know if he ever considered me his girlfriend. I-“ she stops midway, realizing she has babbled a lot. “I am sorry to hear that, I mean I am little shocked actually, you are so nice.” she looks at her food, fidgets with it. “Yeah well nice isn’t good enough for guys to like me. Anyway that is something I have stopped thinking about, I don’t think I’ll get anyone.” Andy cannot believe what she just said. She is wonderful, caring, sweet, funny and beautiful. how can she think like that? “You really think that? You’re so wonderful, you’re funny, you’re talented, caring, sweet and b- well you are great! really, I think what you are saying doesn’t make sense, I am sorry that you have encountered some jerks all this while but I am sure you’ll get someone who will love you, cherish you and respect you. Besides, don’t get me wrong, most guys your age are stupid.” She smiles, she doesn’t usually get so many compliments. That last line is true, maybe most guys her age are kinda stupid. Maybe someone older, someone more matured will realize her value? “That’s very kind of you Andy.” She cannot help but look at him. She admires him, a lot. Every time she starts feeling anything other than respect for him she constraints herself immediately. He is married, has a kid, and he is totally out of her league. Granted he has had some troubles recently in his marriage but she hopes everything gets solved so that he can be happy. Y/n really wants Andy to be happy. “Well maybe I am not the best person to give relationship advice, considering how my marriage has fallen apart, but I truly believe you are wonderful and deserve someone great.”

“Andy, don’t say that, with time people can grow apart and the sad part is maybe not either is at fault, it just happens. Life changes everything at times, it changes people, changes feelings. What works for someone may not for someone else. There isn’t any right or wrong relationship advice I believe. Although when people say love is complicated, I disagree with that a bit, I feel love is very simple, we make it complicated.” How is she like this? Andy admires the way she thinks.

“Again you didn’t have to drop me but thanks a lot” She is about to step out of the car when Andy calls her name and she faces him. “Look I know recently I have shared some personal information with you, and obviously we have grown closer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s just I don’t have a lot of people to talk to and you make me feel so comfortable. If you think I am crossing a line do tell me.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “Andy I am glad you can trust me.” That’s all she says. Andy looks at her, maybe he was expecting her to say something more. But she doesn’t. “Y/n i - i think I will get a divorce after the trial ends and when the situation is better. I respect Laurie too much and I know she has gone through a lot and I feel that getting divorced would be better for both of us and for Jacob too. We have fought a lot recently, and I don’t like Jacob seeing that. Plus maybe we all need a fresh start. I love my family but Laurie is now just the mother of my child. I have tried to feel more but I can’t, not anymore.” She doesn’t want to read between lines, doesn’t want to make out some other meaning behind this. She loses her train of thoughts when Andy places his hand on hers. “Y/n if you’re wondering why I am saying all this right now, then I don’t know how to answer that, maybe because I don’t know why I said it.” she is about to say something when Andy cuts her off “Or maybe I do know.” He looks into her eyes. There is so much to ask, so much to say but they choose to sit quietly in the car and look at each other. The atmosphere in the car is gradually changing. “I should go” She says, Andy removes his hand and nods. She steps out.

“Thank you An- Sir for the treat, I had a great time.” He doesn’t correct her this time. He smiles and says “Thank you for spending time with me.”

Y/n cannot stop thinking about that conversation, neither can Andy. Andy is scared he crossed the line. He cannot lose her trust, her respect. He cannot lose Y/n. Maybe he shouldn’t have said all that, maybe it was too much for her. She is not dumb she understands the situation. What does she think though, what does she feel? Andy stares at the ceiling of the guest room and keeps on thinking. It has been months since he is sleeping in the guest room. He picks up his phone, it’s late, he wants to text y/n but he doesn’t want to make things worse. What should he do. Before he can grasp his emotions his phone blinks.

It’s a text. From Y/n.

Y/n: “I am sorry for texting at this hour. I am sorry for stepping out of the car like that without saying much. I am not very smart when it comes to these things but I just want you to know that I respect you very much. I admire your work and dedication and how much you care about others. I have seen you doubt yourself as a father but if my opinion means anything to you then trust me when I say you’re an amazing father. You care a lot about your family. Sir I understand feelings may change but sometimes some relations are worth giving more time. It’s not really my place to say any of this probably but I personally don’t want you to regret something later. You were talking about a fresh start, maybe you all can take a fresh start as a family, together. Again it’s your life and I am no one to say anything. Sometimes things are better the way they are, even if the excitement of ‘what could happen’ or ‘what if’ makes us curious, it can be troublesome. Sorry if this makes you feel bad in anyway, I truly admire you and respect you for the person you are Andy.”

She has sent the message with a lot of courage. The conversation in the car changes a lot of things. It’s not that her heart didn’t skip a beat in the car when Andy said all that. But she respects him too much and doesn’t want him to make any decision that he may regret later. He is married, he has a son, he has a family. Y/n someday wants her own little family and to think that in any way she can anyway stop a family from being happy just breaks her heart. Specially Andy’s. After all his happiness means more to her than her own. After all she- well it’s not like she will admit it. Some things don’t need to be said.

Is it possible that Andy is getting more and more mesmerized by her? She is so pure, so kind. He types back the reply.

Andy: “Y/n, thank you for being so understanding, thank you for taking care of me when no one was there. I know I have thanked you before but I really cannot thank you enough. All I can say is that I am always here for you, if you ever need anything. That being said, the fresh start you are suggesting, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I had talked to Laurie too, we think we need a separate fresh start. I am lucky to have met you Y/n, like you said I don’t want to regret something later.”

Her heart seems a little less heavy after reading this. Wait why is she smiling like a teenager? She is blushing. She quickly sends a reply.

Y/n: “I just want you to be happy and I hope you know I am always here for you too.”

Andy: “I know you are and that makes me happy.”

Y/n: “Good night Andy. Sleep well”

Andy: “I will now, good night Y/n”

Andy loves the colour blue. A blue tie would be a great gift for him. Y/n gets a blue tie for his birthday. The Barbers are having a small get together for Andy’s birthday. Joanne, Jacob’s lawyer suggested them to seem as normal as possible, anyway the case seems to be in their favour now and the trial will end in a few days. So they shouldn’t behave like a guilty family. Andy has invited a few friends and colleagues and Y/n is invited too.

“Happy Birthday Sir!” Y/n says as she gives Andy his present. Andy thanks her and welcomes her to his house. With her here it feels a little more like home. She can make any place feel like home. He introduces her. “Jake, this is my assistant Y/n and Y/n I think you have met Laurie before.” They exchange greetings. Laurie is so beautiful. Jacob seems like a great kid. It’s very sad what he had to go through. What they all had to go through.

“Come on Dad, it’s time to cut the cake!!” Jacob ushers Andy over and asks him to blow the candles. Andy does. He wishes for Jacob’s safety and that they win the case. He had another wish but seems like that may have already been granted. He looks up at her, she is there clapping with others, but she is the only one who has been with him in this difficult phase unlike others. He cuts the cake and cuts out a small piece and feeds Jacob. That’s when it happens, Laurie kisses Andy. Andy is taken aback for a second but then he kisses her again. Right that is how married couples behave don’t they? He is still married. Then why are tears forming in Y/n’s eyes? What has she been thinking all this while? This is the reality. Andy is married and seems to have a great wife. She excuses herself and Andy doesn’t fail to notice that. He quickly goes to find her. She is standing in the lawn trying desperately to hold back the tears even though crying because of this seems so wrong.

“Y/n?” she composes herself. “Sorry sir I- I was- I got a call, had to take it, you have a great home by the way.” Andy moves closer to her but she steps back. “This doesn’t feel like a home anymore Y/n. It’s missing the warmth.” She suddenly unexpectedly snaps at him. “Really? Didn’t seem like that just few minutes ago.” Andy keeps quiet. What has she done? It’s wrong. “I am so sorry Sir I-“She gets cut off by Andy. “We are supposed to act like a loving family. Jake’s lawyer thinks that publicly we have to appear as a normal loving family since a troubled family would ruin Jacob’s image even more. There is a belief that troubled families have ill effects on kids. So we are portraying ourselves as a happy married couple but we aren’t. I don’t love her anymore Y/n. I lo-“ She stops Andy from saying anything more. “The lawyer is right. Troubled families do have ill effects on kids. Jacob has already been through a lot. You should give this another shot, Laurie seems wonderful, and she is so beautiful. You all should talk it out. Family is everything Sir, family comes first.” Andy tries to protest but she doesn’t let him. “Sir, sometimes some things just aren’t worth it. I’ll head home, happy birthday again. Goodbye.” she leaves, Andy wants to stop her but he doesn’t, right now things would get more complicated if he did. He wants to scream out, why? Why is this happening? Yes he agrees with her concern about Jacob’s well-being but he and Laurie won’t be able to stay together like a happy married couple for long, it won’t work out and that will probably affect Jacob even more. All of a sudden that ‘goodbye’ hits him. Goodbye? Is it? Did he lose her?

Y/n kept crying for two days even though she felt disgusted with herself for crying because of this. That unfortunately didn’t stop her from crying her heart out. Andy texted her, she hasn’t replied yet. Andy is so tensed he hasn’t heard from Y/n for two days. When a message arrives it shatters Andy’s heart even more. It’s not a text message, it’s an email. Her resignation letter. She says she will clean out her desk after some days. She didn’t fail to wish him luck for the end of the trial though. And finally the day comes, Jacob is proven innocent in front of law. The Barber Family is happy. Jacob hugs Andy and Andy feels good, he has been so stressed about this case, so much has happened during this time, finally all their efforts have been successful.

A series of “congratulations” and “I knew Jacob was innocent” keep on coming to them. Even though most of these people weren’t even beside them during the actual troubled time. Jacob doesn’t want to look back, neither do Andy and Laurie.

Andy receives a text. It’s Y/n “Congratulations, take care” Andy is about to call her when Jacob calls him and asks him they should go out for dinner to celebrate.

It has been two weeks. Y/n is looking for a new job. She didn’t go herself to collect the things from the office, requested a friend to go on her behalf. She too needs a fresh start. She makes her self some coffee and goes through some job openings.

A knock on the door. It’s Andy. “Can I come in please? Please.” She steps away from the door and he comes in. Andy doesn’t wait any time and gives her the paper in his hand. Divorce papers. Signed by both. “Before you say something, Jacob suggested the divorce. I love my son the most and always will, but things are different between me and Laurie. We all sat down together and had a talk and he suggested us getting a divorce before we even said that we were planning to. I was so proud to see how my son has grown so matured. He said he loves us both and he realizes that us staying together won’t make either of us happy and he wants us to be happy.” Y/n couldn’t stop her tears this time. Andy rushes closer to her takes her smaller hands in his. “Look at me please.” She does, still sobbing. “I know you deserve better, but if you give me a chance I promise I will do my best to make you happy. You make me so happy you have no idea. You feel like home Y/n. I love you so much.” She hugs him, she cannot control anymore. “I love you Andy,” Andy wraps her tightly, brings her as close as possible. She pulls apart and he wipes the tears with his thumbs. “I just didn’t want to be the reason to break your marriage. I want you to be happy.” He kisses her forehead. "I know sweetheart, I know. But you didn’t break my marriage, it was already broken, for quite some time, the recent incidents just gave me a chance to realize that. I was broken too, but you fixed me.” She looks up at him. “You make me feel so safe Andy, you feel like home too.”

He kisses her softly on the lips and both of them smile against each other’s lips. They are home, finally.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[liptonsbabe]

Birthday

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Reader’s mad at Sirius ‘cuz he forgot her birthday. Something normal in him. Now he has to apology somehow

Word count: 1.6 k

Warnings: none(?

Same note as ever. English not my mother language. Tell me if something’s wrong pls

You were very excited, you could not camouflage your joy even if you tried to do so. The next day would be your birthday and you felt very happy about that. it would be your first birthday with Sirius as a couple and you were fully convinced that would be great. You left the Gryffindor common room in the way of the great hall to meet your best friends and your boyfriend. You greeted everyone with an effusive kiss on the cheek and Sirius with a kiss on the lips. Everyone looked at you confused

"What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing, we were waiting for you for breakfast" James replied raising his eyebrows looking at you confused

"Oh well, I'm here, let's eat!"

You smiled from ear to ear making James raise his eyebrows even higher

"(Y/N) are you okay?

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, it’s just that you look different. It is weird to see you like this”

You laughed at your friend's comment

"No, no. I'm happy, very very happy. That’s all"

"And why are you so happy, love?" Sirius asked putting an arm around your shoulders. Remus lowered the book he was reading to look at you with a bright smile 

"Well ... let's say that tomorrow is a very special day"

"Oh yeah? Why?"

You ignored Sirius' question. You knew he was joking, he was your boyfriend, obviously he had to know what would happen tomorrow. Maybe he was just pretending so you wouldn't notice the surprise party he was throwing for you or something. Although you had to admit that Sirius knew how to hide that secret perfectly.

"You know why" You flirtatiously winked at your boyfriend and then gave him a kiss on the corner of the lips "Let's have a quick breakfast, we have History of Magic first thing in the morning"

The marauders grunted at the same time. You laughed and then had a well-deserved strawberry cake for breakfast.

The day had passed very tediously. You had done very badly on potions, transfiguration and charms and you assumed it was because you weren't focused enough on the subjects to think about the surprise that Sirius would give you the next day

On your birthday you woke up earlier than usual, quickly put on your uniform while doing your hair a bit, took some makeup and put it on your face, smiled at the little mirror you had on your stool and got out of your room bouncing until you reach the common room.

The place was deserted, you were the first to get up and get ready for the day, you bit your lip and waited for Sirius and the others to come down

It was more than half an hour until Sirius came down to the room still wearing the bottom of his pajamas, since he tended to sleep without a shirt; he rubbed his sleepy eyes and saw you smiling in the common room. He came up to you and kissed you sweetly

“Good morning doll”

“Good morning Sirius”

You waited for a birthday greeting, but it didn't come; Sirius just stood there, next to you looking at you with a lopsided smile. You raised an eyebrow

“You have nothing to say to me?” you questioned. Sirius shrugged

“Like what?”

“Something about ... today”

“Today?”He remarked confused until he seemed to remember something “Ah, yes, can i copy your astronomy homework for today's class? I just didn't have time to do it. James and I had a problem with a couple of Slytherin boys and we completely forgot about it”

You crossed your arms, disappointed

“Sirius, do you know what day it is today?

“Uh ... Tuesday?” He rubbed the back of his neck at the sudden angry tone you used. You shook your head

“Forget it”

Sirius's mouth was left in the middle of a word from your sudden escape. He heard you curse him under your breath and sob, but he couldn't understand why. He dropped into one of the chairs until Remus came jumping down the steps two at a time with a package in his hands.

“Hey, Sirius, have you seen (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, she just leave”

"Oh great," he said smiling. Sirius pointed the package

“What's that?”

“Oh! It's (Y/N)’s birthday present

Sirius jumped up completely scared

“What?!”

“It's a hand knitted sweater. I didn't have a lot of money to give her something better, but I hope she likes it. I did it myself ”he said proudly. Sirius paled

”Oh no. Oh no, shit!”

“What?”

“Remus, you're going to kill me but I forgot (Y/ N)’s birthday

Remus Lupin rolled his eyes holding the package tighter

“I'd be surprised if you didn't. Sometimes I think that you use the obliviate on yourself at night, I have no better reason to excuse your stupidity”

Sirius ran a hand through his long hair

"Help me, please”

“No, i won’t”

“PLEASE!”

“Will you be my slave for a week if I help you?” Sirius stuck his tongue out

“Never”

“I’m sorry for you then. Good luck”

Remus walked towards the portrait and before he left, Sirius stopped him

“Wait! I’ll do it”

“The offer was only valid when I proposed it. Now, solve this by yourself”

Remus strutted out at the great hall. Sirius ran up the stairs to his bedroom so fast that he bumped his little finger on the way up; he cursed his bad luck and put on his uniform as fast as he could

Sirius entered the great hall seeing how Remus and you were sitting together; You were putting on the sweater that Remus had given you over your uniform while smiling at your friend. The sweater was in Gryffindor colors and in the center was a baby lion. Sirius felt a twist in his stomach. He walked up to you and as he walked, he noticed how the greetings were raining down on you in the great hall making him feel bad

It wasn't even two seconds after Sirius sat down on the table when you stood up and left without even looking at him. James clapped him on the shoulder

“Remus has told me everything and you know? I think you are a moron”

“Yes, I know”

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked

“Buy her a gift. A huge one to forgive me”

Remus chimed in

"She doesn't wants an expensive gift, she just wants you to remember the special dates." Sirius frowned.

“You don't know anything about women”

“Well, I know more about your girlfriend than you do” Peter and James laughed ”Look, if you want to give her something, just make sure it’s special

“Yeah, something like ... a necklace or something. Girls like those things”James added.

Sirius nodded

When classes ended Sirius's feet ached from following you through the hallways to apologize. You were ignoring him and Sirius felt very jealous when the boys from other houses greeted you and you thanked them with a smile; he felt terrible that others remembered his girlfriend's birthday and not him.

By that time, Sirius had already found the perfect gift and kept it in a small wooden box that he had gotten thanks to Peter. He hadn't even attended classes to find something you might like; In the end he decided on something very simple. He went to your room and knocked the door

“If you are James, Remus or Peter, come in. If you are Sirius you can fuck yourself"

"Baby please ..." Sirius begged behind the door.

“Don’t “baby please me” That’s not enough!”

“I know, but I've been asking for your forgiveness all day. I feel like a fool”

“Well that's what you are!”

"Love, open the door, please. I promise that if after what I have to say you can’t forgive me, then we will split up and I will walk away from you forever”

Sirius waited for five minutes for an answer. He was about to leave when the door opened. Sirius rushed in and knelt in front of you

“I'm so sorry, princess.I hate myself so much for forgetting such an important day. I'm a monster! I couldn't remember your birthday even if you indirectly told me the other day, I'm a fool. Don’t leave me please. I love you. I love you so much”

"Sirius, stand up" You helped him stand up and he handed you a box

“I bought you something. I know you might not want it after what happened, but I bought it with all the love in my heart”

You took the box and opened it. Your eyes filled with tears.

On the box was half a silver heart with a caption  on the front. Sirius took it between his fingers

“I have the other half. See?” He said taking the pendant out of his shirt. You connected both parts and saw that the caption said: I give you my heart "I carved it myself with my wand. I know it's not a big deal, but ...

You kissed him unexpectedly and then hugged him

“Oh Sirius, it's perfect”

“It is, but not as much as you are”

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

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Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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

Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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

Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

[itsclydebitches]

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

[fanfiction-funtime]

Alexander Vodka lines

I did most of the characters, but some I don't know or genuinely can't think of anything. Hope this is good >-<

Hello: Hey there, your that Traveler fella ain’t ya? Hope I don't owe you copyrights for  the name. Hm? I don’t? Well then, what can I help ya with?

Adventures? Sure why not, I could use the inspiration.

Two names: You’re curious why I have two names? Well it's sort of a thing in Snezhnaya that officers and other high ranking people have two names, like how harbingers do. Since I’m a high ranking member of the Schneznayan authors association, well former member, I have the name “Eis Cay’zar” meaning “ice ruler”. And Alexander Vodka is a pen name. Hm? What's my resistance name and real one? Well now Traveler, a man must have some secrets.

Change of tone: Ah yes, people often find the way I change from more eloquent speech to more casual off putting. Well it's the same reason I wear two sets of clothes: sometimes I feel like looking like an old noir hero, other times I like looking like a new age caped crusader. Sometimes I like sounding high society, other times I enjoy sounding like I’m from Khaen’ria.

How do you know about Khaen’ria: Well I was looking for accents and found out about a place called “New York” or something, a bit of investigation and I discovered everything. My source? That's a secret, ehe.

Good morning: Mornin’ Traveler! What's in the mornin’ paper?

Noon: Lunch time, my favourite time of the day. Let’s go get some pizza, I’m famished!

Afternoon: Almost time to punch out, let's go knock some skulls first.

Night: *yawn* Today was fun, thanks buddy. Get some shut eye, or if you can't come meet me at (wanmin/angels share/the tea house), first rounds on me!

When it rains: I am so glad I got over my fear of contacts.

When it rains(with glasses outfit): Hey can we get under something? I can barely see!

When it stops raining: The smell that comes after rain has always been one of my favorites.

When it snows: Perfect weather to bundle up with a nice hot cup of hot chocolate!

When it stops snowing: Do you ever miss home, Traveler?

About freedom: I warned Barbados, you know that? I knew that as long as he saw it coming, Signora wouldn’t stand a chance. But he just looked at me and said, “good, when I’m gone mondstadt will be truly free of the gods”. That’s a man I’d follow to the depths of the abyss and back.

About Venti: Speaking of Barbados, he’s a great drinking buddy. Me and him knock back a couple hundred rounds whenever I’m in Mondstadt! Course I’m always paying the tab, but I consider it a way of repaying him for making songs about my books.

About Kaeya: The cavalry captain? He’s pretty cool if you ask me, modeled as Rex Mondoleon for the cover of a historical fiction book I made. But I’d still like to know what he’s hiding behind that smile.

About Diluc: Don’t tell him I told you this, but one time I found Diluc after he was hit by an abyss spell that made him drunk. While he was drunk he kept ranting about how sorry he is for kicking out his brother. The poor guy has all that forgiveness in him but he’s too afraid to let it out.

About Jean: The acting grandmaster of the knights is someone truly deserving of respect. She leads by being a good person and earning the respect of her people, and she has never once tried to cover up the mistakes of the knights. In fact if a knight makes a mistake she’ll rush out to fix it. Jean should be the grandmaster, not that crooked old bastard.

About Lisa: Lisa was my first friend in Mondstadt. She mailed me about getting copies of my books into the Mondstadt library, I said I’d do a signing to promote a new one, one thing led to another and now we have tea every ninth day of the month.

About Rosaria: Don’t tell anyone, but I’m very sure she’s a vampire. A nice one, but still.

About Barbara: Awe that little doll? I once saw her kill multiple fatui because they threatened some sick and injured travelers. So I think she’s a great person, takes compassion to save lives and guts to handle taking them as well.

About Bennett: Bennett? Yeah I know him, nice kid. He likes my books but kept breaking them, so now I make special enchanted ones so he can’t break them even if he tried.

About Razor: The guardian of wolvendom? He’s a weird one alright, but he’s not a bad guy. I taught him how to read and write.

About Fischl: That crazy kid? I don’t care what everyone else says, she’s nice. People need to learn to just leave people alone, she’s not hurting anyone with her persona.

About Noelle: You will never find someone more dedicated too...well anything than Noelle is too the knights and her training.

About Klee: Klee and I are great friends! Nothing is more stimulating than massive explosions!

About Amber: She always has interesting stories to tell, like one time where she got rid of some bandits by making a dummy merchant cart filled with explosives! Or the time she had to help a kid get her pet giant snake out from the cathedral!

About Zhongli: Heh, he thinks he’s slick, but I know he’s Rex Lapis. Gotta say I kinda hate him for just giving up his gnosis, however he did it to free his people so I can’t be mad.

About Ninnguang: Never much cared for economics because I don’t know much about ‘em, so I can’t say anything about her business sense. But I can say that she’s a great leader who puts her people first.

About Keqing: Haven’t talked to her enough to know much, but she’s dedicated to her people and that's enough for me. Her dislike of blind faith in the gods is definitely enough to make me want to get to know her better though.

About Qiqi: Qiqi’s a nice kid, I don’t care what anyone says her being a zombie doesn’t make her bad.

About Baizhu: Snake man? Nice guy, helps me be accurate in my books. Always worry about him though, one hot breeze and he’s out like a light.

About Xingqiu: Xingqiu always tries to hide his good deeds, and while I can respect anonymity I can’t let a hero go unsung. So I’ve written multiple short stories about him using a different name, and put in the beginnings that it’s based on a true story.

About Chongyun: His popsicles are great inventions, I’ve played around with the idea a bit and made flavored ones. So far I’ve got strawberry and grape down and am working on this weird fruit called a..Banananana? I think?

About Beidou: Captain Beidou is so cool! She tells me stories about her journeys out to see and I write about them, but after seeing her in action I can’t really say that I do her justice.

About Kazuha: Kazuha has suffered so much, yet he refuses to give up and curl up away from the world when he so easily could. I have immense respect for him.

About Xianling: You’d be surprised at how good slime and boar tusk can be.

About Xiao: I’ve written down many myths and legends of the yaksha, but sadly I've never seen him in person.

About Verr Goldet: Oh she’s great company! Good business sense, and always polite.

About Gorou: Many people rightly attribute the Resistance’s survival and victories to general Kokomi, but it’s wrong to say general Gorou isn’t a brilliant strategist. He knows how to rally his men against impossible odds, and how to keep them standing against them. I’d follow general Gorou into battle any day.

About Ayaka: Ayaka seems so lonely, I hope when this is all done she can have some form of social life.

About Thoma: Thoma’s as cool as he seems. He always has a level head, and solves problems smoothly and without issues.

About Yoimia: KABOOOM!

About Kokomi: One time I was doing an interview of her excellency, to boost morale and draw new members. I intended on asking for her autograph, only for her to ask for mine! I’ve been riding that high for a while now and still ain’t come down.

About Signora: I hate fatui, but without that she has some good qualities: most of her power is her own unlike most other harbingers, and she’s a sharp dresser. Plus she’s actually justified in her choice to join the fatui, not excused, but isolation can justify many crimes in my book. But no matter what I can’t forgive her. She attacked my friend without a chance for him to fight back, and was unfairly cruel. Nothing can justify that, and I will not forgive her as long as she remains unapologetic for her cowardly cruelty.

About Childe: Fatui are scum, but Childe’s probably the best of them: he personally tries to keep civilians and the weak out of fatui business, and he’s only in it to make sure his family lives well. He also is powerful on his own, but most of his strength is the Tsaritsa’s well deserved gifts. Still though, he’s just a single stressful day from losing all his morals. I can’t leave the fate of my homeland to a madman like him, not unless he gets therapy.

About Scaramouche: Scaramouche...that bastard, it’s been five years and he still owes me 30,061 mora.

About the Fatui: The fatui are really just people who are lost or genuinely believe they’re in the right, and while I can sympathize and respect many of them I can't agree nor can I just stand by and watch. The grunts usually aren’t that bad, honestly they’re more like underpaid graduates new to the workforce, but the fighters you see daily? Almost all of them are scum no better than raiders, and debt collectors are the worst of them because they’ll do anything they can to scam you out of everything in their contracts.

About us-commissions: You know, if you’d like to commission a biography it’s 100 mora per ten pages.

About us-inspiration: You’re a font of inspiration for me, ya know that?

About us-fellow rebels: I’ve been with ya enough to know that this path you’re on, the one to find your sis/bro, you’re fighting against something far beyond my ability to deal with. I won’t abandon you, I’ll be here every step of the way.

About us-friends: We’ve been through a lot pal, I’m glad to call you my friend. Please, call me my rebel name: it’s Belgrade, named after the city where some very brave men took their last stand against oppression.

Hobbies: Well you have reading and writing, otherwise? Can't think of anything.

Favorite food: Grilled tiger fish, come get it while it’s hot!

Least favorite food: I really wanna try it, but I can’t have almond tofu. Or any nuts. Closes my throat right up.

Something to share: Hehe, I got embarrassing dirt on all the harbingers. Signora? She has a Tsaritsa body pillow. Scaramouche? He knits sweaters for his pet pig, cute but he hates letting people know. And Childe? Hoo man, the pics I’ve got on him have put a pretty mora on my head.

About me: Hey have you seen my dice? I wanted to teach the mondstadt kids how to play them...hm? What?! No, not gambling! It’s, uh, a tad embarrassing...h-hey look! Literally anything else, let's pay attention to it!

About me II: Alright! These rolls are great, can’t wait to use them next game. I’m so proud of Fischl, so young yet so imaginative. She’s already-ah! T-traveler! What are you doing?..

You know I’m the one meant to be learning the secrets here.

About me III: Back in Snezhnaya, everyone looks down on things that don’t “conform” where even the most rigid of nations like Inazuma have stopped caring. Adults can't play games, men can’t wear dresses, can’t even have a “weird” sense of humor. No laws against it, but being outcasted is...it’s not good…

About me IV: I wish I grew up in Mondstadt. The kids there are so free to be themselves, and the adults aren’t pressured to be nothing more than working hands. It’s not perfect, after all people are rude to Fischl and Benny for being “different”, but it’s better that’s for sure.

About me V: Hey traveler...this is...no it’s not embarrassing. You’re my friend and I have no reason to be embarrassed by wanting to enjoy time with you! Fischl’s going to run a pen and paper dice game, ever played one? It’s super fun, you get to be anything you want really, and it’s a great way to bond.

You will? Great! I’ll help you make a character!

Alexander’s troubles: It’s so hard to find publishers these days. Noone wants an actual plot, they just want twist after twist. What’s up with that?! Shock value is no substitute for characters you love living fulfilling lives.

Happy birthday: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday you crazy bastard, happy birthday to you! Seriously pal, you put yourself in harm's way every day it seems, we literally met when you were fighting an actual god! Actually, know what? No danger all day! We’re wrapping ourselves in blankets and just relaxing!

Feelings about ascension-intro: woah, somethin’ feels different. I like it!

Feelings about ascension-building up: man, I’m feeling inspired all of a sudden! Hey traveller, give me a prompt!

Feelings about ascension-climax: HA! I don’t know what high I’m riding but I like it, I just finished writing a whole book series!

Feelings about ascension-conclusion: WOO! YEAH! ULRICH MIKAEL KEEPS WINNIN’!-I-I meant Alexand-ah forget it, I’m feelin’ too good to care!

OCs:

About Louis: That crazy inventor guy from Fontaine? I heard he got used by the fatui, damn shame that. Noone deserves to have their heart played with like that.

About Spritefather: You ever heard of Spritefather? I’ve only heard legends, but the fanmail I keep getting tells me that sometimes things are only legendary until someone writes them down.

About the Storytraveler: There’s this woman who travels from universe to universe to fix things, she’s in Teyvat right now. You should meet her, really nice person. But her powers are a bit weird, why does she transform like that? It takes so much time!

_____________________

Tagging: @love-psxlm, @storytravelled, @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos

[hedonisthierophant]

The Dead Man in the Mirror

Hi everyone, (it feels funny saying that when I imagine that the amount of people who will read this is probably in single digits.)

Here is my first fic for The Devil All The Time. It’s an introspective piece, exploring Arvin’s psyche. I’d love feedback, bonus points if you can guess what I’ve been watching lately that was somewhat of an inspiration for this. I owe the courage to both write and post this to @ill-skillsgard. I dedicate this piece to her and to @sophie-writes-for-arvin-russel who inspired it, I hope you both like this. Enjoy!

Warnings: disassociative identity disorder, blood, violence, mentions of suicide.

Length: 2K

The Dead Man In The Mirror

His father seemed to fight the devil all the time. Growing up, his father Willard had always been Arvin’s hero. His father was big, strong,  incredibly handsome, a fearsome protector, his love existed but it was distant and could be cold. His mother…well his mother’s very nature seemed defined by her ephemerality. She had been kind, gentle, quietly beautiful, wonderfully nurturing…and gone too soon. If his mother had been the life-giving spring with its gentle time to grow, his father was the harsh winter that demanded that Arvin mold himself into something different if he was to survive. When he went out with his father he could perfectly go through the motions of the lessons he was being taught but Willard somehow knew that Arvin wasn’t really learning them for himself, merely copying, the same was true of his mother, when given an example he could put on an impeccable performance of the polite and humble young man she was attempting to raise, but she too realized that she was only taking in a show. Without either of their examples to follow Arvin was simply still, empty like a mirror left alone in the dark with nothing to reflect. Arvin supposed that made him the autumn, a product of two stronger forces with the redeeming qualities of neither. People like autumn because it’s not too much of this, or that. To him, being autumn was simply the absence of being. In the stillness of autumn as the world prepares to slumber people often use the ensuing quiet and peace as a reprieve to find themselves. For Arvin though, there was nothing to find. He was empty. In the in-between where his mother’s lessons intersected with his father’s they agreed on only a single point. That Arvin must find himself and discover who he was or other people would take advantage of his emptiness and use him as a vessel waiting to be filled. He wouldn’t find out how correct they had been until much later.

           In the end the cancer itself may have only struck down his mother, but it defeated both his parents. Charlotte only knew how to deal with problems that were like weeds, insects, or disease in her beautiful garden, they could be plucked and pruned, treated with this remedy or that, Arvin remembers that she used to sing to her plants. In the absence of treatment all his mother’s ways were useless against the sickness devouring her. His father was a warrior through and through, once pointed in the direction of a solution there was no stopping him. It is how he had solved the problems of the battlefield and Arvin would learn much later that he had solved their housing situation the same way. The thankless unforgiving work of the slaughterhouse was simply another battle to be fought. In the absence of an enemy combatant, Willard was powerless. Cancer was an intangible, intransigent enemy. Charlotte lost ground to it every day, and there was nothing her devoted soldier could do to help. That desperation birthed the prayer log, a place where in Willard’s mind, he would focus all of his devotion and manifest a miracle for his beloved. Arvin, ever the mirror, was expected to reflect Willard’s zeal in order to amplify their call to heaven. In a detached sort of way his father’s suicide made sense to Arvin. The great soldier had finally lost a battle, and doctrine dictated that under no circumstances was he to allow himself to be taken alive in event of defeat. Slitting his throat from ear to ear in an inadvertent grotesque parody of the smile Arvin had been longing to see grace his lips had simply been only available recourse.

Arvin used to stare into the mirror for hours on end when he was young, he could see his mother’s fine features and soft caring eyes easily enough but from the moment he was old enough to compare he felt he was lacking because he didn’t see any of his father’s face in him, let alone his strength or determination. When Charlotte fell ill Arvin didn’t look in the mirror anymore, this was not by choice for he dearly would’ve liked to continue his nightly ritual of self-analysis, if only to take his mind away from his mother for a while and even more so as an escape from the burdensome log. His mother had insisted that they cover the mirrors as she grew weaker. His father ever the dutiful soldier, glad to be given a mission to accomplish, saw to it as nearly as soon as the words left her pale, trembling lips. Her faint wish was executed zealously as though it were an order from an empress, or an angel’s command ringing down from on high. Willard flew to the general store as fast as their battered truck carry him and returned with the heaviest sheets young Arvin had ever seen. Not one for any half measures ever, Willard affixed sheets to every mirror in the house tying the edges with impenetrable serpentine knots he learned in the war. On the inside Arvin wailed at the loss, as though he were being deprived of the priceless treasure as opposed to a simple chance to look himself, but without a physical mirror to ground him, he became lost in a spiral of self-doubt and could think of himself as only a pale reflection of his parents. Outwardly however he said nothing, his face betrayed none of his turmoil, for that was one of the mandates of winter. All these years later Arvin still asks himself why reflections were banished from their home, he thinks perhaps that not even his mother could stand the sight of her radiance fading away, day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.

Young Arvin tried to defy this edict once when he was starving for a reminder that he himself was alive. He snuck the smallest mirror in the house, a relic of a bygone age when his mother had wistfully mentioned that she wished to have a mirror to do her makeup in. His father had driven six hours next day and returned with a luxuriously polished and impossibly bright mirror from a department store in Cleveland and placed it on his mother’s dresser before she even awoke. Armed with a dull butter knife that had long since lost its luster for there was no one around to cook anymore, Arvin’s clumsy child’s hands sawed ineffectually at the Gordian knot separating him from just the smallest reassurance that he was a person. The punishments of winter were cruel, but purposeful…this would be of rather cold comfort to Arvin. His father opened the door to his room and saw what he was attempting to do, coldness came over his face as though his exquisite mien had been frozen into a perfect ice sculpture of emptiness. He approached with the inevitability and weight of a blizzard, that would bear down upon Arvin’s small, desperate, perpetually inadequate frame. There was a cold precision to the pain inflicted upon Arvin. The worst punishment, assigned to his hands, for they had been the instruments of his sin, was dealt first. He was force to immerse them in ice water for an hour, Arvin begged and pleaded, his tears melting with the instrument of the sanction placed upon him. Through piteous groans and screams and cries, and apologies and promises made all the more earnest by suffering the ice in his father’s face did not crack, but the moment the timer rang his father lifted his hands from the ice and began to dry them showing a tenderness that was rare for him. After enduring the loss of feeling in his hands Arvin was stripped and made to go outside and select a willow switch, Arvin had thought he might never feel warm again but the heat of shame proved him wrong. He was beaten with an almost… tender precision, in all things his father was in absolute control of himself and the application of justice is no different. The lashings never broke the skin never left too serious a bruise and his face and what lay between his legs were spared. The morphine held his mother under its powerful spell and his screams never reached her. Afterward Willard helped Arvin dress and gently held him in his arms before carrying him away to bed and tucking him in. The moment the door shut quietly behind him and there was enough distance between him and his son’s sniffling breaths the ice that held Willard melted his body shook with silent sobs as tears sprang from his eyes and mixed with the vermilion blood on his hands as he knelt to pick up shards of glass from the petite mirror he had shattered for daring to remind him of happier times.

The day those boys had cornered Lenora, forced her to her knees and thrown a bag over her head Arvin tried to say a prayer in his mind as he was surrounded and kicked, but it wasn’t the Lord who answered, something inside Arvin had. For the first time in his insecure, anxious, people pleasing existence, Arvin was filled with a sense of confidence. Something had finally risen and filled the emptiness inside of him. In his current situation there was nothing even this mysterious force that had brought certainty to him at last could do, but  it knew all it would have to do was wait for the right time. The presence became a constant companion in Arvin’s life, he saw a tire iron at work and the voice whispered to him tales of vengeance for him and his sister. The day he ambushed the boy on the bus and beat him with a tire iron the voice roared in approval, Arvin as he was before wouldn’t even have had the strength to lift the iron deal such vicious blows but he was possessed of someone or someone else’s strength. Later when he attacked the boys in the garage bringing the hood of a car down on one of their heads and beating the others the voice whispered that it was proud of him and a shiver ran up his spine.

The day he came home and found Lenora hanging in the shed the voice let out an unholy scream and Arvin was overcome with the sense that he’d come home to something like this once already and couldn’t bear another, even though that was impossible. What happened to his father had felt…different. When he confronted preacher Teagardin the presence took over his lips and made him whisper of dark, sexual things, urges that were not of the Lord to lure the predator into a false sense of security. When he shot the hypocritical holy man who had dared to abuse Lenora, whom he’d failed to protect the voice was elated whispering all sorts of praise that echoed in Arvin’s ears. As he struggled to catch his breath and come back to himself afterward in his car something about the situation struck him is familiar, more than déjà vu it was as though he had lived this already. The voice had snarled at the couple that had picked him up as he hitchhiked to Knockemstiff, the cold certainty that these people meant him harm came over him though the source of this feeling was not Arvin. After he had slain them the voice whispered that it had been vindicated and the photograph he’d come into possession of was proof that they were not righteous. When he confronted Lee Bodecker he was out of his depth, crouched behind a rock as bullets flew around him, the voice urged him to surrender to it promising that it had the strength and knowledge to help him face this challenge, but that he had to surrender control. Desperate and afraid Arvin agreed. He rose with the stance of someone who had seen battle, dodging from cover to cover as though he’d done it a hundred times, his fear had evaporated as though he dealt with this sort of situation regularly, the forest around him started to blur and the trees became something akin to those he’d seen in pictures of the South Pacific instead of familiar West Virginia Pines. He wielded the gun expertly and struck down the sheriff, the voice was quiet.

Before Arvin left, Earskell had said “I ain’t seen a look in anybody’s eye like that since your Daddy died.” He’d attempted to say goodbye to his grandmother before his courage had deserted him. He knew in his heart that her mind was beginning to go but she’d clutched his face close to hers, her venerable hands trembling. Her last words to him had been “Oh my dear Willard, you look so handsome.” There had never been any mirrors in the house in Knockemstiff, his grandmother held that they were objects of vanity and portals to sin, so Willard left not knowing what she’d seen in his face that had confused her.

As Arvin settled into the back seat of the hitchhiker’s car, he asked him where he was going. He glanced up and gazed into the rearview mirror. His father’s impossibly alluring face, arctic as ever, stared back at him. His voice is not his own when he answered: “well there’s a lot of no good sons of bitches out there, and I aim to get right with ‘em.”

[collecting-stories]

Cat | Daryl Dixon

A/N: This popped in my head the other day, I’m not entirely sure why. Basically I would be such a wuss in the apocalypse. 

///

“I had this textbook,” you mumbled, lifting the dust-covered, decaying copy of Interplay. “In hindsight I definitely regret spending $96 on this. Though I don’t regret the loans I never have to pay back.”  

“Wouldn’t know.” Daryl replied, continuing to shift through drawers in the kitchen of the house you were scavenging.  

“Lucky you,” you replied, “I worked at a bar down the street from my house, real shitty place, and my dad would be like ‘you’re wasting your life just doing nothing’.”  

“Thought you just said you were in college.”  

“Oh yeah, but I wasn’t gonna tell him that. Best to let him have the least expectation.” You replied, “kinda mad I didn’t get to gloat when I graduated.”  

Daryl hummed and continued on his task, leaving you to thumb through the old textbook. There wasn’t much in the house worth saving and that had been the case at the other three houses you’d ransacked already. Hardly anything worthwhile now.  

You tossed the text and moved on to the upstairs, passing the master bedroom and going into what appeared to be an kids room. From the few posters covering the wall you could tell that it was the outgrown childhood room of whoever owned that textbook. There were a few decent books on the shelf by their bed and you helped yourself to two. The Secret Garden and A Little Princess, children’s books surely but favourites.  

“I feel like I’m in one of those crime shows where they investigate like, what happened to the family.” You commented as Daryl’s footsteps sounded on the staircase.  

He appeared in the door way, bag weighed down with the supplies he’d managed to find (he was better at choosing necessity over luxury). “They turned into walkers. Case solved.”  

“You’re no fun Daryl.” You replied, crouching to look beneath the bed.  

Your joking nature dissipated Immediately and you stumbled back, falling onto your back with a yelp. You covered your mouth with your hands and could already feel tears threatening when Daryl moved over to look under the bed. There had been three walkers in the house when you found it and he’d killed all three of them himself after instructing you to wait outside. You’d even stepped over their rotting corpses on your way through the kitchen.  

“It’s just a cat.” Daryl stated, looking back at you, perplexed.  

Under the bed was a cat, partially eaten. You stood quickly, and wiped at your face, “I’m going outside.”  

Outside wasn’t necessarily safe but you went out anyway, letting the screen door shut behind you as you stepped onto the small back porch. A vegetable garden was overgrown, you had already cut what was needed to regrow the plants at the prison. Daryl gave the rest of the upstairs a proper sweep, checking for anything else and nabbing some prescriptions from the medicine cabinet. When he finally came outside you were still there, sitting on the porch steps, eyes still a little red. You had cried more while you were alone.

“It was just a cat.”

“Thanks that’s really helpful.” You snapped, standing up.  

“Hey, hey,” Daryl moved down the stairs, putting himself in front of you.  

You made sure not to look at him, “I just don’t like seeing dead animals, makes me sad.”  

“Same as a deer or a rabbit, ya been out hunting with me.” Not voluntarily, only to look for wild plants you knew were edible.  

“That’s different. It’s just. It doesn’t know that something is wrong, it just thinks it still has owners that love it. Makes me sad, that’s all.” You replied.  

“Sorry,” he replied after a moment, clearly unsure of what else to say.  

You shrugged, “least you killed the walkers that ate it.”  

“Come on,” Daryl said, taking the bag from your shoulder, “we got enough.”

You didn’t argue with Daryl, only followed him back to the bike so that you could take what you’d found back to the jail. The absolute horror that you’d felt at the sight of the cat diminished into embarrassment on the way home. Running through your head were all the thoughts that you decided Daryl must have about the whole situation. He would probably tell Rick that you weren’t fit to go out on runs or even go out hunting with him. Maybe he would suggest leaving you to menial tasks that kept you inside. Everyone would find out that you lost your cool over a simple house cat that meant nothing. You’d be the person who cried over a cat but who had no problem killing people.  

You sat with your anxiety all evening, through unloading the supplies, through dinner, through chores before bed. When you woke up in the morning that anxiety had manifested into guilt that demanded you find, and apologize to, Daryl. It was odd to say, considering his usual demeanor throughout the time that you had known him but you knew that Daryl wouldn’t be judgmental and that alone made you feel like you needed to apologize to him.  

He was already up that morning, which didn’t surprise you at all. He was dressed and sitting at one of the outdoor tables, fixing the bands on his crossbow. It was too late in the morning for him to be planning a hunt but he could be going to check the traps, he usually checked and cleaned his weapons before he went out.  

“Daryl,” you were never entirely good at starting conversations but you tried to push through, walking around the picnic table so that you could see him.  

“There ya are,” he said, as if he’d been looking for you, “I’m heading out to check the traps if ya wanna come.”

“Really?” You asked, unable to hide the surprise on your face at the invitation.  

“Yeah, why not?” He asked, looking you over skeptically as if there was something wrong with you that would make you question him. Ever since the first time Rick had assigned you to check the traps with Daryl the two of you had been going out there together.  

You felt yourself shrink a little under his scrutiny, “well, just cause of yesterday. Thought you wouldn’t want me out there making a mess like I almost did before.”

“Ya ain’t done nothing wrong yesterday.” He replied, “just got spooked.”

“Yeah but my getting spooked could’ve gotten us killed!” You snapped, frustrated with his ease at forgiving you, “what if I’d screamed and there had been walkers around?”

“Wouldn’t a let anything happen to ya.” He insisted, unbothered by your outburst. “So, ya coming with?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” You nodded.  

-

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[arandompostarchive]

SALEM - Ch. 12

SAVED WORK

Summary: In all the centuries of your existence, you had never been dragged out of hiding by another god, put in a superhero team and forced to save the universe. But it seems your luck has run out.

_____________

***

8 Days Left

Your letter was currently in a glass box with metal plating on Tony’s desk and he was running every code imaginable to break whatever lock you had on it. He heavily suspected it was some sort of magic. Something not yet explained by science. If magic were explainable by Earth’s scientific laws, well. Then it’d just be science.

But whatever this was. It wasn’t something he’d seen before. Something humans haven’t quite figured out yet. But hey, he’s solved a lot by just trying so, what the hell. Why not.

Unfortunately, trying didn’t seem to be working this time, and the box had sparks flying out of it before he even finished the last line of code.

“Shit.” He slumped back in his seat and Bruce sighed from across the lab.

“Tony, maybe you should just give up on that. We might still have to fight Ker, you know.” Tony nodded. He was right, of course. Wherever you were, he still had to prepare like there was a battle coming.

“Give me one more try.” He said, brushing his fingers under his nose.

He picked up a screwdriver and tightened some of the metal plates on the outside of the glass. It was more of a thrown together device. But he didn’t know how long he had to build something. If you thought it would take more than two weeks, you probably would’ve given yourself more time.

After what turned out to be three more tries, he heard stumbling outside his lab’s door. Bruce looked up from where he was working on the other side of Tony’s lab.

From the other side of the room, he heard “Uh, Mr. Stark? Can someone open the door?” Then some sort of metal hit the ground before the door slid open on its own. Peter smiled, “Oh. Thanks, Friday.”

She responded with a “No problem, Peter.” Before Peter took a few steps in, placing the box he was carrying on a nearby table. He went back to pick up a small piece of metal on the floor and Tony went to examine the box.

“What are you doing here, kid? It’s gotta be 2 am, at least.”

“Actually it’s 4 am,” Peter said.

“Well, that’s worse.” He picked up a few spare wires from the box and set them down on the table below.

“Mr. Stark, I was thinking.”

“Always a good thing to do, I suppose,” Tony said, offhand.

“About Y/n.” Peter continued. He took a pause, waiting for Tony’s reaction. The only thing he got was a sigh. Part of Tony wanted to (hypocritically) lecture him about getting some sleep, tell him that Y/n was going to be fine and he and Bruce could handle it. But the other part of Tony knew Peter was an inventor. A young one, but a smart one.

So, after about a minute, he responded, “Okay. Shoot.”

Peter smiled, whispering out a small “Yes!” And Tony smirked a bit.

“Okay, I made a sort of tracker. Kind of. It tracks energy signatures, and I figured we could use some sort of trace of Y/n’s abilities, and track it.”

Tony glanced back at the letter. You had clearly used whatever abilities you had on it. (He was never really keen on calling it “magic”, even though that’s exactly what it was.)

Bruce butted into their conversation, “That might work, but if she’s too far I don’t think we could find her with that. I mean, that’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Tony nodded.

“Maybe we just need to use a magnet,” Peter suggested, with a small, very tired smile.

“And you think you made a magnet?” Tony asked, watching Peter’s nod. He recognized the boy’s attitude. It was one he copied himself whenever he stayed up far too late.

Was this what everyone else saw when he was exhausted? He would’ve made some promise to get more sleep (if he thought he’d ever keep it).

“It tracks energy signals and amplifies them. It’ll find her, as soon as she uses her abilities it’ll amplify the signal and track her, simple.”

“Across the universe?” Bruce walked close to the pair, trying his best to chose his words carefully. “She’s a powerful person, I’m not doubting that. But I don’t think you can track just her across the universe.”

Peter’s smile dropped a bit. As much as Tony wanted to agree with Peter, Bruce had a point.

Peter took a second stumbling over his words as he glanced at the boxed letter on Tony’s desk. “Maybe her and Loki? I’m sure we have something of Loki’s around.” Tony and Bruce glanced at each other. Bruce sort of shrugged, unsure of the answer.

Tony wanted to say no. The answer was probably no. If he couldn’t track Loki last year, why would he be able to now? And tracking you would barely give him any info. He needed to be able to trace an energy signal strong enough that it would show up on radar. Preferably one he already had information on.

Despite all of that, he found himself saying “worth a shot” before he could think it through. He picked up Peter’s makeshift machine. “We’ll have to make a few updates, obviously. But-uh. Not bad. Now go to bed, or I’m taking that suit.” He mumbled, to which Peter nodded, leaving behind the box and a sketch of his design.

It took Tony a few hours to improve Peter’s design. The small, box-sized device was much bigger and had what looked like a satellite dish attached to it. Tony had hooked some of the spare wires up to the glass and metal box containing your letter. Another set of wires was connected to a computer system, tracking your location. He had added one of Loki’s knives that Thor may or may not have stolen from Loki’s room. Something that Loki wouldn’t be happy about later.

He was typing out Peter’s program. He wouldn’t say anything, but Peter was a smart kid.

“You know, Y/n. I think you’d be proud of this one. Well, I’d probably have to explain how tracking works and how this computer functions, but uh. Still.” He said, more to himself than anything else.

He wasn’t sure of the time, but he thought it had to be maybe 8 am? It couldn’t have taken him that long, and he’d probably have to get breakfast with the team soon. He wasn’t excited for Steve’s remarks about how he should get sleep, or stop worrying so much, so he’d decided to get coffee and get out. Once he tried turning the tracker on.

With a few more minutes, Peter’s tracker was up and running. It had taken a sort of scan of the energy you and Loki’s items were giving off and started tracking it… where ever you were.

“Shit. This isn’t working.” Tony whispered under his breath. Not that there was anyone but Friday who could hear him at this point. Bruce finally went to sleep, and he was left in the room alone.

“Friday.” He took a seat and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Yes, Boss. Everything alright?”

Tony shook his head and pick up a screwdriver to fiddle with. “This isn’t a strong enough signal, is there any way to get a better reading?”

“Sorry Boss, there isn’t enough information to do more than tell you which way you should be looking.”

“At least that’s something.”

“It’s a start.”

“Yeah. A start isn’t really what I need right now.”

Tony set down the screwdriver and looked back at his computer.

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” He heard from the doorway. Peter walked in, not looking much different than a few hours ago.

“Kid. Thought I said to get some sleep. It’s been four hours.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s at least 11,” Peter said, looking confused a bit.

“He’s right Boss. It’s 11:32.” He heard from inside the room.

“Who’s side are you on?” He fired back at the AI who didn’t respond this time.

“How’s the tracker working?” Peter looked fairly anxious and he joined Tony at his desk. He settled at Tony’s left side, examining the computer tony had attached to his machine.

“Well, it’s not bad, kid, but we kind of need a stronger signal. These items aren’t exactly great examples of their abilities, and this is a pretty big universe. I have a general direction, that’s it.”

“What about Ker?” Peter asked as if it were obvious.

“What?”

“It tracks energy signatures.” Tony nodded along, waiting for Peter to continue. “ I mean if you need a stronger one Ker spent like two weeks shaking all of Alaska.”

Tony pulled up Ker’s small file they had created anyway. It contained everything about her, including all records of her first few weeks on Earth. That contained every reading he had of her, so he selected her last one. One strong enough to call the Avengers to look into it. He added it to signals to look for and the computer started recalculating.

“Awesome!” Peter got closer to it, observing how it worked with his machine. “It works.” Tony set his hand on Peter’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t need to.

Soon, the computer came up with a location. It certainly wasn’t exact. Couldn’t tell which planet it was from either, but it gave him a much more concentrated idea. Sure, it was probably two or three solar systems worth, but he could do a better job tracking you down with that information.

That is until the computer’s screen went red.

“Sorry, Boss,” Friday said, “Ker’s signal just went dark.”

“What? No, how did that happen? We didn’t touch anything. Nothing’s wrong.”

“It’s a problem from their side, the signal attached to Ker isn’t operating anymore.”

“Is she hurt or something?” Peter asked.

“Well, I haven’t exactly called her recently,” Tony said, trying to fix the issue.

“Boss, I don’t think you can repair this without Ker’s signal,” Friday said, speaking a bit slower than usual.

“Shit,” Peter whispered. Tony sent him a small glare but didn’t say anything else.

“What now, Mr. Stark?” Tony stared at the computer, dragging his hands over his face again.

“Just hope Capsicle’s doing better than we are.”

***

The rest of the team was trying to brainstorm. Mostly about where you were, but “What is Loki up to?” was a good question as well. Steve had gathered them in their common area instead of the meeting area. He figured the team could use a slight change of pace.

Natasha was looking over pictures of Ker’s graffiti.

“For the most part, she only says ‘Doom is rising’ but look, there’s another phrase in a few of these.” She pointed to a small string of words in the corner of one of the pictures.

Rhodey looked over from his sitting position.”’We follow Doom?’” He read aloud.

Natasha nodded. “But ‘doom’ is capitalized.” She paused for a second, looking over the room to make sure everyone understood what she was suggesting. “What if she’s being literal? She’s literally talking about doom.”

Rhodey seemed a bit confused. “Like the god of doom?”

She nodded.

Thor stood up from his seat, “Moros. He’s the god of doom. Ker and Y/n’s brother.” The team exchanged glances with each other.

“Okay, so how do we use that to our advantage?” Clint asked frustratedly. There was no way to prove that idea yet, and without any other information that was basically useless. “Y/n’s the only one who knows these people unless you can tell us more than that.” He gestured to Thor, hoping the god had more to say.

Unfortunately, Thor only shook his head slightly, “Nothing you can’t find out for yourselves. There isn’t much written about him, and she’s never gone into detail about any of her siblings.”

So, the team might know who you’re fighting, have a general idea of where you are and have a reasonable guess of what you’re doing. That’s nothing. Nothing Steve can use, at least. Having a ‘general idea’ doesn’t help mathematical equations. He looked over to Bruce, hoping he had any ideas.

“Tony’s been working on something. It’s a kind of tracker, it’ll be able to give us a good idea of where she is.”

As Bruce was finishing speaking, Tony walked into the room and took a seat next to Natasha.

Steve nodded toward Tony as a greeting before speaking. “Bruce was saying you made a tracker?”

“Yeah, I made a tracker.” Tony raised a cup of coffee to his lips, his sip was small and somewhat slow. Steve would’ve been a lot happier if he couldn’t sense Tony’s sarcastic tone. “I got a location using Loki, Y/n, and Ker. Then Ker’s signal went dark and I lost it.”

Steve couldn’t say he was excited, but he’d have to figure something else out.

“It’s okay. We’ll find something else.”

“Will we?” Tony said, “We have no idea where she is. She left us with a letter we can’t read and basically no information. What am I supposed to do with that? All this tech and I can’t even build something to find her.”

Tony’s voice was just as sarcastic as usual, but just about everyone could hear he was serious. In a strange, Tony Stark way.

The echo of Thunder was heard outside of the windows, a sort of low rumble that managed to break the silence that had slipped into the room.

“Hey, Point Break, you minding losing the dramatics?” Tony snapped.

Thor stared at him, a mixture of confusing and a slight hit of offense was it?

“That was not me, Stark.”

The rumble continued, lasting longer than thunder usually would.

“You sure?” Tony asked again, this time with actual curiosity.

Friday’s voice interrupted Thor’s response.

“Um, Boss. It seems there’s Quinjet prototype 2-D heading for just outside the compound. The one Y/n and Loki took.”

Tony immediately stood up and look out the window and up to the best of his ability. He didn’t see much more than a smoking shadow headed downward.

“C’mon.” He signaled to the team, who all went to suit up, prepared to deal with the worst if need be.

They arrived outside quickly. The ship had crashed into the ground as they were all walking out. As Tony approached, helmet down, the door to the ship opened and he heard shuffling.

Loki stepped out, clutching his side. He managed to walk towards the team. There was blood on his tunic. A dried, dark color. Tony hoped it was his.

Thor went up to his brother, wrapping his arm around him to support him. Loki kept his hand pressed tight to his side, making a fighting effort to stand as straight as he could.

Tony waited for you to walk out. But you never did. You never walked out with a triumphant smile or even a frustrated huff. You didn’t ask if he had ‘anything better to do’ than wait around for you. So he didn’t get to answer ‘no, I spent the whole day worrying’. He didn’t hear your small sarcastic laugh. A sign that whatever happened on your mission, you were okay. In fact, he didn’t hear you at all.

“Where is she?” He asked Loki loudly. Loki didn’t need to ask who he meant. He knew automatically.

“Dead.” The god coldly responded.

***

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Conspiracy (7/10)

Marjan is already calling 911 behind Carlos as he processes the scene in front of him. Tamin is on her feet with a bloody nose, gun extended out in front of her, shaking a little with the adrenaline and pain. But it’s TK who needs help, splayed out on the street in a pool of blood, the back of his shirt soaked with it on the shoulder. As Marjan talks to the dispatcher, kneeling next to TK and putting pressure on the wound, Carlos pushes Tamin’s arms down. 

“Put down the gun, officer,” he orders. “Lower your weapon.”

He helps her sit down and takes the gun from her before radioing dispatch himself.

“Detective Reyes, Homicide, to dispatch.”

“Go ahead, Reyes.”

“I’m at 1517 Union Street, code 444. Male, mid twenties, GSW to shoulder. I have an off-duty paramedic attending to him now, and she’s already called 911, put a rush on that call. I’ve disarmed the officer involved. She has a possible broken nose.”

“Copy that, sending a unit and a bus to you now.”

As much as he hates to do it, Carlos has to cuff Tamin until he knows what happened. She doesn’t look to be in any real medical distress, and there’s no weapon to be seen. Just to be sure, he pats down TK’s body- something Marjan doesn’t appreciate. She shoulders him out of the way. 

“He’s unarmed. He didn’t do anything.”

“He did something if my partner shot him.”

Marjan scoffs and puts more pressure on the wound, even as TK groans in pain. “Yeah, sure.”

Within minutes, the ambulance is there, and Carlos is torn between going with TK and staying with Tamin. In the end, he chooses Officer Tamin, who keeps staring at the blood on the pavement where he was laying. “Hey,” he says. “What happened, Kat?”

“He elbowed me in the face,” she answers. Her voice sounds hollow. “Then he tried to run. I told him to stop and he didn’t.”

“He was running away when you shot him?”

She doesn’t answer. 

Her union rep arrives with the unit to officially arrest her- Carlos can’t, not when they’re close. They take her away, and Carlos is left to go to the hospital, having gotten the address from the paramedics before they left. He has to talk to TK about this. Find out why he was running. Why he hit Tamin. Where he was going. But when he arrives, it’s not shocking that the whole 118 is there. Except Mateo. That’s worrying. He texts one of the other homicide detectives to keep an eye on Mateo before going into the hospital room.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Judd tells him. He stands protectively between Carlos and TK. “You’re the reason he got shot.”

“I’m not the one who did it.”

“Doesn’t make it not your fault.”

Carlos doesn’t have a response to that. Luckily, he doesn’t have to, because TK makes a distressed noise from his bed and all the focus is back on him. He’ll probably be fine. It was a clean shot through, hit no vital organs. Nothing to worry about. Carlos has been shot like that before, and within a few months, he was back at work without a problem. 

He bullies his way past Paul and Michelle to get to TK’s bedside, which makes his face curl up in anger despite how exhausted and pale he is. “You tell her to shoot me?”

“What? I wouldn’t-”

“You need to leave,” Marjan says firmly and shoves him hard enough to make him stumble.

This isn’t the place. It isn’t the right choice. He’ll only make things worse. But this is the chance Carlos needs to get some serious leverage against someone who was actively involved in the murder as opposed to a bystander like Mateo. Carlos does what he thinks is best. 

“Put your hands behind your back.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Judd shoves him too. “Leave her alone, man. Get out of here.”

In answer, Carlos radios for security and grabs Marjan by the shoulder, pulling her closer to him and wrenching her arms behind her back. She stands there and allows it, staring at her teammates as though she’s telling them something.

“Marjan Marwani, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer. You have the right to remain silent…”

He finishes reading her her rights and then turns to Judd. By now, security has arrived, and happily provides him with an extra pair of cuffs to arrest him on the same charge. They even help him take the two down to his car for a ride to the station. Finally, he might be getting somewhere. Finally. But that doesn’t negate the look on TK’s face or the way they keep whispering to each other behind him no matter how many times he tells them to be quiet. This has to work. If he doesn’t solve this, TK was shot for nothing, and Tamin’s career could be over. 

A couple of uniformed officers bring Judd and Marjan in for him, placing them in separate interrogation rooms. Carlos sends another detective in to talk to Judd while he goes to see Marjan. She’s still. Watching him. Waiting for him to make the first move, like this is a chess match and not a murder interrogation.

“You can go to jail for a year,” Carlos tells her, “for putting your hands on me.”

“You deserved it.”

“Like Captain Strand deserved to die?”

She tilts her head to the side. “He did.”

“And you were part of that, right?”

“I’m not confessing.”

Carlos wishes he could just make her admit it. Admit she did something wrong. Admit she planned and carried out murder. Admit that she did something. 

“I know you want to protect your family, and you want to protect yourself. I get that. I do. But this isn’t going to go away, and I promise, it will be so much easier on all of you if you just tell me the truth about what happened. I know that Captain Strand did awful things to Mateo and TK, and that’s- that’s grounds for a good defense. You don’t have to get the death penalty, or even life in prison, Marjan, if you just talk to me.”

“I’d rather die.”

He sighs and tries a different approach. Something has to get through to her. It has to. 

“We know Michelle is the one who cut him open.” 

Marjan raises an eyebrow at him. 

“And we know you’re the one who castrated him. Did Captain Strand ever do anything to you, Marjan?”

“Not to me.”

He’s not getting anywhere with her. “But you know he abused Mateo and TK. Didn’t that make you mad?”

“Of course it made me mad. I wanted to kill him for what he did to them! There’s no excuse for that, I mean, he just- I can’t believe anyone would do that, especially to their own son, and he- he deserved everything he got. He deserved it!”

When she’s finished, Carlos just stares at her. It seems to register what she’s just said, and she sinks back in her chair, defeated. She knows what she’s said. But she’s not going to let someone else take the fall for it, Carlos can see it in her eyes.

“I did it by myself,” she says.

“No you didn’t. The forensic evidence shows there were at least two other people involved, and TK had to have given you his key. It’ll be easier if you tell me who was with you. I already know, but it’ll be better if you tell me.”

“Rot in hell.”

Carlos slides a notepad and pen to her across the table. “Write down everything that happened. How you got into Captain Strand’s apartment, how you killed him, how you got the blood off you. Everything.”

She picks up the pen and mouths a prayer, but before she puts the ink to paper, the door of the interrogation room opens. “Reyes.” 

He steps out while she begins to write, and asks what’s going on once the door is safely shut. 

“Ryder just confessed. Implicated Marwani, TK Strand, and the paramedics in the murder. You should talk to him.”

That’s a shock. But it’s a good thing. It means this case is almost over. “Stop Marjan from writing her confession until I hear his side of the story. She’s trying to take the fall for it.”

The other detective takes his place in the interrogation room, and Carlos goes to look through the window at Judd. He has a lawyer with him, a public defender, and he’s staring at the wall with a wet gleam on his cheeks. This can’t have been easy. But it’s a good thing.

@smileofthesun27 @skylark50 @heartofmarjan @chiefsheepbird @ebug2002 @proceduralpassion @cauldronbornkid

[ellesimagines]

That’s my boy!

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: Sweet Pea x fem!reader

Warnings: High school drama, other than that, just fluff

Requested: Yes (riverdale - sweet pea x reader. reader is a northsider and stands up for them and sweet pea won't stop talking about her) (feel free to request something yourself x)

Word count: 2271 words

I do not own the gif, Riverdale or most of the characters mentioned in this story

Hey guys (again)! This is my first imagine. Thanks to the lovely anon for requesting it! I hope it’s how you imagined it. It’s set in 2x10, and I tried to copy the lines they say, but failed a few times. And again, English isn’t my first language, so excuse some mistakes. Hope you enjoy reading it, and I’d love to get some feedback (or more requests)! Also, feel free to send in questions about me if you want to get to know me, or just start a chat with me. I’d love to interact as much as possible with all of you, and this is a perfectly safe zone for you to talk free and to send in all your imagines and fantasies! Lots of love, Elle x

“Friends!”

Veronica’s excited voice rang through the crowded hallways of Riverdale High School. Her lips were lifted to a just as excited smile, as she greeted the newly transferred Southside students to the school.

Y/N’s eyes wandered over the group of leather clad teenagers on the other side of the table Veronica set up earlier this morning. To her, they didn’t look half as dangerous as everyone described them. They might be gang members, but after all, they were just teenagers trying to fit in with a crowd. Like everyone else in this town.

While Veronica went on about all the useful information that she gathered to make their transition as simple and easy as possible, Y/N looked over to Kevin, who’s eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“We encourage each and every one of you to drink deeply from the cup that is fair Riverdale!”, Veronica says to the Southsiders, still smiling brightly at them.

“Stand down, Eva Perón.”

Cheryl’s voice makes Y/N and her friends turn towards the stairs, where the red-head was walking towards them, Reggie and a couple of bulldogs and River Vixens behind the two.

Y/N sighed. Cheryl harassing students was nothing new, she was the self-crowned HBIC of the school, very well known for crushing one or the other self-confidence of fellow student.

“Here we go again”, Y/N muttered to herself, overhearing Jughead say something about the school spirit.

“Cheryl, no one invited fascist Barbie to the party”, Veronica says to Cheryl as she takes a proud stand in front of the group.

“Wrong, Veronica, no one invited Southside scum to our school”, Cheryl tells her. “Listen up, raggamuffins, I will not allow Riverdale High’s above average GPA to suffer from classrooms that are overcrowded with… underachievers. So please, do us all a favour and find some other school to debase.”

Y/N could see the discomfort in the Southside students eyes and the air in the hallway became thicker and thicker with the tension rising.

Y/N was always a quiet student, she was always trying to get a fairly good grade and to just fit in with the rest in an attempt to be nearly invisible to trouble and typical High School drama. She chose extracurriculars in which Cheryl Blossom wasn’t. Because she knew, where Cheryl was, drama was just around the next corner.

But today, however, she felt this urge to take a stand with the Southsiders. They didn’t have a choice after their school was closed, and Cheryl has destroyed enough people’s High School experience.

“They can’t debase this school more than someone who’s father killed his own son”, Y/N said, looking at Cheryl with a straight face, as the red-head turned to the girl slowly.

“What did you just say?”, Cheryl asked Y/N.

“You heard me very clearly, Cheryl. Anyone who looks at Riverdale High for longer than a second will see the real problem here. And that surely isn’t the Southside High students that just transferred, that is some self-centred red-headed bully walking through this High School with a cheer uniform which got HBIC written on it’s back. With such a family background like yours I wouldn’t open this mouth too wide, especially if it’s only senseless crap coming out of it.”

Y/N’s friends looked at her just as stunned as the Southsiders and Cheryl. She never got into a fight or caught up in some drama, she never raised her voice against Cheryl Blossom and never did she use someone’s problems against them.

But she had enough. They all came to this school as no one’s once, and just because Southside High School had a bad image with it’s gangs, drugs and it’s teacher uninterested in teaching, who was to say, that they didn’t want to actually achieve a proper education and go on to do some good in this messed up town? After all, High School was where future’s are made.

“Guys, everyone, can we just put our Northside/Southside differences apart and start over? A new slate?”, Archie asks, moving Cheryl’s attention from Y/N to him.

As Y/N saw Cheryl moving away from her, she let out a breath she didn’t know she held in.

“You don’t speak for the bulldogs, Andrews. And do I need to remind you? These snakes showed up at your place, trying to kick your ass”, Reggie says to Archie.

“Why don’t we finish what we started?”, a tall Serpent asked, taking a step toward Reggie, before he was held back by Jughead.

As Y/N’s eyes rested on him, she couldn’t help but think that he was quite good looking. Tall, broad-shouldered and dark haired. His eyes met Y/N’s for a split second, and as he looked at her, he looked intrigued by the girl. As if she was some mystery just waiting to be solved, preferably by him.

“I’m so over the toxic masculinity in this hallway right now!”, Veronica says, trying to put an end to this feud.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get to class!”, Principle Weatherbee announces, making the groups of students in the hallway split up in different directions.

“Okay, but honestly, who is she?”, Sweet Pea asks his fellow Serpents and friends, as they enter the Whyte Wyrm after school’s over, for the 10th time this hour.

Toni looked back at him with a smirk, well knowing, that Sweet Pea was about to develop a crush.

“Why do you even want to know that? Got a little crush?”, Fangs asked amused, teasing his best friends while wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Shut up”, Sweet Pea says to him, looking at him with threatening eyes. “I’m just asking. We should thank her, she stood up to Cheryl for us.”

Jughead and Toni share a quick glance, before he says: “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s Kevin’s best friend, quiet student, and she never gets into fights. Today sure was a first for her. You really should go and thank her tomorrow, Sweet Pea.”

Sweet Pea looks at Jughead as if he’s about to punch him.

“I can’t believe you guys. I’m just trying to make a good first impression at a better school”, Sweet Pea sighs, falling down on one of the bar stools.

“A good impression? Sorry, buddy, you missed that train. After you nearly punched star football player Reggie Mantle this morning in the hallway, I’m pretty sure that isn’t the way to make a good impression”, Fangs says, shrugging his shoulder at the taller Serpent.

“That was before I decided to start over”, Sweet Pea tells him.

“Sure”, Fangs nods, laughing quietly to himself.

A few hours later, Sweet Pea’s had enough of the constant bickering of his friends. They were trying their best to get Sweet Pea to accept that he’s got a crush on Y/N, but he wasn’t going to budge.

The tall Serpent was fiddling with his phone in a booth at Pop’s, trying to hide the screen from his friends as he looked through Instagram. But he didn’t notice Fangs craning his head to get a better view of his phone.

“Oh god, now you’re stalking her on Instagram! Just text her already!”, Fangs says, nudging his best friend.

Toni and Jughead opposite them were laughing at the two, as Sweet Pea stared at his best friend again.

“Or maybe -”, Fangs began, his eyes wandering towards the entrance of the diner through which Kevin and Y/N walked at the moment, making him smirk, “- you can just go and talk to her right now.”

Confused, Sweet Pea looked around, but Kevin and Y/N have already taken a seat in a booth a bit further away from them. Sighing, Fangs gave his best friend a little push, making Sweet Pea nearly fall off the bench.

“What is your problem, Fangs?”, Sweet Pea asked, annoyed.

“You’re just too proud to accept that you’re crushing on a Northsider. Remember? A new slate. We go to the same school as the Northsiders do now, so go and befriend some. Or do more than just befriend them. Any way, you won’t shut up about her. Ever since school finished, she is the only thing on your mind. If you don’t go and talk to her now, I will do it for you”, Fangs says, motioning towards the booth that Kevin just left to go to the toilet. “There’s your chance to get her alone, buddy.”

Sweet Pea just shook his head furiously at Fangs, but soon enough, Fangs gave him another push, and Sweet Pea was standing up. Sighing, he decided to go and at least thank her, if that means they will shut up about it.

As he got closer to the booth, he saw her looking out of the window, and he hoped he wouldn’t scare her when he would speak up.

“Hey”, he says, and her head turned towards him.

“Hi”, Y/N says, smiling at him genuinely. “Take a seat.”

She motioned for him to sit down opposite her, and he quickly did, hoping to not look too helpless.

“Your name is Y/N, right?”, he asks, and as soon as he says those words, he’d like to punch himself.

Now he looked like a stalker to her.

“Yeah, and your name is?”, she asked him, still smiling.

Sweet Pea thought she was only still smiling to be kind, she must think he’s weird.

“My friends call me Sweet Pea”, he says, giving her a quick smirk.

“Nice to meet you, Sweet Pea. And sorry for the drama earlier. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep up with lots more of that over the next few years at Riverdale High. Cheryl’s ego is just sickening”, she laughed.

“Actually, I came to thank you, for earlier. You know, for standing up for us. Not many people do that, especially not if they don’t know us”, he says, sending her a smile.

“No big deal. Cheryl just had to be told off for once, not exactly my forte, but whatever.”

He smiled at her, not knowing what to say now. Y/N sighed, looking at him apologetically.

“Sorry, I don’t usually stutter while talking”, she says, looking down to her fingers which were fumbling with the fork.

Sweet Pea didn’t even notice her stumbling over her words, he was too concentrated to not sound too nervous himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute”, he says, making her laugh.

You idiot, Sweet Pea thought to himself and rests his head in his hand, sighing.

“I think I should go back to my friends, Kevin should be back any minute anyway, but thank you again”, he says, hoping to make a swift exit, but as soon as he stands up from the bench, she calls out his name.

“Yeah?”, he asks, turning around to her, as she smiles at him again.

God, that smile is going to kill me, he thought.

“Here”, she says, holding out a napkin for him to take.

As he takes it from her hands, their fingers touch for a minute, and that beautiful smile returns onto her lips. Shyly smirking, he looks down on the napkin to find a phone number written on it.

The smile on his lips changed from shy, to proud the moment he looked up to meet her gaze.

“I really hope it’s not too weird of me to just give you my number, assuming you’d want it”, she says, looking at him slightly insecure.

“No, of course not. Did you just write it down or did you have it prepared all along?”, he asks, smirking at her.

“I just wrote it down, it’s not like I’ve got hundreds of napkins in my bag to just hand out to guys who talk to me once, like flyers, I’m not that awkward”, she laughs, her eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, of course, sorry”, he laughs, feeling his confidence falter again.

How could he be so stupid and assume she had it written on that napkin before she came here?

“I’ll text you later, so that you’ve got my number as well”, he smiles, waving at her before quickly walking back to the booth his friends were sitting in, waiting for his return in anticipation.

As he sat down again next to Fangs, he quickly hid the napkin in one of his jeans pockets.

“And?”, Toni asks.

“She gave me her number”, Sweet Pea smiles proudly.

“That’s my boy!”, Fangs says triumphantly, patting Sweet Pea on the back like a proud father.

A couple weeks later, Sweet Pea walked straight past Fangs and Toni as he entered the school, making his best friends look at each other in confusion.

“Hey”, he says, making Y/N slightly jump before closing her locker to look at him.

“Oh god, don’t scare me like that”, she laughs, hitting his chest playfully.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me, babe”, he laughs, pulling her against him to press a kiss to her lips.

She smiled into the kiss, and as their lips separated, he took the books out of her arm and threw his other, free arm over her shoulder before walking her to her next class.

Fangs had a proud smile drawn on his face, while Toni’s expression was blank.

“That was quick”, she says, looking at Fangs next to her.

“Honestly, that wasn’t quick enough. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing she is”, Fangs says, still looking after Sweet Pea and Y/N.

“Good for them, and for you”, Toni laughed.

“I’m so proud of my boy”, Fangs says, turning to Toni, still smiling.

“We both are”, Toni says, patting Fangs on the shoulder, before pushing him towards their shared chemistry class.

--- 

@asongofmarvelanddc

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @moretomhardy!

Read on AO3

******

so show me (i'll show you)

Chapter 1

1

Stiles lets himself into the old, burned-out husk of the Hale house that Derek still refuses to tear down now that he has acquired legal ownership of the property. He doesn't care if he’s going to interrupt something or not. He and Derek are going to have words.

“Derek!”

There is no verbal answer but when Stiles' eyes roam over the staircase again, Derek is standing there, barefoot.

"Ugh, man, I know werewolves are impervious to most diseases, but for my peace of mind, put on some shoes when you climb that death contraption. I don't even want to think about how quickly I'd contract tetanus if I ever set a bare foot on those stairs," Stiles groans.

Derek huffs out what could almost be accepted as an amused grunt if one was listening closely enough. Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at the older man instead of smiling stupidly at him like he kind of wants to every time he catches a glimpse of Derek's ridiculously gorgeous face.

The only response Derek has for that is to copy Stiles by also crossing his arms over his chest and scowling back at him. Stiles concedes defeat to their scowling contest after a few more seconds have passed, sighing as he runs a hand over the hair that is beginning to grow out from his signature buzzcut. Lydia practically begged him to stop scalping himself and let his hair breathe so it could grow into a hairstyle she, Erica, and Allison are all certain will suit him nicely. Stiles honestly doesn't care one way or the other about the state of his hair but after Jackson bribed him with money, it seems that Stiles is now two hundred dollars richer and has thicker hair than before.

"Did you come here for a reason?" Derek asks then sniffs the air, his face twisting in confusion as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"How do you deal with so many teenager werewolves vying for your attention?" Stiles blurts out before Derek can ask about his scent.

Derek's brows furrow together in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Stiles sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. "What I mean is, you're the alpha."

"Yes, Stiles. I am the alpha. I'm glad you can state the obvious," Derek snorts.

"Shut up, let me finish talking first." Stiles glowers at him.

Derek glares at him, breathing deeply through his nose as his stance stiffens. His face twitches with the irritation Stiles knows he evokes within the older man whenever they exchange more than three words between them. He grins, despite himself, glad to know that he can always count on Derek to act as he normally does when it concerns Stiles. Unlike some unruly puppies who devotedly follow after Derek for some strange season.

(Well, not that strange. Stiles knows that he is half the reason the pack is the way it is now, but his point still stands.)

"You're the alpha, so the puppies hang around you a lot. They treat you a certain way and stick to that because you're their alpha. Right?" Stiles manages to explain himself coherently, hoping that what makes sense to him also makes sense to Derek right now.

Puppies, Derek mouths to himself with wry amusement before he meets Stiles' gaze and nods his head.

"Right, so, if your puppies started acting differently, you could just make them act like they used to before," Stiles continues.

"Wrong," Derek cuts in just as Stiles is starting to pick up steam. "It would be wrong to force my betas to act a certain way. I'd be a bad alpha if I did that."

Stiles stares at him for a few seconds, mouth agape, before he groans and rubs both his hands over his face in frustration. "Why do you have to have such great morals? Why can't you be like Peter who gives answers for a price or Deaton who never gives a straight one?"

Derek smirks at him, letting his arms fall from his chest so they are by his sides instead. "Why are you asking me about this?"

"Can you teach me how to handle your werewolves invading so much of my privacy recently?" Stiles rushes to say, hoping that his puppy dog eyes work half as well as Scott's seem to do whenever he directs them at anybody, including Derek.

"What do you mean?" Derek asks hesitantly, something in his expression telling Stiles that he almost doesn't want to know the answer.

Stiles sighs. "Your puppies keep crawling into my bed at night, taking my clothes and wearing them even if they don't fit. They keep laying themselves all over me whenever they get the chance too. And, normally, I wouldn't object to so many attractive people constantly touching me, but Jackson shoved his face into my neck the other day and just breathed there for two minutes straight. He wouldn't let me move or step away and I've had the heebie-jeebies ever since, dude!"

"Don't call me dude," Derek says reflexively. "Have they really been doing that?"

"Oh, god. You don't even know!" Stiles complains. "Scott keeps making fun of me because I supposedly reek of pack. I don't smell like me anymore, according to him, which makes it hard to track me down since I smell like a bunch of different hormonal teenagers who follow me around at school, are always over at my house, and lay claim to my own bed often enough that I always find myself on my bedroom floor come morning. Derek, please tell me how you deal with them."

"This at least explains why I couldn't smell you when you drove up. I only knew it was you because your Jeep's engine is so recognizable." Derek stares at him, his facing smoothing out and devoid of any telling emotions. "I thought you liked having so many people over at your place though? You said the pack was welcome any time."

"I did! But then-" Stiles pauses, suddenly suspicious as his eyes flicker back towards Derek's closed-off expression. "Hey, I never said I liked having company over, so how do you know that?"

Derek only shrugs, avoiding his gaze. "Your scent. Whenever the pack is over, you smell happy."

"That is so weird, man. I don't think you even realize how creepy that sounds," Stiles laughs.

"Whatever," Derek says with a roll of his eyes. "You want the pack to back off? Then tell them."

Stiles stomps his foot, fed up with how nonchalantly Derek is taking all of this. "I have! They didn't listen!"

Derek sits down on the steps and leans back so he's lying across five of them. "You have to be firm with them. Wolves respond to you when you command their respect. Right now, they're walking all over you because you let them. I know you're not all flowers and rainbows, I've seen you in a fight, Stiles. Use some of that energy to get your point across with them."

"So your advice is for me to tell them no in a 'Big Boy' voice?" Stiles asks, not believing that his issues with the pack can be solved so easily.

"Be firm. Leave no room for any arguments," Derek says, completely ignoring Stiles' superpower: sarcasm.

Stiles groans. "Why can't you just tell them to leave me alone? You're the alpha!"

Derek rolls his eyes again. "That wouldn't solve anything. The pack would still walk all over you because you're letting your alpha handle your problems instead of doing it yourself. That makes you look weak."

Stiles glowers at him, sniffing his nose in disdain when Derek gets a thoughtful look on his face and tilts his head to the side. He has to fight the urge to laugh, suddenly overcome with how similar to a dog Derek looks like now.

"You do know why they've been acting differently with you, right?" Derek asks while peering at him.

"Of course, I do," Stiles huffs.

Derek laughs then. Honest to god laughs, the sound breathy and filled with enough amusement to build a park. Stiles has to force himself not to gawk because he will not be the asshole that makes Derek Hale feel subconscious for doing something as normal as laughing. The man has been through hell and Stiles knows that he is generally just an all-around bastard almost all of the time, but he's done making things harder on Derek. Derek deserves a break, no matter how hard he tries to self-sabotage himself.

"So, you don't know why the pack suddenly started crowding you and when they didn't listen to you the one time you asked them nicely to give you some space, you decided to come to your alpha and have me squash the problem for you without knowing why?" Derek chuckles, rubbing a hand over his chin as his laughter dies a slow death. "That doesn't sound like you, Stiles."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why or you going to waste my time with more dog training nonsense?"

Derek's expression hardens instantly. "We are your pack, Stiles. Not dogs. I don't care if you call my betas puppies, but don't treat us like we're animals."

"You know that I would never do that," Stiles shoots back. "I know you guys aren't dogs! I'm just saying that your advice sounds a lot like the police dog trainer's when they bring in new K-9s."

"I'm going to ignore that," Derek mutters. "Now, as for why the pack has been acting like that with you. Simply put: they see you as the weakest member of the pack. It's why they circle around you, why they scent you and spread your scent amongst themselves. They're camouflaging you."

Out of all the possible reasons Stiles thought up of in his head for why the pack thought it was open season on Make Stiles Uncomfortable, he didn't expect this to be what Derek would tell him.

"You're joking," Stiles sputters. "Please, tell me you're joking."

Derek shakes his head. "They're doing all of this because they care about you and want to keep you safe. Their instincts demand it of them and so they have to comply. The only way they'll stop is when you stop rolling over and show your belly to them."

Stiles sighs. "Ugh. How am I supposed to put my foot down now after hearing all that?"

"This is exactly why they're closing ranks around you, you know. You can't keep being a pushover."

"Fine. I get it, already," Stiles grumbles. "Be strict, hold my ground with them. That all?"

Derek nods, relaxed now. "If they don't stop, even after you confront them, then I'll step in and handle the issue as the alpha. Just let me know how it goes."

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles waves his hand before he sticks it awkwardly into his pocket as an idea strikes him. "Hey, have you ate yet?"

"Not yet," Derek says, suddenly cautious.

Stiles grins, looking up to meet his gaze. "Great 'cause I'm taking you to the diner downtown. My treat. Hurry up and get dressed."

Derek sighs and stands, apparently willing to go along with Stiles' attempt of returning the favor as long as he gets free food out of it. Stiles watches him walk back upstairs, feeling jittery now that he is no longer in the older werewolf's presence.

"I'll be in my Jeep, waiting," Stiles speaks softly into the stale air of the burned-out home his alpha won't let go of, knowing that Derek can hear him well enough, then turns on his heel and walks outside.

TBC

[twilightofthe]

In celebration of Mutual Acquaintances.. Satine: 5, 6, 7, 8, 28, 31, 42, 47, 48; Obi-Wan: 7, 8, 12, 14, 27, 31, 33, 47, 48; Padmé: 4, 6, 7, 8, 12, 18, 19, 28, 33, 34, 39, 42; The Disaster Boi: 10, 12, 14, 18, 20, 22, 28, 29, 31, 33 and bc we all need more sexuality headcanons, 13 for ALL of them

Whooo-WEE here we go, thank you!  Get ready for VERY VERY LONG Rambling!

SATINE

(5) Cleanliness habits: Oh, she’s a total neat freak.  Everything in her office is minimalist style and organized to a T.  If someone moved something even an inch, she’ll be hounding everyone about who was messing with her stuff.  Constantly washing hands, very clean, doesn’t like dust on stuff at all (has a bit of a dust allergy, actually.  Lily pollen getting everywhere is a Problem for her).  She’s practical, however, and if she HAS to get down and dirty, she will-- of course not without a suitable amount of icky faces made plus a side of complaints xD

(6) Eating habits and sample daily menu: Ok so we’ve got canon showing her eating meat, but don’t tell me Super Pacifism Lady wouldn’t IRL be that one ubervegan friend of yours on Facebook who’s constantly posting weird things about it and you gotta be like “aight Katie chill”.  ANYWAY, so I’d say Satine in canon eats healthy-ish?  She’s not the biggest fan of breakfast foods and is always up in the morning doing stuff, so she sometimes forgets to have anything besides black coffee.  She’s not a particularly picky eater so she’ll eat whatever the cook is serving that day, but she prefers simpler meals, and can cook for herself (which came in handy during the Year On The Run because neither Obi Wan nor Qui Gon can cook for shit (my canon is no one in that line besides Anakin can cook and I’ll die with it) and eventually Satine was like “guys, I’m sorry, but no, u can’t try and protect me and then poison me at dinnertime.  I’ll cook”).  She does like to pair her evening meals with whatever drink she’s having that night.  I also h/c her as a functioning alcoholic, so she’s always got SOMETHING to drink, but she is trying to work on restraint and control because when she was younger it got... Not Good at one point.  She also has a sweet tooth though, and she really likes chocolate!

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time: Satine is a... twitchy.... individual with a stressful job, so she is kinda conditioned into stressing the heck out if she’s got too much free time.  Therefore, a lot of her free time is spent trying to relax.  Cleaning is theraputic for her, so she does clean (yes, there is a cleaning droid but it is nOT GOOD ENOUGH) when she can.  She likes that Mando sword box game we saw Sabine and Fenn Rau playing in Rebels, it clears her head and lets her practice problem solving.  She likes going for walks too.  She’ll sneak down to the kitchens and just make a bunch of sandwiches.  She does enjoy beautiful things, so I’d say shopping for dresses or browsing art galleries is good too.  I also think she’d be the type to read and write poetry, then save bits she likes.

(8) Indulgences: Look, Satine likes Nice Things, ok?  She does consider fancy wardrobe and buying nice paintings a bit of an indulgence, but she adores color so she excuses that as promoting happiness for the people. As so she does a fancy ship and other fancy trinkets around the house. She’s not a huge fan of most people touching her, but she allowed a massage once... she would be amendable to perhaps another in the future.........  Scented candles are nice too, clears the head.  She refuses to consider chocolate an indulgence because it is obviously the gods’ gift to humanity, excuse you.  Are we calling lusting over her secret forbidden boyfriend an indulgence????

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?  The sad thing about Satine Kryze is that canon wise, she is extremely lonely.  Literally everyone she trusts betrays her at some point-- which also makes worst enemy pretty hard too.  In my verse, this has led to her kind of shutting away from friends because people always leave her-- though I’d say she’s always been close with Padmé; she sent aid to Naboo after the Federation Blockade and got to know and became extremely impressed with the young Queen, and they kept in touch afterwards.  Whether they could be together or not, I’d always say Obi Wan was her best friend too because that’s ALWAYS necessary in a relationship, and they clearly stayed in contact and knew each other like the back of their hands.  I’d honestly say her worst enemy is herself, cliché as it is, because girlie makes a LOT of mistakes-- and then never learns from them or even acknowledges they exist besides an “oh whoops, that happened, we fixed it, everyone as you were”.  I get it wasn’t meant that way, but she legit committed ethnic cleansing against her political opponents.  I hate to say it, but there are very valid reasons for a lot of people to Not Like Her (none of the guys who attack her on the show count because they’re literally all douchecanoes fuck them), and she kind of shoots herself in the foot trying to fix the problem but making it worse.  I h/c her as having a lot of self-loathing problems because she is trying to fix things but nothing ever works and that must be her problem so she must try harder without ever confronting what exactly her problem is.

(31) Most prized possession: Woah, never really thought of that.  As much as I want to say “pressed flower from Obi Wan”, that’s a little too sappy.  I’m going to go with this.  There is a famous Mandalore version of The Art of War, and Satine has an uber-extremely-rare first edition copy given to her from her father, who was a master strategist and had the wealth and power to collect nice things like that.  Satine may be a pacifist, but she has her family’s warrior’s spirit, and she enjoys adapting the book’s battle strategies to her own political fights and how she shapes her own life.  It’s an actual old paper book, so she keeps it in a locked box under her bed and only ever reads it by candlelight with special gloves on to protect the pages.

(42) Hobbies: Like I said before, cleaning, writing poetry, the occasional cooking.  Oh!  Whenever she has Korkie over, she lets them pick the activity they do.  This may or may not lead to Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore getting very invested in Space Mario Kart.  She’s good at it too!  So yes, gamer girl, and she also likes looking at art and she’s also also pretty good at dancing and yoga, which she does a bit of both for exercise.  She also enjoys watching shows at the theater, but she’s weird in the way where she refuses to watch TV or movies because they’re “not as good”.

(47) If they were to fall in love, who or what is their ideal:  I’d say trust is the most important thing for her, given how many things go wrong in her life.  Someone she can trust to be herself around instead of The Duchess and can both support her when she’s falling but also call her on her bullshit (or try to, anyway) when needed.  Again, she likes nice things, so she tends to fall for super attractive people lol.  Another thing is, she likes to feel safe.  She goes for the protectors, those who fight for everyone and can come back and hold her tight in a hug if she feels like she’ll fall apart because she sometimes needs someone to protect her too.  They also have to be as smart as she is (only smarter if they’re not a dick about it) so she can have intellectual conversations (indignant yelling matches), and she needs someone who can match the firecracker she can tend to be, someone who can jump right in after her.  Not a weakling, basically xD

(48) How do they express love: She just says it (”I love you”), if they’ll let her.  If they don’t let her or she can’t for some reason (*coughOBIcoughcough*), she becomes frustrated because she isn’t always the best, emotion-wise, and she worries she’ll make the wrong gesture or do something to mess up, so frustration can build towards the other person so she can also be very snappy at them.  In general though, familial or romantic or platonic, it’s just lots of soft smiles that no one else sees, letting them see her in casual clothing, teasing them or telling jokes, trusting them enough to tell them about the confusion and stress inside her head.

OBI WAN

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time:  Obi Wan is of the opinion that time enjoyed is never wasted, so he only views wasted time as exactly that: time that could be spent doing something but is instead being wasted not doing anything or doing something he doesn’t like.  His favorite things to do when he has time to himself are read (he’s not picky, he’ll read most things with an interesting plot, though he does enjoy a good mystery or historical nonfiction), watch trashy tv shows (he’s only watching them to judge how bad they are, it’s Anakin’s fault, really, he watched them first, and Obi Wan just needs to know what happens next--), sketch random objects (he’s a pretty good artist, and it’s relaxing), do research on stuff because he is a NERD, go bug Anakin and/or Ahsoka because he honestly delights just sitting in their company and hear them talk about their day, drink with friends, spar (with Anakin, preferably, he’s the most of a challenge because he knows him so well, and he’s the only one who doesn’t hold back at all), sit in the Temple gardens and check on Qui Gon’s favorite flowers he planted there and bask in the serenity of it all.

(8) Indulgences: Ooooohhhh this is hard because Obi Wan is so Obi Wan about that sort of stuff, it can be difficult to read what he would do xD  I’ll say he indulges in food?  That while Jedi probs have a pretty strict health food diet, on the weekends or once a weekday he indulges in getting nice stuff for breakfast, ice cream for dessert, fried food at Dex’s because why not, it tastes good and Anakin did a good job today or he did a good job today and that deserves something, so oh well, he’ll just work out harder tomorrow.  He’s also has some very nice old teas he saved from Qui Gon The Absolute Tea Snob he’ll have when he feels he needs it, and he’s got a cabinet with like four bottles of different really good, expensive alcohols that he’ll drink when he REALLY feels he needs it.  I’ll also say this, boi is vain about his hair.  Will never admit it in a million years, but he is, so he’s probs got at least some sort of haircare products that aren’t exactly necessary, ya know xD.  He also does like his creature comforts when available, so I’d say he’s got a couple super fluffy blankets and maybe the thread count in his sheets are a bit higher than average cuz hey, soft things are nice.  He also indulges in being lovey and mushy to the people he cares about 

(12) Favorite book genre: Hey, I kinda talked about that!  So yeah, I’d say he’ll probs try anything, but he likes mysteries and thrillers since with a book the Force can’t give you any Bad Feelings about anyone, so the surprises are genuine surprises.  He also likes historical nonfiction because he is a NERD, but he’ll absolutely pick up whatever’s at the top of the Galactic Times Bestseller’s List if it’s there and give it a chance

(14) Physical abnormalities (including injuries/disabilities, illnesses, allergies): His right hip acts up in the cold from an old slug wound there (Anakin does indeed tease him about being an old man), over half of his teeth are fake or replaced because come on, have y’all seen how often he’s been hit in the face?  Scars literally everywhere because everyone and everything has tried to murder him at some point or another.  I h/c him with ADD, depression, anxiety, and dyscalcula (he had to really work to be good with numbers) as well as PTSD because basically all of the Jedi do at some point (someone HELP THEM).  He also has TMJ, which I also have and I project my issues.  It gets worse when you’re stressed and grind teeth, so it’s valid.  Idk whether it’s canon or fanon that he has some food allergies, but I am ALL FOR IT with him just... forgetting about them???  And then eating some food and be like “hwoops I’m dying lol” while Anakin is like seriously Master again? and legit ends up the Mom friend with a list of foods like “is there gonna be this food in it?  Cuz he can’t eat it” and then he’ll eat it anyway cuz it looks good and Anakin is all “what do you have in your MOUTH” and he’ll be like “uh” and yeah, that sounds funny

(27) Biggest regret: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS.  ok so we all know how literally everything about Obi Wan’s life is a mcfreaking nightmare.  We ALSO know he blames himself for literally everything.  So yea, he’s got a looooot of regrets.  I’d say his biggest though is not being a good enough Jedi (in his opinion) to save those he cared about (Qui, Satine, Anakin, Pads, the entire dang Jedi Order, etc.).  Maybe just not a good enough person, in his eyes.  If he hadn’t screwed up somehow, everyone would still be here and fine and omg someone help him

(31) Most prized possession: Luke Skywalker.  Ok, not actually, but y’all can’t deny Luke was Obi Wan’s greatest treasure.  I’d say actually tho it’s holos, of people he loves and cares about, in a kind of album he keeps to himself.  He hates having his own picture taken, but he loves seeing the smiling, laughing faces of everyone he knows (and is reminded of them when they’re no longer here).

(33) Concept of home and family: He always feels like other people overcomplicate this.  Home is where you feel safe to always return, where you belong, and family is those you love and wish to spend your life with.  Now, the fact that he only really allows himself to acknowledge the Jedi as a whole as his family and doesn’t exactly allow himself to dwell on specifics like what Anakin means exactly to him, what Ahsoka means, what Qui Gon meant, because he does love everyone as a family, why does he have to define it?  That’s a whole ‘nother basket of his issues lol

(47) If they were to fall in love, who or what is their ideal:  Obi Wan Kenobi has always been attracted to chaos and danger like a moth to a flame, so anyone he loves is gonna be a whirlwind of an individual.  He likes someone who can challenge him, who can test him.  He likes someone who’s loud and bright, the stars at the center of solar systems that everyone else can’t resist orbiting around and Obi Wan is no different.  He likes snappy humor and the amusement he can get from playfully bugging them into hissing at him.  They have to match him as a team, they have to be able to work with him (and he knows he’s not always the easiest to work with) and have his back.  He likes passion, he likes dramatics, he likes the kind of strange ones that other people find a bit hard to get along with, but he couldn’t love them any different from themselves.

(48) How do they express love:

PADMÉ

(4) What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy:  Assuming the people in the kitchen were not making food, Padmé would fix them with a firm Senatorial Scolding Face and ask them politely if they could move it somewhere else.  She can easily outargue any protests;  the kitchen is for cooking and she needs to make dinner!  If ppl were making food in the kitchen, Pads would roll up her sleeves and ask what she could do to help so it would be done faster and she could get started.  She grew up with her mother insisting her and Sola help out with all the household chores, kitchen duty included, so she’s a fine cook.  Anakin learned to cook from his mother too, so sometimes their husband/wife bonding time will include just making dinner together and enjoying each others’ company.  In an OT4 situation with Obes and Satine, Obi Wan is the only one out of the four of them who Cannot Cook and is legit banished from the kitchen except for making drinks/certain desserts, so it ends up with Anakin, Padmé, and Satine all talking and laughing while preparing food while Obi Wan pouts sits in the doorway and talks from there

(6) Eating habits and sample daily menu:  Ok, so you know how I said Satine can sometimes get distracted by work and skip breakfast?  Well Padmé is like that but worse.  She gets so busy with duties, she just forgets to eat for very long periods of time, and then she’ll be doing something and be like “woah, I’m hungry, I don’t think I’ve eaten today,” and Sabé/Anakin/Bail/whoever she’s with will just be like padmé nO.  When she does eat, however, she is one of those crazy people who Does Not Like Sweets.  Like, at all, they just don’t agree with her.  Anakin is scandalized.  Satine is scandalized.  Everyone is.  She just doesn’t like them.  She’ll eat fruit, but that’s as sweet as it gets.  So when she does remember to eat, or if she’s going out for a dinner, it’s usually something pretty healthy-- though Pads will confess to a weakness for nice cheeses.  There’s also this one really greasy bad fried chip thing that she’s got a secret weakness for.  Padmé’s also not a huge alcohol person; like, she’ll drink when others do, she’s not a lightweight or anything, but she won’t seek it out herself, just, something about the taste, and she doesn’t like not being in control of her head.

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time: Honey, Padmé is from Naboo.  The luxury planet.  They know how to lazily waste time in style.  She loves long baths and listening to classical music, walking in nature (she loves flowers), practicing new hair styles, facials and manicures.  She also reads the gossip columns (no she doesn’t, you never heard that) because she needs the tea.  She just do.  She likes to read and study new languages (because she is Queen Overachiever) or just add to her bucket list of Ways To Improve The Galaxy.  Padmé totally has a Space Pinterest.  In reality, she trained herself from a young age how to relax so being a teenager in planetary politics didn’t literally kill her.  

(12) Favorite book genre: ROMANCE!  It’s canon that Pads is just such an ushy, gushy romantic of a person, so she likes stuff like Space Jane Austen and all the other romantic books.  She refuses to associate with Anakin’s trashy dollar romances, she thinks they’re bad writing.  He does not agree.  He also called one of her faves boring once.  They do not discuss books.  But also Padmé likes political history and civilization books cuz politician, and she’s pretty into the mysteries like Obi Wan is.  She likes religious texts too, learning about different ones, she finds it interesting.  Reading can be hard for her because I h/c her as dyslexic, but she loves it too much.

(18) Favorite beverage: Spiced cider.  She could get it homemade back on Naboo; cool and refreshing when iced but warm and tangy and perfect when heated.

(19) What do they think about before falling asleep at night: If Anakin’s not with her, she always thinks about him not being there.  She can’t help it.  If he is with her, she thinks about how much she loves him.  She also tends to do a mental to do list every night of what she needed to do before bed and if she’s gonna allow herself to sleep now or not.  She also has another mental to do list so she knows what she’s gonna do when she wakes up in the morning.  With the damned war dragging on, more and more nights are spent going to bed troubled and worried for the future. She also daydreams, though, of what she can do after.  Her happily ever after.

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?:  This is hard because Pads is so friendly with everyone!!!  Queen’s Shadow really made me fall in love with Padmé and Sabé, but I’ll always be a sucker for the canon and fanon where Padmé’s best friend is Bail Organa.  I’m sorry, but Bail is just a cinnamon roll of a human being, and he’s such a calm, levelheaded friend for Pads where she can be a bit overeager and chomping at the bit sometimes, but he’s also ALWAYS got her back and she can talk to him about stuff and ahhhhh and he literally raises her daughter as his own and gahhhhhh.  Is it messed up if I almost want to say Padmé’s worst enemy is Anakin?  I mean to be more general: her worst enemy is the Sith, as they destroyed the Republic and her entire life’s work and corrupted her husband and depending on if you believe the “draining life forces” theory (which I do) they killed her.  But Anakin was the one who got past her defences, took her by surprise, and unknowingly ended up playing the most active role in her destruction, which is immensely tragic for both of them because all he ever wanted to do was love her (*crying*).

(33) Concept of home and family:  For Padmé, home isn’t so much a place, but an idea of where you can feel closest and most at one with those you’ve decided to share your life with.  Yeah, she’ll always love Naboo, but you saw how choked up she got in that TCW episode where Anakin called her Coruscant apartment “home”; for her, home is a state of mind.  Family is a bit different; she’ll always have a bit of an idealization towards her own parents’ marriage and how she’s seen Sola’s, and how families developed from that.  Canon shows she’s envious because she can’t have that, the 2.5 kids and a dog with a white picket fence outside and a large backyard mentality.  She has issues over being separated from family; she had to drop the Naberrie name to go into politics, so I’m guessing there’s some distance felt there, and she can’t even publicly acknowledge her own husband as her husband, so she’ll cling to the idea of a “perfect” family as a someday, as a maybe, and working towards that someday and the long goal she can forget just how complicated and messy her real family-- her parents and sister, her husband, her husband’s new adoptive sister, her husband’s boyfriend, his weird side of the family --is.  It’s even more pronounced when everything is falling apart in Revenge of the Sith and it’s obviously falling apart and Anakin is obviously Not Fine, she tries to retreat and take her comfort in “oh but when the baby comes and we can be a Family, things will all work out perfect!  It’ll be okay!!!”

(34) Thoughts on privacy (are they a private person, or are they prone to TMI):  Padmé is an extremely private person.  She’s been in the public spotlight since she was thirteen years old.  Everyone’s always staring at her, what she’s wearing, what her opinions are, how she acts, who she’s with.  Padmé has nearly nothing she doesn’t have to share with the public eye, so what she does have to herself she tends to hoard and not show anyone except for those she implicitly trusts.  Now, whether she’s any good at keeping secrets is a whole other story, but she certainly tries!!! xD

(39) What recharges them when they’re feeling drained: Anakin can make things better or worse for her depending on the mood he’s in and the mood she’s in, but he usually makes her feel better just by showing up and being a dork.  She likes her greasy chip snacks and a good book, but she’s a sucker for a good spa day complete with fluffy, comfortable clothing.  Also, Padmé loves cat naps, and is the queen of setting an alarm and taking short power naps that actually have her waking up refreshed.

(42) Hobbies:  Is creating new outfit designs via Space Pinterest a hobby?  Because Padmé does that.  Padmé is also the type of person to have a Space Candy Crush problem, and I completely believe that Satine got her into Space Mario Kart (Satine’s actually pretty good at it and Pads isn’t good at it at all, so it’s in no way fair, but they have fun xD).  Padmé loves creating flower arrangements too, just creating beautiful things makes her happy.  She loves calling one of her handmaidens over and having martial arts practices because she needs to stay ready to defend herself, but also it’s just fun and she’s a good fighter.  Padmé’s also into scrapbooking, she makes a bunch of adorable books she puts together, and she gave one to Anakin on their first anniversary and he cried (she hides them, don’t worry).  

AHHHNAKIN...

(10) Neuroses:  Hooo boy, there’s a lot!  Okay, so Anakin is a very handsy person.  When he’s nervous or uncomfortable or stressed, he’ll always need something to do with his hands, whether that be fiddling with his clothes, tugging at his hair, messing with the digits on his mechanohand, poking at the wall patterns or other objects.  In general, he hates sitting still and has a tendency to fidget if he has to for too long.  He will also either stare you directly in the eye or dislike making eye contact at all, depending on his mood.  Fiddling with machine parts gives him something to focus his mind and his hands on, so that’s a real big help for him if they’re available, often times he just keeps scraps in his pockets for specifically this purpose.  He’s sort of aware he does this, but he doesn’t like to think about it much because that would mean thinking why, and if you try and point any of them out to him he’ll get embarrassed and probs just snap at you.

(12) Favorite book genre:  Anakin really isn’t much of a book person.  It has to do with his focus issues (I h/c him as ADHD), they just aren’t really able to draw him in enough to keep his attention.  It frustrates him because that’s another reason why ppl imply he isn’t smart, which is dumb, he can read just fine, he just doesn’t like to.  He does like the trashy penny romances I mentioned before.  What can he say?  He’s a sucker for the drama and swooning and Epic Proclamations of Love.  He’ll read books about the latest ships and speeder models too, because he’s interested in that.  He’ll also read tactical strategy books too, because of the war and all.  It’s just not his go-to form of entertainment.

(14) Physical abnormalities (including injuries/disabilities, illnesses, allergies):  Metal hand.  Eye scar.  At one point is one big giant asthmatic burn scar who’s like 80% robot.  But we’ll focus on Anakin as of now.  When he was a child, some brute in the market cracked him hard across the back with something heavy.  It damaged his spine, and Shmi was terrified for a while he’d never walk.  Thankfully, he recovered, but now his spine is funny as in it is super flexible.  Like backbends where it looks like he’s snapped in half, that flexible.  It gives him fantastic advantages in acrobatics and combat, but it also means he can do that creepy walk the girl from The Ring can do.  He has managed to successfully scare the living piss out of Obi Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka, Rex, and multiple others on different occasions by emerging from the shadows in the middle of the night doing the Ring walk.  No one was pleased.  Yoda thinks it’s hilarious though.  Anakin gets hit in the face just as much Obi Wan does, so he also only has like less than half of his real teeth still in his mouth.  Is also covered in various scars from people trying to kill him dead.  In total, I project many mental illnesses onto him, so I say he has anxiety, ADHD, BPD, and PTSD.  His super strongness in the Force means he is a complete lightweight, so alcohol is an uh oh for him; the only positive is that he never gets hangovers.  It also means that Force sensitive objects may suddenly go flying at his head when he’s just trying to casually stroll through a creepy old temple.  I also h/c that Anakin is allergic to tookas/lothcats.  No other animals, just them.  And it’s hilarious when on one occasion some kittens made their way into a briefing room and he just bursts into a sneezing fit, which, why are you all laughing at me? and then Rex points out the little kitten just perched on the top of his head.  Poor baby actually does chafe pretty badly from sand too, so his hatred isn’t completely unwarranted.

(18) Favorite beverage: Coffee with a gazillion lumps of sugar in it, protein powder because he’s all about the grind, a hint of space chili pepper, and like a dozen other ingredients that should Not Go In Coffee (one of the ingredients Is Bugs).  Obi Wan claims he tasted the concoction once and had hallucinations.  Ahsoka says she saw a drop melt the edge of the tabletop.  Padmé won’t go anywhere near it.  Anakin says they’re all cowards; it’s the only thing that can get him up and focused in the morning.

(20) Childhood illnesses?  Any interesting stories behind them?: I h/c that amongst the slaves, Shmi was the local medicine woman.  Therefore, Anakin as a child was constantly getting first exposure to all the local sicknesses and building up immunity, so besides one bout of food poisoning, he never got sick as a kid.  Once he got to the Temple... well, he was past the age where all the other kids had gotten vaccinations, Obi Wan, bless him, hates dealing with medical and was distracted by everything else and kind of forgot to make sure Anakin was up to date with everything, so he caught EVERYTHING.  EVERY LITTLE THING WOULD MAKE HIM SICK.  HE HATED IT.  OBI WAN HATED IT BECAUSE THE ONLY SICK PATIENT WORSE THAN ANAKIN IS HIMSELF.  IT NEVER ENDS.  ANAKIN IS TWENTY TWO YEARS OLD AND STILL CATCHING SHIT LIKE THE SPACE CHICKEN POX.  THIS ISN’T FAIR.

(22) Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?: Lots of writings of stuff like “Padmé Skywalker” or “Anakin Kenobi” cuz Ani is at heart a 12 year old girl.  Ok ok ok, but actually, there would be lots of different stuff on the page.  Mathematical calculations for ships and designs because he is a canon engineering nerd and I h/c he’s a whiz at math.  Also little doodles.  Anakin’s not a bad artist himself; his style is much more cartoonish than Obi Wan’s, but it means he can do cool little actions scenes of different ships or pods, him being a badass, Yoda getting attacked by space seagulls, etc.  Maybe designs for another japoor carving (I h/c he keeps the hobby).  Or, the page might be folded up as Anakin turned it into either a boat or a hat or an airplane that actually flies, or just a ball of paper he set on fire because he was bored.

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?:  OBI WAN KENOBI FOR BOTH OF THEM DAMMIT ANAKIN WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.  Alright, alright, in reality, his worst enemy is probably more of a combination of himself and his own fears, Sidious for being an evil, manipulative asshole, and society for creating his fears and traumatizing him (though mostly it’s himself because he absolutely had the choice to do the right thing, but he didn’t).  Obi Wan is absolutely his best friend though.  No competition.

(29) Reaction to extrapersonal disaster (eg Oh no, the house is on fire!  What do we do?): For Anakin “I burned down the Republic because you left for an afternoon and I panicked” Skywalker?  “Ok, no problem, I got this.  I’ve got this.  No, wait, I don’t got this.  I defiNITELY DO NOT GOT THIS, I MADE IT WORSE, HOLY SHIT, NO ONE PANIC, I NEED AN ADULT-- (Ahsoka: You are an adult) --I NEED AN ADULTIER ADULT.”

(31) Most prized possession: His loved ones ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  And we’ve got at least six movies and a tv show telling us exactly how that did Not Go Well For Anyone

(33) Concept of home and family: Hmmm.  I’d say where he feels safe and comfortable.  Again, it’s stated in the show he feels at home at Padmé’s, but honestly?  He refuses to acknowledge Tatooine cuz ya know, the slavery, so he never really had a strong childhood home, and while I want to say he considered the Temple home at one point, , I’m not sure he does because I feel he’s always on red alert for things to get worse so he never really lets himself get comfortable anywhere-- not even Padmé’s.  Family is a bit easier for him; a group of people who love each other-- and for Anakin, it doesn’t have to be blood relations but if you ARE related by blood, you’re a family member by default and he will be Very Offended by blood relations who cut away from their families because he feels if you’re connected like that, you should love each other.

[ernmark]

oh my god this new episode holy shit

Okay, folks, spoilers under the cut.

But before that: if you have triggers, check the episode notes before you listen. I know it’s basically the same list of triggers as in most episodes, but this time it gets pretty intense.

Q) Why did I not see the proliferation of the THEIA coming?

A) Because it seemed so absurdly, prohibitively expensive that you could only realistically buy one or two of the bionic eyes.

And that would have been a problem, except 1) Ramses is richer than God, and 2) I think the bionic interface itself is the expensive bit, not necessarily the software. Once he had the THEIA developed (and you know he commissioned that shit), you know he just found a way to slap it on people. And we saw that foreshadowed expertly in the sewer bots. 

I’ve said it before: good writing feels like a good riddle: when it happens it completely catches you by surprise, but when you go back and think about it it seems completely obvious. 

Here’s the thing about really, really good foreshadowing: it doesn’t feel like foreshadowing. Every piece of foreshadowing feels like its own end, rather than a means to prepare us for something else.

The THEIA Spectrum? Was totally just a thing to persuade Juno to come to Ramses’ side, right? 

The THEIA Bots?  Totally to clear the sewers. I was expecting more robots like them, but not like that.

Overriding Juno’s nervous system to the point of making him shoot better, controlling his pulse, giving him trauma-specific nightmares, and freezing his whole body on command? Fucked up enough to be a thing to be defeated on its own.

But it’s not just that. Look at Ramses himself:

He was a micromanager to an obscene degree.

JUNO: What I’d like is two minutes to collect myself.Little needy of you to call me on the car ride to you. (Lesson Learned)

But within days made himself indispensable, filling in every gap in workflow he could find, learning every job that needed doing, and, most importantly, playing emotional translator to some of the more ‘gifted’ artists on staff. We called him a writer, but really he was always more editor or manager… (Long Way Home)

He was a master manipulator– of Sarah, of Juno, of Yasmin Swift, of the entire population of Hyperion City

But every so often something would go wrong. His grand plot to give Sarah the profits fell through when she refused his hush money– and as a result he filed for a restraining order. Jocelyn got impatient for him to write a decent version of Andromeda 3, and erupted into a truly alarming screaming rant. They want to use NorthStar’s funds to make something that’ll the profit the company instead of forcing mass layoffs of the rest of their staff, and he cuts and runs. 

JACK: Damn the deadline! You’re exactly the problem, Jocelyn, focusing on the smallest issues when you should be solving the big ones, taking the solution now over the solution that works— DO NOT SPEAK while I am speaking! (Long Way Home)

And notice the common thread there: this is when he has a vision for a Big Master Plan, and somebody else doesn’t want to go along with it, so he gets absolutely furious with them– and then throws them away altogether. 

So how do you save people? You make sure that they always agree with you and never even have the option to go against your Master Plan. After all, you know best, don’t you? And his plans were always meticulous and perfect, so long as everybody else always behaved exactly as he wanted them to.

Rita points out that even the THEIA isn’t a proper AI– it can’t learn or change and grow, it’s just a thousand copies of the exact same complex program. And one that is very flawed and vulnerable to viruses. 

Funny that. Expect to see Rita bring down the whole system the minute she gets a chance.

On the subject of really good foreshadowing: Khan’s fixation with stun blasts and heart conditions, plus what we saw of Vespa being nearly killed by a stun blast when she was high up.

Not gonna lie, before Juno narrated what happened, I assumed that Mick was standing on the balcony and got blasted off the fourteenth story. Thank god that wasn’t what happened, because there’s no bringing somebody back from that kind of fall.

I knew Mick would be the one they go to. I knew Mick would be the prime target that sends Juno over the edge. But God, I wasn’t expecting this. The whole sequence made my skin crawl. 

And even when we were in Mick’s apartment, I didn’t see it coming. I honest to god thought it was the tea– that there are nanites in the water or something (to be fair, I just got done playing We Happy Few, where the water is drugged to fuck and back). 

So I have feelings about Mick Mercury.

All this time, he’s been “setting the record for going nowhere fast”. People think of him as a loser, and a lot of times he thinks of himself as one.

And then comes the THEIA, and suddenly he’s put together, and refined, and capable of superhuman feats, and he makes tea and everything. 

How’s he going to feel about giving that up? Will he be relieved to be rid of it, or will a part of him still miss what it made him?

I want to point out how very sick Ramses sounds here. I keep coming back to the theory that he’s dying, but I’m serious: He’s on death’s door. 

“Time. Time. Just give me time. This will work. It has to.”

It speaks to Matthew Zahnzinger’s skill as a voice actor that Ramses actually starts to sound more lively when he’s with Juno, and then even more when he’s absolutely furious– and when he calms down he sounds even sicker than before. He’s got so little life left in him. I’d really feel for the guy if I didn’t want to beat his skull in with a tennis racket. 

It’s not just confidence that has him offering to completely capitulate to Juno’s demands after 24 hours– I don’t think he has much more than that left to him, and who the hell cares where his money goes when he’s dead?

On that note, the THEIA is pre-programmed to be self-replicating. 

“Only Newtown residents and certain select guests can enter Newtown until the city adjusts to our idea”. By which he means the Newtown residents will leave the city, infect other people, and those people will be ‘select guests’.

Once it’s stable and well-seated in Newtown’s populace, the people already infected with the THEIA Soul will make more and infect the rest of Hyperion City, and after that we’ve pretty much got a Borg situation.

As for Ramses’ conversation with Juno:

God, that was hard to listen to.

In the first eight minutes or so, Ramses is surprisingly endearing. We know enough by now to realize it’s a smokescreen, but it sounds sympathetic and real, because that’s how he works. He makes himself the good guy.

But then Juno shuts him down, cuts him off, assures him that he’s never going to forgive him, and Ramses switches tack. He showers Juno with facts– incomplete facts, facts that only show one very sketchy and incomplete version of the truth, but facts that Juno can’t refute and doesn’t have enough information to argue against. 

And then he backs up his facts with emotional triggers– he’s “recycling” equipment from the police force that robbed Sarah blind all those years ago, and then he slips in the idea that that’s what drove her to abuse her kids, rather than his own actions. 

Smoke and mirrors. Fucking smoke and mirrors.

But once again, Juno cuts him off and refuses to be baited, but his ire is up. Ramses is already under his skin and in his head, even if he isn’t entirely pulling the strings yet. 

And then Ramses turns it around and starts asking him questions that Juno can’t answer. Now Juno feels stupid and unprepared, and Ramses knows it. And while Juno is struggling to put his thoughts into words, Ramses starts absolutely steamrolling him with emotionally loaded facts and ideas too quickly for Juno to argue with, and you can see Juno start to crumple under the onslaught. 

And he plays with this insidious premise that what he’s already done is irrelevant, and only future action matters– ignoring the fact that he did all of this in secret specifically so he wouldn’t be stopped, and that he’s got even more of this plan up his sleeve in ways that Juno couldn’t possibly predict. And he spins it all in such a way that Juno can’t argue, because he puts all the burden of proof on Juno and writes off anything Juno says as too emotional.

The whole thing is so slimy it made me want to take a shower. 

And Juno still holds on. 

And he legitimately lands blow after blow that Ramses can’t deflect: He brings up the rabbits. He points out that Ramses keeps discarding his ideas out of hand. He dismantles Ramses’ narrative that Juno was “saving Ben” by letting Jack into Sarah’s office. And he takes Ramses’ attempts to use his feelings about Sarah against him, but he turns them about. 

I’m so fucking proud of him for it.

If this is a verbal boxing match, Juno starts off strong, falls behind, and then hits Ramses with wallop after wallop until Ramses has to pull out entirely and find another way to beat him– by which he means sending him out into New Town to get himself infected with yet another THEIA.

Motherfucker.

So… Juno has money.

Just from Ramses, or has he been having lots of money coming in for a while now?

I mean, it’s not like he’s been spending it on anything except booze, has he? 

[sweet-popplio]

I don’t know what to do recovery wise.

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I know that being independent and moving out would most likely help me mentally because being 27 and still living with my parents makes me feel... like I’m a failure.

I know people tried to make me feel better about it in the past, but even if I got word confirmation from my parents that they AREN’T disappointed in me, I’d still be disappointed in me. I’d also not believe them.

The closest to recovery I ever felt was when I had that full time job at the graphic design place as an assistant graphic designer. Because A) I FINALLY had an art related job, so when people asked what I was doing, I could proudly say I had an art job. B) I was full time so my paychecks were pretty nice. It was only $9 an hour but that was the most money I had ever made at any point in my life. And having the heath benefits made me feel more secure. And finally C) Because I still went to my therapist and finally had a decent income, for once in probably... eh 5 years? I could actually imagine a future for myself.

Despite that, the job still sucked. I didn’t really feel like I was encouraged to use my artistic potential. Instead I was told to be faster by copying and pasting stuff from the internet and it rubbed me wrong from the beginning and so art-wise, it was a very unfulfilling job. But the financial stability made me push those feelings to the side. I still had problems, but financial stability and title made me feel more like an adult which alleviated my constant voice in my head telling me I was a failure. Because I failure wouldn’t have a full time job as an assistant graphic designer.

I feel like moving out and having a better paying job with health benefits would help, but I know I also have some deep set problems within myself that I never got to work out with my therapist. I only now realize the depth of it thanks to weed. It has allowed me to think about things in a safe environment in my head rather than avoiding thinking all together. For the last 5-ish years I’ve done everything I could to NOT think. I’ve tried to distract myself with literally everything and anything just so I wouldn’t have to think about anything. It was one thing when I saw my therapist and I HAD to stop and think about things, but since I could no longer see her I have regressed to trying to run away from my thoughts.

Because if I have time to think, then the things I think about are always the worst. It only flings me down a deeper emotional hole. I distracted myself with video games, the gym, work, literally anything that would take up every minute of my time so my mind wouldn’t wander to the dark area of my head that wants me to kill myself.

I’m partially afraid that’s what I am using weed for. To distract myself... to run away from my own head. And in some instances, it does. When I get too high just so I don’t have to think. So I can just be happy.

But in most cases, it makes me feel happy and comfortable enough that I know I can finally think about things and try to delve deeper into my problems so I can dissect them and fix them, and NOT instantly go into an emotional crying fit and dream of self harm.

I can only dissect some stuff on my own. I really need to see a therapist again so I can have another viewpoint... a more educated viewpoint into why, how and what I can do to fix it.

I still have problems enjoying art. I thought maybe I was just going through a phase and I was just no longer interested in art and was forcing myself to do it because it’s what I got a degree in. But I love art, and the feeling of creating is amazing. But for whatever reason there is just a mental roadblock. I only rarely feel like making art now because of weed helping me, but I don’t understand why I feel like I’ve run into a brick wall. I thought maybe if I took a few months off from making art, that I’d regain my love for it and start churning out art again. But I’m not. I somehow am worse. I am sketching MAYBE once a month now. I haven’t had a finished piece in ages.

I’m cycling between never wanting to be at home, so I try to schedule all of my days off with my friends or I am being a complete hermit and not leaving home even when I kinda want to go out and do things. It’s so confusing. I want to understand myself better but feel like I won’t really get there unless I can get with a good therapist. But I can’t do that because I don’t have the finances or the health insurance to do so, and I can’t have good finances without a well paying full time job and that’s where I end up getting stuck.

Because my fear of failure keeps me from applying or brushing it off because I won’t get it anyway, so why try?

I try to practice positivity. I tell myself “I won’t know until I try. I 100% won’t get it if I don’t try” but it only helps me so much. The fear of failure is just that bad that even positive logic like that can’t dissolve it. I realize it’s ridiculous but I’m serious when I say that this fear of failure runs back so long and I have no idea where it even came from. I remember wanting to put a knife in my gut in 3rd grade just because I was making poor grades in math. I would try to have my mom help me but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it or it sounded like trying to listen to someone talk to you through several walls. I remember her leaving for a sec and looking around her room and fixating on a knife that she had in there because she was doing some craft project, and all I could think about unblinkingly with tears in my eyes was picking it up and stabbing it into my stomach because the self loathing I felt over my grades was so strong, it almost felt like the right course of action. I didn’t want to be perceived as stupid so badly. And since then it just been a course of self loathing that I guess built up into depression? But I’ve had thoughts of harming myself so much as a kid that it confuses me as to whether that was all depression too? Something else entirely? I never did really harm myself though, it was mostly thinking about doing it but it would be very intense. Like I could solve my problems if I just drowned myself stabbed myself,etc. Didn’t do well in school? I’d think about self harm. Felt lonely because I had a hard time making friends? Hardly anyone wanted to associate with me? Man, sounds like if I died then my problems would be over. Felt like I was unlovable because everyone around me was dating and all I would get is being asked out as a joke? .... you get the picture.

This turned into a venting thing really fast, but I end up using this blog to get stuff out and it makes me feel better temporarily. I know it’s probably annoying to most people who started following my blog (and why you did, I’ll never know). It’s to be expected these days and if I could actually use a read more option on mobile then I’d totally clean my blog up and it would keep you from having to look at my paragraphs long post and going “oh shit, not this bitch again” and it just be a neat little thing tucked under a read more that you could skip entirely and not have to endlessly scroll down.