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moonctzeny · 3 years

Text

The Lovers

pairing: art student!taeyong x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst

word count: 6k

other members as background characters: mainly johnny, doyoung

warnings: unprotected sex, abuse of alcohol, smoking, reader has an abusive ex, public fingering, mentions of high school bullying

summary: “Taeyong isn't a fan of surrealism. When he decided to enroll into art school he did it for his love of Renaissance, Baroque, the obvious and undeniable beauty of Rococo. He liked the simple things and led a simple life, until he met you; the obvious beauty of a classmate you were that would make him feel more things than what he thought was humanely possible. When you're grouped together in a project dedicated to the works of René Magritte, Taeyong will come to the realization that life immitates art, and life is anything but the preconditioned perceptions of reality he's used to.”

a/n: this is my entry for Gallery Taeyong collab! Happy belated birthday bubu 🥺 This fic was inspired by the works of surrealist painter René Magritte and specifically The Lovers II. I’ve loved his works for a long time so this was very creatively pleasant for me!

tagging: @alreadyblondenow , @sirrenjun , @markresonates

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PART I - THE FALSE MIRROR

He wouldn’t be so grumpy if he had to take the class for any other art movement.

Taeyong could get lost for days in a mural of the Renaissance, calculating all the different ways the painter managed to achieve total geometric symmetry. He would look at every individual figure, study their body language, their unique expression; discover all the little ways they contributed to the larger masterpiece. It comforted him when he found himself lost amongst the big crowds of students at the art school he attended. Even if he wasn’t the most interesting or gifted one, even in the total black look he sported with only his customized vans giving away his major, maybe he also contributed in his own way to the mural called life.

And sure, he knew why he had to take that class. As frustrating as it is to him, Surrealism is a huge movement that impacted generations of artists, and not learning about it as a painting major would sound criminal to most. He could maybe put up with the mandatory assignment if he had to analyze Dali’s work. Taeyong could at least recognize the talent needed to make those microscopic paintings that were interesting enough to look at. He even got one of those melting clocks as a ‘house (dorm) warming’ gift from his best friend, Doyoung, hanging strangely between the cracks of one of his walls.

Taeyong loved art because it overrated people. Through the strokes of an artist’s brush, he could discover layers of the human psyche; layers that he just couldn’t see in real life. If anything, Taeyong thought he could read people at first sight pretty well. The girl who sometimes talked to him in sculpture class, with the pink hair and baby bangs, has daddy issues. The tall lanky dude that winks at him at the cafeteria, covered in rings and chains and fancy piercings, probably cries himself to sleep. Taeyong, who was bullied again and again throughout his high school years for being different, fades in the background of someone else’s story, making sure that all the shades of black he’s wearing match each other.

The constant rating and assessment of other people exhausted him, but he just couldn’t help it. In the sacredness of his dorm, with no faces to shield away from in fear of getting judged, he could finally be himself.

Unwinding after a long and uneventful day, Taeyong enjoys the smoke that makes his mind a little too foggy to think anymore. The smell sticks on his clothes, the leaves of his indoor plants, it fits itself between those wall cracks. He almost dozes off in the tranquility, sprawled out on his messy sheets, when his phone’s buzz jolts him awake.

Unknown number

hey, we got partnered up together for surrealism class, your friend Ten gave me your number

the professor assigned us Rene Magritte

want to meet up so we can start with the assignment?

Taeyong might have skipped the first class of Surrealism 101. Blame it on being a good friend, or his inability to handle alcohol, let alone whiskey. Being a Philosophy major wasn’t easy for one’s sanity, and Doyoung went on a serious existential crisis last night. Not to mention, the nonsensical nature of Surrealism sure doesn’t go well with a bad hangover. Damn Plato.

uhh yeah sorry for being mia yesterday

you can come over to my dorm this evening if you want

Unknown number

give me your location, I’ll be there at 8

I’m y/n btw

The knock on his door came twenty minutes past eight. Taeyong quickly puts out the cigarette that was busying his lips, already missing the bitter taste of smoke when he gets to the door.

“You must be Taeyong. I’m y/n.”

Beautiful. That is the first word that pops into his head when he lays his eyes on you.

Taeyong had never seen someone that quite looks like you. From your eyes, to your lips, to the proportions of your body. You were wearing a simple summer dress, one that was maybe too light for the chilly autumn weather but pretty nonetheless. It seemed like angels had descended from heaven, leading you into his arms with their serene singing; he could hear it clearly in his head.

He lets you in his dorm politely, catching a whiff of your cologne that has him hooked already. His fingers are itching to grab a medium, any medium- charcoal, watercolor, oil paints and immortalize you, in fear that you might vanish suddenly, slip from his line of sight.

He still hasn’t muttered a single word, he realizes when he sees the indexes of the melting clock moving steadily, reminding him that time still does go by. The small couch that he barely managed to fit in the entrance area of his dorm struggles to fit you both, the proximity making him dizzy. You’d be the one to break the silence.

“So, do you like Surrealism?”

“Not really”

Taken aback by his statement, you turn your body sideways to face him, at least as much as the limited space allows you to. You could start off with something lighter, like “I like your place” or “How did you meet Ten?”, yet you hated small talk.

“How come?”

“It’s just… a mess. It makes no sense. Most of the art isn’t even nice to look at. You have to search and search for some kind of meaning, only to be left even more confused.”

“Don’t you think that looking for meaning in a surrealistic painting negates the whole point of the movement itself?”

“But there must be a meaning. Even if the artists are painting from their subconscious, they are pulling something out of the deepest recesses of their minds. Surely it means something.”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. Do you like making sense out of people, Taeyong?”

“People are pretty similar. They act in certain behavioral patterns. They reflect whatever it is they are feeling inside on the surface.”

“And what sense do you make of me?”

Taeyong gets startled by the question. Surely he has an answer, calculating people was sort of like his hobby, yet he doesn’t know how candid he can be with someone he just met. He takes the matted-down cigarette he put out earlier and places it between his lips, lighting it again.

“You dress neatly. You’re pretty, and not afraid to show it. If I can read through that nice manicure correctly, I’d say you grew up with French and piano tutoring. You’re close with your mom and want to be like her. A good girl.”

Your sardonic smile is visible even through the thick smoke. You seem to mutter something that Taeyong’s ears can’t quite catch, before taking out a piece of paper with a painting printed on it.

“The False Mirror, 1928. It’s the first piece we have to analyze.”

Taeyong takes the print from your hands carefully, squinting his eyes as they scan through its entirety. It’s an eye, not very realistically depicted, with a circular sky placed inside the otherwise ordinary oculus.

“An eye”, he states matter-of-factly, and you scoot right next to him on the couch.

“Yes, without the face. Out of its usual context.”

“So you’re saying that the artist purposefully makes a bizarre combination to stimulate the viewer?”

“Not just to stimulate, but to force them to raise a question.”

“The eyes are the mirror to the soul?”

“A parody of that, yes. Magritte said that the function of painting is to make poetry visible, after all.”

Taeyong stares at the piece some more as he finishes his cigarette, and it makes him feel more uneasy with every second that passes by. Is the sky a reflection of what the eye is seeing? The lack of detail in the artistry makes it hard to tell.

“It almost seems like it’s an opening to a new reality.”

“It’s an invitation to see the world differently. Not everything is as it seems.”

The last comment feels like a jab at your conversation earlier, and it makes Taeyong leave the painting on the table finally. It all seems ugly and weird and the piece is making him upset by forcing him to look past the obvious that he loves so much.

“You seem really good at this”, he says and lets some of the ashes smoke out the white, fluffy clouds, “I’m not worried about the assignment at all. I can send you a small analysis tomorrow and we can combine it with yours-”

“Is this your way of nicely kicking me out of your dorm?”, you joke and Taeyong panics, moving his hands frantically over his face. Your presence was more than welcome, even if you did make him a little nervous. He wasn’t used to such beauty being so close to him, alive, breathing. As he sees you smile back at him brightly, he thinks that life truly imitates art.

“No, not at all! You can stay as long as you want! I can order pizza and you can tell me more about yourself.”

“Hmmm. I have a better idea.”

Taeyong doesn’t know how he ended up with you at a stranger’s house party, nor exactly how you convinced him to tag along. He follows you inside the stuffy apartment, the led lights and loud music already giving him a headache. The sweat of the people dancing is dripping from the ceiling, making him even more claustrophobic, clinging onto you.

You pour him a drink and Taeyong reluctantly accepts it, well aware of how strong it is for him. He takes a small sip while you down your whole glass in one shot, making his eyes bulge out of his head in shock. He tries to make small talk, ask you about the party thrower and advise you to slow down, yet your attention is fixated on a group of loud men.

“Be right back”, you tell him as you excuse yourself, and he watches as you tackle the tallest of them all in a big hug.

You scream his name and look up at him dearly, and Taeyong can already tell that you and ‘Johnny’ are more than just friends. He notices how you try to make yourself bigger in front of him, how nervous you seem as you initiate conversation. He can also notice how much more interested you seem in him than he does in you.

Taeyong feels as if he’s probing at something he shouldn’t, so he turns around and gulps the rest of his drink with difficulty. Defeated and with a hint of sadness coating your eyes you return to the kitchen and pour yourself another drink, stronger this time.

He asks you questions about your interests to distract you, maybe even calm you down. While the alcohol confuses you both and the loud music muffles a lot of the words together, Taeyong manages to learn a lot about you. You started painting as a means of escape, surrealism and gore being your favorite. Carbonated drinks give you the hiccups and you unironically like the most pretentious of indie bands. You have a tattoo of your first pet on your left buttcheek that you will never let your parents know about. Your smile has the ability to raise his heart rate in a split second.

Taeyong stays silent as you empty the glass once more, but he has to interrupt when you try to drink straight from the bottle. You hop on the counter so that he’s sat between your thighs, whining as he takes it out of your hands. The extra sips you stole made you just as tipsy as him and you ground yourself with the feeling of his palms on your thighs.

“You shouldn’t drink so much”, he slurs and squeezes the muscles a little, the fabric of your dress, making his fingers run effortlessly over them. You love the attention.

Your own fingers weave through his locks, tugging them a little so that you pump out even more attention from him. He looks so pretty looking up at you like that, blown-out pupils taking everything in and waiting for your next move.

“Let’s do something else then.”

You seal the proposal with a kiss, tasting the alcohol on Taeyong’s soft lips. He kisses you back feverishly after he’s over the initial shock, his brain unable to realize if this moment he shares with the pretty girl that visited his dorm earlier this evening is real or not. Soon his tongue disappears inside your mouth, running over your teeth and playing with you further.

You guide his hands under your skirt as he breaks the skin of your neck with his teeth, and a single finger over your panties makes a shiver go down your spine. He toys with the hem some more, slowly feeling the fabric dampen but never taking it further.

“I want your fingers inside me”, you plead in his ears, your voice airy and breaking with desperation.

“There are people around”

“No one gives a fuck. I need you.”

Taeyong hisses in an inner battle with his self-control, yet your glossy doe eyes take the win. He pushes your panties to the side carefully, moving even closer between your legs to hide the sinful act as much as he can. His body feels hot against you and when he dips his middle finger inside you have to grip onto his shoulders so that you don’t dissolve in the feeling.

“Faster”, you beg and he inserts his index as well, painting a pearly purple love bite over your collarbones. With every drag of his fingertips against your walls, he drags a moan out of your lips as well, the pretty sound getting buried in the deep bass of the loud music.

Just as he feels you falling over the edge, searching your face for the lewd expressions of orgasmic pleasure, he realizes that your eyes are glued provocatively onto another man.

PART II - EMPIRE OF LIGHT

It’d been exactly 33 hours since the last time he saw you. You were both stumbling outside of the house party, drunk and disoriented and with the taste of your orgasm still on your tongues, yet Taeyong somehow managed to call you a cab. He remembers being pissed off and confused over your behavior, refusing your advances and your proposal to follow you home.

You texted him later that next day, thanking him for taking care of you and asking him to meet up for your project. You didn’t mention your moment of intimacy, nor Johnny, neither did you apologize for that night. Taeyong agreed and offered his place once again for your rendezvous. The indexes of the melting clock taunt his anxiety as he waits for you to arrive.

The knock on his door came 20 minutes late again, and Taeyong writes it down as another one of your habits. Your eyes look tired and your skin looks dull, yet you’re still styled in a neat and pretty outfit. It was weird seeing you in the light of day, without being surrounded by the darkness that fits you so well. All the flaws that Taeyong could see in you in the morning were humanizing while simultaneously showing him just how different you are compared to him.

You walk in confidently, almost as if you own the place, and throw your body onto his couch. Taeyong chuckles incredulously, joining you after he lights a new cigarette. You take out another print from your bag and he hears the faint clanging of glass bottles as you do.

The painting looks a little more artistically pleasing this time, yet there’s something that still gives off an unsettling feeling. After his eyes get used to the high contrasts, he notices that the nocturnal street scene is set against a light-drenched morning sky. One of the most fundamental premises of life is being messed with, and light, while usually something that’s a source of clarity, causes him confusion and uneasiness.

“Empire of Light, 1950”, you start explaining, fanning out the smoke with your hands when it reaches you, “Magritte painted this scene numerous times. It’s a paradoxical combination of day and night. The conception of a picture, that is, the idea, is not visible in the picture: an idea cannot be seen with the eyes. What is represented in a picture is what is visible to the eyes, it is the thing or things that must have been ideated. The landscape evokes night and the sky evokes day. He called this power: poetry.”

Taeyong blows his smoke on the house depicted, as if the landlady would open one of the small windows and tell him off, providing another small light source in the painting.

“A paradox”, he repeats, toying the sour word with his tongue and mixing it with the bitterness of the tobacco, “Like the paradox of a girl with pretty dresses that’s addicted to alcohol.”

You realize he’s talking about you yet you decide to play dumb, hiding in the silence of the room. And Taeyong lets you hide but only for a few seconds, before he grabs the alcohol bottles from your bag and places them over the painting. One of them, a digestif, gets stuck on the paper, adding a caramel-colored ring over the light-blue sky.

“I like to drink. So what?”

“You have a problem. Who the fuck carries three half-empty bottles of booze in their school bag?”

“You don’t know when I drunk them”

“You reek of liquor”

His stare is unnerving, shoving you into an imaginary corner and casting an interrogation beacon on you. With trembling hands and heated cheeks, you grab a pack of gums from the jean jacket you brought along and start to chew aggressively. There’s a caretaker value in him that makes your stomach warm and your head foggy at the same time.

“Says the guy with the lung cancer between his lips. Since you like playing therapist so much then you’d know that we all have our coping mechanisms. We all have that something or someone to use that makes us feel better.”

Something in Taeyong shifts after what you said, evident in the way his jaw tightens.

“Is it because of this Johnny guy? You can tell me you know, I’m no therapist but I’m your friend.”

You scoff, giving him a once over. “A friend? Is that what you call everyone you finger fuck in a room full of people?”

You try your hardest to hold back your laughter at Taeyong’s reddening cheeks as he notices the healing hickeys he’s left on you. His intentions are clear and they seem as pure as they can be, so you pace around the room a little to organize your thoughts.

“It’s not because of Johnny. It’s because of my ex. He was the type of guy that can take you to heaven and then drag you to hell in the same breath. When someone you love tells you daily just how worthless you are the insult ends up staying inside your skull for longer than bearable.”

You get dizzy from the circles you paced so you sit down on his desk chair this time. The rolling motion comforts you a little so you find the courage to spill more of your heart out.

“The booze makes the voice shut up. Sex helps too. Johnny is just a fuck buddy of mine. He has his eyes.”

Taeyong gulps dryly at your confessions but listens carefully nonetheless. There is a weight in his chest and an itch over the fingers that he used that night.

“So I was a distraction too?”

“I’m sorry if you feel used, but aren’t all hookups a distraction if you think about it? Besides, it was good. The finger fucking, I mean. I don’t regret it.”

Taeyong weighed all the possible responses to your compliment, but he soon concluded that avoiding them all would be best.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, no one deserves this. But this coping mechanism is going to ruin you.”

“I know. And I know that you deserve better than whatever mess I am. Sorry for dragging you into this.”

“You didn’t force me into anything, don’t worry. I am a little guilty of indulging as well.”

You take a minute to take him all in, and you almost lose him in his all-black attire. Some of his works that you hadn’t noticed last time are hanging from the walls. It’s mostly beautiful women, surrounded by lines and shapes in bright colors. The intensity and liveliness of the paintings surprise you, so very different than the man who’s sitting in front of you.

“Enough about me. What is it with you? Besides our friend Ten, you seem to be like a ghost to everyone else.”

“I like blending in, sticking out is uncomfortable.”

“Is that why you dress like a watered-down Hot Topic employee?”

“Being invisible isn’t such a bad thing.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should try that. You know, sometimes, I like to hang around the train station for hours. I daydream of packing my necessities and leaving this place forever. Start a new life with a new name, a new life that is not as cursed as this one is. I don’t even know what’s stopping me from leaving everything I am behind.”

You watch curiously as Taeyong gets up from the couch and walks slowly up to you. You think he’ll probably ask you to leave, or tell you to at least get up from his comfortable chair you’re occupying, yet you still in shock when he wraps his arms around you. He smells nice, very sweet, and homey, just like his embrace. It’s been years since the last time you felt so light.

“No. You’re meant to be here.”, he murmurs through your hair, “You’re meant to be seen. You’re full of color.”

“Like the women in your paintings?”

Taeyong hums affirmatively, the vibration relaxing you even more. “You’re the type of person artists make whole oeuvres about.”

You continue working on the project pleasantly, and your little team is starting to gel. You guide Taeyong with your valuable knowledge on surrealism, and in return he lets you play your pretentious indie bands as background noise. You love how kind and understanding he is, and you admire his effortless leadership skills. He’s been glued next to your leg the entire time, looking up at you from his seat on the floor. And when he rests his head on your thigh and you pet his hair until he purrs, you both telepathically agree not to comment on it.

It’s getting late and Taeyong’s walking you out of his dorm, his jacket hanging from your shoulders since the sun is down by now. You can feel the anxiety oozing from his body.

“So, ummm. I was wondering if you’d ummm, like to go out somewhere tomorrow.”

“Lee Taeyong, are you asking me out on a date?”

“No no! I mean, I just want to hang out with you. Unless you want it to be a date. Then I’m completely fine with that.”

You giggle at his rambling, high on the warmth of his clothes that remind you of his embrace earlier.

“There’s an art exhibition downtown. We can go check it out if you want.”

“I’d love that.”

You peck his cheek sweetly before leaving, and the contact of your lips against his skin will burn him for the rest of the night. You don’t even notice that you forgot the bottles of alcohol at his apartment.

PART III - THE LOVERS

For your gallery date, you were early for the first time. Drenched in a healthy glow, with crystal eyes and the brightest smile. How could anyone expect Taeyong to pay attention to the art pieces when you were standing right next to him? The whole time you were silently appreciating the artwork, he had his own studying to do as well. His talent in reading people would find a creative purpose for the first time as he thought of what earthy tones and stroke techniques would best depict you on paper. You always seemed too much for him to paint, too complex and deep and beautiful for his level of artistry.

If you noticed his staring, you didn’t say a thing, but when he decided to intertwine his fingers with yours, your palm sweated a little. He thought your hand was made for his, with how perfectly it fit inside it, and Taeyong wished he could cling onto the feeling forever. He walked you home like the gentleman he is, but not before he treated you with your favorite ice cream as you talked about art for hours. He didn’t make a move to kiss you, nor did you suggest to lead him inside your place and then inside you.

When you asked him how come he hadn’t lit a cigarette the entire night, he simply told you he quit. Tobacco tastes so bland compared to the smell of your perfume without the hints of alcohol.

And that’s how the rest of the week flew by, meeting every day and spending most of their duration together. You’d study for your project, or watch movies, or cuddle in between those two. An undisclosed desire was dripping from your lips, yet what you have is too delicate to be recklessly disrupted, so you toy between the lines of platonic love. A hug that lingers for too long, a growing hard-on hiding under thick jeans, curious fingers that dance too close to the top of your thighs.

Tonight, Taeyong is waiting for your study date at his dorm, as always. He still hasn’t realized how late it’s gotten, lost between the painting materials that are scattered across the floor. Prussian blues, bright reds, and cad yellows. He jumps when he hears you knocking, startled by the sudden noise and his own excitement.

You appear in another one of your dresses, a red one this time, topped with his jacket that’s now a wardrobe staple for you. Taeyong thinks you look pretty as ever because tonight, you look his.

Peeking over his shoulder, you notice his half-finished work, and you’re immediately enamored with the plethora of colors that seem to reel you in. In the middle of the canvas, you see a woman that resembles you in the most flattering way possible. She’s you but more interesting, more caring, brighter, kinder. It’s an image of you, an impression of you. It’s how Taeyong chooses to see you.

You don’t even tell him hi as you walk through his doorstep, the electric look you share already saying it all. He leans over his door to lock it, just a deep breath away for your chests to meet, and the moment he’s turned the key for the last loop you’re pressed up against it. You know you’re too close when you can tell he smells like those cinnamon gums you love so much, so you decide to have a taste.

Your teeth clash as your lips crash against his, and the hunger that you feel for him overwhelms you. The night you shared at that party couldn’t even compare to the way he kisses you now, so full of purpose that he almost scares you. He leads you blindly over the small couch, grunting as he falls on top of you, and you continue to nibble his pretty lips over and over again.

Time freezes when you’re one like that, lightheaded and moving your tongues to taste each other. Taeyong grinds against your clothes, making your abdomen feel like it’s on fire, and your mouth waters at the conceivable length. He pulls away for just a moment, raw in his messy hair and puffy lips. The hem of your dress curls into his fists, and you’re shocked at how it doesn’t rip from the force.

He does the same for your underwear, impatiently taking it off of you until you’re bear and wet underneath him. He pushes you higher up the cushions, throwing your legs over his shoulders when he’s fit himself semi-comfortably. The shaky breaths he leaves against your lower lips make your whole body tingle, and when he first licks your clit you swear you’re seeing stars. His tongue gets covered in your sweet taste, tirelessly sucking and kissing that one spot that makes your voice sing for him louder. You’re just so beautiful when you finally come against his mouth, covering his chin in your juices and shaking in pleasure.

As he waits for your body to cool off, spreading loving kisses around your navel, Taeyong notices the fingerprints of paint that he has left on your inner thighs. The mere sight of you marked by a color he made on his own fires up the embers in him again, and you urge him to take his clothes off in agreement.

The first thing you notice is the delicate tattoos that subtly decorate his body. They’re small but meaningful, just like himself, and the thought of kissing every single one of them turns into a challenge. The next thing that demands your attention is his angry member that is staring right back at you, a pretty pink in color and thick enough to make you scream.

You bring him closer by the back of his thighs, pulling him in until you’re level-headed with his hipbones. Your tongue teases his tip until the whole thing bounces against it uncontrollably, so you take him all in, in hopes of calming him down. He’s hard already, so hard in fact that you’re scared he’s going to come in a few minutes if you keep at it. You bob your head enthusiastically either way, locking your eyes with his seductively and moaning around his throbbing cock. The salty excitement tingles your taste buds and he pulls you away with a sob and a tug on your hair, his face all fucked out and sexy.

“I want to fuck you first.”

The dirtiness that contrasts him excites you, so you put on your most innocent expression as you open up your hole with your index and middle finger.

“Dive in”

And that’s exactly what Taeyong does, bottoming out inside your tight wetness that feels as heavenly as he’d ever dream of. His hands roam all over your body as he snaps his hips against you, feeling up the softness of your breasts and pressing down your carotid until you mewl for him. It drives him insane just how submissive you look for him so he picks up the pace, fucking into you so fiercely that you slip from the small furniture and pile up on top of him on the floor.

You both laugh blithely at the accident and continue making out on his rug, your bodies warmed up and ready to continue. You roll your way to the middle of the living room, where Taeyong was painting earlier, and he sits you up on all fours for him. Your hands get dirty with the acrylics but it doesn’t really matter when he starts fucking you again, successfully reaching the deepest spots of you. It gets too much as you’re sucking him in, and you reach for the canvas itself for some sort of stability. As your dirty palms drag down on the freshly dried-up painting, you realize that you and Taeyong are now part of the artwork. And he surely adds the finishing touch just seconds later when he pulls out of you, painting ropes of white over your back.

This is usually the point when you have to take your walk of shame, so staying in his arms to cuddle after he cleans you up is a pleasant first for you. He helps you up your wobbly legs and leads you to his more comfortable bed, where he offers you a glass of water and plants a kiss over the carpet burns. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep soundly next to you, leaving you in awe of his sleeping beauty.

Somewhere close to the entrance, the print of The Lovers that you were supposed to analyze still lays untouched. Two figures with their faces covered by a white, deathlike cloth that keeps them forever apart, unable to truly communicate or touch. A frustrated desire is depicted. To some, the inability to fully unveil the true nature of even our most intimate companions.

Your phone that is thrown lazily on top of Taeyong’s bedside table flashes in bright blue light.

Johnny

I miss you, wanna come over? I have whiskey.

PART V - TIME TRANSFIXED

The sweet memories of last night flood Taeyong’s mind before he even opens up his eyes. He smiles at the morning light that bounces off his skin, stretching his arms to pull you in his embrace, yet he’s met with the flat mattress instead. He looks for you in the room that seems too empty all of a sudden, when he hears the wrenching sound of someone getting sick in the bathroom.

You crawl out of it a minute later, disheveled and wearing a t-shirt that Taeyong doesn’t recognize as his own. You were in the middle of collecting your things from his apartment when he clears his throat loudly to catch your attention.

“Did you leave last night?”

He’s met with silence. Cold, guilty silence.

“Did you drink again?”

The birds that chirp outside in cruel contradiction seem to mock him, so he moves quickly to his closet, turning a pile of clothes upside down. He finally finds an old pack of Parliaments and he lights one up, waiting for any sort of honesty from you. Your eyes stay glued to the floor, the pounding headache not making anything easier for you.

“You went to Johnny’s didn’t you.”

“Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to?”

It’s so hard to excuse you this time. So hard to see the bigger picture. Taeyong implodes within himself like a dying star, and the tears start streaming down his pretty face. The big emotions combined with the smoke make a sob get caught in his throat, his hands pulling on the strands of hair that were previously flattened from sleep.

“Why? I thought you decided to quit. I thought we both made progress. I thought-”

“Well, you thought wrong Taeyong! People aren’t straight, symmetric lines and pretty shapes that you can place wherever you want on your canvas. They’re ugly, like cracking, bleeding paint, and I will never be the masterpiece you so badly want me to be.”

You grab your last belongings from his couch and charge towards the door, ignoring his calls of your name. The next Magritte painting Taeyong would have to see on his own.

He’s been staring at the print for about an hour now. You hadn’t contacted him for a day, and he was too proud to text you first. Your presence has become a routine, and for a moment he thinks that if he looks to his right you’d be right there, sprawled on the small couch.

The painting confuses him, as always, and with the loss of your guide he feels helpless against it. He waits for the clock on the top of the fireplace to come alive, and that is when Taeyong realizes that he’s stuck in a loop. In a life that he doesn’t have any reign over, in fear that its largeness will devour him whole.

He grabs his things like a maniac, leaves his place and gets on the first cab he sees. He screams at the driver to get to the train station quickly, a speeding ticket be damned. Strangers take weird looks at him as he hurries past them, most of them thinking that he’s late for a departure.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The train to ___ will depart in exactly one minute.”

You’re wearing the same dress you did when he saw you for the first time, entering the wagon with an overfilled suitcase. Taeyong shouts your name as if you’re the only person there because to him, you truly are. He doesn’t know when he started crying again, but the smile on your face when you see him makes his world colorful again.

You’re stepping out. There’s still hope.

#gallery taeyong collab #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #taeyong smut #taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #taeyong scenarios #taeyong fanfic #nct smut #nct angst #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #lee taeyong #superm smut #superm angst

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

#7 with Sternclay, for the prompts?

Here you go! I went NSFW

#7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”

Barclay is so excited; he’s going to be spending two weeks on the Dual Mesa set, writing an exclusive behind the scenes story that’s sure to give the magazine a big sales boost.

“Ah, Barclay, come in.” Ned Chicane, the show’s director, ushers him into his office, “I assume they told you we will be leaving to shoot on location tomorrow?”

“Yes, I, uh, I’m really honored that you chose Q to run your story; your cast is so diverse, it really resonates with our readers.”

Ned waves a hand in faux-humility, “Why create a show with paranormal elements that simply recreates homogeneity? However, my dear boy, you were not chosen by me.”

“I requested it.” Barclay turns as a tall man with dark hair enters the office, and has the sudden urge to hide under the nearest table. The man currently staring him down with bright blue eyes and a mild-yet-clearly displeased expression is Joseph Stern, star of Dual Mesa and subject of a very unflattering article Barclay published a week ago.

“Look, Mr. Stern, I-”

“Quiet.” Stern holds up his hand, “I asked Ned to give Q a boost by granting access to the shoot because I think the magazine does excellent work. I asked for you to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your writing is quite good, but clearly your research and fact checking needs some work.”

“Just because you don’t like it-”

“I don’t, but that’s not the issue. You published things that are patently false and easily provable as such. For instance, the claim that I got this role by sleeping with the director has two major flaws; one, Ned is not my type.”

“There’s no accounting for poor taste.” Ned says, clearly unbothered,

“And two, Mr. Mosche would break my fingers if I tried to fuck his husband.” He points to the corner of the room where a large, tattooed man sits reading.

“Right you are.” He looks up long enough to reply.

“And anyone on set could have told you that. Whatever your sources were, you didn’t do due diligence. So you’ll be trying again.”

“Look, buddy, where do you get off giving me orders?”

“By being the star they’d have the hardest time killing off.”

“And by raising good points.” Ned stands, “asking for a flat retraction would reflect poorly on the show, as it would look as if we were trying to hide the truth. This allows you to correct misconceptions as well as get exclusive looks at next season.”

“You’re literally a paid actor, how the hell do I know you aren’t faking these two weeks?”

“You won’t be spending all your time with him; you’ll be interviewing others as well and have opportunities to observe him without him knowing.” Ned pats Barclays shoulder, “but he will be responsible for introducing you to the rest of the cast”

Barclay glances at Stern, who lifts an eyebrow with a smirk.

“So. Have fun with that!”

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

The introduction the next day goes as well as trying to light a match in a hurricane. Stern is polite and professional when Barclay arrives, introduces him to the cast and the main crew without mentioning the article. But it’s clear Barclay’s reputation precedes him.

“You really got Joe figured all wrong.” Duck Newton, who plays good-hearted Sheriff Frank Roosevelt on the show, pulls Barclay aside as Stern and co-star Aubrey Little (who plays Lucille, a plucky young woman with a dark past) get ready to shoot.

“So everyone keeps saying, but I didn’t make that stuff up. It turned up when I researching him.”

“Don’t mean someone else didn’t just pull it out of their ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Barclay sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Look, all I know is Joe’s been nothin but kind a professional to me. I’d even call him a friend. Know he can come off as intimidatin and rigid sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

Barclay hears variations of this sentiment over and over during the next two days. It’s part of why he’s currently sitting inside his motel room not far from the main set, eating dinner alone. Indrid, the costume designer had actually invited him to eat with a few members of the crew. Barclay demurred. If the bulk of the people on set think he’s a jerk, he doubts they’ll be that open to getting to know him. Plus, he’s kind of humiliated at how little actual evidence he can find for the claims against Stern, and doesn’t want to give the other man a chance to gloat.

There’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to find the last person he expects, or wants, to see.

“Good evening, Barclay.” Out of costume, Stern almost looks ordinary. There’s still the unfair symmetry of his face, the way he makes jeans and t-shirt look somehow sophisticated.

“Uh, something you need from me?”

Stern looks past him to his cobbled together dinner; Barclay’s a good cook, but the damn room doesn’t have anything more than a microwave.

“The chance to buy you an actual dinner.”

Barclay’s about to point out that he’s not eating in the commissary tent because of Stern when the actor adds, “please?”

He grabs his wallet and joins Stern in the still-warm evening air, following him into the few blocks that make up downtown Sagebrush, the former mining town that makes up much of Dual Mesa’s background. He expects them to stop at the Mizpah, the sole fancy hotel and restaurant, but Stern guides him past it and into a kitschy diner.

They study their menus in silence, the pleather booths squeaking awkwardly whenever one of them moves.

Barclay orders the burger plate that comes with a slice of pie and Stern, surprisingly goes for an omelette off the all-day breakfast menu.

“Barclay I, well, it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot. I want you to know that as much as the article upset me, I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here. No ones going to shun you for what you wrote.”

“Pretty clear they’re all on your side.” Barclay sips his water, meeting Stern’s gaze.

“There don’t need to be sides; you want to write an accurate profile of what it’s like on set, and I want to not have my name dragged through the mud anymore. Those come out to be the same thing.”

“You seem real fucking confident.” Barclay narrows his eyes.

Stern’s hackles go up, but then he sets his hands on the table with a measured breath, “I don’t pretend to be perfect, Barclay. I’m aware, well aware, of my flaws. But none of those flaws match what you wrote about me. I’m not asking to look untouchable in your piece, I’m asking to look like myself.”

Barclay looks down, spots him nervously shredding his napkin. As he’s thinking, a teenager in a tricolor tank-top approaches the table.

“Um, sorry, but are you Joseph Stern? The guy who plays agent Hooper?”

Stern smiles, genuine and reassuring, “I am.”

“Could I, uh, get a picture? Like a selfie?”

“Of course.”

Barclay watches Stern pose with the kid and compliment his pride shirt, before waving goodbye as he scurries back to his table to show his friends the photo.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Stern shakes his head, “It happens pretty often, especially in town where most people know what I look like in my street clothes, so I’m used to it. Besides, for a lot of these kids there’s more than just the celebrity angle. I can count the number of gay, trans, Asian-american actors on T.V when I was kid with one hand,” He holds up a fist to indicate a zero, “if the price of being that person for kids now is posing for some pictures, I’ll pay it any day.”

Warmth blooms in his chest, the sincerity making him want to trade a truth in return, “Yeah, I remember looking for guys like me and not seeing them. I’d just pick a character I liked and kinda projected. Except the X-Files; then I just had a huge fucking crush on Mulder. Oh, thanks.” He smiles at the waitress as she sets his food down.

“I know that feeling. Somewhere there are pictures of me dressed as him for a Halloween party.”

“Heh, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in ages.” Barclay munches on a fry, “Last three times I went as Bigfoot. It was an easy costume and kept my face hidden.”

“That’s a shame for the other party-goers.”

Barclay coughs, choking on his fry, as Stern blushes, shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, and changes the topic to books.

The next day, when Barclay arrives on location and everyone is milling about getting ready to shoot, Stern pats the chair near his own and talks with him until he’s needed on camera. Over the next week, Barclay finds himself next to Stern more often than not, comparing notes on the mystery novels they’ve been passing back and forth, or explaining his job moonlighting as a cookbook editor, or listening to the actor describe his travels to the locations of famous cryptid sightings. What surprises him most is how charming he finds Stern when he’s nowhere near a camera. On set, in character as Special Agent Alex Hooper, he radiates the quiet charm that makes his character so beloved. When they’re alone it’s different, a little less polished and little nerdier, and rather than captivating him it makes Barclay want to protect him.

It turns out that slips of the tongue happen to Stern a lot, at least when he’s around Barclay. “Sec” routinely becomes “sex” and comments about Barclay’s size and strength come often, Stern always sheepish afterwards. As if his attention is something Barclay may not want rather than something he craves like a four-course meal.

When he starts daydreaming about asking Stern back to his motel room after one of their now-regular dinners together (that Stern always pays for), he knows he’s in trouble.

“Helllloo?”

He jumps, chuckles in surprise as Aubrey finishes waving her hand in front of his face, “Sorry, was thinking about dinner.’

“I was saying thanks for coming out while we shoot this. I know how hard it can be to pull away from your ‘muse’.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Barclay feels the blush overrun him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let him figure it out on his own.” Aubrey winks, the groans, “aw fuck here he comes.”

Robert Hayes, who plays the recurring role of Hooper’s supervisor, appears in the grove where they’re shooting a scene with just him and Aubrey. Barclay steps out of frame, Aubrey hissing “don’t leave me” as he does.

“I can’t believe Ned is letting Indrid do more alternative looks for you.”

“It works for Lucille.”

“It would work better if she was more conventionally attractive.”

Barclay growls under his breath; how dare this guy talk to his friend that way?

“Well, obviously not, because the audience likes me like this. And they have opinions worth listening too.”

The tension remains throughout the shoot, Barclay tensing every time Hayes opens his mouth. He pretends to be busy when the actor comes over to join him.

“I’m glad you’re planning on expanding your take-down of Stern.”

“I never said that. I’m writing about the new season of the show.”

“If you want more information about what he’s really like, I’ll be happy to chat with you in private.” The older man pats his shoulder and heads off to his trailer.

Barclay waits until he’s gone, then goes to look for Ned. He has a hunch the director might like to know about Haye’s offer.

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

“...guess Ned put him in his place.” Stern finishes adjusting his tie as the scene sets up, “Sounds like he wanted his character to become the eventual lead, and thought shit-talking me would be the way to go.”

“I’m glad it’s sorted out.” Barclay pretends to be studying his notes so he doesn’t stare too noticeably at Stern’s ass.

“Me too. Thanks, Barclay.” Stern steps onto set, and as Ned begins running through the scene with Stern and the actor playing his (unbeknownst to him) alien lover, Bee, Barclay wishes he’d chosen to be elsewhere. Because this is a sex scene. With Stern. That he will be watching.

No, damn it, he’s a professional. His butt is staying in this chair.

He makes it through the several takes of the dialogue just fine, starts sweating a little when he kissing begins. Stern’s kisses strike a balance between tender and passionate, perfectly in character, and Barclay would give his right arm to trade places with Bee.

The action moves to the bed, Stern caressing his lover as they unbutton his shirt.

Okay, now he’d give his right arm and leg to be the one beneath him.

He reminds himself this airs on TNT, not HBO, so it can’t get much more explicit.

Sterns whole body drips with soft dominance as he pins Bee to the bed, cooing that he’s never seen a finer sight.

Fine, his right arm, leg, and any non-vital organs, he’ll trade them all in a second to hear Stern say that to him, even if it’s only pretend.

He doesn’t make it through the second take of the bed scene, hurries away as quietly as unobtrusively as he can. There’s no way he can make it to his motel like this, cock pressing so hard against his jeans he’s afraid he’ll end up with a zipper mark. And the bathrooms aren’t exactly private. He does have the key to Stern’s trailer, the actor having given it to him in case he needed somewhere air conditioned to rest from the heat. The trailer that is very nearby.

Does he dare?

The question hardly registers before he’s at the door, unlocking it and ducking inside before anyone sees. He leans against the counter with a groan, unzipping his pants and praying the pre-cum that immediately streaks his hand hasn’t made a noticeable spot in the denim.

He fumbles around to find some tissues, not wanting to face the humiliation of Stern walking in to find him cleaning cum off of his cabinets (he does actually want that humiliation, and badly, but not without Stern’s consent).

The strokes are hard and fast, his eyes shut so tight he sees static as he imagines Stern behind him, saying how much he wants him, how needy he is, how he’ll take care of him. He grits his teeth, breath leaving him in faint hisses and stifled moans until the temptation to say Stern’s name overwhelms him.

“Joe, Joe, fuck, Joe.”

“Yes, big guy?” A voice purrs in his ear as hands bracket him against the counter.

“Fuck” He tries to freeze, finds he’s shaking too much from want and worry to do so.

“You forgot to lock the door, silly boy. I, however, did not.”

“I’m, I’m sorry, I just needed to, fuck, I didn’t mean for you-”

One hand leaves the counter, strokes the base of his neck and toys with his hair, “what about this suggests I’m angry with this, um, development?”

Barclay whimpers, feet unwilling to turn and look Stern in the eye.

“Should I stop?” The tease goes from his voice.

All he can do is whimper again and shake his head.

The hand leaves his neck, slides down Barclay’s arm to rest atop his hand on the counter. The other takes it’s time snaking down his stomach and hips.

“Poor Barclay, no wonder you had to leave.” His hand nudges Barclay’s aside, takes it’s place around his cock, “you can probably see this thing from space. I’m taking this as a testament to my acting skills.” A laugh as he kisses Barclay’s neck, stroking him slowly.

“Please don’t say this is acting too.”

“It’s not.” A kiss to his cheek, a twist along his cock, both making him weak-kneed, “do you know what I was thinking about during that scene? I was thinking about you, what you’d look like if I fucked you. It’s only a quirk of anatomy” he grinds against Barclay’s ass, “that means I didn’t have a noticeable reaction on camera.”

“Fuck, Joe, more, please I need more of you, all of you, I’m so fucking close.”

The hand on his cock pulls away, “not just yet, big guy. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Uhuh.” He whines, pushing his hips forward to bump his cock along Stern’s hand.

A light smack on the ass, “behave. Take everything off and wait for me on the bed.”

“Uh huh.” He turns, only for a hand to firmly grasp his chin and force him to stay eye to eye with Stern.

“Try that response again, big guy, with better manners.”

“Y-yes, s-sir, I, I understand.”

He’s yanked into a demanding, possessive kiss, Stern stroking his cheek approvingly when he releases him, “Good boy. Is this alright?”

“Yes, yesyes, Joe, please, I love it, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, unless you say so. Promise you will if you need to?”

“I swear, cross my heart, babe, please.”

A loving laugh, coupled with a peck on the lips, “bed.”

Barclay strips so quickly he loses his balance, landing on the bed as he fights to pull off his pants. He tries to calm himself by folding his clothes and setting them aside, certain that if he gets more excited he’ll become the first confirmed case of human combustion.

“Hands and knees, please.”

“Oh fuck me.”

Stern is standing by the bed, naked from the waist down save for a strap-on, but still in his special agent clothes from the waist up.

“Do you like the suit, big guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Good to know. Maybe next time I’ll wear the whole thing while I fuck you. Now” he climbs onto the bed, “try to relax for me.”

A condom-covered finger presses against his ass as soon as he’s on his hands and knees, Stern working him open efficiently yet gently until he’s begging for more. Stern ruffles his hair, and then the toy is pushing into him. It’s narrow, so the stretch isn’t too bad, and for a moment he wonders if it will even do much for him.

“Let me see, if I just-”

“FUCKfuck” The curve of the toy finds his prostate.

“That’s part of why this is a favorite of mine, it’s so effective” he thrusts harder, “at finding the right spots.”

“Mhhhmmmmm” Barclay bites the pillow to muffle his moans and growls, wiggles his hips as Stern finds his pace.

“The other reason I like it…”

“SHIT, babe, baby, ohfuck that’s good.” The toy vibrates, sending heat all through him, “fuck, I’m gonna come in like th-thirty seconds from that.”

“Thirty seconds? Let’s see if you’re right, big guy.”

“GaaAAHfuck, Joe, yeah, yeahyesbabeyes.” He gives up on being quiet as the actor rams into him, drops to his elbows when the intensity makes it impossible to anything other than moan and and grunt and take it.

“That’s it, good boy, let’s see just how hard you are for me” Stern pants as he reaches around, teasing the head of Barclay’s cock, “perfect, you’re doing wonderfully, fuck” a groan of gratification as Barclay spurts across the bed, “messy, god I love making you come apart, even I might make you clean that with you tongue later.”

“Oh god.” Barclay moans, drool staining the pillow, as Stern loops an arm tightly around his waist and grinds, the toy still bumping and rumbling inside his ass.

“Nnn, Barclay, yes, hold out just a little longer, let me get off on this perfect ass.”

Barclay whines, sensitivity overloading his circuits and driving him wild.

“Just a little more big guy, fuck, fuck, lord almighty I’m close, c’mon, you can handle it, you can be good and take me as long as I need.”

“Yes, yes, wanna take you, wanna be yours, wanna serve you.”

“Fuck” Stern doubles over, hips working frantically, “that’s it, good boy, if you’re in this bed you, fuck, your only job is to please me.”

“Yes” Barclay sobs just as Stern moans into his shoulder. When he pulls out, Barclay flops, limp, onto his side.

“You with me, baby?” Stern wiggles out of the harness, lays so they’re face to face and cups Barclay’s cheek.

“Mmhmm. Fuck” he pulls Stern into a hug, “I can’t believe we just did that. That was fucking amazing.”

“Didn’t take you for the sub type.”

“Everyone always wants me to be big ‘n dommy. Don’t wanna. Wanna be someone’s good boy.” He’s slurring, mind still a bit foggy.

“You can be mine. In, um in not just a sex way, although it can be just a sex thing if you want it to.”

“Nope” He cuddles him closer, then it hits him, “you’re asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Please?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes” He kisses him after each answer, making them both laugh.

“It won’t fuck up your work?”

“I’ll ask Mama what she thinks, we might need to transfer the rest of the article to Thacker. Uh, maybe this is silly but, uh, can I take you to dinner? My treat?”

Stern kisses him, stars in his eyes and a hundred watt smile on his face, “that sounds perfect, big guy.”

#sternclay #meet ugly #agent stern/Barclay #celebrity AU #prompt fills

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mytwilightimagines13 · 5 years

Text

The little sister (Alec Volturi x Reader)

“No, you are not coming (y/n) and that is final!” Your older brother Jacob said. “Why not?! Just because I cannot turn into a wolf does not mean I cannot defend myself! I can even take on Paul whenever he is in one of his moods!” You argued. Even though you had the heightened sense, strength and speed you could not actually turn into a wolf. But you sure as hell could beat a vampire’s ass if you had too. “I said no! You are my little sister, imagine what Rachel and Rebecca would say if you were killed and they found out it was me who let you fight?” Jacob said, running his hands through his hair, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. “At least I would have died fighting for what I believe in! And not sit at home like a coward! Renesmee is your imprint, meaning she is family. And I will protect my family!” you said growing frustrated yourself. “Fine! But you will stay in the back. And only fight if you absolutely have too.” Jacob said, throwing his hand up in frustration and defeat. You smiled, proud of yourself that you stood up to your own brother.

Every vampire and shapeshifter was in the large open field. You were standing in the back along with your pack, protected by both Leah and Seth, slightly blocking your view. You felt slightly nervous as to what might happen. It was quiet for what felt like a long time, while in reality it might have been just a mere 30 minutes. Suddenly the nomad vampire Garrett was slightly jumping up and down in excitement. “The redcoats are coming! The redcoats are coming!” You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with fresh air as you saw the Volturi making their way onto the field. The oldest vampire with dark brown hair and milky red eyes looked over the crowd in front of him. The vampires made a halt and removed their hoods, showing their angelic faces and blood red eyes. Carlisle took a few steps forward, away from Esme. “Aro, let us discuss things as we used too. In a civilized manner.” Carlisle’s voice was calm and polite. The dark haired vampire had a small smile on his face as he replied. “Fair words Carlisle. But a little out of place given the battalion you have assembled against us.” the man’s voice was soft and smooth. As if he had done confrontations like this before. “I can promise you, that was never my intent.” Carlisle replied. Aro looked at Bella and Renesmee. “No laws have been broken.” Carlisle continued. You slightly stepped aside to have a better look at your foes. “We see the child. Do not treat us as fools.” a blond vampire male said. He was standing next to Aro and he had a bitter look on his face. Like a man who was out for revenge. “She is not an immortal! These witnesses can attest to that.” Carlisle replied, raising his voice slightly so every vampire and shapeshifter on the field could hear him. “You can look. See the flush of human blood on her cheeks.” “Artifice!” the blond vampire replied, not believing a thing Carlisle was saying. You stepped away a little bit more from your pack, earning you a small growl from Leah. You were intrigued by these vampires, but disgusted at the same time. After all, they were murderers. Aro held up his hand towards the blond vampire. “I will collect every facet of the truth, from someone more central to the story. Edward. As the child clings to your newborn mate, I will ask you.” Aro said as he held out his hand. Edward slowly made his way towards Aro while every vampire watched him. The wind changed slightly and a delicious smell hit your nose. It was a vampire, you knew for sure, but normally vampires do not smell so tempting. So luring. You had to find out whom smelled so incredibly good. You let your eyes wonder down the vampires, but you didn’t dare to go any further away from your pack than you already where. Instead, you concentrated back onto Aro and Edward. Aro grabbed Edwards hand and started to read his thoughts. A creepy smile slowly formed on Aro’s lips. “I’d like to meet her.” he told Edward, looking at Renesmee. Edward looked back to his wife and daughter. Bella nodded at Renesmee assumingly and started to make their way towards Aro, Jacob the werewolf close behind them. Emmett followed too, making sure Renesmee had enough protection. “Ah. Young Bella.” Aro said, looking at Bella. “Immortality becomes you.” his smile never leaving his face. Aro suddenly laughed and pointed at Renesmee. His laugh was that of a crazy person. “I can hear her strange heart.” Aro held out his hand for Rensemee as she slowly made her way towards him. “Hello Aro.” Renesmee said politely. Renesmee gently placed her hand on Aro’s cheek and Aro seemed amazed by her talent. “Magnifico.” he said before pulling away. Bella quickly pulled Renesmee back to her arms safely. “Half mortal, half immortal. Conceived and carried by this newborn, while she was still human.” he continued, speaking mostly to the Volturi. “Impossible!” the blond vampire replied. “Do you think they fooled me brother?” Aro asked the blond vampire. “Bring out the informer.” the blond vampire said, his voice cold. You knew he was out for death. He seemed to be the one of the three to be the most merciless. A blond female vampire with gold eyes was brought towards him. The blond vampire pointed at Renesmee. “Is that the child you saw?” The female looked at Renesmee and looked down. “I-I am not sure.” she replied. “Jane.” the male said. A lot of vampires around you tensed up. You couldn’t quite understand why. Clearly you should have done more research to this coven, but then again, you couldn’t care less. “She has changed.” the female quickly continued. “This child is bigger.” “Then your accusations where false.” the male still spoke with that icy voice. “The Cullens are innocent. I take full responsibility for my mistake.” the female vampire said. She turned to look at the group. “I am sorry.” she whispered slightly. Suddenly a torch was lit and the tension rose. “Caius no!” Edward yelled at the blond vampire. The female got her arms ripped and head ripped off by two Volturi vampires while Caius set her body on fire, an evil smirk plastered on his porcelain face. Tanya and Kate let out a scream of pain and tried to get to Caius, but they were held back by the allies. “Blind them.” Edward told Zafrina. Zafrina quickly blinded them and Edward tried to reason with the sisters. The sisters calmed down quickly. Leah and Seth took a step forward, finally giving you the chance to take a good look at the Volturi. That is when it happened. Your eyes fell upon a young man, no older than 17. His burgundy eyes found your (y/e/c) eyes. A heat flooded through you, stronger than before, but it was a new kind of heat - not a burning. It was a glowing. Everything inside you came undone as you stared at the handsome porcelain face of the vampire. All the lines that held you to your life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made you who you were - your love for your brother, your love for your father, your loyalty to your pack, the love for your other brothers, your hatred for your enemies, your home, your name, your self - disconnected from you in that second - snip, snip, snip - and floated up into space. You were not left drifting. A new string held you where you were. Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying you to one thing - to the very centre of the universe. You could see that now - how the universe swirled around this one point. You had never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain. The gravity of the earth no longer tied you to the place where you stood. It was the vampire in the dark grey cloak, hair brown and pale so white as death itself.

“Ah, Alice.” Aro suddenly said. The ally group turned around and saw Alice and Jasper make their way towards Aro. She held out her hand to Aro and he gladly took it. Clearly what he saw scared him. Your gaze never once fell from the boy, even though you had no idea what his name might be, he had captured your full and undivided attention. And you knew, you would protect him if needed too. “That is what your future holds, if you do not change your course.” Alice said, removing her hand from Aro’s. “We cannot alter our course. The child still poses a great threat.” Caius said to Aro. “And what if you can be assured that she can be concealed from the human world? Could we leave in peace?” Edward asked. “Of course, but that cannot be known.” Caius replied. “Actually it can.” Edward replied and with that a male and female vampire made their way onto the field. “I have been searching for witnesses on my own.” Alice said. “Among the Tacuna tribes of Brazil.” “We have enough witnesses-” Caius wanted to say but was cut off by Aro. “Let him speak, brother.” “I am half human, half vampire. Like the child.” the male vampire started. “A vampire seduced my mother, who died giving birth to me. My aunt Huilen raised me as her own. I made her immortal.” “How old are you?” Bella asked, interrupting his story. “150 years.” the man replied. “At what age did you reach maturity?” Aro asked intrigued. “I became full grown, seven years after my birth. I have not changed since then.” the male replied. “And your diet?" Aro asked. "Blood. Human food. I can survive on either.” “These children are much like us.” The, what you assumed, third brother spoke in amazement. “Regardless, the Cullens have been consulting with werewolves. Our natural enemies!” Caius spoke. Aro put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and turned to his coven. “Dear ones. There is no danger here. We will not fight, today.” Aro spoke. all the allies relaxed. All of them except one. You felt slightly relaxed that there would be no fight, but your imprint was too far away from you, still in line of danger in your eyes. Even though the two of you had never broken eye contact, a young blond girl who looked similar to him nudged his shoulder, forcing him to break eye contact. You frowned as he turned around and not giving you a second glance.

You sighed and made your way away from all the happy vampires. You ran through the forest and towards the cliff. You needed a moment alone, to think. A vampire was your imprint yet he just walked away like nothing happened. You felt yourself shake slightly with anger and fear. Why? Why him? Why a bloody bloodsucker. You were standing on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump when two strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you pack against a tree. “Are you insane?!” an angelic voice spoke. You opened your eyes and looked into the burgundy red ones of your imprint. “Do you want to die or something?!” he asked again as he held you close to his cold body. “It’s a sport around here. I wasn’t planning on killing myself.” You said as you tried to straighten up a bit. The boy sighed and took a small step back, holding onto your hand. He shook his head. “I already know you are going to be the death of me, my little mate.” He whispered but your heightened hearing caught his words perfectly. “And you will be the death of me. So at least make our time on this Earth worth our while then.” You said feeling slightly bold. The vampire chuckled and took you back in his arms, his lips merely a few inches away. “Agreed, amore mio.” He whispered before sealing his promise by pressing his ice-cold lips against your own hot lips.

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#alec volturi #caius volturi #volturi #jane volturi #twilight imagine #twilight #cullen #jacob black #volturi imagine

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droneseco · 4 years

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The Red Magic 5S Is a Gaming Phone You’ll Actually Want to Use

Red Magic 5S

8.00 / 10

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The Red Magic 5S is a powerful Android phone with gaming features like a 144 Hz display and shoulder triggers. It's not for everybody, but that's by design. If you're looking for a phone that can handle any game you throw at it with ease, this will be one of the first options you consider.

Specifications

Brand: Nubia

Storage: 128 GB

CPU: Snapdragon 865

Memory: 8GB

Operating System: Android 10

Battery: 4500 mAh

Ports: USB-C

Camera (Rear, Front): 64MP, 8MP

Display (Size, Resolution): 6.65-inch, 1080x2340

Pros

Buttery smooth display

Shoulder triggers are great in some games

Games run extremely well

Cons

Camera isn't fantastic

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Phones have gone from something you use for calls, texts, and managing appointments to do-it-all computing devices. Because for many people, phones are quickly replacing PCs, it only makes sense that we'd see the same sort of variety: casual phones, business phones, and yes, gaming phones.

While you can play games on any phone, the Nubia Red Magic 5S is built for it, with a powerful chipset, a butter-smooth 144Hz display, and even a built-in cooling fan. The phone looks great on paper, but does it focus too much on gaming-specific features or is it well-rounded enough to be your daily driver?

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Specifications

OS Version: Red Magic OS 3.5 (Android 10)

CPU: Qualcomm Snapdragon 865

RAM: 8GB

Storage: 128 GB

Battery: 4,500mAh

Display: 6.65-inch AMOLED 144 Hz, 240 Hz poll rate

Dimensions: 6.63 x 3.07 x 0.38 inches

Front Camera: 8MP, f/2.0

Rear Camera: 64MP Sony IMX686, f/1.8, PDAF

Connectivity: 5G, Bluetooth 5, Wi-Fi 6

Features: ICE 4.0 Active Liquid-Cooling with Turbo Fan, 320Hz Shoulder Triggers, In-Display Fingerprint Reader

Design & Build Quality

There are two versions of the Red Magic 5S, each with different specs and a different finish. We're looking at the lower-specced version, which features 8GB RAM and 128GB internal storage and comes in the Sonic Silver finish. The higher-spec version comes with 12GB RAM and 256GB internal storage, and a flashier if somewhat gaudy two-tone finish called Pulse.

While I'm curious how the even higher-spec phone would perform, I'm glad I received the review unit I did, because I prefer the look of it by a wide margin. Though it's called Sonic Silver, there is a slight blue tint to the finish that helps it stand out in a sea of drab-looking Android phones.

Partly due to the metal used in the build and partly due to the non-standard components like cooling fans, this is heavier than your average phone. I didn't mind this and while it's certainly a good deal heavier than the iPhone 12 Mini I use on a daily basis, I didn't find the weight annoying even after marathon gaming sessions on the 5S.

Speaking of cooling fans, these necessitate vents on the side of the Red Magic 5S. These are unusual to see on a phone, as you'd imagine, but I like the effect on the aesthetics. They give it the appearance of a powerful phone which, as it turns out, is very much the case.

Display

Somewhat bucking recent trends, there is no slight notch in the display, nor is there a camera placed smack dab in the middle of the upper part of the screen. Instead, you get good old-fashioned bezels. I know these are often frowned on now, but I find the half-centimeter bezels at the top and bottom of the phone lend a nice sense of symmetry.

These bezels also have a practical nature since this is a phone you'll often use in landscape orientation. They give you a spot to actually hold on to the phone without your fingers obscuring part of the screen, which comes in handy in games with significant HUD elements on the sides of the screen.

The display is a 6.65-inch AMOLED panel, which brings some impressive color and brightness to the table. Even more impressive are the supported refresh rates. While you can use the standard 60Hz refresh rate to improve battery life, you also have options for 90Hz and 144Hz.

At 144Hz, the phone uses more battery but feels significantly smoother. This refresh rate is mainly meant for games, but I liked its overall effect on the feel of the phone so much that I left it on this setting at nearly all times.

Gaming Features

One of the first things you'll notice looking over the Red Magic 5S is the bright red slighter on the upper-left side of the phone. Slide this up and the phone enters Compete Mode.

This is a dedicated gaming space that serves as an alternate launcher with several gaming-specific features. Here you can launch games, but also toggle on various options like the 144 Hz refresh rate and block calls and messages to keep you in the zone.

One of these options is the internal fan, which helps keep the phone from heating up during intense gaming. It's strange to hear the slight whir of a fan coming out of a phone, but with this on I never noticed the phone heating up significantly, even in the most demanding games.

My review unit of the Red Magic 5S also came with the company's Ice Dock. This is an optional add-on that brings an external fan to help keep the Red Magic 5S even cooler. Just slide it on, plug the built-in USB-C cable into the port on the bottom of the phone, and you've got even more cooling power.

This isn't where the gaming features end. The Red Magic 5S features dual Shoulder Triggers, touch-sensitive areas on the right side of the phone that becomes the top when you turn it on its side for landscape-oriented games.

You configure the left and right shoulder triggers to virtually tap any area of the screen when you tap them. This means that they're compatible with any game without games needing to specifically support them. These lended such an advantage in games like Call of Duty that it almost felt like cheating.

The 4D Shock feature is nice, but isn't as impressive. This is only available in certain games like Asphalt 9, and adds a "rumble" effect that feels similar to the HD Rumble in the Nintendo Switch. If it was available in more games, the feature would be more impressive. Maybe someday.

Software

The Red Magic 5S arrived running Android 10 and, as of the writing of this review, hasn't seen an update to Android 11. I've seen one major update during that time, but no sign that the phone will see an update to Android 11 anytime soon.

On top of Android, you get the Red Magic OS, which is essentially a pair of launchers and some various software. We've already gone over most of the significant elements here in talking about Compete Mode, but the look and feel of the phone isn't something you'd see on a Google Pixel device.

I only encountered one bug while using the phone, but it was a major one. After launching the Calendar app, the phone hard crashed to the point that the first thing I saw after the screen went black was the boot-up animation. This only happened once.

Performance

The Red Magic 5S features a powerful Qualcomm Snapdragon 865 with support for 5G, assuming you can get it wherever you're located. While it isn't quite as powerful as the Plus version of the same chipset, it's still among the fastest chipsets available in an Android phone right now.

This, combined with the 144Hz refresh rate, results in a phone that feels smooth no matter what you're doing. The 8GB RAM is plenty, though the bump up to 12GB is the top-spec version likely has app switching feeling even more responsive.

For benchmarks, we turned to Geekbench 5. Scores averaged 900 for single-core performance and 3,200 for multi-core. For the Compute benchmark, the Red Magic 5S averaged around 3,200 for the OpenCL score.

For gaming, I tested using a handful of the most popular games right now, including Call of Duty Mobile, Asphalt 9, Madden NFL 21, and PUBG. Even with plenty of complaints about Madden NFL 21 in the Play Store reviews, I didn't find the game to struggle even a bit on the Red Magic 5S, even at max settings.

The games I spent the most time with were Call of Duty Mobile and Asphalt 9, the former thanks to the shoulder buttons and the latter because of the support for the 4D shock feature. Even after long sessions, neither game ever lagged, and with the internal fan turned on (I never found the Ice Dock to be necessary) the phone stayed plenty cool.

Cameras

The Red Magic features a 64MP rear-facing lens with a Sony IMX686 sensor, but the camera isn't very impressive. It's not bad in most cases, taking serviceable shots, but it's not going to take pictures that make you gasp when you view the results.

The front-facing camera is more of the same, but limited to 8MP. If you need to take a quick selfie, it will do the job, but again, this isn't a phone you'd buy just for the camera. It's possible future software updates may improve the photos that come out of the Red Magic 5S, but I wouldn't count on it.

Battery

The battery has a capacity of 4,500 mAh, which is nice since gaming on a phone is relatively battery intensive. When it comes time to charge, the phone doesn't feature support for wireless charging, but it does feature Quick Charge up to 55W to help get the battery back up to max quickly.

Even with the capacity, I was surprised at how long the battery lasted. Maybe it's the optimizations you get from Compete Mode / Game Space, but even with the display in 144Hz mode, a near-full day of gaming, benchmarks, and other tests didn't drain the battery.

If you were to use this as you would use a "normal" phone, you could easily go a few days without charging. I can't imagine a situation where you'd need to plug this in during the day after an overnight charge.

Should You Buy The Red Magic 5S?

If you spend the vast majority of the time you're on your phone gaming, you're the exact person the Red Magic 5S is built for. While you can also harness that power for editing videos or similar power-user activities on the 5S, it's clear that this isn't what it was built for. Still, the latest update to the Red Magic 5S has ironed out enough of the bugs that it's a phone you can use for anything.

One of my personal problems with gaming phones has always been that they looked like the phone equivalents of Alienware PCs, over-designed and largely goofy. While the more powerful version of the phone in the Pulse finish suffers from this, the Sonic Silver version I had for this review doesn't have the same problem. You could carry this into a business meeting and nobody would bat an eyelash.

The Red Magic 5S isn't for everybody, but that is by design. If you're looking for a phone that can handle any game you throw at it with ease, this will be one of the first options you consider.

The Red Magic 5S Is a Gaming Phone You’ll Actually Want to Use published first on http://droneseco.tumblr.com/

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souleaterreaderinserts-blog · 7 years

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Death the kid x reader

(Hiya!In this story you will be a cute happy girl that ist shy.Also Kid has FIRST a crush on YOU.Also,sorry for bad grammar and mistakes!Anyways, now let’s get into the story!) ~Your P.O.V~ I walked out of class when i suddenly heard somone screaming my name. I turned around and saw Maka behind her soul.,,Do you want to play Basketball with us?“asked Maka.,,Yeah,i’m sure it will be fun!“i said, ,,Let’s go the. "said soul. ☆Time Skip brought you by symmetry☆ ~Third Person P.O.V~ You,Soul and Maka just arrived at the basketball Courtage when suddenly somone calls my name. ,, (Y/N)-CHAAAAAAN"After that the person hugged me.Of course it was Patty. (Heh,you thought it will be kid didn’t you?) ~Kid’s P.O.V~ ,,Hey (Y/N)"said Liz to her.Tsubaki waved at her. ,,Hi, (Y/N)"i said. ,,Hey Liz,Hey Tsubaki, Hey Kid”(Y/N) said with a smile.That was the cutest smile i’ve ever seen.(Y/N) asked:,,Where’s Black☆Star?“,,HERE IS THE GOD WHO YOU ALL MISSED!AHAHAHA!” ‘Here we go'I thought.,,Nah,didn’t miss you.Just wanted to beat you in the game.“(Y/N) said with a smirk. ,,YOU CAN’T BEAT A GOD”,,Yes,I can”,,NO YOU-“He was cut off by Soul.,,Okay,so let’s do the teams”,,Liz,Black☆Star and Maka will be in my Team.“.I said:,,So,that means (Y/N),Patty,Tsubaki and me are in one team.”,,Yep!“(Y/N)said.Ahhh her voice mades my heart flutter.,,Damn,your team sucks!“Patty said with a laugh. After that the game began. ~Third Person P.O.V~ Kis couldn’t concentrate on the game.He was staring at (Y/N).‘Her breasts are bouncing so symmetrical!'he tought.Ah,that little perverted Kid.After the game Kid’s Team wo.Everbody was going home when (Y/N) hears somone screaming after her… ~Your P.O.V~ ,, (Y/N)”,,Kid?“I asked.,,I have a question. ..”,,What is it Kid?“He looked away BLUSHING?!Woah, i never tought a grim reader will blush…,,W-W-Wi-Willyougoonadatewitheme?!”,,What?“ ~Kid’s P.O.V~ ,,What?”(Y/N) asked. ,,W-Will you go on a date with m-me?“I a sked her.,,Of course i do!"She said and kissed me on the right cheek.Just as she was about to go while i was blushing as red as osomatsu’s hoodie (FALSE ANIME!Okay,Okay)She kissed my left cheek als.,,So,now it’s symmetrical!"She said with a small giggle.I blushed even MORE (if that is normal?)and when she was away i screamed like a little girl getting a new toy .I hoped that she didn’t heard that. ~Your P.O.V~ 'Man, Kid must be really happy'I thought with a small giggle. (Authors Note: Okay, this was my first story and i know it’s bad but I hope you guys like it!)

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rowanstree-blog · 7 years

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Day #167

Today I started with a math class on the graphs of the trigonometric functions, sine, cosine and tangent. I started the lesson of with a video on the graph of the sinusoidal function, y=sin(x). I started with a question asking what the domain of the sinusoidal function was. The domain is all sets of valuable inputs for the function. I used the unit circle and a y, theta graph to wrote and plot the sinusoidal equation. Once I did all of that, I concluded that the domain of this function is (-1,1) including -1 and 1. I then watched a video on how to construct the graph of y=tan(x). I concluded that the graph would have a vertical asymptote every five radians and approach positive snd negative infinity while doing so. Considering the tangent of theta is the slope of the terminal ray, I just had to take the sin of theta over the cosine of theta to find out the tangent of several pi radians. I then watched a video on intersection points of y=sin(x) and y=cos(x). In this video, I wrote terms of the table in terms of radians for both the cosine of theta and the sine of theta on the unit circle and graphed accordingly. After that, I watched a video on basic trigonometric entities involving symmetry. In the lesson, I drew several terminal rays in all four quadrants of a graph in a unit circle. I then wrote down which sine and cosine functions were equivalent and then followed it up with a video on tangent identities which is the proportion of a sin function over its equivalent cosine function. Next, I watched a video on sine and cosine identities involving symmetry in which I took random sine and cosine functions and determined if they were equal to each other. I then watched a video on tangent identities periodicity. In this video, I did pretty much the same thing except I determined if its slope, or tangent was equal to 1/2. After all of that, I took an Algebra 1 class on the Quadratic equation sample problems as a refresher. I then took a French lesson on Duolingo followed by a Chemistry class on how to fill in an ICE table according to the equilibrium constant expression of a reaction. I stands for initial concentration which should be given in order to calculate E which stands for equilibrium concentration which can be found after adding or subtracting I and C which stands for change in concentration. First, you must write all of your initial concentrations If your equilibrium constant is larger than or equal to 10^4, then your products are favored. If Kc is less than or equal to 10^-2, then your reactants are favored. This information can help you figure out which side is equal to zero which will later determine how you fill in your ICE table. Depending on which side is favored, you must add or subtract the molecules stoichiometric coefficient of x. Add, subtract and solve for x to find out your equilibrium constant. After that, I took a space science class on a simulation video of Earth’s tilt and rotation which determines its season. This information can contribute to the reasoning behind why the equator doesn't have seasons. It is because it is never turned away from the sun, like us hence our four seasons as we turn towards and away from the sun. I then took an environmental science class on various studies launched and questions asked on the transgenic contamination of Mexican maize. Even though there have been both false positives and false negatives in order to protect and expose the firms causing this transgenic contamination. It is true that transgenic contamination is becoming more and more abundant and the effects are still unknown. I then did a quick exercise followed by an hour long lunch. After that, I took a women’s history class on Mary Harris “Mother” Jones who was a labor organizer who played an outspoken role in the world that was mislead by her appearance. She was a passionate and resilient woman that fought for what she believed in and due to that, became known as “the most dangerous woman in America.” I then took an economics class on Allocatice efficiency which is when the marginal cost is equal to the marginal benefit and I did an example that showed this both literally and graphically. Next, I took a grammar class on commas and introductory elements which are followed by a comma and are placed in the beginning of a sentence. After that, I read some of “The Beauty Myth” on how markets rely so much on feminine appearance more that the actual product to “appeal” to the reader while they are actually making them more self conscious.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 7 years

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HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT COMBINATOR

We don't look beyond 18 because people younger than that can't legally enter into contracts. If you had to acknowledge as a boss—someone who could call you into their office and say take a seat, and you'd have a working computer. Investors are not always that good at judging confidence. A round. So a truly effective refutation would look like. But I don't think there's any limit to the number of Indians in the current filter, free in the Subject line becomes Subject foo. I predict, is that you know has no outlet. One of the most egregious spam indicators.

If you give up direct control of the board seat it consumes. When Lisp first appeared, you didn't even have computers. Why? I can't think of an instance where a company has two possible strategies, a conservative one that's slightly more likely to know they're being stupid. Intuit is famous for introducing themselves to customers at retail stores and asking to follow them home. Does anyone who wants to understand the relationship between meanness and success. Instead of developing a product for some big company, it's good for smart kids to be told things they don't want the hassles that come with friendship outweigh the extra output lost. I know if something major happens, or someone else, that you couldn't safely talk about with others. Which companies are in the US. You have to keep doing this.

So we concentrate on the basics. The thought of all this fear is the very thing that makes everyone else want the stock of a company is only two months old, all it has to be strong. You could make a clean break just by taking a psychology class. If an investor gives you specific reasons for not using it. It's much safer to invest in companies that are above pulling this sort of thing was done at the time, but it's also hard work and at times very stressful. Having skill is valuable. It would feel unnatural to him to behave any other way, they'd have grown so much if they'd spent the past week at acting school. Once investors like you more when other investors like you is that as a replacement for x; look for something that people will create a lot of false positives.

Good design uses symmetry. But at this stage, but companies doing acquisitions are not looking for bargains. It seems strange to have to add a margin for error. This singularity is even more singular in having its own defense built in. In this case it seems more dangerous to put stuff in that you've never needed because it's thought to be a critical reader, it turns out you can be in denial about problems. So long as you exclude people who respond from identity. Imaginative people don't want to be popular. But in the late 1950s, it was mostly political. Reddit and Infogami, and a pretty striking example it is. In startups, the second woodworker will have less power over them.

Except in a few big successes, and that means it has to have a disproportionately low probability of the email. They'll listen to PR firms, who generated such a buzz in the news. The floors are constantly being swept clean of any loose objects that might later get stuck in something. But it solved the problem. It's much more of it than another. What's not a theory is the converse: if you're a little startup, this is true for funding. And after the lecture the most common question people ask us at Y Combinator is that founders are more important than recognizing spam features. We're trying to find an optimal balance between two things he knows nothing whatsoever about technology, and b explain why users will want it. This is another one I've been repeating since long before Y Combinator. It's not something you could hand to someone else instead of being concentrated as they are in the real world: there is no way they'd have grown up considering themselves as Xes must be enormous.

If you can make your software worse. In fact, letting the founders sell a little stock early would generally be better for everyone. So we shouldn't assume the way startups work now is the way you might poke a hermit crab in a tide pool, to see where things are going to die, here it is: The Men's Wearhouse was at that moment remember! Deal terms with angels vary a lot. Should you focus more on marketing? Microsoft's agenda consisted of stuff they could do. Like science, wealth seems to appear and disappear like the noise of a fan as you switch on and off.

If you made it impossible to get rich, you took the omnibus or walked. They won't be offended. A huge step, admittedly, but that there can even be such a bad idea. The CEO of that company, the rather surprising conclusion is that the twin horrors of school life, the point where you get stupid because you're tired. I mentioned earlier that the most important of the two angel investors who supplied it, because technology changes so rapidly that formerly bad ideas often become good without anyone noticing. How do you judge how well you're doing with an investor, the thought of having an entire day free to work, and programmers hate that as much as an audience. Politicians are caught between a rock and a hard place here, however: people don't watch what's on at 10 because they want the fund to be huge—hundreds of millions of dollars by famous investors over lunch at a nice restaurant. Judging yourself by weekly growth rate. I was friends with a lot of errands undone.

It works as a medium of expression, you could create a San Francisco. Another area in which you work. Did it alarm some potential acquirers that we used Lisp? Angels who've made money in technology are preferable, for two reasons: if they were paid a huge amount, or if it does, you'll find that the Back button becomes one of your most powerful weapons, I think hackers will use it. A rounds. If you give up most of the changes will be for economic inequality to increase. There's no difference in the way fathers and mothers bought ice cream for their kids to believe, but they run it like one. 9762507 cgi 0. You don't have to send it, and try to grow it from a different direction.

Notes

The most important section.

The key to wasting time building it.

Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. Adam Smith Wealth of Nations, v: i mentions several that tried to raise money succeeded, and a few years. Hint: the resources they expend on you after the first abstract painters were trained to paint from life using the same thing that drives most people haven't noticed yet. If language A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that's not art because it doesn't change the world, and stonewall about the nature of the world, write a book or movie or desktop application in this respect.

If they're on the expected value calculation varies from person to run on the subject of language power in Succinctness is Power. E. The word boss is derived from Slashdot, while we have to assume the worst.

Graduate students might understand it. We once put up with much food. This point is that their prices stabilize.

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