#He had absolutely no idea Bill was as high up in the hierarchy as he was

[tswwwit]

Thinking about Dipper and how he fucked his way to the top like a real bitch

And we're all very proud of him. 😌

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

hi I'm back again. Anyways; as always you don't have to answer if you don't wish! How do you think the residents would react to a young Pureblood MC? (I'm talking about young like a minor.) With that Gen Z in a nutshell personality. Obviously no romantic feelings, just in your opinion how do you think they'd react? all of my questions are just "coincidentally" oddly specific aren't they, totally

Oh shit whaddup I love the idea of Gen Z MC!!! Young pureblood it is, here we go! I’m going to be moving from the assumption that they’re like Comte/Leo; very sympathetic to humanity and sometimes have existential crises (trauma babeyyyyyyyyy). As such, I’ll also be assuming she’s not super close to her family given she rejects the larger vampiric hierarchy/superiority paradigm, memes and modernity, all that jazz

I hope this fits the bill! c:

Under a cut bc is a lonnnnnnng boi~ Click after Napo to see everyone else’s! No explicit triggers that I’m aware of, but if anybody sees anything I missed feel free to let me know

Comte’s reaction:

Absolute baby, he has decided this is his grandchild--no he will not change his mind or take constructive criticism. Get’s ESPECIALLY concerned when he starts to see signs of that “nothing in life matters 😎” nihilism, but doesn’t pester them about it or becomes naggy. Growing up he had similar issues with the prospect of eternal life surrounded by creatures with a mortal lifespan, so he doesn’t judge. He’s more like nah we all hit that vibe, let’s see if we can get their mind off it c: I feel like Gen Z really understand and appreciate the importance of culture and art, so I feel like they would bond a ton over trips to museums/plays/concerts! Invites them to tea time if he ever sees them particularly silent (ah yes, repression) or particularly tired, and does his best to ensure their safety without being intrusive (has briefed the men to escort/accompany her as needed, though Sebas usually does it).

If he sees fangs out around baby he will thrash the shit out of the perpetrator--unless it’s an accident. No excuses. That’s a child. Doesn’t give a FUCK if they’re another pureblood even with all the arranged marriage bullshit. He said what he said. (Remember that biting between vampires or vampire + human relations is considered something that’s only done between intimate partners, so he is having none of that for a minor)

Leonardo’s reaction:

Also certified granddad, but he’s the one that enables shenanigans and is just like “oh worm” when it comes to the existential dread (it’s a Tuesday). At first though Leo is basically that meme like: (Stupidman = Leo, Maddie = MC)

Not all purebloods are necessarily dangerous, but most are either incredibly indifferent to the plight of others (especially humans) or actively range from like playing social mind games to being sociopathic murderers/etc. the list goes on. As such, Leonardo is suspicious to no end until he sees that the kid really doesn’t have any ill will in her. She jokes with Sebas (they quote vines on the daily) and works with him normally; even when Leo asks Sebas he’s just “????? bro she’s just my kouhai, thanks for worrying tho”. One day he’s tasked with escorting her to grab groceries and assorted things for the mansion, and she freezes in place before bolting across the street. Turns out she saw a kid trip in the road and fall, and a carriage was moving fast from the other side--it likely wasn’t going to be able to stop. She scoops up the kid and holds them close, and when the parents try to thank her profusely she just seems more uncomfortable with the praise than triumphant. She didn’t want the kid to get hurt. If she could do something about it, it was as simple as that.

From that point on they’re hella chill and hang out together, usually just bonding in silence. If they’re an artist, he’ll offer them pointers and technique manuals--will help however he can. If not, they’ll just be reading together in the library now and again. If she falls asleep, he’ll tuck her in and watch over her (cue red eye meme when the door opens, but then it’s just Vincent so he c:). He’ll often pay close attention to her eating habits to make sure nothing’s amiss with her health since she’s still a growing pureblood. If she struggles with what she is a lot (given she’s sympathetic to human beings) he’ll synchronize his Rouge drinking with hers to make sure she doesn’t starve herself ;-;. Even if she’s just forgetful about drinking/eating, he’ll do what he can to make her life easier (that’s how he shows his affection uwu)

He will, of course, also tease her about being a baby until she kicks him in the shin while Comte sighs and tells him to knock it off with a smack upside the head

Napoleon’s reaction:

Not granddad energy, but you better believe he’s in a weird territory between sheer admiration and “I am your older brother now, eat your vegetables” “But I don’t even need vegetables” “Eat your vegetables and I’ll take you to a crepe shop” “............deal” 

Basically it’s unlikely MC is super close to her siblings or even has any (pureblood children are a rare feat) so she’s like......wary, but then she just ???? this is.....kinda nice? Just having somebody that cares in a chill way, but still fully encourages her to throw men across the street if they’re hurting women/children (high fives her every time). He’ll often invite her to the swordplay lessons with the kids alongside Isaac’s teaching; she’s free to join in the learning, or honestly just hang out with people closer to her age (he’s v concerned about her having friends that she can relate to and talk to freely). 

Protective in a subtle way, like Leonardo. Escorts her places and helps her carry groceries without fail when Sebas is running other errands. She becomes his crepe shop cover buddy whenever he has an intense hankering for sweets: “wanna go to that crepe shop around the corner” “you’re just too chicken to go alone, fool” “do you want crepes or not nunuche” “............BOKBOKBOK” “aight that’s it **gives her a noogie**” (they go anyway and have a marvelous time rating the crepes from best to worst, they got a whole list goin’) 

Glares Arthur down if he so much as LOOKS in her direction

Mozart’s reaction:

Mozart is just the “what is with this sassy, lost child?” meme. Doesn’t dislike them, but they are just not remotely threatened by his haughty disdain by any extension. And he HATES IT. The MC is always just “Okay, boomer” and he just ?????? He doesn’t know what it means but it’s openly dismissive, so he mad.

Like idk if y’all know this meme, but it’s the same energy as:

It’s only when he notices she’s always punctual and careful with his requests that he starts to warm up. For example, she makes him a mocha by combining the way he likes his coffee and hot cocoa to perfection when he falls asleep at his piano. (She feels bad for him after Comte explains because--though he’s got a stick up his butt--he’s clearly distressed in his new surroundings ;-; Plus, the kind of perfectionism Mozart exudes is an extension of internalized shame, and when she begins to see that she really shifts her approach.) As such, he begins to soften to her presence. He begins to see that she isn’t indifferent to his existence, it’s more that she sees no need for intimidation and believes admiration is earned (basic respect isn’t a privilege, it’s a right). When he figures that out, he stops being so barbed and terse--starts to relax. Offers to let her stay and listen to his pieces if she wants, and she’s honestly touched given his clear struggle with vulnerability. Cuddles with Schelm at the window as he plays, and they become good friends. 

As a result, Mozart becomes fiercely protective despite her sturdier nature as a pureblood and has hissed venom at Arthur about the fact that she is off fucking limits. Doesn’t leave her alone in the same room as the other men unless it’s with Jeanne or Comte; he don’t trust like that.

Arthur’s reaction:

Sweating a lot at the sudden collection of baleful eyes sticking to his back everywhere he goes, but figures he brought it on himself to an extent. That being said, he can’t really get a word in edgewise given she just walks away when he tries to engage in conversation or compliment her.

Tough nut to crack this one, but he doesn’t let it discourage him. The only way she’ll give him the time of day is to play chess--and she kicks his ass soundly every single time. He’s fascinated by her extensive analytic ability, but she keeps silent about her strategies and thinking. Dazai and Theo always love to watch him get his ass handed to him, but he considers it a really interesting experience; it gives him insight into her mind, no matter how much she tries to hide. Patient, efficient, brutal--this kid has seen some shit, probably.

It’s after that point he just concedes she probably won’t let him in, though it doesn’t diminish his curiosity about the future; and perhaps traces of dread. What does the future look like for both her and Sebastian to be that stoic and aloof? It worries him...

Vincent’s reaction:

Vincent is v v impressed by her sense of self, and honestly sees a lot of Theo in her. She’s a little more reticent than Theo, but she has this same commitment to protecting the vulnerable and penetrating through the lies/shitty convictions of others. She is not a person who bends easily, but even so there’s a quiet kind of gentleness to her: she always chats to him v calmly, asks if he needs anything and is doing okay, doesn’t get impatient when he drops things or forgets his apron for the laundry. I think he would respond very positively to her presence, even if it wasn’t intentional. He just brightens up like a little sun and asks her out to picnics for fun; he has no greater intention than enjoying her smile and silly antics (he doesn’t always understand the references, but the way she executes it with so much dry wit--like Theo--makes him laugh). He just feels the warmth of family/familiarity around her ;~;

Ironically, they’re both exceedingly concerned for the other because they’re too self-sacrificing jkashlgdks like this is 100% a case of “I can’t let a young lady risk getting hurt” “Vincent I’m literally indestructible please just let me do this” “But it still hurts” “But I don’t want you to scar--” (This conversation extends so long that the author felt it would be more beneficial to add an etc. here). 

He admires her and trusts in her abilities more due to the nature of her maturity, treats her like a cherished friend and sometimes younger sibling (not condescending but very indulgent; gives her the last of his sweets for example, or pats her on the head when she’s feeling gloomy--more of a wholesome puts her first). But make no mistake, he will throw hands in milliseconds if she gets ganged up on or can’t handle a threat--he just lets her handle most things bc she’s capable~

Isaac’s reaction:

Torn. Because on the one hand, she’s very serious and conscientious about her work--doesn’t want to inconvenience or trouble anyone--and he relates to that heavy.

HOWEVER.

She’s also got insanely chaotic energy when the mood strikes, so when Dazai starts doing his random shitfuckery you better believe MC is upping the ante. (I’m talking AH. ENSLAVED MOISTURE. levels). So Isaac essentially oscillates between thankful for her fortitude to bashing his head against a table for every second he knows her.

In all seriousness though, I would see Isaac as being pretty concerned. Like Vincent, they’re both self-sacrificing to a fault--and he doesn’t want that for her, especially given how young she is. Often tells her not to overdo it or to ask for help if she looks overwhelmed, though it’s not condemning; he says it softly with a neutral look on his face. (He considers it a Certified Mood^TM). He just wants to give back all the care she puts into helping around the house. He doesn’t feel right watching a kid work so hard without reminding her that she should find time to have fun and live for herself too. There will be plenty of time when she’s older to get serious.

He has a fairly easy time interacting with her because of his experience with kids; he takes her seriously (when she’s not clowning) and treats her autonomy with respect. If anything, she’s probably the protective one. She knows he’s an aberrant so she pays laser attention to when he’s suffering and brings him Rouge (not scared because she’s stronger than him and not human lmao, and she sees no need to put Sebastian at risk). When that uni pres pesters him, she goes cold and angry and asks the man to step off when she sees him start to downspiral. They’re essentially on equal footing (he has more life experience, she has more bodily strength/confidence). They're just chill and kind with each other (babies of the mansion, beloved by all).

Theodorus' reaction:

Because he is a manchild, he will be chill/generally indifferent until Vincent starts being indulgent with her (bro-con). He won't be violent or anything like that, but he will pout a storm and try to verbally shoo her away. Because she's a woman, intelligent, and likely a feminist--this will become hilarious because she will not remotely take him seriously. She will just ignore him or roast him in seconds before moving on with her day. Otherwise he doesn't care much because he doesn't have time to play babysitter (unless there's no one else to help).

At the most, he'll make sure she's safe and use the excuse that Vincent would be upset if he did anything less. If she likes/loves dogs and plays with King while she's there, he'll soften up and thank her for taking care of him. If she makes hella pancakes, he'll be the proudest about it--ruffling her hair. If she protects Vincent in any capacity, he'll be torn between jealous, grateful and impressed; he likes a kid that can hold their own and take responsibility within their abilities.

So their relationship is v much like a chill uncle with their niece; fond, but not necessarily super close or spend a ton of time together. He has his priorities, but he won't be an asshat (mostly).

Jeanne's reaction:

Jeanne is confused on so many levels. He doesn't dislike her spunk he's just staggered by her level of sheer reckless, righteous rage. (And he's a bit wary in the face of another pureblood as a potential enemy) but after a bit more time around her he relaxes. She's fairly simple to understand when you get to know her; cares about others to a fault, existential dread, overworks herself. Stays watchful, but he just treats her like the younger kids that Napoleon brings by the weapons shop when they need armor for practice. It can get a little funny because he’ll just be like “uhhhh uh kids like sweet stuff right? Here have some of the macaroons somebody brought by earlier, I don’t like ‘em that much anyway.” And she just “??? Thanks???” He doesn’t mind being around her, just doesn’t really know what to say so they often fall into comfortable silence after exchanging small talk. She likes that he isn’t complicated; what you see is what you get with Jeanne. It’s nice not to have to keep her guard up every second of the day,

When he sees her feeling particularly down, he’ll take her to that little field of white lilies behind the mansion during a full moon night. The silver light seems to make the petals emit an ethereal glow, and she makes him a flower crown in thanks. He listens kindly if she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t--that’s okay too; he’ll just give her a head pat.

Honestly he finds a lot of relief in the fact that she's a pureblood, because he feels less nervous about her being fragile or her getting fatally hurt when he’s not around. Will still be very gentle with her and protect her when she’s in proximity

Mission Status: Fucking Wholesome

Dazai’s reaction:

Big brother time? It’s big brother time!!!! He instantly makes it his subtle mission to look after her, though he’s v lowkey abt it. She takes one look at this depressed mofo climbing in through the window and just goes “aw yeah, this guy FUCKS” and they become besties at a glance. They basically make a game out of who can be the most absurd whenever they’re in the same room. Comte and Leo find it utterly hilarious, Napoleon is digging a grave for Isaac in the backyard (we all know his heart won’t be able to take it. Mozart is probably next. A moment of silence for our fallen.)

I just imagine them like that one post (@/acoolguy):

Dazai: You ever have to shake your leg because there’s a rock in it? MC: That’s your bones Dazai: Every day I learn some more

He’ll always share treats with her and brings her along for walks if she’s feeling wanderlust; he knows how hard it can be, how restless the heart becomes so far from home. He does his best to distract her with their ongoing jokes, but one day it starts raining very suddenly while they’re out. He rushes her under the nearest tree with broad, broad leaves and settles his haori/overcoat over her head. He looks incredibly serious as he looks to the sky--almost glowering at the dark clouds gathering, He doesn’t look at all like his usual fun-loving self in that split second, even though he’s back to his good-natured chirping “Guess we’ll just have to wait out the downpour. MC, are you cold? I should have been more careful.” She shakes her head and shares the coat with him, holding it out insistently until he relents. Their hands brush and she notices they’re freezing, but she doesn’t say anything. She seems to sense he has a lot on his mind, and leans her shoulder against his. The silence feels fragile; she doesn’t want to risk shattering it--shattering him. It is often said that it is an act of great courage to wipe away someone’s tears. But it can also be an act of great gentleness to turn away, to pretend one cannot see them fall (whether visible or not).

One day, after MC returns to her own time, Dazai returns to his room to find two shadows hanging from his window. Though a little crude--they’ve obviously been made by a beginner--it’s clear what they are. Rain ghosts. (Sebastian later explains it was MC’s wish that he have them, and Dazai only smiles very, very gently in response.)

Shakespeare’s reaction:

MC gets one look at him and knows something’s off. She can’t quite tell what it is, but he doesn’t feel like the rest of the family. She can sense something behind him, something lurking; but she can’t quite place it. (Comte has mentioned before that purebloods can sense each other, so I imagine MC knows right off the bat he isn’t a normal sired vampire--she just doesn’t know enough to identify exactly what it is.)

That being said, she is sus. He keeps talking like some kind of weird ass court jester/fae, and she hated his work when she had to do it for school (only enjoyed the Hamlet memes because, let’s be real, that shit is uproarious). When he tries to coax her to see Vlad with him, she says “'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.” And he just freezes in place before he starts laughing. Considers their battle of wills well-played, and warns her not to go out alone--doesn’t bother her again. Though sometimes enjoys listening to her conversations with others for good roast material. (No he is not taking notes, no this new chara is just fire and feral for no good reason--nothing to do with MC)

Sebastian’s reaction:

The l o r e, MC. Give him the forbidden pureblood lore. Will be incredibly curious and ask about what vampires are like outside of the mansion, for science of course. If he senses discomfort though his questions will die down completely--it’s not his intention to make her uncomfortable. He’s just curious! 

Despite his stoicism he’s actually a very, very understanding and warm person.  Will listen to any teenage jadedness or hopelessness with fond patience, recalling the days he was similar. He’ll offer what advice he can. He’s not one to be preachy, but if he sees someone at a loss, he’ll offer what he thinks might be a productive direction for them. Given her removal from her home and parents--even though she’s already well into high school--he’ll sympathize deeply with her position. Will be a firm but gentle guardian (hello Mansion Mom #2), offers her candy every time she does a chore exceptionally well or offers assistance without prompting. She’s sus and takes it reluctantly at first, but after she tries one in private secretly loves them. Sebas is just silently “you like krabby patties don’t you, squidward”. If she’s honest, she’s comforted by the sense of normalcy and care he gives, the harmless joking and easy respect for others (unless otherwise provoked).

When she finds out about his hobby considers him to be a Fucking Nerd^TM and wants to shove him into a locker, but in reality is endeared by how much he genuinely cares about the men. She thinks it’s a harmless fascination, and she senses the oddest...ephemerality about him. Because of this, she becomes pretty protective; he’s a human and he’s too nice for his own good. While she identifies in one sense, she worries in another. Pureblood are sturdy, but humans can’t necessarily sustain that kind of constant self-giving for long...

Also bc my tag game too strong adding it here: #i love the prospect of pureblood MC trying to bring Sebas and Napo together #MC: bruh i got this #Sebas, full of gay panic: wait, MC nO--

Meme tl;dr in the tags also for your enjoyment! I’m sorry this one took a little longer than most to finish!

[dollbitch24]

A Bowers’ Bet (Part 3)

Sorry for the long wait on this one! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When Henry and Patrick make a twisted pact on who can steal Derry High’s most inexperienced student’s virginity first, they think it will be their most exciting game yet. But what happens when one starts to develop feelings, while the other is determined as ever to win, no matter what or who is standing in their way? A Bowers Bet (Part 2)

On Saturday morning, Juliet’s parents left for an overnight for one of her father’s business trips. Her mom typically went along with him, but only if it consisted of a night or two and if Jennifer’s mother was going along as well. Juliet met her close friend Jennifer through their dads since they both worked for the same company. Their families were persistent in upholding their respectable, high status in Derry. Jennifer’s mom, Theresa, was a lawyer, a very dignified woman that Juliet quite admired. However in Jennifer’s case, having two successful parents who were hardly ever home meant coping with her loneliness by excessively and maybe even purposely, using her parent’s credit card when they were gone. 

Juliet knew a shopping trip was in order, Jennifer always planned one whenever both parents were out of town. Even though the two girls have been best friends for years, their personalities couldn’t be any more polar opposite. Jennifer’s track record of guys is impressive while Juliet’s is clean, Jennifer cheerleads while Juliet is in literary club, Jennifer is the life of the party while Juliet has only been to two in her lifetime. But that’s kind of what makes their friendship work. They each have a tendency of balancing each other out and sometimes bringing out different side to them that no one would expect.

Juliet has the devil on her right shoulder and the angel on her left as she sat in the car with Jennifer, deciding if she should tell her about Henry or just keep her mouth shut. Deep down she knew what her reaction would be, but maybe if she explained everything from the poem and how wonderful last night went, she’d understand. Although at the moment, Jennifer was much too preoccupied with going on and on about how Gretta was sabotaging her by making the cheer team wear their hair entirely up instead of having the option to do half up, half down.

“The whole school is going to see my huge fucking dumbo ears because she needs the attention taken off of her horrendous overbite,” Jennifer hisses before changing the radio station. Juliet quietly chuckles at her as the only sound between them is the low hum of Mick Jagger and the harsh wind from the windows being slightly open.

 “You’re quiet,” Jennifer states in her typical blunt manner, eyes on the road, being able to read Juliet without even having to look at her. 

“No I’m not,” Juliet defends, staring out the window, knowing if she as much glances towards her direction she’ll crack.

“Juliet we have known each other since we were eight. At this point, I know you almost better than I know myself. Tell.” 

Juliet slowly turns her head towards her while biting down on her lip, trying to hide her immense blushing and smirk just from the thought of Henry before letting out a soft giggle. Jennifer begins to gasp, knowing the look on Juliet’s face means only one thing. “Stop it right now! Who’s the guy?!” Jennifer rushes, her eyes widening with pure anticipation.

“Well...,” Juliet hums smiling, causing Jennifer to slightly swerve the car a little too far to the right.  

“Juliet,” Jennifer warns in her typical voice that means “stop beating around the bush and say it.” 

“W-well it’s just like, Ugh-I don’t know, i-it’s nothing serious yet, but-”

“For fucks sake Juliet, I hate when you stutter like that kid Bill Denbrough, just spit it out,” Jennifer demands, her patience running thin.

“I went on a date last night with Henry Bowers,” Juliet responds, causing Jennifer to slam on her brakes in the middle of the neighborhood, causing Juliet’s body to be yanked to the point where she almost got rammed into the glove compartment. “Jesus Jennifer,” Juliet scolds, rubbing the back of her neck from the sudden jolt she experienced from the abrupt stop of the car.

“Henry Bowers?” Jennifer pronounces the name slowly, her tone in disbelief mixed with a whole lot of judgement and well, repugnance. “Have you lost your mind? You were too scared to ask the waiter for ketchup last week, but you went on a date with Henry fucking Bowers? Please tell me you only went because he had you held up at gunpoint.”

Juliet knew how unbelievable it sounded coming out of her mouth, but how could she convince her that it was one of the best times out she’s ever had?

“I get it. I know his reputation, but he’s-he’s different, I swear, he-”

“God Juliet, don’t be so naive,” Jennifer interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Henry is known as Derry’s scum for a reason. He’s dirty. He’s gross. And even worse,” Jennifer pauses, her nose scrunching in disgust, “He’s poor.”

Juliet’s fingers begin to rub her temples in distress, immediately regretting her decision of even mentioning Henry to her in the first place. Jennifer finally takes her foot off the brakes and continues driving, but her rant was far from over. “I mean come on Jules, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. That whole gang is fucked up. They only flirt with girls like you for one reason.” Jennifer states, having a hard time deciphering how she should choose her words without being a little too brutally honest.

Juliet snaps her eyes away from the passing houses from the window and swung her head to face her. “And what’s that?” Juliet persists defensively, her eyes piercing at Jennifer.

Jennifer huffs, her stare intent while looking out onto the road contemplating what to say next. “Because you’re an easy target,” Jennifer murmurs, her voice low, but more calm. “You have never been seen at school with a boyfriend or really any guy for that matter and they can smell your inexperience from a mile away. He’s using you. I’m sorry, but guys like Henry don’t fall for girls like you.”

Juliet could feel some tears begging to break loose, but she pushes the feeling aside. “You mean girls who are at the bottom of the school’s hierarchy?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and deserve somebody better than Bowers. I’m just telling you his intentions can’t be good. Him and the other ones hit on every girl that has a pulse,” Jennifer responds, sticking an unlit cigarette in her mouth before she continues on and says, “They see someone shy and untouched like you giving them a chance and go fucking ecstatic.”

“That’s not true,” Juliet mutters, shaking her head in defense while staring down at her hands nestled on top of her lap. “Henry told me he would never hurt me and that I was safe with him.” There was a part of Juliet that could feel herself sounding like one of those girls she would roll her eyes at in a cheesy romance movie. Was it honestly too good to be true?

“I know you try to live your life trying not to be noticed, but guess what? You are. People see you. Henry sees you. He sees someone fragile, someone who he thinks he can easily control and manipulate.” Jennifer responds before taking a puff of her cigarette.

“You are always telling me how I should loosen up and try to put myself out there more, and now you’re giving me shit for finally going out with someone?” Juliet chides, her voice slightly raising. Juliet could tell she was getting irritated because she started talking not only loudly, but with her hands.

“Yeah Juliet, but that wasn’t secret code for me telling you to go out with the school’s biggest psychopath and not even tell me about it beforehand. What the fuck were you thinking?” Jennifer scolds, her tone harsh, making Juliet recoil in her seat. An awkward and tension-filled silence immerses in the car, causing the two close friends to suddenly feel distant.

Jennifer finally breaks the stillness and says, “Look. We’re going to the mall. Let’s get you a cute outfit for Gretta’s party tonight and you can come with me and you’ll see that you’re more than capable of meeting someone who isn’t a total delinquent.”

Juliet wanted nothing more than to decline her offer that sounded like a demand than an option, but it’s bad enough she had to keep Henry from her mother, she didn’t need Jennifer added onto the list and on her case about it as well. She thought maybe if she just went for a bit and pretended for Jennifer’s sake, she’d make everyone happy.

“Fine,” Juliet huffs, slouching back in her seat while crossing her arms.

Juliet is used to having to deal with what life throws at her alone. Between having a mother and best friend who shares similar traits of being dismissive and controlling, she felt like she was always more worried about pleasing other people instead of worrying about what actually made her happy. Henry gave Juliet a certain kind of attention that she wasn’t used to receiving from anyone. He made her feel understood, special, pretty enough, smart enough, but most importantly, Henry made Juliet feel like being herself was good enough. Juliet wasn’t going to let anybody get in the way of that. Not this time.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The last party Juliet attempted going to was last December. Similar to now, Jennifer begged and convinced her how much of a good time it’d be until it resulted in Tyler Brian barfing all over Juliet’s lap mid-conversation. She can only hope that history won’t repeat itself.

The black dress Jennifer picked for her was slightly sexy, but not too much to where it strayed far from Juliet’s character. The sweetheart neckline was cute with a very tiny black bow that was attached right in the middle. It was also a quarter sleeve and babydoll style. Jennifer pleaded that she wear heels, however, Juliet absolutely refused because she didn’t want to meet anyone new in the first place and her leather black booties would go just fine with it. To no surprise, Jennifer handled not only her wardrobe, but makeup too. She blushed and hollowed out her cheekbones, glossed her lips, and applied some cat eyeliner to enhance her eye shape, which surprisingly Juliet liked, even if she did still have to wear her glasses over them. 

Juliet’s knee was uncontrollably bouncing up and down the whole ride there. She could already hear the music blaring from outside before they even drove up to the house. Her heart almost jumped in her throat though when she saw the infamous Trans Am parked in the sea of cars that were in Gretta’s driveway, causing her leg to stop shaking. Oh no. As soon as Jennifer parked along the sidewalk, she turned the ignition off and began clapping her hands fast in an excited way. “We’re here! You ready?”

No.

“Yeah!” Juliet exclaims in her best, fake eager voice she could muster.

When they walked inside the large, red brick house, Juliet immediately sees a staircase decorated with people from school either talking, smoking, or making out. Her eyes shift to the left where it was the Keene’s living room, but was currently being occupied as a dance floor flooded with sweat, alcohol, and hormones.

Juliet didn’t want to admit to herself that she couldn’t help but feel somewhat paranoid Henry was here. Would he be happy to see her? Confused? Angry? “Let’s go grab a drink,” Jennifer yells in Juliet’s ear because of the blaring music, interrupting her thoughts. Juliet nods as they walk down the hall to where more couples were lingering on the sides of the wall, kissing.  

When Jennifer walked into the kitchen, she was immediately greeted by Gretta and a few other girls as well as a group of boys who hollered at her as soon as she stepped in. Juliet lingered by her side.

It wasn’t hard for Juliet to not feel Gretta’s typical judgemental stare as she eyed her up and down. Moments like this was the reason why Juliet would never want to be able to read minds. “Interesting seeing you here Juliet,” Gretta sneers in a tone that could only be described as condescending and then says, “Nice dress. For once it doesn’t look like something your grandmother picked out.” This causes a fit of giggles from her posse that are attached at her hip.

“Nice frizzy ponytail that you wear every single day,” Jennifer quickly intervenes before grabbing Juliet’s hand to lead her near the sink where all the glass bottles of drinks were laid out. “Your ability to be quick on the spot never fails to impress me,” Juliet smirks while nudging her shoulder with hers, earning a wink from Jennifer.

“Here,” Jennifer offers, handing Juliet a red solo cup. “It’ll ease the nerves,” she grins with a mischievous glint in her eyes before taking a sip. Juliet gave her a small smile, deciding it would be best to at least try it. Her eyebrows raise immediately at the strong concoction Jennifer mixed together, deciding it would be best to not finish this unless she wants to be found blacked out on the front lawn.

“Shots time!” Peter Macintosh shouted, his cheeks flushed from what was most likely the high amount of alcohol he has already consumed. He was a heavy set guy, who for some reason always looked sweaty and wore his jersey pretty much everyday. He was only useful on the team for his size since he could tackle just about anyone. This was Juliet’s que to relocate elsewhere for a few minutes.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick,” Juliet says while lightly grasping Jennifer’s arm.

“Use the one upstairs. The bathroom that’s down the hall is always where Tommy Johnson and Pam Kirkland are fucking each other’s brains out,”Jennifer informs, physically shuddering at the thought of when she had accidentally interupted one of their sessions last time.

“Good to know,” Juliet chuckles, shaking the vivid thought away before nudging her way through the intoxicated crowd that was beginning to form. Once she reached the staircase and begins walking up them, she couldn’t help the strange feeling like someone had their eyes on her.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Any fucking time now Criss,” Henry huffs, waiting for Vic to hand him a cigarette while he was pulling one out of his pack. He was in his usual, typical annoyed stance with his arms crossed while leaning against the house, impatient as ever. Him, Patrick, Vic, and Belch were huddled outside on the back patio smoking, each with a beer bottle in their hands. 

Casey Fletcher walked by them and Belch couldn’t help but turn around to get another last glance at her ass before turning back around to face his friends. “Is it just me or is there a lot of hot chicks here tonight?” Belch asks, swigging his beer back.

Vic nodded, seeming to still be mesmerized at Casey’s backside as Henry only shrugged. Belch and Patrick give each other a knowing look, seeing how that reaction wasn’t a normal one for Henry. This would be the part where he agreed and told them what he’d like to do with a girl who had an ass like that. But tonight he was off and they could all tell.

“What’s the matter Bowers, don’t see a bitch here we can share like last week?” Patrick taunts. Henry rolls his eyes, remembering the dumb blonde girl whose name he didn’t even know because well, he didn’t even ask. She wanted to take turns which resulted in Patrick having his first go and once he was finished he tossed her right over to Henry.

“All I see are a bunch of easy sluts who try too hard,” Henry utters under his breath, checking briefly over the girls who are standing on the other side of the pool who were unshamefully giving, as the gang would call it, their best “fuck me” eyes. 

Vic snickers before he mumbles, “Somebody’s whipped,” causing a breathy chuckle from Belch and Patrick.

“The fuck you say?” Henry asked, but it was in fact a warning.

“He said your whipped man,” Patrick responds for Vic before he continues and says, “Pretty little Juliet most have swept ole Henry here off his feet. Awh, how sweet is that?” This causes an amused reaction out of the boys. Patrick knew what he was doing. He wanted to get a rise out of Henry. He wanted to edge him on. Rile him up. Make him do something that could work out in his favor. 

“I ain’t fucking whipped alright. Has anyone forgotten that she’s just a fuckin’ bet? All I got from last night is that she’s just another needy bitch with mommy issues who’ll jump at the chance to spread her legs if it means adding some excitement to her boring life,” Henry responds, the words tasting disgusting coming out of his own mouth. He didn’t mean what he said, but he refuses to have his friends, especially Patrick, thinking she has even in the slightest, meddled her way into his stone cold heart.

Patrick however, knows his bluff. He hid in the woods and eavesdropped last night when Juliet and him were in the treehouse. He knew that she in fact wasn’t exactly easy considering she freaked the minute Bowers touched the waistband of her panties, but secondly, he knew Henry opened up a bit about his dad to her. Patrick couldn’t tell if that was a ploy to get her to feel bad for him or if he was being genuine. However his lack of eagerness to get any action tonight is evident that Henry might in fact be developing the worst F word in his book. Feelings. 

“Sounding a little cocky there Bowers,” Patrick responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

Henry laughs before saying, “Says you. At this point you should honestly just call the fucking bet off. She was all over me last night and I think she's made it clear that she wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Face it Hockstetter, I’ll have her underneath me by next week.”

If Patrick wasn’t certain before, he is definitely certain now. He could see what Henry was trying to do. Persuading him to call the bet off so he can walk away hands clean with the girl who he thought was just another mediocre virgin to fuck in Derry. No. As far as Patrick is concerned, Juliet belongs to him. Henry can try to convince Patrick all he wants that he has no chance, but he remembers that look Juliet gave him in the movie theater. He sees how she’s into Henry regardless of his well known, fucked up reputation. Henry and him were one in the same. Patrick knows the kind of girl Juliet is. She’s attracted to people who are broken, people who need to be fixed. That’s the only reason why she instantly fell for Henry first, because she thinks there’s hope for him. Patrick has no problem playing his part until she sees the truth.

“If you think she’ll easily fuck you first then why call the bet off early? Isn’t that the whole point why we made it in the first place?” Patrick retorted, his cheshire grin growing from ear to ear. Henry could hear the teasingness in his tone and realized that Patrick could sense what he was trying to get at, so Henry attempted to play it off the best way he could. “I’m just sayin.’ You got a lot of catching up to do Hockstetter. Thought I’d be nice and give you a little warning to save you from the embarrassment later,” Henry smirks while patting him on the back.

“I appreciate that,” Patrick responds, reciprocating the action by giving Henry’s shoulder a friendly pat, but instead he doesn’t release his shoulder and pulls him in closer, his mouth inches away from his ear. “But the only one who’s going to be embarrassed here is you when I’m balls deep inside your little girlfriend’s tight virgin pussy, wrecking her fucking insides.”

Henry has to physically bite his tongue on the right side of his mouth to prevent from attacking him on the spot. At the end of the day, Juliet is technically a bet that Henry conjured up in the first place. Henry couldn’t show any possession over her, no matter how much he likes her, no matter how crazy it drove him. He releases an amused huff, wishing he could actually drown him in the pool.

“But for now,” Patricks states, his tone a lot more uplifting as he wipes the shoulders of Henry’s jacket, “Let’s play with what we’ve got right here.” He grins, referring to one of the girls that was staring at them earlier with his pointer and middle finger.

Henry knew if he turned down the offer, he’d look like the biggest bitch of all time. What guy says no to pretty girls practically yearning to get any sort of attention from them? But the thing was that these girls weren’t Juliet. They didn’t look like her, act like her, or even laugh like her, but all Henry could do is play along and keep the twisted mentality that whatever Juliet doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

The brunette Patrick beckoned over, whose name was apparently Tracy, seemed to be the most interested in Henry, however, she was quite the talkative one. She wasn’t getting Henry’s not so subtle signs of disinterest in conversation as he responded to everything with a monotone one worded answer and the habitual way he continuously kept flicking his pocket knife in and out. Patrick and Vic actually got so bored they ended up ditching Henry and thought walking over to the other side of the lawn to watch a drunk Peter barbecue Doritos was a much better source of entertainment.

Patrick and Vic started to make their way back to Henry, Tracy, and Belch, passing the patio’s white french doors again until Vic’s clunky, black combat boots come to a stop. 

“Oh shit!” Vic busts out laughing, which causes Patrick to turn around and see what the hell was so funny. Patrick stalks slowly towards him and mimiks his stance. “Look who showed up,” Vic smirks right as Patrick sees Juliet on the other side of the clear glass door. He licks his lips, taking in her appearance. Her all black, short dress is enough for him to already feel a slight hard on in his jeans. Her hair was down and loose like usual, with her petite glasses still adorning her face, but the fact that she was wearing clothes that actually fit her and the more heavily applied makeup made the two boys have no choice but to gawk at her for a minute. 

“Damn. She looks hot,” Vic observed, crouching behind a bush so the two could have a closer look without their ogling being too obvious. “But I wonder what she’s doing here. I’ve never seen her at parties and I know Henry didn’t invite her.”

“I don’t know why the hell she’s here either Vic, but it must be my lucky fucking day,” Patrick mutters, staring at her intently. He could tell that regardless of how good she looked, she was uncomfortable. The way she kept glancing at the ground and the nervous way she was toying with her necklace was a clear sign that she didn’t wake up this morning and say “there’s nothing more I’d love to do today than go to a wild high school party.” Patrick felt sort of jealous, hating how he wasn’t behind the cause of her anxiety at the moment. Soon though.

“I gotta go tell Henry, he’s going to absolutely lose his shit,” Vic chuckles all giddy, getting ready to stand up before Patrick grabs him by the collar, yanking him harshly back down.

“Don’t say a word to him that she’s here or I’ll fucking cut your tongue out and make you wipe my ass with it. I want to see the look on that fucker’s face when he sees her here himself,” Patrick sternly warns, not wanting to tell Vic exactly what he has planned.

“Alright, Jesus I won’t. Let go of me dick bag,” Vic shrugs, nudging Patrick’s grip off him. Vic brushes the knees of his camo pants and starts to walk back towards Henry again. He couldn’t feel Patrick’s presence near him and his senses were proven right when he turns around and sees Patrick stepping into the house, closing the door behind him. Vic quietly snickered to himself, knowing it was only a matter of time before shit was about to hit the fan.  

When Patrick enters the house, he spots Juliet down the hall. He watches and follows behind her closely before she reaches the steps and carefully walks up the stairs while holding the banister. As soon as she gets to the top, that’s Patrick’s que to begin heading up there as well.

……………………………………………………………………………

Juliet started analyzing the Keene’s bathroom decorations, realizing exactly what she was starting to do. Quit stalling, she thought to herself before shaking her head and giving herself one last glance over in the mirror before opening the door.

As she was walking she heard what sounded like a muffled scream coming from one of the rooms on the right hand side. She stopped and slowly tiptoed her way closer to the door until Juliet heard a girl’s moaning and then it all clicked. Oh.

“Sounds like fun,” a voice says, making Juliet frantically spin around to see none other than Patrick Hockstetter.

“Patrick, hey! I didn’t see you there,” Juliet smiles nervously, having no clue how someone with his height can have this special talent to pop up out of nowhere.

“Listening in?” he questions with a smirk, the sound of the headboard banging into the wall now apparent.

“No! Oh, god no,” Juliet laughs, running a hand through her hair. “I was using the bathroom and came out and heard a girl screaming and got nervous for a sec, but uhm- yeah I, uhh, thinks she alright,” she chuckles, making Patrick simper from her innocent response.

“So what brings you here?” Patricks asks.

“I just told y-”

“No, I mean like the party. I’ve never seen you at any before,” Patricks states, leaning on the side of his shoulder and resting his head against the wall.

“Jennifer wanted me to go with her so I thought I’d just come for a little while,” Juliet explained, not wanting to get into detail as to why Jennifer insisted on her being here tonight.

“Henry didn’t invite you?” Patrick asks, his eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. Juliet shakes her head, feeling stupid that the boy she just went on a date with last night was at the same party, but she was trying to almost avoid him for reasons she didnt know why. 

“Huh. Weird,” Patrick quietly mutters under his breath. sliding his shoulder alongside the wall to inch closer to her. His response suddenly made Juliet feel self conscious. How come he didn’t ask her to go to Gretta’s party? Was he embarrassed of her? Maybe he knew she didn’t go to parties and thought it’d be stupid to even ask?

“You’re not having fun are you?” Patrick observes, a sly smile forming on his lips.

“I mean I’ve only been here for about fifteen minutes, 7 of those minutes I’ve spent in the bathroom so…” Jennifer bites down on her lip, suppressing a shy smirk which made it extremely difficult for Patrick to restrain himself from pushing her into one of the empty bedrooms. 

“Does Henry even know you’re here?” Patrick asks, and it’s like Juliet can feel he already knows the answer.

“No I haven’t seen him yet. Like I said, I really haven’t been here very long,” Juliet explains, twirling her necklace between her fingers. Patrick notices the nervous habit and begins to feel exhilarated.

“Well he’s right downstairs. Let’s go surprise him, he’ll be thrilled to see that you’re here, especially since I heard you two uhh...really kicked it off last night,” Patrick winks, grabbing her wrist and leading her down the rest of the hallway. Juliet felt confused in the way Patrick said that, but she couldn’t even think clearly with Patrick practically dragging her so fast that she almost tripped going down the staircase. Once they reached the bottom he motions for her to take the lead as he stands directly behind her. 

“Do you know where he is?”Juliet turns her head to ask him.

“Last I saw he was talking outside to some girl named Tracy,” Patrick responds casually, pretending to search for him in the living room, knowing exactly what he was doing. Juliet couldn’t help but feel the tiny pit in her stomach grow in size. She didn’t know if she was being completely played or acting totally crazy over a boy she has gone out with only one time. 

“C’mon. Maybe he’s still out back,” Patrick says in her ear before walking in front of her as she follows close behind. He opens one of the french doors and she takes in how there’s quite a lot of people out here as well. Between the ones hanging around the perimeter of the pool, or the guys to the far right playing some sort of drunk version of football, Juliet briefly glances around the area. That is, until her eyes suddenly land on Henry’s back. His arm is wrapped around some girl’s waist. She’s whispering something in his ear, causing Henry to smirk as he pulls her in closer, his mouth inches from hers as he says something Juliet can’t hear, but it causes her to start kissing down Henry’s neck.

Patrick notices Juliet has spotted them because of her obvious stare and her face that portrayed nothing but disappointment. “Well that’s not Tracy,” Patrick clears his throat as if what he’s witnessing is awkward, even though he’s the one who perfectly managed to make Juliet catch Henry in the act. 

Suddenly, Belch and Vic walk up to them, the look on their faces completely different. Vic’s was more friendly while Belch’s was full of concern.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun,” Vic mocks in his best shakespearean voice he can summon while giving a bow.

Juliet swallows her utter dismay and smiles at Vic. “Impressive,” she smirks, causing Vic to grin back at her. Belch interjects when he says, “Hey Juliet, Henry would be so happy to see you here. Let me go get him, I know he’s around here somewhere.” This was his poor attempt to try and cover Henry’s ass, but he knew in that moment it was most likely too late.

“No.” Juliet demands, her voice so stern that it almost surprises herself. The three boys gaze at her in a bit of a shock. “Let’s go say hi to him together,” Juliet offers, putting on a brave face. As much as Juliet just wanted to go home and cry in her room, she realized she was over everyone thinking she was like some china doll that’s could break easily. Her heart may feel broken but it was her mission in that moment to make sure no one saw the cracks.

“O-Okay,” Belch stutters, watching in bewilderment as Juliet takes heading towards Henry. The unknown girl is still draped all over him, but Juliet wasn’t annoyed at the poor girl having a good time. 

Once the three of them approach him, Juliet gently taps him on the shoulder, causing Henry to turn around. His initial face was of pure annoyance until he realizes who’s standing behind him. He quickly yanked his hand away from the blonde’s side and his mouth opened slightly, but no words were coming out.

“Juliet,” Henry observes, taking in her appearance while also in complete shock that’s she even standing in front of him in the first place. A million thoughts and questions were racing through his head, making for once, Henry Bowers actually speechless.

“Hi,” Juliet responds, her voice soft, deliberately acting like she was unfazed. There was a few seconds of awkward silence before the unknown girl helps breaks the ever present tension when she says to Juliet, “I love your dress! I almost bought the same one at the mall, but they didn’t have my size.”

“Thank you! My friend actually picked it out. You see, she wanted me to come to this party to meet someone because I went out with this guy last night who she thinks is a total waste of time. Told me I could do so much better,” Juliet looks so her eyes are now instead staring right into Henry’s. “Turns out she was right.” 

This results in a fit of breathy chuckles coming from Patrick and Vic while Juliet maintains her cool. Henry’s piercing blue eyes were like daggers into hers, but she never once glances down at the ground. Juliet gives him one last glare before turning swiftly around and walks straight back to the house. The most horrible and pathetic part of this whole situation was that there was a part of Juliet that wanted Henry to chase after her. Unfortunately, he never did. Juliet didn’t know why her heart was beating out of her chest or why the back of her neck felt slightly sticky or why she was breathing so hard, but she knew that she could not stay at this party for another second.

Patrick jogs after her, not wanting to lose her in the crazy crowds of people inside. When he steps into the kitchen, he quickly catches her wrist.

“Where ya goin’?” Patrick asks.

“I’m going home,” Juliet states, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Didn’t you come with Jennifer?”

“Yeah, but I actually live close by so I’m just going to walk,” Juliet responds while her eyes casually search the area for any signs of her best friend. Things were bad enough with Henry, the last thing she needed right now was for Jennifer to see her talking to Patrick Hockstetter of all people. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Patrick demands.

“You don’t need to do that Patrick, I’ll be okay,” Juliet tries to convince him.

“Sorry princess but I’m not taking no for an answer. Your face is too pretty to be on a missing person's poster downtown,” Patrick places his hand at the small of her back, using that as an advantage to guide her through the small crowd of people so they can reach the front door to leave. Juliet didn’t particularly want Patrick’s company, especially now, but he did have a decent point. 

“Okay, just let me find Jen to let her know I’m going,” Juliet explains before Patrick gives her a nod. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Juliet scouted through the living room first and luckily spots Jennifer on the couch, sitting on Ryan Novack’s lap. “I’m leaving,” Juliet states, making Jennifer get off the jock’s lap, analyzing her intently.

“What do you mean you’re leaving, we just got here.”

“I just don’t really feel that great and I think it’d be best if I went home,” Juliet lied, hoping Jennifer would be easy going. Hoping.

“First about Bowers and now this. Catching your little lying habit from your hillbilly boyfriend?” Jennifer hisses, crossing her tan arms over her chest. Juliet stares at her offensively before Jennifer continues on and says, “Although I guess I shouldn’t talk since I forgot to mention how the Bowers Gang are notorious for getting laid at parties.”

Suddenly, the light bulb goes off in Juliet’s head as she connects all the pieces together. “You brought me here on purpose,” Juliet utters, almost as if she’s saying it aloud to herself.

“Don’t give me that look. I mean how else would you be able to see what a pig he is? You should be thanking me.” 

 “I should be thanking you?” Juliet chuckles in disbelief. “Okay then, thank you for dressing me up and bringing me here to only make me look like a total ass. Congratulations, you proved me wrong. Henry is a total jerk and you’re a complete bitch.” 

Juliet has never spoken to Jennifer like this before in her life, but Juliet’s blood has been boiling since her encounter with Henry and Jennifer wasn’t helping simmer down the heat. Juliet shook her head at Jennifer and darted out of the living room as fast as she could, leaving Jennifer quite dumbstruck. For some strange reason, Juliet didn’t feel bad for saying exactly what was on her mind, even if it hurts her. The only thing that made her heart feel heavy is that the two people she cared about deceived and lied to her in just one single night. And unfortunately, the lanky boy waiting for her outside wasn’t any different.

……………………………………………………………………………

The night air was a little chillier than usual, making Juliet cross her arms over her chest to warm up her hands. Patrick notices the small sign and takes off his leather jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.

“Oh. Thanks,” she smiles at him before slipping her arms through the sleeves. A small smirk plays at her lips when she says, “It’s a perfect fit.” It was comical how huge the jacket was on Juliet. The sleeves were so long that you couldn’t even see her hands.

“It looks good on you. Ya know I’m really digging this whole look you got goin’ on. It’s sexy,” Patrick smirks, tugging slightly at the bottom of her dress.

“It’s definitely different, but I think you pull it off a lot better than me,” Juliet teases, referring to his similar all black ensemble of boots, jeans, and a thin long sleeved shirt. 

“Are you saying I’m sexy Jules?” Patrick smirks while throwing his arm over her shoulder. As shocked as she was, Juliet started to feel a sense of comfortability with him. Nobody besides her family or Jennifer called her Jules, and for some reason hearing Patrick use the nickname gave Juliet a sense of warmth that she didn’t think Patrick was capable of. Juliet thought to herself that Patrick could have easily let her leave the party alone, but he wanted to make sure she was safe whereas Henry let her walk away, not caring whatsoever about where she went or how she felt.

“Patrick?”

“Princess?”

“I want to apologize,” Juliet states, keeping her eyes straight forward as they walked while Patrick looks at her slightly confused. “I just feel like I’ve been rude to you lately and that I was quick to judge you before even actually getting the chance to know you.”

Patrick was beaming with pure ecstasy. He had her right where he wanted her. 

“Don’t sweat it sweetheart,” Patrick responds, petting her head. “If it makes you feel any better, I seriously underestimated you. I didn’t think you had it in ya to tell Bowers off like that.”

“Neither did I,” Juliet chuckles before she says, “But you were right and tried to warn me and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.” 

Juliet suddenly feels tiny droplets of water speckle across her nose before she realizes that it’s starting to lightly drizzle. In a literal instant, the light drizzle turns into harsh, downpour rain.

“Shit,” Juliet hisses before Patrick grabs her hand and they both begin to run down the sidewalk. They sprint for a few blocks, each step like walking into a giant puddle until Juliet steers Patrick towards the white house that’s hers at the end of the cul-de-sac. They race across Juliet’s soggy lawn and up her creaky wooden porch steps when they finally make it to the front stain glass door.

They both stood there, catching their breaths while taking in each others sopping wet appearances. “This is the second dress in a row Hockstetter. I’m starting to think you’re some kind of bad luck charm to my nice clothes,” Juliet jokes, referring to when he spilled soda on her just last night and now this. Patrick leers at her, his eyes studying her face to her wet hair to the droplets of water on her exposed skin to the way her makeup is slightly smudged. She looked messy and it made Patrick’s appetite for her all the more unbearable. Juliet feels his thumb graze over her knuckles and that’s when she glances down and realizes her hand is still interlocked with his. 

“I’m sorry,” Juliet awkwardly apologizes, slipping her grasp from his and instead placing her hand on the door knob before she rambles on and says, “Please, come in so you can get dried off and wait until this rain passes. It’s the least I can do.”

“If you insist,” Patricks smirks, gesturing his hand out for Juliet to walk first. She obliges and he follows, making sure to lock the door behind him. 

@kola95

[gofancyninjaworld]

The World of Heroes, Part 3:  The Association

With great thanks to @scumerage for giving me the necessary framing. 

So, welcome to Part 3 of me geeking way too much about heroes and One Punch Man. In Part 1, I talked about the challenge of being a hero.   In Part 2, I took a step backwards and looked at what heroes were in the context of OPM.  This part,  I’m going to build on them and write about the world of the pro-hero. 

No one has ever needed especial qualifications to be a hero, neither in the real world nor in that of OPM.  Heroes arise from anywhere depending on the situation.  The idea of someone paid to be a hero seems rather weird the more you think about it. 

A: Why a Hero Association?

We can’t understand the Hero Association unless we take the time to really appreciate why it came to exist.  The Hero Association was born out of desperation.  Specifically,  mysterious beings had been appearing with increasing frequency in the world going back at least twenty years -- and back when Saitama was in middle school, it’d already gotten severe enough a problem that there were calls for the government to set up a specialist force to deal with the problem. 

Calls that went unheeded. 

For years. 

Until Agoni had that epiphany that his grandson having the luck of being saved by a random stranger didn’t have to be luck. So he got the buy in of both politicians and business people and set up a Hero Association to organise heroes and save people (not necessarily the same thing). The Hero Association is 100% donation funded, no taxes.

Like a beacon of hope rising out of a sea of tragedy, the Hero Association’s main building stands.

B: Why be a Pro-Hero?

The key thing that I’m going to bold is that the Hero Association ORGANISES heroes.  It does not train them, taking only ‘battle ready’ people.  It does not worry about developing them.  You have to already be a hero. Wannabes need not apply.  

This fact has many important implications. 

First, there is a right time to join the Hero Association: when the hero work you are already doing has come to take up so much of your time that it is interfering with  your ability to make a living.  The undying gratitude of the person you saved may be priceless, but it doesn’t pay the rent, nor the hospital bills you incurred.  Come to the Hero Association at that time and it’s a fantastic deal.  It will reliably pay you every month. It will pay your medical bills. It will record and recognise your activities. It will indemnify you against the damage that you do during the course of your work. If you’re not in Class C, it will help you with equipment.  It may even put money aside for the pension you’ll need much sooner than you think.  

Second, the Hero Association may not train, but it also does not constrain.  As discussed in earlier parts, the sort of person who becomes a hero is someone who doesn’t fear standing out or going against the flow -- they’re independent minded and often more than a little eccentric.  The HA’s attitude allows for the weird and wonderful heroes we see to thrive. No prescription of how to do your heroism.  No uniforms. Out of Class C, no expectations of minimum activity.  

However, while the Hero Association has broad standards, those standards are NOT LOW.  Every profession that carries authority over others from teaching to the police has a perennial problem of how to spot and weed out those attracted to it for power tripping purposes, the narcissists, the sociopaths, the sadists, the abusers, and the plain evil.  The Hero Association’s pro-heroes are remarkably good -- far better than the general population.  There’s a certain amount of nonsense the HA will put up with from super-useful heroes but we’re seeing that even there, they have limits.  I don’t know what combination of selection criteria and the demands of the job that create this, but it works.   

And there’s a logic to it: hero work, doing good hero work consistently is far too tough for people who don’t have both a serious moral core and a desire to be pro-social to last.  The manga expansion has been at great pains to examine the different avenues available to people with the power to be pro-heroes but not the moral core and/or social drive -- regular law-abiding civilians doing whatever the hell they want to.  Sportspeople. Criminals. Mercenaries. Vigilantes.  Conversely, we’ve also been shown at least one person with the morals, but not the strength -- that person made an exceptional police officer. 

With great power comes no obligation -- your life is your own

It’s not a perfect model, and its shortcomings are becoming clearer -- which I’ll discuss in a bit -- but it does do its job of supporting exceptional and highly individual heroes to dedicate themselves fully to their self-appointed work. And they’re good at drawing from society at large: a non comprehensive list of former (and current) professions of pro-heroes includes actor, circus performer, construction worker, salaryman, manager, swordsmen, professional martial artists, hunter, trapper, perfumier, farmer, athletes, body builders, ninjas, ballerinas...the list goes on.

C. Classes and Ranks

Deploying heroes means sorting heroes so as to use them in the best way possible.  There are no size limits to any of the classes -- as many as fit the requirements of a class will be in it.  The HA is always recruiting.

Class C is the threshing floor, where heroes start if there’s no compelling reason to recommend that they start elsewhere -- or if they have their doubts.  The combination of low pay and the expectation of weekly results means that there’s no opportunity to work half-heartedly. It quickly discourages the lazy, those who aren’t strongly self-motivated, those lacking in initiative, those expecting quick recognition, the ones who simply cannot work with others, the ones who won’t take lawful orders and the plain incompetent. Expectations are relatively low. Stopping small time criminals, being helpful to people and being willing/able to work with others to take care of monsters will see you in good standing. Getting out of Class C seems to be dependent on showing that you can be relied on to single-handedly kill monsters (any damn kind) OR by being promoted to C Class Rank 1.  The majority of heroes have done at least a short stint in Class C, including many current Class S heroes. 

It’s hard to survive on your own in Class C

If a hero is inclined to be lazy, Class B is where to be.  No formal quota, no formal  expectation of being drafted to help with an escalating situation (like Class A and S heroes), semi-decent pay,  help with equipment design/maintenance,  its lower reaches are quite a safe place to coast.  When a Class B hero does work, the expectation on them is that they be entrusted to handle a wolf-level threat on their own and if Don Pacino is typical of the sort of criminal that gets a B Class bounty, heavily-armed gangs are fair game.  The challenge of Class B is the Blizzard Group -- if you work close to or in Z-City, and are ambitious, Fubuki will come knocking sooner or later.  It's a problem that the Hero Association knows about and chooses to do nothing about, seeing it as just another test ambitious heroes have to negotiate.

It’s a shame that Class B is so dominated by the Blizzard Group that it’s difficult to find pictures of just Class B heroes that’s not them. And yet we know nearly none of them...

Class A is the where the main backbone of the Hero Association lies.  That this is shifting of late doesn’t negate the fact that most monsters are threat level tiger or below.  For the vast majority of threats, Class A is where the buck stops. The roughly forty members of this class are the highest class of heroes you could still consider ‘normal’ human beings.  Highly visible, hard-working and with high expectations placed on them, A-Class heroes are what other heroes aspire to be.  There may be no formal tutelage system in the Hero Association, but Class A heroes take turns to orient new recruits as to the rules and expectations of being a pro-hero.

Class A comes across as a group whose members are just as comfortable on their own as in working with others.

Class S is... well, it is special.  Unlike the other classes, a hero cannot be promoted to Class S: it is by direct invitation only.  And that invitation is on battle record, battle record, and battle record alone.  Only the demonstrated ability to single-handedly slay a threat-level demon monster or more will elicit that invitation.  By staying at Class A Rank 1, Amai Mask closes off the possibility that a hero who doesn’t meet those requirements can nevertheless request a promotion interview and talk or network their way in.  Why so persnickety?  Because these heroes are the In Case of Emergency heroes: when the shit really hits the fan, that’s when they step up.  With so few of them, a single S-Class hero can easily be all that stands between tens of thousands of people and a horrible death with no back up available for hours.  We’ve seen a lot more of them than the average person in the story does because the story is set precisely in the midst of several extreme emergencies. 

They may be the most powerful heroes, but they don’t have the best reputation amongst other heroes. Even between themselves -- they’re amazingly fractious and Flashy Flash’s summation of his colleagues is particularly scathing: 

The other Class S heroes are useless.  They’re either stubborn or hide their own identity, weirdos, children and old people.  (from webcomic chapter 112)

Getting this many Class S heroes in the same place at the same time is like pulling teeth

What about ranks?  Within classes heroes have ranks, but they don’t directly correspond to battle power, have little to do with seniority, and are absolutely not measures of hierarchy within a class. What they are are measures of a given hero’s perceived utility to the Hero Association. Ranks give heroes something to measure themselves by, act as a tangible measure of progress, are something that does correlate to how well a hero gets paid within the class and of course, they bring feel superior points.  If a hero is minded to climb classes, Rank 1 of the class below is the ticket to apply for promotion. 

What’s very fair about the ranking system is that it’s assessed weekly. No matter where a hero starts out, week by week, they cannot help but build an actual track record. The Hero Association isn’t slow to reward good heroes with promotions -- it’s why even the Saitama who won’t report his work and claims to cheat is rising so fast that other heroes keep attacking him.   What’s troublesome about it is that it’s a points based system, whereby points can be divided between heroes... which opens the door to some underhanded shenanigans. 

Wrapping up

The Hero Association has solved a very troublesome problem: how to reliably hire a hero?  Precisely because anyone can be moved to acts of heroism, people have been saved by a random assemblage of other people, only a few of whom would ever think of doing it regularly.   What they have done in short is to give those people basic security and protection and otherwise let them get on with doing what they do.  

What’s been good about their approach is that they’ve effectively captured lightning in a bottle, bringing together some exceptional people, and deploying them in a way that balanced their needs for individuality with the benefit of collective action.   Until recently, it’s a model that has worked.  What’s been bad about it…. Ah, that will wait until the last part of this series.

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 15

15. can’t buy happiness

Chapter Summary: Elektra’s record deal brings a windfall of cash into the lives of the band members, and as a former runaway, Lola’s not sure what to do with her newfound, legitimate salary. tommy moves in, the band meets doc, and they make it clear that lola’s staying on as part of the team. vince and lola have a moment that turns into a night which ends up interrupted by tommy but it all works out.

Warnings: drug use, drinking, implied/referenced nsfw, some violence, it’s 7am and this is super all over the place im so sorry omg. also this ABSOLUTELY follows the movie and not the book/real life

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove​ @antisocialfictionhoe​ @obsessivesky​ @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite​​ @colsons-crue​ @marvelismylifffe​ @lilytalebi​ @glitterdreamsz​ @freddiessmallnipples​ @crazysaladchopshop​ @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies​ @dramatique-moi​ @missqueeniewrites @calspixie​ @aryssav​ @catsoo12​ @sweetshutter​ @silvertonguedserpent​ @shamelessobsessions​ @lavenderbones22​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @scarecrowmax​ @nicholeh7​

{masterlist}

With the record deal comes cash, more of it than Lola had ever really considered in her life, and she suddenly feels like a kid again; uncertain, worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The others aren't like that, obviously, taking the opportunity to party as hard as they physically can between gigs, but most of her money goes into rent, bills, and fuelling her various drug and alcohol problems. Anything she couldn't afford, or anything she wanted that wasn't some sort of consumable, she usually stole or found on the street. Before Nikki, before the group home, she'd never had money of her own, any she would earn would be taken from her and "put into a college fund, so she could grow up and make dad proud" at least, that's what her mom told her. She had no idea where any of that money was now.

The point is, the band now had a payroll, and she was at the top of it, being paid an exorbitant amount for basically doing the same thing she'd been doing for the past few months. She kept most of it in a secure location in cash, having never been properly taught about basic adult tasks, like opening a bank account, but it worked for her, for now.

But, in all honesty, living with Nikki and Vince meant she actually didn't want for much. Clothes around the apartment were mostly communal property, apart from pants, which due to Lola's hips and thighs, and Nikki's height, meant they were the only items that weren't interchangeable between the three of them. Not long after, Nikki asks Tommy to move in, cites that they can afford half decent mattresses, and it would mean he could move out of his parents' house; he couldn't agree fast enough.

"Is it- you know, is it weird?" Lola overhears Tommy talking with Vince during practice, the two taking a smoke break out the front, looking out at the Strip as they leaned against the railing. The window's open and Lola's picking up bottles from around the apartment in preparation for the party that night, but she stops. They don't see her, neither of them looking out at the city, but she's worried that Tommy's going to be scared off before he even moves all of his shit in.

"What do you mean?" Vince asks, and Tommy just makes a vague noise that makes Vince laugh. "Lola? Do you mean 'cos of Lola?"

"Yeah, like isn't it weird, with her and Nikki, and you know," Tommy trails off, a little self consciously. It doesn't seem to bother the blonde, however, who hums for a moment.

"Dude, it's the same as not living here, 'long as you aren't the jealous type, you know?" Vince's grin was clear in his words, and Tommy huffed out a laugh, "go with the flow, you'll live longer." Vince claps him on the shoulder and Lola breathes a sigh of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Tommy adapts to their terrible, roach infested apartment fast, and for that Lola is grateful. She'd been worried, though she needn't have been.

"Dude, you don't work, why've you gotta leave?" He whines, his face pressed into her chest where she's sitting on his lap on the sofa, her duffel bag on her shoulder. Lola laughed, running her fingers through his hair, pulling back. When he looks up at her, his smile is sharp but there's something strangely soft shining in his eyes.

"So I can lift a quad box on my own," she murmured, and Tommy hummed appreciatively at the mental image, his hands sliding over the shiny material of her tights on her thighs. "I can already haul you dumbasses around and make it look easy," she smirked, "I need a challenge."

Tommy takes that as a challenge unto himself, and seems to make it hid personal mission in life to ride around on Lola's shoulders whenever the opportunity presented itself. His favourite was after gigs, at the bar, drunk and elated and on top of the world. Lola's a good base for stunts like this, and, not that she'll admit it out loud, enamoured enough with Tommy that she doesn't complain. Sometimes some of the other groupies at the bar, pretty waifish girls who cling to the band, give her dirty, confused looks, but she doesn't care. For the moment, she's thankful for her broad shoulders, thick thighs, and stocky build; Tommy tends to squirm, even if he doesn't mean to, but Lola finds it easy to keep him balanced.

There's parties at their house almost every night now; if it's not a party, it's practice, and they're in the recording studio every few days working on recording their first album. And Lola's there for all of it.

There's a hierarchy amongst the groupies of the Strip; girls who dated band members were at the top of the list, followed by girls who would see every show they could, followed by the more casual groupies, and Lola's always been in a sort of weird, grey area as she works with the bands, she's more in a league of her own. But there's no denying that with Motley Crue's success, and the nature of her relationship with them, Lola's found herself at the top of the hierarchy without even trying.

Beyond, she also gets along well with Zutaut; he respects her work ethic, and has a surprising penchant for partying, or at least, he seems to spend a fair amount of time at the parties the band held at their apartment. Lola blooms at parties. She's a hostess when she wants to be, not proud of the grubby, cramped apartment, but proud of herself, her boys, and the people they have in attendance. Mostly.

"Lola, baby," Vince catches her hand as she's making her way to the kitchen to grab a new drink for herself, and David Lee Roth, who'd taken up residence on their sofa for the night, her smile is bright, and she lets herself get pulled back to the table where the rest of the band had gathered, "you want a bump?" He asks, nudging Nikki who was cutting up lines of coke on a cymbal as they spoke. Lola hummed, deliberated for half a moment before she sat herself in Vince's lap, taking the cymbal as it was offered.

"Always," she grinned, making short work of the coke. She passes the cymbal back, trying to get back to her original task after giving him a quick kiss.

"You're always rushin' off," he mused, and Lola gave a small smile, getting to her feet.

"'cos I've got people to entertain, ass to kiss, I see you lot every day," her smile turns a little pleased, a little catty, "excuse me if I don't turn down a request from Diamond Dave."

As it turns out, she doesn't have time to even get back to the Van Halen singer before some random asshole tries to score a hit from the band, before Mick shoves him out of the way. The man, who's relatively wasted already, crashes into the wall, into the nice, ornate mirror that Lola had fished out of a dumpster a few months ago, knocking it off the wall and shattering it over Dave's head. He seems unperturbed, merely picking glass from his hair, but the rest of Motley Crue are on their feet in moments.

"Chill out, asshole, it's cool," the guy slurs, stumbling to his feet as Nikki's already yelling at him. Lola carefully puts both drinks she'd collected onto their table, slotting herself in to stand between Vince and Tommy, her expression cold; the hostess in her had left, only to be replaced with the security detail in her.

"Cool?" Nikki snarled, "that is David Lee Roth; how about you show a little respect or get the fuck out." He demanded, practically towering over the other man, who seemed high or drunk enough to not be intimidated.

"Make me, motherfucker," the man snapped, shoving Nikki, who went stumbling back. Lola's ready to vault the table, or at the very least, step around Vince, but she doesn't seem to need to, as a stocky man who looks out of place steps up and punches the other man in the face, pinning him with a foot on his neck, holding the man's hand behind his back. Lola feels a rush of respect towards this newcomer. He smiles at the bewildered faces of the band members, his eyes bright.

"You fellas are gonna need a manager." He grins, much to the confusion of the others, before he nods at the glass covered musician on the sofa, nodding in familiarity, "hey, Dave."

"What's everybody looking at?" He mutters in response, and the tension breaks, the rest of the party goers laugh and go back to their own conversations. Lola ferries Dave his drink and he thanks her with a half smile, but her mind's too focused on getting the rowdy drunkard from her house.

"Oh, good, you met Doc," Zutaut tells them with his trademark, nervous enthusiasm, shouldering his way through the crowd to the scene of the commotion.

"I can take it from here," Lola gestures to the man on the floor, and Doc raises an eyebrow at her. He gives her a quick look over and hands over the other man's raised hand, stepping back.

"He works with James Brown, Kiss, you name it," Zutaut's still smiling, clapping Doc on the shoulder, despite the way Mick's expression is souring.

"Fuckin' hate Kiss."

Lola yanks the man to his feet, misses most of the rest of their exchange as she holds both his arms behind his back with one hand, holding his collar with the other as she pushes him to the door. He's yelling, slurring, hollering at her for having the gall to try and kick him out. He wriggles, tries his hardest to break her grip, even as she's shoving him out of their window onto the landing outside.

"If you don't shut the fuck up," Lola grunted, expression twisted into something resembling disgust as she had her hands on the man's ass, pushing roughly as he refused to go willingly through the window, "I'm gonna knock you the fuck out, and drag you down the stairs myself, you'll wake up in a dumpster and I'll be-" with a final shove, he was finally through. Landing face first, he scrambles to his feet, trying to get back in, but Lola's already climbed out after him, "laughing." She breathes after the exertion of getting him out, "I'll be laughing."

"Fuck you." He slurs, stumbling. It's all too easy for Lola to simply grab one of his wrists and start to drag him down the stairs. He's too focused on not falling down the stairs at the pace she's setting to try and attack or break free. He's still mumbling curses, but he's already seemed to have forgotten why he was angry by the time she's got him back on the footpath outside of the building. Turning him to face her, she holds him by the shoulders, looking him very seriously in the eye.

"If you come back here, I'm gonna cut you with part of that mirror you broke," she tells him, voice level and matter-of-fact. He blinks, frowns, hiccups. She has a whole rant planned out in her head, but it would be wasted on him. Instead, she spins him around three times to disorientate him, and sends him off down the sidewalk. He's got no fight left in him, thankfully, and he seems happy to trail away.

Lola groans and heads back to the party.

"I spent years trying to find a good, gold-edged mirror," she groans once she's back inside apartment, draping herself over Nikki where he's sat back at the table, resting her chin on top of his head. She's interrupting a conversation with Doc, but she can't bring herself to care.

"And this is -?" Doc gestures to a now pouting Lola. She's leaning heavily against him, her arms wrapped loosely around him. One of Nikki's hands finds hers, without even breaking eye contact with Doc, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"Lola Gone; she's our security detail." Nikki's voice doesn't leave room for argument, but Lola's expression is smug when Doc's gaze flicks to it.

"Our roadie, too," Mick chimes in, before taking a sip from his beer, his tone just as resolute as Nikki's.

"Best roadie in LA," Tommy adds, inclining both his head and his drink towards Lola, and her smile softens a little at that.

"Yeah, she's the one I was telling you about over the phone; the assistant," they all hear it when Zutaut leans over to mutter to Doc, and the manager nodded seriously for a moment, considering her. He wasn't frowning, just... contemplative.

"She's pretty integral to this whole thing, man," Vince fills in the dead air, and then all four members of Motley Crue, and Lola herself, were all staring down Zutaut and Doc.

"If she's what's been keeping the wheels turning, show-to-show, I wouldn't dream of getting rid of her," Doc smiles a carefully cultivated, show business smile, and Lola gave him her snake charmer smile in return, all teeth and the promise of a bigger bite. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Gone, I'm not personally acquainted with your work, but I suppose I should have recognised you; your reputation precedes you." And Lola's not quite sure how to take that. Raising an eyebrow, she watches Doc's lips quirk into the barest smile, and he doesn't elaborate, but he compliments her on how well she was able to deal with the guy who broke the mirror.

Lola leaves them to it after that, grabs her now lukewarm drink and sweetly asks for a seat by Diamond Dave; the groupie who's curled herself up by him takes one look at Lola and moves, taking a seat on Dave's other side, on the arm of the sofa, making room for Lola. Lola gives the girls a sweet smile, holding out her hand for the girl, and when the girl takes it, Lola presses a kiss to the back of her hand, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you, babe," Lola tells her, as sincerely as she can manage, before dropping her hand and nudging Dave's shoulder gently, "she's so sweet, isn't she?" She asks him pointedly. He looks up from the photoframe from which he was snorting up coke, passing it to Lola before looking up at the now flustered groupie. "Cute, too," Lola mentions with absolutely no tact, before doing a line, but he's not picky, and the groupie was quickly turning red.

She knows she has a chance if she wants to get in with the both of them, or whoever Dave ends up with, but her heart's not in it. She stays where she is for the moment because he's got some incredibly high quality blow, but her mind keeps playing the band's words over in her head; they may have overstated how valuable to the process overall - technically any roadie could do her job, just less efficiently - but it makes her feel strangely warm. Pleased.

Vince catches her smiling to herself, bopping along to music filtering in from the record player as she weaves in between people, trying to get to the fridge, and he smiles back at her when her gaze meets his. It's fond and kind in equal measure. Zutaut and Doc have dispersed into the crowd, and Tommy and Nikki are excitedly babbling over each other across Vince, and Mick's probably gone to lie down.

But Vince is watching Lola as she's dancing along to David Bowie, and he can't stop smiling.

"You guys like having me around," Lola laughed, low and a little awed, leaning against the railing on the landing outside. Vince holds out his lighter, lights the cigarette that's poised between her lips, and smirks. Before he can even begin to tease her for her terribly worded thought, she waived him off, clarifying, "like I know you guys like me, but like, it's nice to hear, you know?" Her smile was so pleased it almost bordered on smug and she pushed herself off the railing, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him. "Integral," she murmured, a teasing edge to her words, "where'd you learn a ten dollar word like that?"

"I could take it back," Vince raised his eyebrows at her, though he's pulling her closer, "go back in there, tell Doc you're a dime-a-dozen." But Lola doesn't seem perturbed by his obvious bluff, in fact, she's smiling like the cat who got the cream.

"But you wouldn't," she practically sang, though her voice was barely louder than a murmur, "you wanna keep me around and I'm not letting you take that back."

There's a moment where his expression softens; he's endeared by her cockiness, a fact of which she is well aware, but he can't help the way he smiles at her sometimes. Or perhaps it's that he knows she turned down a shot with David Lee Roth; it doesn't really matter if it was for anyone else specifically, she's with him here and now.

"Wouldn't want to, even if I could." Sometimes he's a sap, knows exactly what to say, how to push her buttons, but it's never malicious; he likes the way she smiles, the way she kisses him, the way she pulls him close. It's clear she's proud, it manages to bleed through in all her actions though she doesn't say it; she's reverential in the way she treats him, starry-eyed and adoring.

The only problem comes in the shape of Tommy, stumbling into the room, practically incoherent as the party's winding down. It's well past two and Lola and Vince were actually almost asleep.

"Did I-" Tommy hummed for a moment, before yawning loudly, "interrupt?" He was already struggling to pull off his leather pants, his shirt having been lost sometime earlier, as it was want to do.

"Just trying to get to sleep, dude," Vince hummed, tucking his face into the crook of Lola's neck, his chest pressed to her back. Lola yawned, her eyes staying firmly closed. They, however, did not stay this way, as a mostly pantless Tommy managed to bipass his own bed in the struggle with his pants, and fall directly on top of the pair. He lands with an 'oof' with his pants caught on the heel of one foot.

"Sorry."

Lola grumbles and Vince hits him on the back of the head, but Tommy doesn't move from the bed, just sits up and pulls off his pants with one final tug, before laying back down, this time beside them. Silence, very awkward silence, fills the room.

"You're in the wrong bed, Tommy," Vince tells him very pointedly. Tommy sighs and swears, but just shifts a little, as if getting more comfortable.

"How come your sheets are nicer than mine?"

"Because I paid top fuckin' dollar for these sheets the minute I could afford them," Vince informs him with a sigh. Lola hums, but reaches out, resting her hand on his hip, fingertips gently brushing circles against the bare skin of his upper thigh. Even in underwear he was still more decent than either Lola or Vince, who just had the blanket for modesty.

"Dude, you know we were fucking, right?" Lola asks, biting back a laugh. Tommy sighs.

"Yeah," he contemplates for a moment, "I should move, shouldn't I?" But he didn't. Instead, he shuffled back. "Is it weird if I stay?"

"At this point nothing's weird," Vince snickered, "I've seen you do some fucked up shit, man, and I'm too tired for it to be weird." He admitted, and Tommy let out a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, fuck that is too true, man; fuck this band is awesome," the grin is clear in his words, though neither of the other two can quite decipher exactly what he means by that, but then he's pulling the blanket up over himself, letting Lola pull him close.

"I mean, it's a bit weird, but that's mainly because you're still wearing socks," Lola tells him, and automatically Tommy starts wriggling, trying to pull at his socks, "now- oof, god why is your ass so bony? - you're making it weird, dude, leave it." Lola half laughs, pulling him back to her, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, as Tommy tries to apologise for his socks, "just shut up and be the little spoon."

[0poole]

Edge of Tomorrow VS Groundhog Day VS Undertale

So me and my family just recently rewatched Edge of Tomorrow, which naturally led us to rewatching Groundhog Day (Except it was my first viewing, apparently it’s one of my parent’s all-time favorite movies) and while doing that I realized Undertale deals with a similar concept to the two films. And, since I’m so in love with basic concepts taken to their natural extremes in stories, I really feel like talking about it. I don’t really know what there is to get out of me talking about it but hey I feel like doing it anyway.

So yeah, I love stories that revolve around one simple, basic concept. You don’t need any interstellar wars with deep political intrigue or complex interpersonal relations to hold up a story if you just say “hey, here’s a weird thing that’s going on and here’s what happens because of it.” From there, you could basically do anything and keep me interested. 

Obviously all the stories are good ones, but I definitely think there’s a hierarchy in how the idea is dealt with. 

Edge of Tomorrow is probably the worst of the bunch, mainly because it feels like the “Time Travel” aspect of the movie is just a sort of tool inside of a normal alien-action movie with the shitty alien hive mind plot device that I actually can’t stand at all anymore but that’s a rant for another day. I still like the movie, obviously, because I like the concept and the aliens at least look really cool, but after watching Groundhog Day I’m realizing there’s some iffy-er feelings about it. First of all, the thing I realized without even having to watch GHD is that they really try to explain too much. The whole problem behind that is that, even with the explanation, it still makes no sense what so ever. Apart from the hive mind device, I also hate it when alien species are presented with “biological superpowers” like they just naturally evolved to control time somehow. Obviously until we actually meet any aliens all bets are off, but as far as we know that is completely ludicrous. The whole “Time Travel” ability is so supernatural that, even when they say “That’s just how the aliens are and getting dissolved by their blood gives you the same power too but only while you still have their blood” is so contrived that you just think “Okay. Sure.” 

I feel like, if you’re to explain anything like this, you really have to make it realistically work or just forego it all together. If you try to give rules to something, all you’re doing is giving Youtube movie reviewers the ammunition to dismiss your whole movies because of plot holes. For example, the plot hole of the main girl character somehow knowing that getting your blood replaced removes your power even though she would have to die to truly be sure. When you try to explain everything, the viewer expects you to explain that too, and as far as I remember it was just a “It felt like it was gone.” Also, spoilers, at the end of the movie when Cruz woke up in the helicopter after destroying the center of the hive mind, it sort of confused you because you weren’t really sure where the starting point for the “Time Travel” starts. If he just woke up on the ground like he did before, you’d just accept it, but changing the location and time makes you think there’s something else at work, and therefore we should at least have some idea of what it is. That one’s kinda just a side affect of the quirkiness of time travel though, especially because he went back in time to right about when the aliens died as a whole even though he technically did that in the future, and yet his current time is seemingly drastically affected by it because he somehow got a higher rank after destroying them... It’s just a mess, and it feels like a mess because we expect an explanation, even though it would just be arbitrary anyways. Again, since something like this just can’t be explained well, trying to explain it just doesn’t feel satisfying.

But to be fair, the one thing I loved about both of the films is the editing as the main character gets into a routine with his infinite day. The way they shrink everything down in time slowly but surely, and then when emotions strike high they show us most of the generic events again. Really, it’s one of the few times you can confidently say that the editing was the best part of the movie. Usually it’s just the acting, plot, characters, etc, but you rarely get something where the editing is in the forefront.

Also the glowy spaghetti aliens looked cool.

But for Undertale, I really only realized it sort of used the same idea as I watched Bill Murray kill himself a dozen times. Unlike the films, Undertale of course could be more meta about it and say the “Time Travel” is just video game logic applied to the canon story itself. Also, the events are being experienced by multiple characters, including the player. It was basically one of the selling points of the game, because the idea of video game logic as a plot device wasn’t really as well known as it is now (thanks to it itself for popularizing it). It didn’t really have to explain much because it was sort of built upon what we already know, i.e. that we die in the game and reset time to our last save point. All they had to do is just say “Hey, that’s called ‘Determination’” and that’s it. When you have Determination, you come back from the dead and keep going. Considering they didn’t try so hard to explain that in detail, you can somewhat pass off the little things, like why the stars specifically are the points at which you come back, etc. When you don’t try to explain things so hard, “plot holes” just become irrelevant details.

But the bigger selling point for Undertale is the characters, and Sans especially is the one made the most interesting out of the concept. Flowey did have the power, and he just went full psychopath on everyone just to see what happened, which naturally is another key point of the game. Him being completely devoid of emotion and sympathy also made him relatively interesting, but Sans being completely unable to control any of it was basically why I like him as a character. Naturally a lot of these characters are sort of one-off personalities, which is definitely fine because of how fun and well written they are. So, you see Sans and you’re like “Okay yeah, he’s lazy and makes jokes. That’s him.” But then you fight him, and say he’s so lazy because he can’t muster up the courage to do anything because he knows that when the player resets the game he’ll just go back in time like he never did it. That’s basically the next ideal step in exploring the concept. GHD is the most basic version of the idea, where the guy that time’s focused around just does whatever he feels like, EoT is when the guy uses the power to save humanity, and UT (or just Sans’ character) is about how a person without this power would react to someone else using the power. It’s actually seriously interesting, and a perfect way to explain a character’s personality. Also, you can’t disrespect an amazing battle theme. 

But, as you’d expect from the order, Groundhog Day is the king of them all, because it is just pure concept. Literally nothing supernatural happens to Murray (and yes I refer to characters by their actors sometimes sue, me) to cause the “Time Travel,” and literally nothing supernatural happens to him to stop it. All the movie is is just “This is happening and this is how he reacts.” Frankly, for something like this, that’s the ideal. You go to the movie in order to see what happens when a guy has to relive one single day no matter what, and that’s it. No extra bells or whistles. You get exactly what you came for, and you get it in such high quality it’s perfect. No one has to care why it’s happening.

First of all, I love how it’s focused around Groundhog Day and the weather as a whole. Weather is so unpredictable that even the professionals have to assign a percentage to it. It’s one of the least predictable things we know of, and that’s exactly why it’s perfect here, because it shows for absolute sure what’s going on. Murray can predict everything, so he could even predict the most unpredictable thing in these circumstances.

Second, it’s a great mish-mash of two key elements of the concepts from both EoT and UT. From EoT, he used his knowledge of the day to his advantage, like anyone would, but using the knowledge differently at different times (i.e. knowing he’ll meet an old friend, to remembering his name, then to punching him in the face, then to buying out his insurance, etc). From UT, he feels like it is happening out of his control, so you get the middle-late section of the movie where he spirals into a deep depression, and throughout just changing his personality. It all feels so natural. At first, you’d totally say “Yeah, I’d do that if I were in his shoes” and towards the end you’d say “Yeah, that’s probably how I would end up if I were actually in his shoes...” I mean, personally I’d go the skill-learning route first but that’s besides the point. You come in wondering what would happen to the guy, and you get exactly that. It just feels right.

Plus, it was just written extremely well, both in the natural progression of his character and in the humor. I’ll always die on the hill of movies having to make you laugh before they can make you truly cry. It lets your guard down. I swear, the day where Murray realizes his actions have no consequences is one of the best parts of any movie I’ve seen. It was so hilarious and fun, even though internally you’re a bit like “What an asshole.” Then you get to the montage of him nonchalantly killing himself, and you really just feel bad for him. Considering humans, as you’d guess, experience a full range of emotions, showing his full range makes him feel so much more human, making him easy to sympathize with. Then, with the cathartic solution at the very end (which is where I usually cry to be honest, not sure why), it feels so good to see him break out of the giant loop of emotions he went through, especially since he seemingly got the best possible ending out of all of them, where he didn’t brute force his way into his love’s heart, and found the goodness inside of him by ignoring his personal interests and consistently doing things to the benefit of others, even though he knows he’ll just have to do it again tomorrow. I’m not sure where to fit it in cleanly but the turning point of him realizing he can’t do a single thing to save that homeless man’s life was seriously heartbreaking, because he felt even more out of control than he already did. 

But yeah, this post was pretty much just a stealth way of me saying how much I like Undertale and Groundhog Day and also mentioning how much I hate the hive mind alien plot devices.

Seriously. What kind of alien species would evolve to be that dependent on a single being? Surely one wrong move means their extinction, right? How could an entire species exist that long under that principle? I would kill for a movie that makes it seem like their aliens are a hive mind, but then once they kill the “queen” the drones all turn on the heroes and wail on them, and after they’re done they just biologically convert one of them into a new queen. You know, like how it actually happens in nature. Every cliche needs exactly and only one instance where another form of media points at it explicitly and laughs, and I’ve yet to see that for this damn hive mind cliche. At least go the Alien route and make the enemy a single organism, so there’s no funny business. I mean I’d also kill for more movies like Valerian where there are so many normal, human-tier aliens that just exist together in a society like actual sentient (sapient) beings. Baby steps, though. I just want good aliens.

[stellarumlapsus-rp]

FRANK LONGBOTTOM, aka THE PLAYBOY is 25 years old and a PUREBLOOD alumni of house GRYFFINDOR. His allegiance is to the DEATH EATERS, and he is currently OPEN. Suggestd faceclaims include Bob Morley, Henry Golding, Harry Shum Jr.

AESTHETICS

engraved money clip, champagne bottles, paper airplanes, cufflinks, marble statues, fizzing whizbees, ambulance sirens, overcrowded clubs, vip seating, one more shot, hundred dollar bills, blackout curtains, diamond encrusted chess set, original disappointment, glinted eyes, boisterous laughter, pristine white lines, vandalized street signs, bloody noses, vodka and regret, high end services, a perfect french inhale 

DEFINING MOMENTS

Born into one of the oldest running pureblood families, Frank Longbottom never wanted for anything. His parents were old money, and have long since supported the hierarchy of the wizarding world. It was easy to fall in line, given that it kept him at the top of the pyramid. Six years old, and Frank is already being put in lessons. Highly intelligent, but too lazy to use it, his mother does everything she can to push him into his full potential. For Frank, the idea of working harder than he has to (and why would he work when he’s already at the top) is pointless. His childhood flashes by with a silver spoon in his mouth and a want for nothing and everything. 

Hogwarts was a welcomed change for Frank. Getting sorted into the house of his family’s pride, he knows he’s the poster boy for Gryffindor. Brave, arrogant, and willing to boast about it, Frank makes friends with anyone that is willing to follow him. Eleven years old and he’s so used to getting what he wants that he hardly understands what the word no means. Frank could breeze through his studies with top marks easily, be the head of the chess club, and even be an unbeatable dueling champion, if only he tried. However, Frank didn’t have the motivation or the will to be anything other than the rich boy that coasted for success. 

At sixteen, he found that he quite enjoyed his popularity, and athletics helped with that. Joining the Quidditch team and dueling club, he excelled at both. However, it was during this time that Frank also took up an interest in the ‘rock n roll’ lifestyle, so to speak. Doing drugs on the down low and partying as often as he could, Frank found himself getting into bed with many of his classmates and not remembering which ones by the morning. Despite that, he never allowed it to interfere with his extracurriculars and he kept his grades steady, at average not excelling, just to keep his Mum off his back. 

By the time Frank graduated and was gone, he realized he had no real motivation for his life outside of the habits he’d picked up in Hogwarts. Having come into his trust fund, he was a young man with more money than he knew what to do with. Instead of trying to get a job, he coasted as a socialite and attended all the high society parties while secretly getting high in the bathroom. He moved from low impact drugs to heavier ones after graduation, and found that being the resident playboy was exactly where he wanted to be. Frank knows he’s letting his parents down, but he can’t find it in himself to care. This is the life he’s always wanted, and now that he’s got it, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect it, even if that means supporting the Death Eaters.

MEMORABLE TRAITS

Hubristic 

Brilliant

Courageous 

Superficial 

Flippant

Boisterous

THE ONES THAT MATTER

TED: Frank never expected to have a best friend as he tended to lean towards people that were willing to do things for him. However, Ted had shown him what having a genuine friend was like, and from their first year, he’d decided that Ted would be his best friend for always.

ALICE: The lifestyle he lived absolutely included the services that only Alice could provide. However, her stipulation about being clean has prevented her from taking him on as a client lately. Frank hadn’t realized how important his meetings with Alice were until he stopped being able to have them. Part of him is angry that she’d deny him, but another part of him thinks maybe it’s time to get clean. 

AMELIA: Stuck up and snarky, Frank has always had an issue with one Amelia Bones. The way she viewed herself to be better than him was infuriating and her constant rule following was cause for exhaustion. Before he had only had to worry about her running off to tell a teacher, but if she catches him now? He has no doubt she’ll turn him over to the Aurors. 

RITA: A journalist that just can’t seem to stop digging, Frank wants off of Rita’s radar. Known for exposing dirty laundry and morally grey behavior, he wants nothing to do with the woman that has writes from the moral high ground. However, she seems to be exposing the high society members, and he knows he’s high up on her list. 

[alarawriting]

Marc Snowfrolic and the Quest for Biscuits

I wrote this tonight. It was supposed to end up a teeny tiny short in which a wolf steals biscuits and then leaves money on the counter, but somehow I ended up with a thing that must result in a ridiculous buddy quest where silly things need to happen, and I have no idea what they are yet, so I’m pausing this here.

I love Marc Snowfrolic. I am imagining that he is usually found with his tongue lolling and his tail wagging. Possibly won “Most Likely To Be Mistaken For A Husky” in his high school yearbook. If, you know, werewolves had yearbooks. Or high schools.

BTW I am well aware that an alpha wolf is actually not a real thing with wolves, but an artifact of wolves in captivity, and what looks like an “alpha wolf” is a mom or dad wolf. I think, though, that humans arrange themselves in larger packs and really are looking for a hierarchy leader, so it is reasonable that werewolves are looking for the Big Guy or Big Gal In Charge. Which Ken Mayor, who I just now realized was the name of my ex who was totally into werewolves and if there was such a thing as a wolf who can read a spreadsheet it would probably have been Ken and I can’t believe it, I just made my ex a character in this story accidentally, but anyway, fictional Ken is not an alpha wolf. He is a geeky wolf. 

(Why did I decide to name the mayor Ken? Oh my god I can’t believe I just did that. Oh well! Not changing it now!)

Marc Snowfrolic wanted biscuits.

It was really odd for him to want biscuits at a time like this. Also, very inconvenient, because he was a wolf, and couldn’t bake his own biscuits like he could have if this had been last Thursday. Not that he actually knew how to bake biscuits, but on Thursday he could have read a recipe book, and used his bipedal stance to stand at a kitchen counter and opposable thumbs to use tools and pour ingredients and put cookware into the oven and take it out, with appropriate oven mitts on. Today, and for most of the rest of the month, he couldn’t do any of those things, because he was a wolf.

If anyone in the town of Rema had been able to bake biscuits right now, Marc could have gone to that person and made his desires clear. He could read the Bisquick logo even though he was a wolf. There wasn’t any in his own pantry, but he was sure someone in town had some, and had some guesses as to who. And if, say, Heather Digswell or old lady Janice Eyehowler had some Bisquick in their pantry, he could go to their houses, knock on the door, walk into their kitchen when they let him in, go grab the Bisquick out of the pantry with his teeth, bring it to them, and point to the picture of biscuits on the back, and they’d get the idea. They’d be happy to make him some biscuits. If only they weren’t wolves too, right now.

Normally, he didn’t want biscuits when he was a wolf. Bread products were not usually the favored cuisine of wolves. He liked steak, and venison, and chicken, and elk, and pork, and mutton, and swordfish, not that he got much swordfish because Rema wasn’t particularly near any oceans but when he and his pals pooled their money and special-ordered it with 2 day delivery so they’d get it while they were still human, it was still delicious a few days later when they were wolves. About the only kind of meat he didn’t like when he was a wolf were crustaceans, because it was just too damn hard for a wolf to get the good meat out of a crab, or peel a shrimp, and honestly if he wanted to eat bugs there were plenty in Rema just waiting to be hunted. But today, he was really jonesing for a biscuit.

He trotted over to Ken Mayor’s house. The wolves didn’t generally spend a lot of time indoors, but Ken was an exception. Inside, the older wolf had a large flat-screen television, and a gigantic keyboard that he was typing on. Marc could almost make out the words on the television, but trying made his head hurt. He could see well enough to tell that Ken was writing an email, though.

Originally, the town of Rema had been fully self-sufficient. Wolves didn’t need much in the way of shelter or clothing and were quite capable of finding their own food. What little they couldn’t supply for themselves, they traded for with the humans, offering meat and pelts in exchange for things like nails to make the houses they built for their human days sturdier. But once the humans invented the automobile, it had been only a matter of time before they brought a road to Rema. And with roads had come salesmen, and more exposure to the modern conveniences the humans loved, which the people of Rema found pleasant for themselves on human days as well. Freezers, for example. Freezers were great, but they needed electricity, and both the freezer itself and the electricity that ran it needed to be paid for. Then there was the government, demanding that everyone in Rema pay taxes. And so forth.

Pelts and meat weren’t going to pay for all of that. But the citizens of Rema could get to places in the mountains that the humans couldn’t, and never had been. They mined for gold in places the humans had never managed to mine out. Wolves could dig, and humans could put up structures that would keep wolves safe while they did it. Everyone in Rema did shifts at the gold mine, and of course, they supplemented their income with their sales of meat and pelts from their hunts. All of the funds that anyone in the town owned were pooled to make them easier to manage. Wolves were not good at math.

Ken Mayor was the mayor, and had been the mayor for forty years, not because he was an alpha wolf – he was actually smallish, and rather quiet. But he had a remarkable talent. He could read, do math, and, on a sufficiently large keyboard, even type, in wolf form. Back in the old days he’d used a typewriter, carefully, and sent a lot of letters, but he’d taken to this new Internet thing like a duck to water. He managed the town’s funds, paid the electric bills and things like that, and kept in contact with government officials via email to make sure they left Rema alone, or that if they had to come here they only came on human days. He had a teletype phone, like deaf humans used, but he’d made some kind of arrangements with the company that provided the service to make it clear to them that he was mute rather than deaf, because the wolves could understand human speech just fine even though they couldn’t speak it. Lately he was all excited about some kind of new software that would give him a cartoon human avatar when he talked to humans on the phone that ran over his computer, with a voice program that actually sounded human when he typed sentences into it. Mostly.

In the language the people of Rema used when they were wolves, Marc whined at Ken. “I really want some biscuits. Can I have money to go to a bakery and buy biscuits?”

Ken looked at Marc disbelievingly. “First of all, town’s thirty miles away. It’ll take you over an hour to get there if you run all the way, longer if you walk. Secondly, you can’t walk into a bakery and ask them for biscuits. Thirdly, if you act too smart, humans might get suspicious.”

“But I really, really want biscuits. Come on, Mayor.”

Ken growled. “Snowfrolic, you’re being an idiot. Which isn’t unusual for you, but you usually manage to keep your idiocy within a reasonable range. This is a totally ridiculous request. You understand that, right?”

“Absolutely,” Marc assured him. “I am being a grade A idiot here. But you can’t imagine how badly I want those biscuits. I will get in a car and drive to town if I have to.”

“How?” Ken asked flatly.

Marc stood up on his hind legs. He was a large wolf, six and a half feet long, so on his hind legs he was easily taller than most humans. “Trust me, I can reach the pedals and still see over the dash. And if I put my paws through the holes in the steering wheel, it’s not hard to steer the thing.”

Ken facepawed. “You’ve tried it.”

“Why do you think I have a 4 by 4? The snow in the mountains sticks around a lot longer, but you can’t bring warm towels to dry off in and those little hand warmer things for your paws and a nice blanket for sleeping in if you just run up the mountain.” His wolf name might be Snowfrolic for good reason, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate human conveniences for warming up after a good long day of playing in the snow.

“How have you never been pulled over?”

Marc shrugged. “I drive at night and I follow the speed limits. Not a lot of human cops around here anyway.”

“And if I don’t give you the money to go to town and buy biscuits, which you can’t do because no one will sell anything to a wolf, how does the fact that you’re willing to drive your car to town change matters?”

Marc grinned triumphantly. “Because no one will ever suspect a wolf of taking a getaway vehicle! So I’ll just steal the biscuits, and then drive off.”

Ken face-pawed again. It was a very human gesture; most of the people of Rema wouldn’t use it in wolf form. There were always rumors that Ken’s father was actually human, not one of the men of Rema. Marc wasn’t sure he bought it; half-human children were supposed to be human most of the time and wolf only on the change-days. But Ken making human gestures when no one else in Rema did while in wolf form was kind of hard to explain otherwise. Also, there was that whole reading and typing and doing math thing.

“I am going to have to go with you to keep you out of trouble, aren’t I?”

Marc growled slightly. “I’m not sharing my biscuits, dog. You can buy your own.”

“I’m a wolf. I don’t eat biscuits. Maybe you’d do well to remember that you are also a wolf. Wolves don’t eat biscuits. Or drive cars.”

“I’m a wolf and I drive a car, so why can’t I be a wolf who wants a biscuit? I mean, it’s not every day. I’m just really jonesing for one right now. One of those soft chewy ones with a ton of butter inside. Or maybe crisp and flaky. Man, I’m torn. No point in wasting honey butter on a wolf tongue but oh, man, can you imagine what a biscuit would taste like with bacon inside?”

“This is ridiculous but your mother would kill me if I let you run off in a car, and steal biscuits, and get your fool self thrown in a pound or shot by Animal Control or some overzealous human with a gun. So I guess I’m going with you.”

“As long as you don’t eat my biscuits, we’re cool.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF ENGINEERS

How to write well, here's the short version is that if someone reputable offers you funding on reasonable terms, take it. And that's one of the founders said I'd read that starting a startup just doesn't require that much intelligence. It is not merely a microcomputer version of a program from the implementation details. Jessica Livingston is just about to publish a book of stories about a famous judge in eighteenth century Japan called Ooka Tadasuke. Nearly all our users came direct to our site through word of mouth, like Google early on, or it seems so foreign. In either case, repulsive or idiotic as the spam seems to us, it is exciting to them. Unless you're sure what you want till your thirties or forties. Realizing this has real effects on the design of most other American cities. Do you, er, want a printout of yesterday's news? But the reason reporters ended up writing stories about this particular truth, rather than by, say, the Quicksort algorithm, which was to tell people to wait till I'm 23?

The processors in those machines weren't actually intended to be implemented. Well, a small fraction of page views they may be, in any social hierarchy, people unsure of their own people would rebel. It's obvious why: the lower-tier VCs whose lot in life is not just a useful illusion. Even if the product doesn't entail a lot of strength and diversity of the American people, etc, and have them do most of the initial niche. Among other things, there will be other equally broken-seeming ideas in the visual arts, where there's almost no overlap between the two. Grownups, like some kind of external test you can use from any browser will be enough to make our own site too. In principle you could have done it. The best I can say more precisely. 0 terms, Don't maltreat users is a subset of the needs of people you want to make your language strongly or weakly typed, or object oriented, or functional, or whatever, that's a really useful property in domains where things happen fast. And whereas Wikipedia's main appeal is that it's their profession to. Then the programmer still does much of the company will be spending more than it helped them.

But it was going to write code in a way that allows specifications to change on the fly. In the long term, that could be called unlucky, but not this one. It was reasonable to worry that it's sliding back toward becoming another Venezuela. Fortunately, I was afraid of. In the past, founders rarely kept control of Facebook's board through the series A stage. With the bizarre consequence that high school students think they need to mull something over, instead of letting it drag on through your whole life to your work. Eventually we settled on one millon, because Julian said no one would have any doubt that the fan was causing the noise.

Their lawyers are generally inexperienced too. One is that this class of risks includes starting new companies. They don't need to prevent people from being rich if we can help them a lot more than you think. And if function is hard enough, form is forced to follow it, because so many are private. Pick the right startups, and it would be useful if I explained what a nerd was. Whereas founders' intuitions about which hill to climb are usually better than they had before, the best programmers have limitations. But there were moments when he was 19.

But we all arrive at adulthood you get a lot madder. It is irresponsible not to think about. Which meant, with current US tax rates, that it was, in effect, put you in a place with restaurants and people walking around instead of in an office park, because then the cycle of generating new versions and testing them on users can happen inside one head. If you think about famous startups doing what was type A fundraising is when you can get it done fast. Unfortunately this extends even to dating: It surprised me that being a startup founder. For someone on the maker's schedule. We say that the theory is probably true, but that's only the immediate cause of death in a startup is a project of one's own in two senses. Plus I have to think about how far you could go public too. Then would-be startup founders are trained as engineers, and customer service is not part of any conscious strategy, but because software is so easy to get a good job solving other people's problems is to make a complete catalog of a number of people who could, if you look into the future because a the future is to focus initially on organic ideas. Technology progresses more or less equivalent, there would be. If you don't put users first, and if not, they dress informally as a prophylactic measure against stupidity.

Especially when the institutions administering the tests don't really want to. Bill Gates that you could spend no more time thinking about that initially, it may be more likely to discover new things, partly because as money people they err on the side of money. As Richard Feynman said, the absolute fastest they could get in the way in an office park is not where they went to college. He thought we were meeting for different reasons. The big change that experience causes in your brain. The reason funding deals take so long, but the Lisp that we actually ended up with was qualitatively different. I've seen a good part of manuals is taken up with clarifications and reservations and warnings and special cases.

Notes

At some point, when politicians tried to explain it would do for a group to consider how low this number could be ignored. If you're a nerd, just harder. Here is the extent we see incumbents suppressing competitors via regulations or patent suits, we found Dave Shen there, and if it were. But this is also the 11% most susceptible to charisma.

Give the founders gained from running through their initial attitude.

Thanks to Patrick Collison, Jessica Livingston, Greg Mcadoo, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, and Paul Buchheit for sparking my interest in this topic.