#I'm pretty much useless right now. And I'm half convinced that if I attempt to fix the queue issue as I am currently

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Thank you for all the supportive comments Darling ones, I think I’m going to take your advice and just focus on getting better for a few more days, or at least better enough to be able to focus a little easier on figuring out what the hell is going on. I really am quite sick right now, and trying to power through the brain fog that it’s causing, just isn’t working.

I’m sorry, but please bear with the “queue error” posts for a little longer.

I love you all dearly, and hope you’re being kind to yourselves 🖤😘

[robininthelabyrinth]

I am *endlessly* curious about how Wei Wuxian ended up at the Cloud Recess, and very satisfied my internal suspicion that the Lan and the Jiang were busy rebuilding their power/plotting a coup was right. Though I'm now curious about their reaction to 'Meng Yao is being kept around, and as Empress at that'.

spontaneous fic extra for Good Help - ao3 link

-

Good news! one of Nie Huaisang’s letters started, which was never good news. My brother has finally become gainfully employed! He will no longer be a burden on society, a good-for-nothing that does nothing but idle his days away, bringing shame upon our family name.

Wei Wuxian blinked down at the letter. “Jiang Cheng,” he said. “Did I manage to hit my head and wake up in a world where Nie Mingjue is not the Empress?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, looking bored. He was officially there on Jin sect business, though everyone politely pretended that he wasn’t very clearly there to see Wei Wuxian or, for those not in the know, sent by his husband, who had virtually no cutsleeve tendencies at all, to get him somewhere that wasn’t Lanling. It was an excuse they used rather a lot to get Jiang Cheng to where he needed to be. “He’s definitely still the Empress. Keep reading.”

Wei Wuxian kept reading.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said a second later. “Someone mistook him for a guard? How?!”

“I mean, it’s not as ridiculous as you might think. No one’s seen him in years,” Jiang Cheng said, finally breaking his mask of boredom in favor of a grin. “He’s always behind all those veils – I’m pretty sure his fashion sense as Empress is ‘how much can I look like the curtain I’m trying to hide behind’.”

“But he’s so –” Wei Wuxian moved his hands around in an attempt to encompass very broad shoulders, a narrow waist, muscles, and also height. “Notable!”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been to court, hasn’t it? He’s always up on that platform far away from everyone else – you know how Wen Ruohan likes to look down on everyone – and everything around him has been resized for him; he looks more proportional that way. And if you didn’t know, and there’s no reason that this Meng Yao fellow would know…”

“Still!”

“No, really, it’s not that strange! You know how Wen Ruohan’s guards of the inner hall are dressed, all fancy Wen sect robes, and that’s all Nie Mingjue has other than his Empress get-up, which obviously isn’t appropriate for when he wants to go outside to train Baxia. He would’ve been wearing the right clothes and walking in the right place, and he is what you’d expect a guard to look like…if you bumped into him at random, as happened here, it’s a reasonable mistake to make.”

“He hired him as his secretary,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “Just – wow. Wow. Mingjue-xiong is going to break him in half, the first time he tries anything.”

“Maybe,” Jiang Cheng said. “Maybe not.”

-

Someone needs to go assassinate this Meng Yao person right away, Nie Huaisang’s next letter – nominally addressed to Lan Wangji this time – said. I think my brother might actually like him. A upstart Jin bastard that worked his way up through the Fire Palace – do you think all these years with Wen Ruohan has rotted da-ge’s sense of taste?

“He doesn’t actually mean that we should assassinate him,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji, who nodded in agreement. “We still need the viceroy to remain in his place as the target. He’s just being dramatic.”

If Nie Huaisang actually wanted Wei Wuxian to assassinate someone, he had other ways of asking.

That was a fair portion of what Wei Wuxian did these days, actually, other than work on his ideas for demonic cultivation and warm Lan Wangji’s bed. Ironically enough, of the three, the last was his actual job: after Wen Chao had his golden core destroyed as punishment for having dared fight back when the Wen sect invaded the Lotus Pier – a temper tantrum at not being allowed to do the same to Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian suspected, since Wen Ruohan had even then already planned to sell the heirs of the Jiang sect to the highest bidder – Lan Wangji had, after quietly rescuing him at Jiang Cheng’s frantic instigation and with Nie Huaisang’s connivance, announced that he was keeping him as a personal pet.  

Wen Ruohan had been pressuring the Lan sect to adopt some vices, simply because he knew it would make them uncomfortable – Lan Qiren had been a particular target – and he’d been satisfied by the notion of one of Lan Qiren’s precious nephews, the Jades of Lan, deciding to keep a whore, even if he’d insisted on having Wei Wuxian inspected to make sure he’d been thoroughly used.

(Proving it had not been a hardship, not when Wei Wuxian had a lover as thorough and tireless as Lan Wangji. Joke’s on you, Wen Ruohan!)

Still, even as Wei Wuxian did (in his opinion) some of his best work on his back and puzzled his way through demonic cultivation as the only possible route for him now – Lan Qiren helped him with some of the musical cultivation bits, and also in arguing to the Lan sect elders that some type of cultivation was better than nothing, and anyway there was a limit to how much trouble he could cause while under close supervision – he had also started up a sideline in taking out their political enemies on account of being the one of them that people would least suspect. No one even remembered his name anymore!

“Maybe we should go to court and check him out,” Wei Wuxian added thoughtfully. “See what he’s like, make sure he’s not leading Nie Mingjue down the wrong path, that sort of thing.”

They could pass along some of Nie Huaisang’s messages, too.

There was that whole coup they were planning, even if it was far less interesting than Nie Mingjue actually making a friend for the first time in over a decade…

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed. “Wei Ying has good judgment.”

“I do! If he’s nice – though there’s no chance he’ll be nice, he’s from the Fire Palace – I’ll tell Nie Huaisang that I approve,” Wei Wuxian decided. “If he’s awful, I’ll send a ghost to haunt him until he can’t sleep. If he’s a little awful but seems salvageable, I’ll…I don’t know…I’ll set some dogs on him!”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows went up.

“You’ll set some dogs on him!”

The eyebrows went down.

“Rude, Lan Zhan. Very rude.”

-

“So having now seen Meng Yao and my da-ge interact with my own two eyes, I’ve decided that they’re going to get married,” Nie Huaisang announced.

“Is that wise?” Wei Wuxian asked, even though he actually thought Meng Yao was pretty cool. He was so good at being nice to people that he disliked, so incredibly efficient, so thoughtful, and best of all only very rarely followed up on the occasional murder-eyes he liked to shoot people when he thought no one was looking; it had actually been the fact that he and Lan Wangji had both vouched for him that had convinced Nie Huaisang to change his plans to account for his brother’s preferences. “Making him the Empress? He’ll be bossing your brother around in no time.”

“He’s already bossing my brother around, and that’s the way my brother likes it,” Nie Huaisang said. “Making Meng Yao the mother of the Empire – above ten thousand, below one – is the ideal way to sate his hunger for power in a way that makes him feel confident that he won’t be so easily replaced the way a viceroy or prime minister would be, and therefore unlikely to betray us. Also, it will make Jin Guangshan have an aneurysm, and that will be hilarious.”

“I like that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Also, didn’t we agree that you were going to be the prime minister?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said patiently. “You are going to be prime minster, and I’m going to be your empty-headed but pretty former Imperial Consort wife.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘former Imperial Consort’ isn’t usually a thing.”

“Yes, well, it’s a coup, we make the rules. It’d be such a shame not to use this nice bureaucracy that Wen Ruohan set up for us…Wei-xiong, what about you?”

“What about me? I’m very happy as Lan Zhan’s whore.”

Jiang Cheng tried to hit him, but Wei Wuxian dodged, cackling. “Maybe I’ll start spending his money on fancy clothing and living it up now that I’m his official mistress,” he said. “I have Wang Lingjiao’s example to look up to, don’t I..?”

“I would like to marry Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji opined, and Wei Wuxian suddenly felt all gooey inside.

“I meant what will we do with him in the government,” Nie Huaisang said, long-suffering. “You’re all useless – though not as useless as me, of course.”

Jiang Cheng pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No one’s as useless as you, my little good-for-nothing.”

“And don’t any of you forget it!” Nie Huasiang exclaimed, then elbowed Jiang Cheng in the ribs. “Don’t touch me, you married man. Get a proper divorce before you try making your way into my bed; what sort of girl do you think I am?”

“You can’t be serious!” Jiang Cheng spluttered. “Jin Zixuan is drawing up the papers right now –”

“I feel like I deserve a proper wedding, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang asked Wei Wuxian, who started laughing. “I didn’t get a proper one the last time around –”

“We’ve been sleeping together for years!”

“We were having a thrilling affair under the nose of an evil tyrannical dictator. Who’s to say that the spark’s still there?”

“Oh you want spark,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll give you spark –”

[tadashiwa]

it has to be you

denki kaminari x reader

word count: 3135

a/n: aaahhh this was fun and it’s my longest work to date!!! i hope u guys enjoy

warnings: sex pollen. mention of alcohol. dub-con (because of the sex pollen). daddy kink. slight size kink. unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT BESTIES). smut. fluff. mutual pining. confession of feelings. i think thats it? let me know if i missed any shordies

11:36pm

dont think about it. dont think about it.

the words helplessly rang through kaminari's head. yet, it was useless. no matter how hard he tried to will his brain away from what he had the absolute privilege of witnessing earlier that day, his brain could not stop. god, he felt like a perv thinking that.

it was supposed to be just another normal night patrol with you. you, his sidekick, his best friend, and the goddamn love of his life. yet, as much as he loved you, what you did today was so stupid. so fucking stupid. maybe it was because he loved you so much that he thought it was so stupid. he didn't really know.

8:42 pm

kaminari was supposed to only be gone five minutes at most. and yet, when you saw the new rising villain, desanctify, trying to break into a church, you didn't wait for him. you didn't call for backup. you went on and fought her on your own. and even when desanctify hit you with her poisonous, seductive, midnight's-evil-twin venom, you kept fighting. and somehow, through your haze of desperate arousal and aching need, you managed to get her in those hero handcuffs. and when kaminari finally caught up to you, my god were you a mess.

a mess that was so painfully attractive to kami.

that goddamn sex spell had absolutely wrecked you. after your agency gave you the rest of the night off, kami carried you back to your apartment. piggy back style proved to be easiest with your state. because, when he held you bridal style, much to his delight, or dismay, you were begging him to fuck you. you kept grabbing at his jacket and looking up at him with those doe eyes. you were distracting him so much he had to flip you around to his back.

you were both so close to your apartment, your whimpers echoing through kaminari's ears like a goddamn siren's song. your head was resting against his shoulder with your hips hovering so closely to his neck and you were still whimpering and kami could almost swear that he felt your core grinding against his back and—

finally. he reached your door.

11:53pm

of course he felt bad leaving you like that, alone in your apartment and so desperately horny you couldn't control yourself. he just figured you.... would figure it out on your own? he got off his shift in seven minutes, he was gonna call you to check in after. he was really hoping the spell had worn off by now. he's not sure he would survive a call with you if it hadn't.

it's not like you had ever shown interest in denki in the first place. sure, you were sometimes flirty and there was that one time you both drunkenly kissed on new years but he never for a second thought it was real. you could have anyone you wanted. surely your hazy desperation for him came out of a place of convenience. he couldn't afford to think otherwise.

finally, his shift ended. as he walked to the subway stop closest to him he pulled out his phone, prepared to call you and check i—

FIFTY SEVEN MISSED CALLS FROM YOU?!?!?!

kami was freaking out. were you okay? were you hurt? what was going on? what if you needed him and he was too late again?

his panic subsided when he saw the texts pouring in from you. well, he was still panicked. just for another reason.

texts of you begging for him were coming through in droves. he lost count of how many times he had to scroll. it was adorable and simultaneously terrifying. it made his blood thrum in his ears and his cheeks get hot.

and there were voicemails too.

voicemails of you whining his name. of you begging for him. telling him how badly you wanted him to make you cum. god.

surely this had to be a prank, right? you had to be messing with him. he called you, just like he said he would, expecting you to be laughing hysterically on the other end.

except you weren't.

you were still whining desperately for him. how your own fingers werent enough. how you needed his cock inside you or you think you might die.

kaminari genuinely felt as if he had died and gone to heaven. there's no way, right? he couldn't. you're not thinking straight. you didn't mean that. but you almost sounded like you were in pain. he was sure everyone on the subway could hear how hard his heart was beating.

"kami—they.. they said that... ngh—they said that it only—hah—only goes away if so-someone makes you c-cum—shit!"

all the color drained from his face.

"it—it has to be you."

12:31am

despite every nerve ending in his body absolutely reeling, kaminari found himself standing at your door. the same door he stood at all those times when he came to pick you up on your way to the agency. the same door he stood at when he made sure you got home safe when you were drunk. the same door he used as a shield from the unknown, the intimacy that made all of your flirting and side comments real.

he knocked once. twice. no answer. his fingers drifted down to the knob itself and gave it an experimental twist. unlocked.

he knocked once more. still no answer. then, with every ounce of courage he could muster, he let himself in. the shield was gone. the barrier was crossed. there he was, standing in his apartment, and you were deadset on fucking him.

"y/n? i'm here.... you uh... you didn't answer so i just let myse—" his call out to you is cut off by quite possibly the most pornographic moan he had ever heard.

it was almost as if his body was in a trance as he walked towards the source of the noise. the moans weren't stopping. denki was already hard at the sound of them. to make matters worse, your bedroom door was open and—

holy shit.

kaminari had seen his fair share of early morning sunrises. his fair share of cherry blossoms. he'd seen plenty of girls who he was convinced were the prettiest girls on earth. but you, you were breathtaking. genuinely ethereal. kaminari had never seen anything so gorgeous in his life. he didn't think he would ever again.

there you were, in one of his shirts he had let you borrow and nothing else. the pillow between your legs wet with your slick as you desperately dragged your clit against it, looking for any sort of release. one hand balanced you as the other played with your breast, pulling the shirt up to reveal your midsection in the process.

and when your eyes met his, kaminari was sure: this is heaven.

your pupils dilated so large at the sight of him that the y/e/c rings surrounding them disappeared. your bottom lip was pulled tight in between your teeth, your hair a mess. my god. just when kaminari thought it couldn't get any better, you spoke. without breaking eye contact, you whined,

"denki, please."

kami rushed towards you with such a sense of urgency you would've thought that he was a man starved.

"sh-shh-shhh, it's okay. it's okay, i'm here now."

in your sex-crazed daze, you pulled denki onto the bed next to you, his back leaning against your headboard. you were quick to straddle his thigh, almost collapsing at the contact you had craved for so fucking long.

denki didn't think he could possibly be any more turned on than he was in that moment. you held his shoulders in an attempt to balance yourself, dragging your clit over his thigh. you were making a mess out of his hero costume but he couldn't be bothered to care in the slightest. not when the pressure of you against him felt so right. not when he could feel your breath fanning against his ear. not when he was still processing the fact that you said you only wanted him on that phone call. nothing else mattered except the way you moved against him.

where should he put his hands? should he help you? should he take the shirt off of you? yeah, denki wasn't a virgin, but this was his first time with someone he cared about as much as you. he wanted to make you feel good.

you remedied his racing mind when you placed one of his hands on your hip and the other on one of your tits. he experimentally rolled your nipple over in between his fingers and was met by more of your delicious mewls.

you were so close to cumming. the entire situation was so overwhelming. denki smelled so good. his hands were so rough against your smooth skin. the way his eyes flickered between your face and your drooling cunt had your heart racing.

the rhythm in your movements was lost the more worked up you got. it took all the confidence denki could gather to take over for you. he flexed his thigh muscle as he pulled down on your hips to grind you against him harder. you had half the mind to be embarrassed at how loud the moan that was ripped from your throat was.

"'m close, denki i-i'm close—" you whimpered.

"cmon pretty girl—ngh—cum for me. cum all over me like a good girl." denki's raspy, arousal soaked voice was all it took for you to come undone all over him. you threw your head back, exposing your throat that was just begging to be marked. you were begging to be claimed.

little "so good"s and "thank you"s were tumbling from your lips as you came down from your high. god, were you a sight to behold. denki was so painfully hard he wasn't sure if he could take it any longer.

he was half expecting you to come to and ask him to leave.

but you didn't.

you started moving again.

"more, i need more. daddy, please, i need more—"

what did you say?

the title snapped any remaining resolve denki had left. he had to have you.

he gently lifted you off of his thigh and you groaned at the loss of contact. but, your complaints were silenced as he slid down the bed.

holy shit.

all those dreams you had of denki making you cum couldn't even begin to prepare you for when he pulled you forward to sit on his face. you almost came just at the way his eyes met yours. he wanted this just as much as you did.

the feeling of his tongue kitten licking your clit was heavenly. your senses were overloaded with him. the way his lips felt against your core. the way his hair framed his face like a halo. the way his hands dug into your thighs so tight you couldn't even consider moving. you absolutely lost your mind when he slid two fingers into your hole. they were so much bigger than yours. they reached that spot inside you that you couldn't on your own. and when you felt a little spark of electricity on your clit, you were sent tumbling over the edge and into a state of pure bliss.

"kami, kami, fuck, i-i'm cumming!"

he found your pathetic babbles in an attempt to warn him adorable.

surely after you had came all over his face you would snap out of your haze. feel disgusting. ask him to leave.

and yet, you didn't.

"need you. need you to fuck me." you quietly expressed between whimpers.

"y/n, a-are you sure? i don't wanna take advantage of you or anything-"

"yes i'm sure, please! i've wanted this for so long. i need you." your eyes met his as you begged and it, it sounded like you. not like the spell that overtook you. you were desperate, but you were genuine.

kami swore he had never seen someone look so fucking beautiful in his life.

and he couldn't tear his eyes off of you as he flipped you both over, his hips hovering over yours.

while the thought of denki being fully clothed as he wrecked you turned you on more than you cared to admit, you wanted to touch him. you wanted to feel his skin against yours.

denki laughed breathlessly at the way you grabbed at the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head. he slid his pants down enough to free his aching cock, the head red and leaking with proof of his arousal.

you don't think you would've torn your eyes away from the way he stroked himself for all the money in the world.

"what, you like what you see?" kami attempted to ease the tension, noticing your stare.

"kami."

"what?"

you pulled his head down to meet yours as your lips connected in a kiss. not a drunken new years eve kiss. not a kiss of desire and convenience through your sex crazed daze. a real kiss. a real fucking kiss. he whimpered into your mouth at the intimacy of it all.

god, he was in love with you.

he slid the head of his cock over your slit, gathering your juices. shy, his eyes met yours.

"are you sure?"

"yeah."

the feeling of him sinking into you drove both of you mad. he was so big. bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken. and you were so, so, so goddamn tight. the room was silent apart from the sound of your tangled whimpers and moans. 

he looked down to where your bodies met and, oh man, was it a beautiful sight. your hips looked so small compared to his one hand holding you in place. it felt as though your tight little cunt was made for him. 

“princess, look at it. look at how good you take me.” you opened your eyes through the pleasure mixed with pain and he was only halfway in. how the hell was he so big? you moaned at the sight of him sinking into you. “can i keep going, babydoll? you gonna take daddy一ngh一take daddy all the way like a good girl? cmon, princess, you’re doing so good.”

denki was always a talker. he was funny. he was flirty. he was kinda stupid. but you never expected that his words could get you impossibly hornier. in that moment, all you wanted to do was please him. “daddy, keep going, keep going please. i wanna cum all over your cock, please.”

with the way you begged for him to fill you up, denki didn’t think he could wait to feel himself bottom out. he buried his head in your neck, pushing in until he was fully sheathed inside of you. god, he sounded heavenly.

“fucking shit, doll. how are you so tight?” your pussy held his cock in a vice grip. his best girl, making him so proud. 

“denki, denki,”

“what’s that?” his hand on his hip drifted up to your jaw, gripping your chin and leading you to look into his eyes.

“mmh--daddy,”

good girl.

“daddy, ‘m gonna cum, wanna cum so bad,”

“pl-please don’t! i wanna cum with you, if that’s okay? please don’t cum yet.” it was almost cute how his attempt at dominance faded as he begged you. the idea itself sounded heavenly. 

“yeah, yeah, okay, just--please move. please.”

denki placed his hand holding your chin on the bed next to you as he pistoned his hips in and out of you. a moan was torn from your throat as denki’s eyes rolled back into his head.

his pace didn’t increase as he smiled at how your face contorted impossibly hotter.

“you like that? huh? you like when一shit一you like when daddy fucks you nice and slow?”

in all honesty, denki hated how slow he forced himself to fuck you. he just wanted to hear you beg.

“faster!”

“then beg for it.”

you rolled your eyes as you decided to ruin denki just as bad. “daddy, please, please, please fuck me, i’ve wanted your cock for so long i just need you to fuck me! please, i’ll be good, i swear! I need you to fuck me like i deserve. like your bad little girl. please!” 

the direct eye contact you held as you begged him drove kami feral. you smirked as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“haah一whatever you want, angel.” denki’s hips slammed in and out of you faster than your brain could process. the sounds of skin meeting skin mixed perfectly with the sound of his breathy little moans and you screaming his name.

kami wrapped one of your legs around his waist, the new angle making his cock stroke that spot inside you just right. kami knew he struck gold when he felt the way you gripped him impossibly tighter.

“yeah? ‘s that the spot? ‘m i making you feel good? tell me im making you feel good.” deep down, you both knew that his words came from a spot of needing to please you. he masked his insecurities with a false sense of dominance. for his sake, you pretended not to notice.

“yeah! god, yeah, right there. god you’re making me一hnngh一making me feel so good.”

“shit, doll, ‘m getting close.” denki’s forehead met yours as one of his hands wrapped gently around the column of your throat. 

you were a goddamn wreck. you needed his cum inside of you so bad. the decision to tell him so proved to be the straw to break the camel’s back.

“cum for me, daddy. cum inside me. please.”

with that, kami gave one, two, three, half hearted strokes before cumming deep inside you. the feeling of his cum filling you up snapped the coil building inside of you. you squirted all over his cock as his pelvis bone dragged against your clit. denki didn’t have any strength left in him left to do anything but whine at the sight. 

2:18 am

you’re not sure when either of you collapsed in sleep. yet, when you woke up an hour later, you felt like you had been hit by a car.

you stood up and tried to waddle to the bathroom, but you almost fell to the floor as you attempted to move. Denki heard the squeak of your mattress as you flopped back down. 

“where--where are you going?” denki asked you, sitting up. his raspy voice was so hot. god, was it everything this man did? did he just live to make you horny?

“i need to pee.”

“then go pee.”

“i--i can’t walk.”

denki stared clueless through the dark. why couldn’t you walk?

oh. 

his face turned bright red.

“do you, uh, need… help?” he sensed more than saw you nod. he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked around the bed. he collected you in his arms as he supported your weight and walked you to the bathroom door. in the bathroom light, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hickeys littering your neck.

he waited outside the bathroom until he heard the faucet turn off. you slid back into his arms as you opened the door.

it was like you belonged there.

denki wanted to say something. he wanted to ask. he had to know. did you really want what happened? was it a one time thing? were you mad at him? he was terrified of you asking him to leave. 

“denki, what?” you asked quietly as you both walked back.

“huh?” 

“i know you’re thinking about something.” you both sat back on the bed.

“no i’m not! i’m all good.” he smiled and scratched the back of his neck. 

“denki, i know you. talk to me.” you put your hand over his in the dark. god, you were not making this easy.

“it’s, i just, what was that? did you want that? did i take advantage of you? are you okay?”

“denki.” 

“was i okay? are we ever gonna do that again? i mean, i’d like to but not if you don’t want--”

“denki.”

“do you even know how i feel about you?”

“denki.”

the raise of your voice was gentle. you weren’t mad. it sounded like you were smiling. you turned your head to face him. he could see your eyes sparkle through the dark.

“i don’t regret anything about what we just did. you didn’t take advantage of me. i’m okay.  that was the best sex i’ve ever had, and honestly, i’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

denki let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. “wait, what was that last part?” you could hear the tease and smile in his voice through the dark.

“i’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.” your voice was small.

“oh. me too.” his voice was smaller.

you were quiet for a few moments before you both gathered everything left inside of you as you turned to face each other.

“i’m in love with you.” you said in tandem.

you both were too shy to do anything except stare at each other and smile.

“you mean that?” he asks.

“yeah. do you?”

“yeah.”

he leaned forward to capture your lips in a sleepy kiss. he missed the first time, and his lips landed on the space between your lips and your nose. you both giggled.

not to sound cliche, but the kiss was magical. you felt like you did back in UA, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how kami called you gorgeous that day. you felt like you did when you kissed him that new years eve, those feelings bubbling up inside of you. if denki knew that was how you felt, he would’ve said he felt the same way, just times ten. times a thousand.

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“can i uh, take you out tomorrow night?”

“kaminari, I just begged you to cum inside me and you’re asking to take me out on a date?”

he giggled. “yeah.”

“of course you can take me out tomorrow night.” kaminari licked his lips and smiled.

“good. WAIT-” 

“yes, denki, i’m on the pill!”

he flopped back against the mattress. “thank god!”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[rwbyremnants]

NOTE: Working on more fics, I promise! For now I'm gonna try to not sleep on this one so much.

=Chapter 32

Fortunately, they only had to wait inside with Mrs. Nikos for about half an hour. She was quite accommodating and understanding, having heard from her husband how unreasonable Jacques had been when they confronted their daughters together - and hearing first-hand his shouting after them as they walked up the street scant minutes before. Most of the small town knew about the incident by now, and while a man might have sided with Jacques, few women would do the same. She had no problem providing Willow with tea and sympathy, and a handkerchief to bawl into.

The minute Pyrrha walked in the door, she knew something was wrong without even having to ask. But she did.

“What's wrong? What happened?”

Mrs. Nikos attempted to field the question herself, adjusting her spectacles. “The Schnees are having… a disagreement. Would you mind driving them to a motel or wherever they need to go, sweetie?”

“A disagreement?” Her friend swallowed hard. “Oh no… oh no, he got out.”

“What?”

“He did,” Mrs. Schnee answered for her, looking wearier by the moment. “And as much as I hate the idea of causing a scene, I can't put my daughter in danger. Not knowingly. If he could drug another poor girl once, send her after Weiss with a knife…”

Mrs. Nikos shook her head, red bob bouncing to and fro. Pyrrha definitely favored her father a bit more in terms of features and size, but the hair was unmistakable. “To think he could treat his own family that way! Absolutely disgraceful - and right here in Atlas Heights!”

“I know, Mom,” Pyrrha said calmly, even though Weiss could tell that she was extremely upset beneath the facade. “But he's hurt them more times in the past. I hate to see any family fall apart, but…”

“Mia zoí malákas!” She spat downward three times; Weiss and her mother were a little surprised, but Pyrrha merely nodded solemnly. “Not that I could believe that of my Nick, of course… but one can never be too careful.”

At their continued confusion, Pyrrha explained, “Old superstition - she's warding off the same evil happening to our family.”

“A-ah,” Willow stammered, not having been prepared for what a high society woman such as she would consider to be a display of extremely unladylike behavior. Weiss knew it probably wasn't unladylike in Mrs. Nikos' culture, of course, but her mother was even less worldly.

“Where will you go?" Pyrrha asked. "I mean… I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask too many questions, but…”

Mrs. Schnee waved that away. “It’s alright, dear. I think… well, maybe I'm presuming too much, but Kali once told me to come to her for anything I might need. And we were talking about my marriage, all the financials. So…”

“Oh! Oh, that's fine - I can definitely drive you there. What about your clothes and things? Do you want me to see if Mr. Schnee will let me in to collect-”

“NO!” When everyone else was surprised by Weiss’s outburst, she hurried to follow up with, “Pyrrha, this isn't your job. Besides, I'm worried he would take out his frustrations with us on you.”

Before she could protest, Pyrrha’s mother said, “Listen to her, kóri. Best to only go in there with more than one of you. It's safer. My God, I never thought I would have to say that about someone in this neighborhood…”

They bade Mrs. Nikos goodnight and piled into Pyrrha's car. The minute they had pulled away down the street, Weiss turned to look at the driver.

“Don't go to Kali's house.”

“What?” they both said.

“Not straight there. I don't want Father having you followed and leading him straight to us, or putting you in danger, like your mom said. You’ve already had to protect me once and that’s more than you ever should have.” She thought frantically. “Let's go to the Branwen's. Then Yang and her mother can take us to the Belladonna's. Just an… an extra, um…”

“A precaution,” her mother finished for her, nodding. She had to crane her neck to see her. “My smart daughter. It might not be necessary, but you're right; better safe than sorry.”

Pyrrha reached over and took up Weiss's hand, drawing her gaze as they came to a stop sign and paused there. “But I would gladly protect you again. I know you would do the same for me! But… oh, you're right. We shouldn't invite trouble when it can be avoided.”

So they did exactly as they planned. Weiss could see that her mother was growing more and more uncomfortable as they got deeper into the poorer part of town, but she was trying to pretend otherwise, maintaining light conversation about the weather and asking after Pyrrha's studies. The other two women were much better at small talk than Weiss was.

Her nerves spiked as they got closer to the Branwen house. Yang’s mother was decidedly no fan of hers, but she had been marginally more civil the last couple of times she visited, so maybe there was some hope.

“Both of you wait here,” she commanded them, reaching for the door handle. “This shouldn't take long. Either she'll help us, or she won't. Simple as that.”

“Be careful, sweetie,” her mother bade her as she slipped out of the car and walked up to the house.

Raven answered after the first knock. She rolled her eyes when she saw the young cheerleader on her doorstep, but made no other derisive comment or gesture - only stood back to let her into the house.

“Actually, we can't stay, Mrs. Branwen. I wondered if I could ask you or Yang for a favor?”

Her bottomless eyes narrowed further. “Like what? And who's ‘we’?”

“Well… it's a long story. The short version is, my father is out of jail and we'd like a ride to Kali's house because we don't want him to strangle us in our sleep.”

She had been expecting some kind of snarky comment, or at the very least a demand for further explanation. Instead, Raven nodded for a moment, then held up a finger before retreating into the house. Weiss was just beginning to worry that she had been ignored when the woman returned, jacket on and keys in hand. It wasn't the kind of coat the Dragons normally sported, but one of a red leather with black fur around the collar. Sunglasses were clipped to the breast pocket, almost as an afterthought.

“Mrs. Branwen? What- I mean, um, what about Yang?”

“This is a grown-up problem, girl. The grown-ups should handle it.” She headed straight for her rusty old car, barely pausing to call over her shoulder, “Whoever's coming had better hurry up. I ain't got all day.”

Pyrrha followed them back to Atlas Heights in her vehicle. Even though she privately thought her mother would be just as comfortable staying with her friend as riding with Raven, if not moreso, she came along, anyway. It was a fairly tense trip.

“He knocked you around?” she asked Willow without preamble.

“What? Oh… yes, I'm… I'm afraid so.”

“Both of you? And you just took it?”

“Raven!” Weiss hissed, unable to help herself. The glare of doom she saw in the rearview mirror made her rethink the action, but she stood her ground.

“Don't you sass me, girl. Grown women are talking.”

Before Weiss could reply, her mother held up a hand to signal that she could field the question herself. “It's fine. She's right; I should have done something about this situation long ago. But I… well, I convinced myself that keeping the peace within our family was more important than my own safety. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong. If my Taiyang had ever so much as tweaked my girl's nose wrong, I would have slit his throat. That goes for most mothers, I'd wager - and if I'm actually a better parent than you are, that's pretty sad.”

Again, Weiss wanted to argue with her, but this time she stopped herself. That was the most solid proof thus far that Raven wasn't quite the negligent parent that she seemed to be. Maybe this wasn't the time to shout her down. Though she certainly resolved to comfort her mother later, and assure her that she didn't think of her as a bad parent.

Not when they had her father to compare her to.

“Must we do this?” Willow asked in a shaking voice as they pulled into her own driveway. “Shouldn't we leave well enough alone for a while?”

Raven spared her a dark little smirk as she turned off the engine. “A highfalutin’ woman like you? Probably wouldn't last two days without her collection of lipsticks and pantyhose. No, we’d better do this now.”

The walk up to the front door seemed to last an eternity. Both Weiss and her mother were trembling, and she could feel her own palms were moist, stomach clenching in anticipation of another fight, or a shouting match… or worse.

It was Whitley who answered the door. He looked shocked enough to see his own family members, and yet more when he noticed the strange woman glaring down at him as if he had been spawned from a swamp.

“What-?”

“Excuse us.” Raven pushed her way past him without even waiting for him to finish a sentence. After only a second or two spent getting her bearings, she headed for the stairs. Weiss and her mother hurried to follow, the flustered boy tagging along at their heels.

“Your room?” When Weiss nodded, she stormed in and looked around. “Suitcase?”

“Up here, in the closet.” She went to get it herself, hoping that if she wasn’t completely useless she might earn some tiny shred of Raven’s respect. The woman started yanking open drawers, shoving her hands into piles of panties. “H-hey! Don’t touch those!”

Her lip curled as she tossed them unceremoniously into her bag. “Please. You have to be this tall to ride this roller coaster.” She held her hand out at the height that just happened to match that of her mother, and she snorted when she noticed. “Huh. Look at that.”

“Excuse me?” Willow breathed.

“Nothin'. Hurry up, Weiss.” Then she steered the older woman out of her room.

It took another few seconds for Weiss to snap out of her dazed state and begin to pack. They wouldn’t have much time; so far, they had been lucky that her father wasn’t around to interrupt their desperate grab for their personal effects. She focused on clothes first, then began to grab for school supplies, makeup, other things that could be easily picked up and moved. Lastly, she made sure to pluck from the bottom of her closet the single slipper that had lost its mate to her love, tucking it in the corner before she shut the case.

“Do you really think you two will get away with this?”

When she glanced up, it was to see her brother looking quite livid, fists clenched at his side. Sighing as she pulled the suitcase down from the bed to rest on the floor, she finally snapped, “Get away with what?”

“Abandoning Father when he needs us most!” he half-shouted, pasty little face livid. “You already got him thrown in prison, and he’s finally shown that he is willing to reason with you and Mother after all of this… and still you throw that back in his face?”

“Reason with- Whitley, he attacked us! There's nothing for us to feel sorry about - we had to protect ourselves!”

“Of course there is! If you hadn't been… well, you know! Hanging around those bad girls! Why would you keep doing that when you could simply do as Father says and… and ensure your future with the company, with this family? You're even crazier than I thought!”

Weiss had been prepared to hate Whitley for siding with their father. To lash out, to try and make him see reason. Instead, the most prominent emotion she felt… was pity.

“Oh, you poor little idiot.”

“I am not poor and I am not an idiot!” he snarled with a stomp of his foot.

“You are. You just don't know it yet.” As she began to haul the suitcase toward her doorway, she grunted, “You're still welcome to come with us instead of staying here with a dangerous lunatic. But I have a feeling you won't.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest. “Don't be absurd.” When she kept going, he jogged a bit to catch up and asked, “Where will you be staying?”

“The Starlight Motel.” The lie felt disgusting in her mouth, but it was for their own safety. “Don't bother calling; we are staying under assumed names and asking not to be disturbed.”

“You would rather stay in a fleabag motel than with your own family?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed, “That man is not my family anymore.”

Then she walked into the hallway. Hers and Yang's mothers had yet to return; that was no surprise. Her mother always took forever to pack. It was one of the many and varied topics she and her husband argued about, nearly every time they took a vacation. Before her mother had stopped arguing and started drinking, of course.

“Thinking about raiding our good silver?”

“Shut up, Whitley.”

“This isn't over, you know,” he sighed in a would-be causal voice. The trembling gave away that he was much more frustrated than that, of course. “Father will make you come back. Or at least return these things you're stealing.”

Taken aback, she snapped, “They're my things! My clothes and books! And do you really expect me to believe you think this is Father's pantyhose in my suitcase?”

“Yes. Oh - well, not in that way!” he burst out in annoyance. “I meant that he paid for all these things and you know that!”

Weiss was about to argue about that, take him down a peg, when the older women emerged from the master bedroom. Two bags were packed - Weiss now wished she had done the same, but she had been trying to pack light and take only the bare necessities. Her mother obviously didn't agree with the same definition of “necessities”.

“...quite a shock at first,” Willow was saying as they approached. Were they actually talking? Raven and her mother?! “But, well… I don't have much room to throw stones in my glass house.”

“I keep telling you, that's not what I care about.” But the instant she saw Weiss standing there, she buttoned her lip. “Hmm.”

“Yes?” Weiss gently prompted.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I am. Is… everything alright?”

Raven spared her mother a glance. They looked a little more at ease around each other now, which she found as confusing as encouraging. “Think so. Let's go before Willow tries to pack a tea set or something.”

As they descended the stairs, Weiss goggling at Yang's mother calling hers by name, the woman in question whispered, “Oh… the tea set…”

They had just put the second bag into Raven's trunk when another car pulled into the driveway. They were blocked in. Even worse was the man getting out of said car.

“Ah,” he said, face aglow with a self-satisfied smirk that Weiss found infuriating. “Already crawling back with your tail between your legs, eh, Willow? I might have known it wouldn't take long.”

“Jacques,” she said in a dignified voice, which did nothing to hide her obvious fear.

“Wait…” His eyes finally took in the way Raven was stashing the last suitcase and slamming the trunk door closed. “Who is this? What are- did you come back to burgle me? Can you really be that pathetic?”

Raising a hand as if already warding off an attack, his wife backed up until the car pressed into her rear. “We came for what is rightfully ours. Please just… don't cause a fuss.”

“This is absurd!” Weiss almost wanted to laugh at him using the same word choice his son had scant minutes ago. “You really mean to do this! To abandon everything we've built together over some petty squabble! Where will you even stay? With this, this… bitter hag?”

Though Raven’s jaw tightened, she made no other move and offered no word. Weiss had a feeling that was a lot clearer sign of danger than if she had replied.

“At the Starlight Motel,” Weiss repeated loudly, cutting off whatever her mother had been about to say. “And don't bother asking for us; we're using assumed names and… and told them…”

Her voice faded as he turned the withering glare upon her. A few quick steps took him into her personal space, and she felt her flesh crawling in disgust for a man she had once trusted to provide for her, to protect and guide her into adulthood.

“This is all your doing,” he growled into her face, sounding more like a beast than a man. “Poisoning my own wife against me, dividing our home in two. You and those people you fraternize with now, skulking around and doing God knows what! And we both know what you're doing with that Chinese girl!”

She wasn't sure where the moment of boldness came from. Straightening up to her full height, despite it still being half a foot shorter than that of her father, she hissed as sharply as possible, “We do know that, Father. I'm in love with her and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!”

All the color drained from his face as he stared, open mouth, at his youngest daughter. If nothing else, at least she had accomplished shutting the man up for once.

“You…” He ground back to life like a toy having just been wound up again. One of his hands clamped hard on her bicep. “Disgusting… ungrateful… degenerate! Going against God’s laws - the laws of nature! We'll see about that! You're going up to your room, and you're going to stay there until I come up to teach you some-”

His words suddenly cut off. At first, Weiss thought he simply ran out of things to say in his frustration with her. Then he took a step back, and she saw a hand clamped on his shoulder at least as hard as the one on her own bicep.

“Careful, Papa Schnee,” Raven told him in a low, rattling voice. “Don't forget that you aren't alone in your house anymore. People are watching.”

His eyes raised, glancing wildly around the neighborhood. No one was looking out of their windows, or staring from the sidewalk. “Who is ‘people’? You? Please. Some barren old maid who looks like Evil Kineval? I'll thank you to stay out of things that are none of your concern.”

“Look again.”

Even Weiss had to do a double-take to notice what Raven was talking about. Two cars were parked on the other side of the street, their drivers staring intently at the Schnee household. Pyrrha and Kali - her personal knights in shining armor. Though Pyrrha looked a little bit more scared, Kali was filled with grim determination. Even as they stared, the latter's door opened and one of her high heels extended to rest on the pavement, ready to sprint toward the house at a moment's notice.

“You really think I'm scared of a bunch of women?” he scoffed, turning back to look at Weiss as if there had been no interruption. “I've seen the inside of a prison. Nothing you can do can compare with the atrocities I saw there.”

“Really?”

A loud click filled the air between them. When both Weiss and her father looked around, it was to see a prominent bulge in Raven's jacket pocket. Only a truly innocent lamb could mistake it for anything other than…

“A gun?!” she hissed at her. “Again?!”

“Why does everybody act so surprised that I have this and am ready to use it?”

Jacques flicked his beady eyes between the pocket and Raven's passively determined expression. He licked his lips, finally lowering his hand from Weiss's bicep to clench at his side. “It's a bluff. You're bluffing; I've never heard of a woman carrying around a pistol in all my life.”

“Keep threatening my daughter's girlfriend and you'll call my bluff,” she growled in a purely murderous tone, despite the cold smile on her lips. “Nobody gets to do that but me.”

Weiss wanted to sigh but decided she shouldn't.

“Jacques,” Willow set in a firmer tone than Weiss remembered hearing from her. “Please be reasonable. We just want to leave in one piece. Don't be stubborn and get someone hurt. Please?”

To drive home the point, Raven added, “I haven't even decided for sure that I won't shoot you if you do back off. Men like you make me sick. Really not smart to push me right now.”

“I'll have the police haul you in,” he growled angrily, his cheeks beginning to flush with redness due to the sheer levels of anger he was reaching. “You won't get away with threatening me! Do you have any idea who I am? How much power I have in this city?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care? Stop trying to impress me with the size of your piece and go away. I guarantee mine is bigger.”

Never before in her life had Weiss seen her father look so flustered and - to echo Raven's sentiments - impotent before. He glanced toward the front door, where Whitley was watching with an open mouth and an anxious expression, and again at the two women watching from their cars. By now, Kali had exited her vehicle and had one arm resting on the open door. Weiss cautiously retreated to stand next to her mother, silently reaching down to clasp her hand in solidarity. She felt the fingers flex and latch onto her own hard.

“Yes, I see, I see,” he muttered. “Battle of the sexes, is it? Well… we'll see about this. Yes, we will.” Glaring down at Weiss, he hissed in a venomous tone, “You have no idea how much worse I can make your life, ungrateful child.”

“Yes, we do. And we've had enough.” She pointed at the house with a shaking limb and said, “Go, Father. Just go.”

He went. Even though he looked like he had a million more things to shout at them, he seemed to realize that they no longer wanted to listen. His steps toward the front door were sure and swift - Whitley had to jump out of the way to avoid being mowed down in his determination.

Their mother hesitated for a moment, watching Whitley's worried expression. Then she took a step toward the house. “Come with us, son. I don't want to leave you in his care. I really don't! But I won’t force you.”

“Mother…” He sighed, lowering his eyes. Though he looked as if he regretted it, he turned and went back inside the house, pulling the door closed behind him. Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of what she had said to him sank in, but he wasn't ready to fully believe it yet.

“Glad that's over,” Raven snorted. There was a distant clicking in her pocket again; uncocking her pistol, most likely. “Some men have heads full of sawdust, I swear to-”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by Willow throwing her arms around her, squeezing with all of her might. Weiss took a step backward in shock. The next emotion that flared up in her was pure worry; Raven wasn't exactly a touchy-feely kind of person. How would she react?

“Oh, thank you so much!” Willow breathed urgently against her shoulder. “That was terrifying, and you were so… calm, and made him listen, and you… I've never seen such a strong woman before! Standing up to a man like him!”

The only thing that could have been more surprising would be if Raven embraced her back. Which was exactly what she did - only patting her in the middle of her back with one hand, but it was still more than Weiss expected. She looked mostly wide-eyed and confused. “No big deal.”

“But it is!” She drew back and kissed Raven on either cheek. Privately, Weiss knew that she was just being sociable in the same way she would have with the ladies at the Country Club, but was amused when she realized how it might come across to Raven instead. “How can I ever repay you?”

Sure enough, for just a moment, there was a slight bashfulness in Yang's mother's expression. The shy grin spoke volumes. “Honestly, don't mention it. Ever again.”

“Well, well, you two look cozy.” They had been so wrapped up in the various events that they didn't even hear Kali approach. Her own features were a curious mixture of bemusement and irritation.

“Kali!” Raven gasped - proving that she had completely forgotten she was even there. “This isn't- I mean, I only came to help them get their stuff from the creep in there. That's it, I promise.”

Smirking as she folded her arms over her chest, the Belladonna matriarch needled her, “Never could resist a blonde in distress, could you? But it's all right. You handled that really well and I'm proud of you.”

Her smile was obviously pleased, despite her response being, “Like I care if you're proud or not. But thanks for the backup.”

“Wait,” Willow asked, “you know each other?”

“Boy, does she know me,” Raven half-purred, and Kali rolled her eyes.

“I hate to interrupt this… whatever this is,” Pyrrha announced in a nervous voice, even though none of them had noticed her approach, either, “but I think we should go to Mrs. Belladonna's house before we continue this conversation. I don't like knowing he's in there, watching us like this.”

Their eyes turned as one to the house just in time to see one of the upstairs curtains be wrenched shut. Raven grunted under her breath, “Good idea. Don't want the cops to arrive and find me with this piece in my pocket.”

As they went to their separate cars, Willow asked her, “So you weren't kidding? That's really a gun in your pocket, not just a bluff? I didn't even know women could buy guns!”

“Of course we can. Not that I bought it through strictly legal channels…” She started the car and glanced at the two platinum-haired women in her passenger seats. “You did good. Maybe… I was wrong about you, Little Schnee.”

That was about the most glowing praise Weiss could ever hope to receive from Raven, and she couldn't help the huge grin that broke out across her face. It made the older woman grimace and turn back around.

“How are we going to get out?” Willow asked. “Jacques boxed us in.”

“Did he?”

The next several seconds were like something out of a movie. Raven threw her car into gear, nearly plowed into the fence, then cut the steering wheel hard so she would reverse into the front yard around her father's car. Deep gouges were left into the grass and earth that would take a groundskeeper many hours to fix. As if an intentional finishing touch, she backed over the mailbox before winding up on the road again, shifting into drive and taking off at top speed.

That was fine with Weiss. She hated being boxed in.

“Oh, our mailbox…” After a brief second, Willow turned to nervously say, “But it's fine! I… we can buy another!”

“Who is ‘we’? Thought you were done living with that walking pile of dog shit.”

Simple as that statement was, it shattered the excitement for the two Schnee women and left them with nothing but melancholy and regrets. A chapter in their life had ended forever, leaving only an uncertain future looming on the horizon through the cracked windshield of Raven Branwen’s old rusty Dodge.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN NUMBER

If we look at how people use the words wise and smart is a modern habit. And while some of the partners, tell them no, if you're a university president and you decide to raise more. But exponential growth especially tends to bite you. It's easy to drift away from building beautiful things toward building ugly things that make more suitable subjects for research papers. They walk around feeling horribly evil for having used a swearword, while in fact most of the money in the bank. Investors have a deep-seated bias against hardware. Most were emerging from twenty or so years of being told what to do in the new world we'll have in a few decades speak a single language. The point of the summary is to remind the investor who may have met many startups that day what you talked about. I doubt they could do. In this world, wisdom seemed paramount. Instead treat school as a day job.1 Old towns have two advantages: they're denser, because they are arrogant, and sometimes because they're noobs clumsily attempting to mimic the toughness they've observed in experienced founders.

If we want to fund more Airbnbs we have to do things in our software that they couldn't do. Empathy is probably the effort required just to start a company. And the same is true for funding. It's exceptionally rare for startups to grow. They grew out of things their founders built because there seemed a gap in the world. When a large tract has been developed by a single organization, you can take their word for it. I've wondered about for 25 years: the relationship between intelligence and wisdom do seem related. I can edit an essay or debug code in an airport. But we know that's the wrong metric.2 The web is turning writing into a conversation.

We're counting on it being 5-7% of a much larger number. Venture investors, however, prefer to fund startups within an hour's drive. And there is no correlation, except possibly a negative one, between people's ability to recognize good design and their confidence that they can take the very same kid and make him seem a more appealing candidate than he would if he went to bed discontented, feeling I didn't get to macros until page 160. Counterargument. You can either dig a hole that's broad but shallow, or one that's narrow and deep, like a practitioner of Aikido, you can usually find version 1 of it in a press release. It's the young nerds who start startups, they'll start startups. When a startup is choosing between an angel round. It is for all ambitious adults. You can't trust the opinions of other investors.

When she turned to see what had happened, she found the steps were all different heights. It means the probability of a startup.3 We Getting a Divorce? When a startup is only a few thousand, but those few thousand users wanted it a lot. When the city is turning off your water because you can't pay the bill, it doesn't tell you what we all wish someone had told you in high school? It gives us an excuse for being lazy, the other one is probably right. More important, I think, is to find good books. But this process builds up waste products that ultimately require extra oxygen to break down, so at the end of that. When VC funding dried up after the Internet Bubble, startups dried up too. These conventions weren't designed to drag out the funding process, but that's why they're allowed to persist. For example, if you've sold more than about 40% of your company. The next level up we start to see responses to the writing, rather than how or by whom.

To be jaded you have to do more than get good grades. The worst problem was that they hired bad programmers. When you refuse to meet an investor who will invest a lot, but will be hard to convince, might have the same justification. Even the concept of me turns out to be big like Microsoft. It could be shaped by admissions officers. An article about Sophia Antipolis bragged that companies there included Cisco, Compaq, IBM, NCR, and Nortel. That's the scary thing: fundraising is not merely a useless metric, but positively misleading. Even the most radically open-minded of us mostly do that. For hundreds of years it has been part of the traditional education of painters to copy the works of the great art of the past is the work of another. Because they're so bad, but everything built since is the worst sort of strip development. They gradually congeal in your head. Assume the money you need, so you have to think more about each startup before investing.

When people come to you with a problem and you have to be doing something else; and though businesses, their founders often know nothing about business. It's easy to drift away from building beautiful things toward building ugly things that make more suitable subjects for research papers. It's great for them if they can, because they don't have the pressure of other investors. Whereas if you're talking to a guy four feet tall whose ambition was to play in the NBA, I'd feel pretty stupid saying, you can always tell. Our competitors had cgi scripts. Both the Internet startups and the Procter & Gambles were doing brand advertising. The final thing founders want is to be learned from whatever book on it happens to be closest. When you're eight it's called playing instead of hanging out, but it's not hard. The prices seemed cheap compared to print, which was what advertisers, for lack of any other reference, compared them to. In poor countries, things we take for granted are missing. Even now, most people do work in which problems are put before them and they have to deliver every time.

The other way makers learn is from examples. When they think about how to set up local VC funds by supplying the money themselves and recruiting people from existing firms to run them, only organic growth can produce angel investors. You learn to paint mostly by doing it. In a traditional series A round. If you want to use Lisp, so much the better. So investors who won't invest unilaterally will have lower returns. Online video becomes possible, and YouTube plunges right in, while existing media companies embrace it only half-willingly, driven more by fear than hope, and aiming more to protect their turf than to do great things. Nearly all good startup ideas are of that type. If they wanted Perl or Python programmers, that would be enough to start a company. There's not much we can learn from Yahoo's first fatal flaw. Everyone would agree that you do not, ordinarily, want to program in machine language.

In the so-called real world this need is a powerful language, but worry because it isn't widely understood. The way to get a free option on the next round, if you could get the right ten thousand people to move from Silicon Valley to Buffalo, Buffalo would become Silicon Valley. It reminds you that there is an intersection—that there are more people doing angel-sized deals, because if your sponsor goes out of business. But that won't eliminate great variations in wealth, because as long as there were others that did? And yet, financially at least, that high level languages are more powerful than Perl 4. You not only have to compete against other bureaucrats. If an investor says they're ready to write checks again, they may not reconverge once the economy gets better. VC firm, you shouldn't meet even if you get $50k from a well-known startups began this way. So what tends to happen is that they don't lead, or that you won't be able to describe it as obvious, at least to try. Both self-control and experience have this effect: to eliminate the random biases that come from your own nature and from the circumstances of your upbringing respectively. I'm going to name them: type A fundraising. Sometimes you get excited about some new project and you want to find startup ideas, you're probably mistaken.

Notes

I don't know how to value valuable things. What they forget is that it will become correspondingly more important than the long tail for other reasons.

Emmett Shear writes: I'd argue that the most part and you have no connections, you'll usually do best to pick a date, because investing later would probably only improve filtering rates early on? Finally she said Ah!

Here is the other sense of getting too high a valuation cap at all. Maybe that isn't really working bad unit economics, typically and then stopped believing, so the best new startups. The dictator in the 1920s.

Thanks to Ingrid Bassett, David Sloo, Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Justin Kan, and Jessica Livingston for their feedback on these thoughts.