#And there's one more in the pipeline that I'm slowly writing too

[blaisenova]

ermmmm like i dunno if you're still doing requests buttt could you do like kustard but it turns to dustard

that dynamic always interested me but i never see much about it :3

anon, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?

the kustard to dustard pipeline is WOEFULLY UNEXPLORED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD. so, naturally, i was REALLY excited when i got this ask. yippie!!! an excuse to write fun fucked up dynamics!!!!!

this one is pretty tame. i can't think of any warnings you might need other than it being like..... long and, obviously, kinda angsty. it's fluffy in the end tho. but that's what you get when you ask me to write i guess LOL

thank you all for the requests btw!! i was NOT expecting so many after the kist fic, but i am pleasantly surprised and am trying to chip away at them as quickly as i can. spat this one out in a few hours, so it might not be my best work, but i'm happy with how it turned out either way :)

as always, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs once it's posted, if that's your cup of tea (as it is mine LMAO)

i hope this feeds you well anon. thank you for the ask <3

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place.

Or, at least, that was what Red had wholeheartedly believed up until he’d met his other self, in a universe that was so very unlike his own. A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Initially, Red hated Sans. 

It felt ridiculous, looking back upon it – in the moments when his head lay in Sans’ lap and gentle fingers traced over his scars like they were poetry written in a language Red had never bothered to learn, and he wondered what Sans saw in him that he hadn’t seen; wondered if this was what it felt like to love himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d grown were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Sans wasn’t so much like hating himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Sans was so unsuspecting that Red had been foolish enough to let his guard down, forgetting that then was when feeling was the most liable to appear. 

He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the laugh – genuine, unabashed, and lacking all of the gruffness of his own – of someone whose humour was just as terrible as his own.

He’d been far too blind to realise how incredibly endearing it was for someone to wake up and allow themselves to be bleary and half-asleep, cuddling into his arm without even meaning to, even if it meant opening themselves up to being easily picked off.

In allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would bleed him dry so tenderly and lovingly that he couldn’t even think to fight against the bloodloss; when, instead, he’d lean into the knife and ask them to twist it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Though, it was a small price to pay to hear that raucous laughter over jokes that weren’t even funny. Trivial, really, in comparison to soft smiles and gentle touches that moved slowly just to prove to him how tender the world could really be.

“Earth to Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. For once, it was, just to be soft.

“Come in, Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

Tiredly, he bat away the hand that waved in front of his sockets, only to grab it by the wrist and pull it back down, firmly, on the crown of his skull. With a laugh, the fingers scratched gentle circles into the bone, and Red hummed happily at the feeling, allowing his sockets to slip shut as he lay against Sans’ legs.

“Where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Nowhere,” he grumbled, sighing softly as he fully relaxed into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

Again, there was that laugh, and Red’s soul fluttered. “With your eyes open?”

“It’s a little known talent of mine,” he hummed.

“Gee, must be handy,” came the response, and amusement never sounded so beautiful. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

“Nuh uh,” and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “It’s genetic.”

“Ah, damn. Guess we gotta add that to the list of differences.”

“Guess so.” His breath hitched as the hand on his head trailed downward to cup his cheek. His browbones furrowed, ever so slightly, and he felt himself go tense.

“Hey. Look at me.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets, and there was no sight more welcome than the face of his lover. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment: smooth bone, unmarred by chips and cracks; eyelights that glowed softly in dark sockets, like how he imagined fireflies might; ever present, gentle smile that smoothed away his worries. Oh, to be so untouched by cruelty. He’d do anything to keep it that way.

“‘Sup,” he breathed, and Sans’ smile widened as he snorted.

“‘Sup,” he returned. His thumb ran circles over his cheek, and Red leaned into the touch. “You okay?”

With a snicker, he rolled his eyelights at the question. “Super duper.”

Despite himself, Sans laughed too, but, still, pressed on. “You sure? You were spacing out pretty bad before. Like, way out in deep space,” he emphasised, unnecessarily. “No planets around, just stars. Way beyond our galaxy. Uncharted territory. Where no man has gone before.”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture” Red interrupted, though not without chuckling. “‘M okay. Was just thinking.”

When Sans’ head cocked to the side, Red couldn’t help but grin. “About?”

“Uranus.”

At first, his sockets simply narrowed, confused, then all at once, “Ura– Oh. Alright, perv. Har har.”

But, he was laughing, and Red was, too, like it was the funniest joke in the world despite it not even being funny. Maybe it didn’t matter, if Red was the one to say it; if Sans was the one to laugh. Maybe, then, it could be good, even if it wasn’t, really. The sound of their laughter, something shared and sacred, was what Red imagined it might feel like to hear the birds chirp when the sun rose and turned the sky whatever colours it was supposed to when it drove the night away. He hoped that it was blue, like Sans’ favourite colour, but the pictures in his textbooks were too faded to be sure.

When he tuned back in, the laughter had tapered off.

“You do that a lot, y’know,” Sans noted, almost absentmindedly, and his hands turned back to trailing shapes on Red’s skull.

He grunted at the feeling. “Do what?”

“Go to space,” Sans said, simply. “Or… somewhere else. That I can’t reach.”

Red frowned, closing his sockets to cut off the dull thrum of agony he felt in his soul whenever Sans’ smile didn’t reach his eyes like that. “I do it less than I used to. It used to be better, somewhere else – anywhere else – but ‘m not so sure anymore.”

“Where would you wanna go?” he asked, in a whisper. “If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

For a moment, Red considered. The answer would have been easy before – the surface, of course. Where Paps and every other monster longed to be – but access to the multiverse had opened up options that he’d never known existed. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden, why should he want to look for it anywhere else?

“Think I’d rather just stay here,” he hummed. “With you.”

Maybe he should have questioned the way that Sans’ hands stilled at his answer. Maybe he should have opened his eyes; looked at his face; seen his expression; known what it meant.

But, he didn’t.

“Geez,” Sans breathed, with a laugh that sounded breathless. “My answer feels stupid in comparison.”

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

“Anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”

In hindsight, Red should have known it was too good to last; too good to stay good.

A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Of course, there was a catch. 

There was always a catch. Every childish fantasy grew tainted with time, like the innocence of children was stripped with age. Every fairy tale book grew weary and old, pages yellowed and frayed. Every picture faded, until you couldn’t be sure whether the sky was blue or grey.

But, you hoped it was blue anyway, and maybe that was your mistake.

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place. That was what Red wholeheartedly believed. Maybe, after all, there was a reason that love and LOVE were spelled the same.

Try as he might, though, Red could not hate him.

It felt ridiculous – in the moments when hands clamped around his neck like a vice, choked by the grip and the grief that came with it, as if the two were one in the same, and they would both cry, both tremble in fear, or fury, or something worse, and Red would think that this was what it was like to hate himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d changed were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Dust wasn’t so much like loving himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Red had underestimated Dust as he had been before; had assumed that kindness meant the incapacity for cruelty.

And, in allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would leave scars so deep that all he could think of was how much he missed the feeling; when he’d search for the knife and throw himself against it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Before, he’d thought it was a small price to pay. Trivial, really, in comparison to what he had to gain from it. As if it were a simple transaction as opposed to something living, and breathing, and ever changing; as if he would never have to be the one who was tender; as if that made it anything less valuable.

“Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. Just as before, it was. Harsher now, but Dust had taught Red to be soft, and Red would teach him what he’d forgotten.

“Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

With a jolt, he came back to reality to a slap on the face, not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to be startling. He frowned, but, nonetheless, took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the crown of his skull. Hesitantly, as if spurred on by some muscle memory, the fingers ran in gentle circles across his bone, and Red hummed in approval at the feeling as he lay against Dust’s legs.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“With your eyes open,” Dust said, and it wasn’t a question. “Freak.”

Immediately, Red snorted. “Guess we gotta add that to the list of similarities.”

Despite himself, Dust laughed; the sound short, subdued, and nothing like the laugh he’d fallen in love with, but something about it made his soul flutter, nonetheless. “Guess so.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment – as they had before – smooth bone that crackled and buzzed with magic, refusing to be underestimated; eyelights that glowed brightly in dark sockets, like how he imagined neon signs would on a city street in the middle of the night; a face shrouded by shadow, as if it was saved for him alone to see. In the end, he’d been marred by cruelty despite Red’s best efforts, but he was beautiful nonetheless.

“‘Sup,” Dust mumbled, and the edges of his mouth quirked up in an attempt at a smile.

Slowly, Red lifted his hand and, ever so gently, cupped Dust’s cheek, pausing when his breath hitched, but, with the same caution, Dust leaned into the touch; barely enough to be noticed, but Red noticed. This time, he saw. “‘Sup,” he finally returned. “You okay?”

“You’re going to disappear,” Dust whispered, and his voice broke on the words in a way that made Red feel hollowed out. “You’re going to go somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t reach. Like you do when you go to space. It scares me.”

Browbones furrowed, Red ran gentle circles across his love’s cheek, staying silent as Dust took in a shuddering breath to continue; a quirk Red had grown accustomed to.

“I remember what you told me before,” he said, and his hand came up to desperately hold Red’s to his face, like he might forget it was there if he didn’t make sure. “That you did it because it was better to be somewhere else – anywhere else. Do you want that now? To be somewhere else? Away from me?”

“No,” Red said, and the lack of hesitation in his answer surprised even himself. “I don’t want that.”

Again, Dust’s breath hitched, and he frowned, like the answer wasn’t enough, and, maybe, it wasn’t. His fingers threaded between Red’s, and, when he clutched onto his hand, Red squeezed back, holding him with desperation to match. Dust laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not the person that you loved.”

Scoffing, Red rolled his eyelights at the notion. “Of course you are.”

“I’m not,” Dust insisted, and something about it was a plea.

“Then,” he breathed, “I love you. This you.”

And, with a breath that was cut off with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Dust leaned forward – over Red’s body, as if to trap him – and pressed his chest against Red’s. His ribs fluttered with each breath, and Red guided his stuttering breaths with deep inhales that interlocked their ribs with each one. His hand remained stuck to Dust’s cheek, and he squeezed gently, relieved when Dust squeezed back to let him know he was still here; in this reality, not another.

“Breathe,” Red commanded, soft; soft, like he’d been taught. “I’m here.”

Dust took a heaving breath – deep, frantic, like he’d been drowning – and, in a voice that sounded so much like before – reminding Red once more that this was the person he loved, despite the change – he whispered, “Where would you wanna go? If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

The question made him sputter, for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, “Seriously?”

“Please,” he pleaded, so what could Red do but answer?

The answer would have been easy before – here; here, just like before – but, despite how they fought against it, things had changed. Did that mean his answer had to change? That his longing had to shift, too? The multiverse was infinite. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Maybe even somewhere that Sans stayed Sans, but would it be the same? Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden – had been ripped from Dust’s grasp with the signature ruthlessness of the multiverse – then why shouldn’t Red be it? Like Dust had been for him, before.

“Think I’d like to stay here,” he hummed. “With you. Still.”

And, this time, Red noticed the way that Dust’s breathing slowed to a stop; felt the way that his magic crackled between his joints; how something wet slipped between their fingers on Dust’s cheek; knew what it meant.

“Okay,” Dust whispered.

“What about you? Where would you go?”

There was a pause – a moment as Dust inhaled once more; held Red’s hand tight, but oh, so gentle – before he managed to answer. “Here,” he said. “With you.”

[im-not-a-l0ser]

😂❓

- 🐦‍⬛

a funny or crack WIP snippet

So, uh. Here's the thing. I really don't write much comedy or crack. I don't write comedy because (as I've been told for the last 17 years of my life) I don't really think I'm that funny, and I try not to write crack because that's a pipeline to misrepresenting characters. The only one I might've had was Chapter One of Beanies, but y'know. That's already posted.

So, the only one I have isn't Hatchetfield, or even Starkid at all. It's Dear Evan Hansen. Kleinphy, to be specific. It's a 5+1, here are the first couple. I'll reblog with the other(❓) one momentarily.

Anyway, it is mildly nsfw, because that's the only way I know how to write crack apparently.

1

Most people knew that Jared could calm Connor down when he was angry, but a grand total of two people knew how, and that was Jared and Connor themselves. 

The first time, it was a massive shock. 

Third week of Junior Year, Connor was a bit up and arms at lunch. It wasn’t really his fault in all honesty, but he was the one that drew the crowd in, not that he meant to.

“I just can’t believe they even let guys like you into the school.” Connor scoffed.

“Me? You’re worried about me being in the school? You pay people to do your urine tests and you hit on every girl you see! Including teachers! And haven’t you been held back like seven times, aren’t you like legally allowed to drink now?” He was a super senior, but just the one year. Though, he drank enough that you’d hope it was legal. “But no, me, I’m the one that’s a risk to the school even though all I ever fucking do is mind my own business until someone gets into mine, you’re absolutely—”

“Hey, Murphy!” Someone suddenly yelled from the sidelines.

Even though other people were yelling both of their names, this person seemed to specifically get Connor’s attention. He was quickly approached by a short guy that only a handful of people in the crowd recognised. 

He simply cupped his hands around Connor’s ear and whispered something. Then he walked away. 

Connor’s body seemed to relax. He took a breath, pulled down his hoodie, and walked off. In a different direction than the kid, which was specifically interesting. It meant that he wasn’t trying anything, he just. Got him to stop somehow.

“Who was that kid?” The perpetrator asked.

“Jared something, I think,” Someone in the front row of the circle said. 

“What the fuck is his deal,” He laughed. Everyone else laughed too. 

Four rooms away, Jared was waiting for Connor to meet him in their designated place to be alone. Connor joined him not long after, where he was held until he didn’t need to be anymore. 

2

The next time, it was actually in public. Connor was at the grocery store with his mom— he did not want to be— and he was getting sick of the whole thing. 

“I swear, if you get another meat substitute and claim it tastes the same again, I will cut open myself and we can just eat that instead!” 

“Connor!” Cynthia exclaimed, “That was extremely uncalled for!” 

“Was it? I’m pretty sure I’m slowly dying because of the way you cook, what’s so wrong with speeding that process along then, huh?”

“Whoa, okay!” 

Someone new had entered the conversation. 

“Looks like someone needs to calm down!” He said, throwing his arm around Connor’s shoulder. Cynthia stared, confused, but her son didn’t look too shocked. More surprised that this person was here. 

He used his free hand to cover the side of his mouth and whispered into Connor’s ear. 

Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Connor’s face flushed ever so slightly. The guy pulled away. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” He said. He pat Connor’s shoulder before pulling away. 

“Oh, you fucking asshole,” Connor accused as he walked off, but it didn’t sound nearly as angry. More annoyed. 

“Who was that? Did you know him?” Cynthia asked. Connor crossed his arms. 

“Some asshole from school,” He grumbled. 

On Monday, Connor went straight to their closet, finding Jared on his knees, just as promised.

[tricornonthecob]

Oh shit here we go

LK 101 - Boston Spilling the Tea Party (part one)

pt pt2 pt3

Lets be honest, the real reason this series exists: Walter Cronkite as Benji Franx.

why is there only one dude on what appears to be a fucking *frigate* I mean I know why, animation budget, but my point stans

Also fuckin seizure warning on the Atlantic, brah.

Cluny the Scourge just hanging out on what I'm assuming is Sarah's bed? Or is that just her pet. Did she have a beloved pet rat?? Was she a rat girl??? This has caused more questions.

Is this her room?? Why is there a bed belowdecks like this? why is her room so massive?? Am I looking too hard into a DIC cartoon?

I love how this girl just canonically vibes with chaos. Alone, 15 years old, going to the colonies, in a fucking storm that even the grizzled sailors are freaked out by, and she's writing to her mom how exciting everything is. She's either dissociating like a champ or she's a legend. Also how are you not seasick??? Oh right you're an accomplished rider and horse girl you got that inner ear

Not gonna lie though, listening to this girl talk about her dad coming home from the wilderness and how they're all gonna have an awesome life is kind of sad. Oh, honeyyyyy. No. Can you imagine being her mom and getting all these letters? Oh god now I've made up more headcanons.

she really has the worst luck with ships, doesn't she.

SuCh SyMbOlIsM

This dork. Also why is his collar so fucking open jfc.

In this house we stan Exasperated Dad!Moses

"When someone wants to know what's on my shirt I can sell 'em a newspaper!" is the kind of idea I'd expect from an ADHD/PTSD madlad. I feel like both Sarah and James vibe and thrive off chaos, but only one of them has a balanced inner ear.

Gotta love Eager Beaver getting knocked down a peg by Exasperated Dad.

The *flair.* The *drama.* The *exasperated and slightly amused adult*

aaaaaaaaaaay the French Fry! The Brains! The feral younger sibling! The one I vibed with the hardest as a feral younger sibling!

Henri: Bitch I'd do it again!!!!

Dear writers: why the fuck did you set up an enemies-to friends-to lovers pipeline so hard like this.

oh my gOdD Moses is such a dilf

Ok is it just me or did they design her as a redhead in the beginning and slowly lighten her to strawberry blonde later on, or am I just losing my mind.

do you think they boinked. Dirty Old Man Franklin absolutely tried to make a move on Lady Phillips.

We all worry about your feral daughter, Lady Phillips.

AND WE'RE ON NICKNAME TERMS? Yeah they boinked.

Sir. SIR. Two of those associates are children.

THEY FUCKING. BOINKED. NEW SHIP FRANKLIN/LADY PHILLIPS WE CALL IT FRILLIPS OH MY GOD NO WAIT THEY'RE A POLYCULE.

They'd absolutely get hammered and watch a Pats game, I'm a little disappointed the directors didn't tell the voice actors to lean into the New England accent. Also why does the guy on the left look like Peter Griffin.

It can't be Boston, there aren't nearly enough maniacal drivers with homicidal intent

*there* it is.

Damn this dude got REAL into it.

He just. Hops over tea chests and pulls himself up over a ship. To interview people. Fucking madlad.

Henri is getting *into it* feral frenchman child.

I don't think that's a normal response. That abandonment/orphandom PTSD does things to a brain.

well somebody sure had fun discovering After Effects transitions.

Yeah your ship's cool and all but does your ship have a meetcute that involves blunt force trauma with weaponized literature.

To be continued because of the 30 image limit

[cutesyrobotlover]

If requests are still open, how about Sleeping Cowboy x Nonbinary Reader? This should give you little to no limits on what to write! I want to see how you perceive them. They should meet in Midtown, though 💓

(Of course! This is a short one since the companion didn't really have much information I could work with, but hopefully you'll like it!)

"Take Your Time: Sleeping Cowboy x Reader"

Since the day you awakened from your Cryopod due to an orange cat's curiosity, you would not deny the fact the workaholic instincts you held onto years back stayed with you even until today. And by workaholic, you meant getting the job done immediately when one of the companions were to ask something simple of you.

It amazed B-12 how your thoughts were so aligned with a plan that the Sewers only fazed you slightly. Even if companions, felines, or drones would applaud you for your perseverance, you could not tell any of them that it only was because your anxiety pushed you forward. 

You were afraid of falling behind, or let alone, dying. You awakened in a world where humans were long extinct, and the only thing guiding you left to a future was a cat who knew that there was an outside world behind these walls.

"I don't want to die..! I don't want to die..! I don't want to die..! I don't wanna!!" Your inner voice shouted when you were cradling the cat and the drone in your arms while trying to reach the gate before it could close on you.

And with more travelling, climbing through Antvillage made your stomach churn from the energy you exerted from clambering one ladder to another until there were only pipelines left to crawl onto, 

Don't even get started on how you got stuck at the sewer pipe, needing to fight with every muscle you had in your body to fit until you fell face-first onto the ground. Everyone could entitle you to a responsible workaholic, but you knew deep down you were uncoordinated and paranoid.

Nevertheless, Midtown was a mesmerizing place for you. It was brighter and somewhat dirty on some corners, but the beautiful neon lights convinced you it was not so flawed. Although, you should have known otherwise that there were still no humans in sight, only companions who seemed to continue their daily lives.

You passed by a companion who wore a sun hat shaped like a cone. It appears that whatever the companion was saying, they weren't too pleased as their warbles gradually increased, similar to an angered shout.

While continuing your walk, you only realized that every step you took began slowing down. Every step felt heavier and heavier while your breathing grew more shallow. Were you sick? Not that you can recall,

Despite the hindrance, you continued to walk. But you took a quick detour and leaned by a wall for a couple of seconds. You weren't sure what was causing such a powerful sting of discomfort in your head and body. Eventually, your kitty friend and their drone buddy approached you, gazing at your weakening figure as you slid down slowly until you sat on the ground.

"I-I'm fine... Just a headache! That's all!" You managed to mutter while feeling your vision begin blurring away gradually. The robotic voices of B-12 were transforming into static, and it was only a matter of time until all you saw was darkness. 

♡

Your dream.., or if you could even call it a dream, was a little more sorrowful than the ones you had in your Cryopod. It was a recollection of your fears and your paranoia in one place. For instance, with how the world evolved so quickly before that you feared falling behind, you did not want to feel so isolated when your peers caught up with everything.

This paranoia drove you to spend sleepless nights finalizing your papers for your university classes until your body shivered for even an ounce of sleep. The anxiety of falling behind that made you force yourself to the extent. Now there you were, in a world where evolution was passed down to the hands of the companions, while you tailed a cat, hoping they could lead you to a better fate,

You woke up and jolted awake, feeling your body shake from the shock you gained from your dream. It seems that your awakening had also startled your feline friend since they were recently resting next to you, but now the cat was standing on the ground, clearly upset.

Once things began to clear up, you recognized you were sitting up on someone while one metallic hand wrapped around your waist lazily. There was a dramatic slow turn your head did before your eyes met with a robot who groggily woke up, yawning and lifting his cowboy hat from his face.

"Oh, Hello there, Soft One! Good day," He spoke through his robotic yawn; while you felt your face flush from the physical contact you had with the companion.

You didn't understand why he seemed so relaxed with this position. Although, no one else in the streets bothered to stare or question both of you since every other companion continued their daily activities. 

Before you could stand up and apologize to the robot, your feline friend hopped back onto your lap and pawed at your stomach. You glanced at B-12, hoping they could translate the sudden pawing the cat was doing,

"You humans need your rest! I realized you've been running around without getting a wink of sleep. Therefore, this kind companion was nice enough to share his sleeping space with us," B-12 twirled in the air while you glanced at the robot, who only offered a sleepy wave.

"But—" Before you could protest, loud meows began ringing in your ears, practically begging you to give in to the idea of sleeping,

"Looks like your little buddy wants you to lay down already," The robot spoke, humming in contentment while gently drawing you into an embrace. Once metal arms wrapped around your frame, your feline friend laid right next to you with B-12 between their paws.

"Don't worry, Soft One, sometimes time can wait. You need your rest too, you know," The companion reassured, giving you a pat on the head and ruffling it softly.

'Time can wait,' you repeat in your head. 

You felt tears form at the corner of your eyes, sensing comfort from those short words. Even the setting calmed you down, just you and the others laying on one couch and letting time pass by for a bit while you catch your rest. It didn't feel so lonely anymore.

♡

B-12 halted the mission of reaching the outside world until everyone had regained their energy. Your small buddy seemed satisfied with loafing around until their cat legs were back in shape again. Clementine was also not bothered by the quick break since she was busy connecting the dots of her plan to fix the subway.

While you, on the other hand, had made your way to the friendly robot who would open his arms widely whenever they saw your silhouette approaching closer. You rolled your eyes before chuckling as you settled yourself inside his grasp, allowing him to envelope you in a cold yet welcoming embrace until the two dozed onto another nap.

[divinehedons]

i was writing an essay for uni about imposter syndrome and i feel like i've become more intimate with it since i started writing here. specially since people started noticing my work. i'm so incredibly thankful and it probably sounds so small to others, but to me, i never expected that much traction. it's amazing to find people that share your interests and it gives me a sense of community like the same one i had in my younger years.

but walking hand in hand with that as well is this quiet little creature in my brain (who i've since called ooey) who sort of amplifies my worries with the audience that have their eyes on me. what if i don't live up to that expectation? what if i'll never write something that good, again?

ooey, of course, is that cute little kid who survived the whole gifted-child-to-burnt-out-teen pipeline that likes quantifying their worth into performance. but, since i think i grew a little from ooey, i know, too, that art, writing, fiction, and the community they are nurtured in cannot be quantified into such simple configurations. so, i'm slowly teaching ooey that none of it is in our control, ever, and that's what makes the community so organic and beautiful.

tl;dr: so i am still writing; it's just taking some time. they say rome wasn't built in a day and i am no founder of rome, but i like to think i'm doing something good.

[natigail]

idk how long it's been since you've last been on, maybe you'll never be on tumblr again, but anyhoo- I came for the Phan n then saw Bang Chan in your likes & I appreciate the similar journey's we've been on ✌️

Hi anon! (I'm so curious as to why you would assume I haven't been on here in a while, I'm here every day and my queue is actively running at the moment asdfggfj).

But yes! DnP and the phandom was my first proper fandom and it might still arguably be the one where I have the most ties, even now. I'd started watcing them in summer of 2014 and then joined tumblr in february 2016 and got my first incredibly lovely introduction to what fandom could be like. I still adore those boys very much but their content and frequency also changed, so I feel like I've ebbed and flowed with that too. I'm so delighted about the regular vidoes we get from both of them on their own channels now, and I'm so looking forward to seeing Dan on tour.

K-pop came into my life summer of 2019 while I was procrastinating writing my thesis and to say that it hit me like a brick might be an understatement. It was "just" BTS for the first about a year and a half, but then I slowly started to branch out, getting familiar with more and more groups, and it's been such a lovely and fun time. For now I like to say my "top 5" is BTS, Astro, Seventeen, SHINee and Stray Kids (here listed in order of "discovery"), though I enjoy another like ten groups as well. But I think I would be amiss not to acknowledge that Skz have hit me particularly hard, espeically Channie. I think I upgraded him to ult (alongside Namjoon) while Minho and Jisung remain firm biases.

I started rambling without really meaning to but you mentioned journeys and I wanted to share a bit more of mine. The pipeline from phandom to k-pop fan is relatively common, I think. I've seen a couple of my mutuals go that way (some even slightly aided by my k-pop posts flooding their dashes). I kind of love that so much.

Anyway, thanks for sending this ask! I hope you have a lovely day.

[grraveryl]

i have two longer fics I've been planning out and they have both followed the "was gonna be a oneshot but now has chapters oh no!" pipeline ajsjfjsk

one is a tomi centric fic where i fill in the blanks from her route and explore how she feels abt being in the 80s away from her home, will feature nentomi nonsense bc it's me lol

the other is a nenji centric fic set in the post-game where I'm basically just hitting the poor guy with the ptsd-ificaton beam andhfjs listen. listen i think abt the timeloop he was in soooo much, plus i get to write him interacting with more of the cast yay!

also also i have so many wips for oneshots that I'm just slowly chipping away at too aaaaaaaa i need like. a proper way to keep track of everything

[meant-to-be-a-hero]

Current List Of Eddie Fics

Reposting, since I've written some new stuff/finished things.

Go Your Own Way - 10/10, Complete. (Eddie x Reader)

After a year of tragedy you didn't think you'd ever smile again, until you joined the Hawkins High Hellfire Club. The fact that Eddie Munson, your Dungeon Master, is perhaps the hottest person you've ever met doesn't hurt matters, either. When you're around him, things feel bright again, and you begin to feel as though your life might finally be getting back on track.

But when Eddie finds himself at the centre of a police investigation, you're drawn into a mysterious conspiracy involving otherworldly monsters, dark alternate dimensions, and a terrifying curse. It'll take everything you have, as well as the assistance of the most unlikely of allies, to clear Eddie's name and save the entire world (and yourself!) from the demon known as Vecna.

And then there's the matter of your heart. With the world going insane around you, the only thing that doesn't seem in question are your feelings for Eddie. Is it even possible that he might feel the same way about you, or is your love life destined to be a critical fail?

[Set during the events of Stranger Things Season 4]

Come Back To Me - 12/12, Complete. (Eddie x Reader)

You’ve had about enough of Hawkins. Between the disappearances, the murders, and now an earthquake, it’s about time for you to relocate to some place a little safer. But those plans fall apart, literally, when you find yourself plummeting through a fissure in the ground and into a hellish dimension beyond.

Trapped in a terrifying reflection of Hawkins and stalked by dangerous creatures, things take a turn for the worse when Eddie Munson makes the scene. As you spend time with Eddie though, you come to realise that perhaps you shouldn’t believe everything you’ve heard on the news about him. Logic and reason have always been your go-to, but when it comes to Eddie, maybe this time you’ll have to think with your heart instead of your head. If you don’t lose them both first.

As the shadow of Vecna threatens to drown Eddie in darkness, the pair of you fight to uncover the secret behind his resurrection so that you can both forge a path out of the Upside Down and back to the surface. And maybe, you might just forge something else along the way. A bond strong enough that even Vecna’s evil can’t break it. A bond of friendship, and maybe even...love.

[Set after the events of Stranger Things Season 4]

The Music's No Good Without You - 7/14, Updates Tues/Thurs. (Eddie x Reader)

Leaving Hawkins to chase your dreams in New York feels like the best decision you’ve ever made. At least until you get there, and realise that chasing your dreams is actually a lot harder than you thought it’d be. Feeling creatively suffocated, you decide to join a band so that you’ve got somewhere to sing when the rest of the city seems to want you to do anything but.

The band in question however turns out to be made up of very familiar faces – Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley and...Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since high school. There’s only one problem: Eddie doesn’t date – he’s too focused on achieving his dream of superstardom for that. But maybe you can show him that achieving his dream doesn’t have to mean closing off his heart in the process.

It’s not going to be easy, especially when an old flame returns to make your life, and the lives of your bandmates, miserable. Together though, you can overcome anything. You’ll win Eddie’s heart, and achieve both of your dreams, no matter what it takes.

It’s not going to be easy, especially when an old flame returns to make your life, and the lives of your bandmates, miserable. Together though, you can overcome anything. You’ll win Eddie’s heart, and achieve both of your dreams, no matter what it takes.

[Rock Band AU - doesn't reference the events of the show]

Little Bites Of Happiness - 4/15, Updates Mon/Weds/Fri . (Eddie x Steve) Vecna has been defeated, and Hawkins is safe once again. The battle is over, and the danger has passed at last. There’s just one problem: Eddie Munson is still dead, and for Steve Harrington, that’s unacceptable.

Steve’s not sure why he cares so much. What he does know is that he has to bring Eddie back, no matter the cost.

And hey, if psychic powers and other dimensions exist, then surely magic isn’t far behind?

But what he and Robin bring back isn’t Eddie. At least, not entirely. It’s something darker, something deadlier, and something hungry.

With Robin at his side, Steve sets out to rescue Eddie and purge the darkness that has tainted his resurrection. But to do that, Steve might have to face his own secrets, and finally come to terms with feelings he has long been denying.

[Set after the events of Stranger Things Season 4, with vague allusions to some version of Season 5]

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: ERICAAA!!! FRICKIN FINALLY!! Less important note, but when writing about Y/n, El and Max, I wrote "the three friends" and autocorrect literally changed "friends" to "fruits". Yelmax confirmed 💀

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder's Office," Robin reports, unfurling what looked to be a familiar layout on the break room table. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints."

"Not bad," Dustin smirks from her left.

"So this is us," she points to a familiar-looking room before gesturing across the map. "Scoops, and this is where we wanna get."

"Yeah, I don't really see a way in," Steve mumbles from his seat at the table.

"There's not. If,"

She rips away a layer of the blueprint, revealing a vastly complicated map of air ducts, pipelines, and detailing that made up Starcourt.

"you're talking exclusively about doors."

Dustin looks at her with excitement growing in his eyes. "Air ducts!"

"Exactly," she smirks, making her way to the whiteboard to retrieve the magic marker. "Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room and these air ducts lead all the way" she circles the secret room in question, drawing one, interrupted line right back to, "here."

Dustin and Steve finally tear their eyes away from the map and follow Robin's mischievous eye. All the way to the air duct tucked away in the far corner of the Scoops Ahoy break room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

To their surprise, a screwdriver had been harder to find than a ladder but soon enough Steve had managed to reach the air vent and unscrew it from the wall. But as he stood here now, peering down into the vent he quickly realized they were now facing yet another obstacle.

"Flath'ligh'?" Steve asked, finally removing the screwdriver from his mouth and shaping it for the small torchlight Dustin had waiting. "Thank you,"

The flashlight turns on with a tiny click and a soft yellow light bounces down the narrow metal tunnel, enunciation the frown on Steve's face.

"Yeah, I don't know man, I don't know if you can fit in here, it's like... super tight."

"I'll fit," Dustin smirks. "Trust me. No collarbones, remember?"

"Uh, excuse me?" Robin asks.

Steve jumps down from the ladder, turning to Robin as Dustin begins the climb and gives her a nod.

"Oh, he's uh, he's got so disease," he frowns thoughtfully, racking his brain as he tries to recall the word. "It's chrydo... um... something, yeah I don't know. He's missing bones and stuff, he can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean... Gumby?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo," he snorts.

"Just shut up and push me!" Comes Dustin's muffled voice from the vents.

By now he had wormed himself halfway in, his bottom half sticking out of the wall and still propped up on the latter while they had been talking.

"Okay,"  Steve huffed, motioning knowingly to the kid's feet and turned away from Robin.

She watched with a tired, lazily bemused expression as Steve grabbed a less than sturdy hold of the kid's feet and attempted to push.

"Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass!"

"Uh, what?"

"TOUCH MY BUTT! I DON'T CARE!" Came Dustin's impatient scream from the walls.

With a heavy grimace, Steve hesitantly began pushing against Dustin's rear end and his muffled anger grew louder.

"I'm pushing!" Steve argued.

"PUSH HARDER!" Dustin shrieks as he attempts to inch further into the metal vents. "You're playing with my legs!"

"I'm not playing, I have terrible footing!"

"Come on!"

Steve finally makes it to the top of the latter, Dustin's legs bunched together over his shoulders and locked under his arm as their voice continued to shout over one another.

"I'm gonna just shove you, ready?"

"Just shove me?"

"One, two..."

"Shit!"

"That work?"

"One more time,"

Robin rolls her eyes, finally turning away when she hears the sudden rapid chimes of the customer bell out front and all too familiar patron.

"Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck!"

Through the partition window, Robin meets eyes with none other than Erica Sinclair who flashes her an exaggerated salute and rings the bell knowingly.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Laughter and joyful screams filled the chlorine-soaked air, the smell of the pool lingering with sunblock was strong enough it wafted all the way to the parking lot where the majority of the Party now stood at the Hawkins pool. It looked quite different than it had the day before when Y/n, Max, and El had last been, but the tension weighing down the atmosphere seemed just as heavy and ever-present.

The storm had of course long since lifted, and the sun was now beating down heavily on their backs as they took shelter behind a Rust Red AMC Hornet, all eyes across the lot on the occupant in the lifeguard chair.

Billy.

He was squished underneath the bright red beach umbrella, hidden underneath a baseball cap, thick shades, a long-sleeved sweater, and a white beach towel draped over his legs where they poked out into the sun. He was completely covered.

"I don't know," Max begins, peering through the group's binoculars. "He looks pretty normal to me,"

"Normal?" Lucas scoffs. "How many times have you seen him with a shirt on?"

Y/n smiles weakly from where she stands in between him and Will. Max lowers the binoculars, conceding a wince.

"I mean, it's a little weird,"

"More than a little," Mike nods. "He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold. Plus everything El saw—"

"But he's lounging at the pool," Max argues, doubtfully. "Which is like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever,"

"Not necessarily," Will says, pulling everyone's attention. "The Mind Flayer likes to hide. He only used me when he needed me. It's like... like you're dormant. And then, when he needs you,"

All eyes return to Billy.

"...you're activated."

Y/n gulps, shifting on her feet from where she had previously stood rooted to the spot. Ever since that dreaded Halloween night the previous year, nothing seemed to have been the same. The Mind Flayer had set his sights on Will, and in turn, her. Slowly but surely, he had infected all of their lives as he had the town of Hawkins; spreading his rot and poison, and his hate. She could still feel it sometimes; the pain of Will's nails raking into her face and leaving behind the faded scar that had already long since disappeared.

Her eyes dart back through the fence at the suspicious-looking lifeguard and her insides twisted further into a sickening knot. The thought of the Mind Flayer's possible return was enough to drain the color from her face and leave a chill in the humid, sticky summer air. Her mind was running rapid with fear but the sound of Max's voice was enough to return her to earth.

"Okay, so we just..." she shrugs, looking back over towards her brother. "wait until he gets activated."

"No," Mike says with the shake of his head. "What if he hurts someone?"

"Or kills someone?" Will counters, and the Wheeler boy nods.

"We can't take that chance. We need to find out if he's the host,"

"Well, how do we do that?" Lucas asks.

The Party falls silent. The weight of the air growing heavier and heavier as it dawns on them. And one by one, each pair of eyes trickle over to the only present Henderson sibling in the Party. Her head is hung, propped-up against the hood and when she senses the eyes on her she straightens, breathing a sigh. But Will was already shaking his head.

"What? No, no way," he says to Mike and the others, Y/n already turning to him. "No, Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea,"

"I don't like it either," Y/n fretted. "but it's our best chance. The Mind Flayer hates me, and I can push his limits. It's the fastest way."

"And if, by some random chance, Billy isn't the host?" Will countered gently. "He'd find out about you,"

Y/n didn't have a reply for that. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be relieved or angered he had cornered her. She just stood there, frowning at the concrete sidewalk biting her lip thoughtfully. She tried to think of a way to use her abilities subtly, but all her experience with heat came from seismic blasts or concentrated bursts from her hands. If she attempted that on Billy, he would surely know it.

"There's gotta be another way," Mike cuts in. "I mean, a safe way that doesn't risk you getting hurt or discovered."

Y/n and Will - even El - shoot him a funny look and he shifts under the sudden attention, guiltily.

"What about the sauna?" Lucas says, lighting up.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He grins, stepping out from around the car and motioning for Will and Mike. "Come on,"

Seemingly catching onto Lucas's idea, Mike wastes no time in following. And Will hesitantly steps away, sending Y/n and his friends an apologetic shrug.

"Where are you going?" El called after them, exasperated.

"Sorry! Boys only!" Mike throws over his shoulder.

Max scowls after them. "Seriously?!"

"Just trust us!" Lucas cries.

"We'll be back," Will shrugs again. "... I guess."

The three friends sigh, throwing less than impressed looks at the retreating boys. Privately, Y/n wondered if Mike stood any chance of harm just from her glaring at him in this moment. She hadn't shared these feelings with anyone, but since reuniting with Will something had been troubled Ling him and he wouldn't say what. She could spot it right away, the shift in demeanor but she knew it was something different from the return of the Mind Flayer somehow. And she believed it had something to do with Mike.

He was acting differently around him. He had been for some time now, as she had with Max and even El but this was different. Something had happened, and because Will was, well, Will, he was clearly trying to put aside for the sake of everyone's safety. Y/n couldn't really blame him there, but she wished he would open up to her. Tell her what was wrong.

And she wished more than anything she could fix whatever Mike had clearly broken.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"All we gotta do is wait until the pool closes and everyone leaves," Lucas begins, guiding his friends through the first layer of the men's locker rooms. "And then get him from here..."

He steps forward, quickly ripping open the secondary door. The three boys scurry inside, and Lucas's friends quickly seem to catch on to his plan and a small smile grows on Will's face.

"And get him into here," Lucas eagerly rips open the sauna door, expecting to see nothing but steam but his luck had run out.

Five sweaty adult men in towels sat packed in the sauna like sardines, scowls on their faces for the three party members who interrupted their steam. "Hey! Shut the door!"

-"Come on, kid!"

-"Shut it!"

Lucas finally broke from his stupor and slammed the door shut, shuddering.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth,"

Will nodded with a grimace, but shook it off when his eyes landed on the wall beside the door.

"The controls!"

Mike's still bulging, haunted eyes finally broke away from their zoning out and jumped to the wall where Will was pointing. His face lit up.

"We can control from the outside, it's perfect!"

"Do you think it'll get hot enough?" Will asks, feeling more and more relieved by the second. "Like, "Y/n" hot?"

His friends immediately stopped, looking to him with a deadpan expression. Will scoffed at them. "You know what I mean" he snarked, not in the mood though he was trying to ignore the hint of a blush creeping up on his skin.

"Nevermind that," Lucas says. "Look right, here, 220 degrees. That's definitely enough."

"Okay, so we just need to figure out how to get him into here," Will nods towards the sauna door.

"Precisely."

"Then we lock him in," Mike says.

Lucas nods. "-heat him up,"

And Will manages another somewhat relieved smile. "-and no matter what happens, we'll know for sure."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Erica descends from the latter, the flashlight in her hands flicking off with a loud click as she strides up to the break room table where her recruits stood waiting. The group had taken a calculated risk I confiding in the young girl, but she was smart and demanded the information and why they needed to know if she could fit into the air duct in the back room. So here they stood, waiting with anxious breath for her verdict.

"Yeah, I don't know," she says, propping herself up on the edge of the table rather unimpressed.

"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asks.

"Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to,"

"Are you claustrophobic?" Robin tries.

Amused, Erica gives the young woman a pitiful laugh. "I don't have phobias."

"Okay, well," Steve begins with a shrug. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Steve slides another banana boat ice cream float across the table, joining the already plentiful dairy banquet laid out for the Sinclair girl. She merely gave it a single, disinterested glance and slid it back.

"More fudge please,"

Nobody said anything. And Steve just stared back at the table with tired, glazed-over eyes before Erica sent him a dismissive wave.

"Go on,"

He gave a sigh, and left the booth with the Banana boat in hand, and retreated to the counter. Robin took that as her cue and pulled out the marked-up blueprints she had at her side.

"Alright, you see this?" She points from the circle marked Scoops Ahoy and trail connecting over the flipped map. "This is the route you're gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight then you knock out the grate. Jump down. Open the door."

"Then you find out what's in those boxes?" She asks.

"Exactly,"

"And you say this guard is armed?"

"Yes," Dustin quickly nods. "But he won't be there,"

"And booby traps?"

"Booby traps?" Robin echoed.

"Lazers, spikes in the wall,"

Robin couldn't help but give a small laugh, but Erica was all too serious. She turned to the two with a serious look.

"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment."

"We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time-"

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Erica stops her. "Child. Endangerment."

Robin sighs, ignoring the knot wanting to twist in her stomach. She knew she was right, and Robin supposed she just didn't want to admit to herself what they were asking not only of themselves but the young girl.

"Erica?" Dustin began. "Hi, uh... We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don't you love your country?"

"You can't spell America without Erica," she shrugs, taking a long and loud sip from her complimentary Scoops Shake.

Dustin just blinks at her response and concedes with a nod. "Uh... yeah. Oddly, that's uh... weirdly true, so... so! Don't do this for us! Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica."

Erica, who had been slurping her drink through her straw throughout his entire speech, finally finished it off and shivered, sending him a smirk. "Ooh! I just got the chills."

Dustin smiled proudly.

"Oh, yeah," she quickly corrects, her smile falling. "From this float. Not your speech."

His smile falls right off his face.

"You know what I love most about this country?" Erica began. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?"

Both Robin and Dustin mumble a 'yeah'.

"It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And this seems to me that my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So-"

Robin and Dustin share a worried look.

"-you want my help? This U.S.S. Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Lifting Up Auvionna "Auvi" Smith:

Muslim Aid - Save Palestine Emergency:

Help Latino Community on Lake Street:

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN FOUNDERS

If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do: look at what happens to those who win lotteries or inherit money. Isn't the pointy-haired bosses. In OO languages, you can, even if you forget the experience or what you read, its effect on your model of the world. There is a very sharp dropoff in performance among VC firms, because in many cases the language layer won't have to change at all. Then I'm worried. VC firm will not screw you too outrageously, because other founders would avoid them if word got out. Large-scale investors tend to put startups in three categories: successes, failures, and the distinction between the spikes and the average becomes sharper, like a digital image rendered with more pixels. And the big hits often look risky at first. The problem is, for the company to have a low valuation. In fact, if you have a browser on your cell phone? N elements.

But as well as Lisp, so they get the pick of all the parts, as ITA presumably does, you can make the search results useless, because the first results could be dominated by lame sites that had bid the most. If you want to work on what you like, and let people design whatever object systems they want as libraries. Will there be a phone in your palm pilot?1 So the total number of new shares to the angel; if there were 1000 shares before the deal, the capitalization table looks like this: shareholder shares percent—VCs 650 33.2 My guess is that the concepts we use in everyday life that you don't have time for your ideas to evolve, and b you're often forced to take deals you don't like it. I suppose I should learn Lisp, but it is a byword for impossibility.3 Though the first philosophers in the western tradition lived about 2500 years ago, and even have bad service, and people will keep coming. 5 are now widespread. That idea is not exactly novel. If VCs got de facto control of the company 2/4 2. You can start by writing things that are useful but very specific, and then think about how to make money, but what you'd like to be able to avoid the usual chicken and egg problem new protocols face, because some of the most important things you can understand about startups.

The difference between then and now is that now I understand why Berkeley is probably not worth trying to understand.4 Neither Bill Gates nor Mark Zuckerberg knew at first how big their companies were going to spend the weekend at a friend's house for dinner. VCs also insist that prior to the deal the option pool is down to 13. We were compelled by circumstances to grow slowly, and in particular, Internet startups are still only a fraction of what the finished product will do, but that dramatic peaks can only be achieved by people with certain rare, innate qualities; nearly anyone can learn to be a complete picture. Could you describe the person as an animal? That scenario may seem unlikely now, but Fortran I didn't have them.5 The goal is the same as intelligence.6 All they need is a language that actually seems better than others that are available, there will be no more great new stuff beyond whatever's currently in the pipeline for several years after, and finally issued in 2003.7 Don't hire people to fill the gaps in some a priori org chart. That's what happened with domestic servants. Partly the reason deals seem to fall through so often is that you get less dilution.8

So someone investigated, and sure enough, that patent application had continued in the pipeline for several years after, and finally issued in 2003. And yet this guy will be almost entirely overlooked by the press. These heaps o' boilerplate are a problem for small startups, because it's always the oldest it's ever been.9 If you work hard at being a bond trader for ten years, thinking that you'll quit and write novels when you have enough money to pay a little more equity, but being slightly underfunded teaches them an important lesson. This is understandable with angels; they invest on a smaller scale and don't like to get across about startups, that's it. So when I ran into the Yahoo exec I knew from working there in the late 1950s. I know a lot of people wish that hacking was mathematics, or at least to know what they want from me. Probably because the product was a dog, or never seemed likely to be smarter. Barely usable, I admit, this is true.

We might have to give definite if implicit advice will keep us from straying beyond the resolution of the words we're using.10 Maybe mostly in one hub, and it seems to consume all your attention. But I have a hunch that the main branches of the evolutionary tree pass through the languages that have the right kind of place for developing software. They're not pretending; they want to believe you're a hot prospect, because it is the cool, new programming language. And this tradition had so long to develop that nontechnical people like managers and venture capitalists also learned it. Some languages are better than either of them?11 At the very least, you're supposed to be working on their company, not worrying about investors. They'd rather lose the deal than establish a precedent of VCs competitively bidding against one another. Wall Street's language. Since people interested in designing programming languages, a lot of good publicity for the VCs.

Notes

Kant.

Even the cheap kinds of startups will generally raise large amounts of money from it.

There's a good plan in which internal limits are expressed.

And the reason the US. Bankers continued to dress in jeans and t-shirt, they're probably a real partner. Record labels, for many Americans the decisive change in how Stripe felt. You have to do business with any firm employing anyone who had died decades ago.

I find hardest to get going, e. Economic inequality has been decreasing globally. Microsoft, incidentally, that all metaphysics between Aristotle and 1783 had been Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard Business School at the end of World War II had become so common that their system can't be buying users; that's the situation you find known boring ideas intolerable. This has, like arithmetic drills, instead of crawling back repentant at the network level, because the illiquidity of progress puts them at the lack of movement between companies combined with self-imposed.

The wave of hostile takeovers in the country. This seems unlikely at the end of economic inequality is not to pay employees this way, they'd be called acting Japanese. This sentence originally read GMail is painfully slow. Geshke and Warnock only founded Adobe because Xerox ignored them.

That's the difference between being judged as a type of product for it.

If you actually started acting like adults.

The existence of people. Why go to college, you'll be well on your own mind. All languages are equally powerful in the sort of wealth—that startups usually lose money at all.

This includes mere conventions, like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but trained on corpora of stupid and non-broken form, that it killed the best in the sense that if the present, and FreeBSD 1.

And while they may try allowing up to the principles they discovered. Xxvii. Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, but art is a big change in the cover story of creation in the US News list?

Thanks to Chad Fowler, Patrick Collison, Dan Giffin, Geoff Ralston, Trevor Blackwell, and Stan Reiss for the lulz.