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writing-dead-clovers · 3 years

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Class Fight (parent!c!Schlatt x daughter!reader)

Hints of c!Wilbur x reader. Kind of in a high school AU. Definitely putting in the hybrid parts for this story, makes it a bit more fun. This is a song fic, song is Class Fight by Melanie Martinez

Y/n eyes danced over to the brunette who had charmed her. He looked up and smiled, making the teen blush slightly. Wilbur was one of her oldest friends and definitely the hottest guy in her grade, sadly he was taken by the head cheerleader Sally Fisher. God, did Y/n envy her. Well, she would've if she didn't catch Sally locking lips with Dream, the school's star quarterback. Wilbur turned his attention to his girlfriend and grinned wildly as she made her way to him. They shared a quick kiss, making the h/c haired teen roll her eyes.

"Y/n Schlatt to the office to go home." Her teacher said. The teen nodded and put her laptop in her bag and left the classroom. The proud and polished horns of her father caught her eye as he was talking to her math teacher, probably charming the woman into giving his daughter a better grade. "Dad, ready to go?" "Of course princess, let's go." You followed your father out to the sleek black Impala, hopping in the passenger's seat.

"Your horns are growing in well, figured you'd have some nice ones, buttercup." You nodded, not really acknowledging him. "What's his name?" "What?" You father shot you a knowing look before turning his gaze back to the road. "You have that lovesick look, the same one you had when you first watched Captain America." "Chris Evans is different dad." Schlatt chuckled at his stubborn daughter. "What's his name?" "Dad!" "Or her, I won't judge." "Dad! What the hell?!" "Name, kid." "Wilbur Minecraft." "Phil's kid? The one that mowed our lawn?" "That was Techno, dad. Wilbur's the one who taught me guitar." "Ah, well what's stopping you from asking him out?" "His bitch of a girlfriend." "What's wrong with her?" "I caught her making out with Dream." "Who?" "Football player, dad. He's an ass." "Sounds about right." You watched the road, the car falling silent. "So are you going to tell me why one of your horns are cracked?" You winced at his stern tone. He noticed it. "It's nothing dad." "Y/n." Sure, he wasn't the best father, but he knew when something was wrong, especially after catching his daughter a few days ago with a limp and a fading black eye. "Sally and her friends jumped me. Said that I need to stay silent about her and Dream." "Princess, I'm gonna tell you this once and only once, okay?" Y/n nodded. "The next time she puts her hands on you, go for the throat. I assume you have pictures of everything she did. And told a few teachers." "I told Ms. Groves and Mr. Mackles." "And the pictures of every time she attacked you?" "Yeah." The teen mumbled. "And any photos of her and that Dream kid?" "A few. Why?" "Don't worry your pretty little head princess."

That conversation was about two weeks ago. Y/n should have never told her father. She was too meek to hit back, too timid, like a sheep. "Hey mutton chops!" Y/n flinched at the name, hurrying to shut her locker and run down the hallway. "Get back here sheep girl!" The timid teen yelped as her hair was yanked back. She landed on her side, wincing as she was immediately kicked in the stomach. "Stay the fuck away from Wilbur, bitch." A sickening snap filled the ram hybrid teen's ears followed by sudden gasps. The cheerleader had snapped one of her horns. "Maybe you'll learn your lesson, bitch." The teen flinched as the group left, a few girls looking back at her, mouthing apologies. The girl's hands shook as she called her father. "What princess? I'm busy-" "I need you to pick me up." "Kid-" "She broke my horn dad. I don't even know where it is, I think she took it with her." "Bathroom now, lock yourself in there and wait." The teen could hear her father rushing to get to his car. "Make sure she didn't snap your horn at the base, if she did, check for bleeding. Try and stop it, if you're bleeding. I'm on my way right now." "Okay." Schlatt's heart broke, hearing the teen's shaking soft voice. He grinded his teeth together as he listened to the girl make her way to the bathroom. "It's not bleeding, broken at the spot where that crack was." "Good, I'll be there soon kiddo." He hung up on his daughter and called his neighbor and friend. "Schlatt? Aren't you supposed to be-" "Working? Yes. Look I need you to pick up Tubbo when you pick up Tommy." "Why do I-" "Y/n got jumped at school, they broke her horn, Phil." The ram hissed. "I'll get him. Make sure she's alright for me. Who did it?" "Your son's bitch of a girlfriend." "Techno has a girlfriend?" "Wilbur, you dumbass." "Will broke up with his girlfriend a few days ago mate." Schlatt's blood was boiling at this point as he drove. "Good, she was bullying my kiddo. Anyways, I gotta go." With that he hung up, then called an emergency line and told them to meet him at the school, being the mayor has it perks.

Back with Y/n, Sally had decided to go for a matching set. "Oh wool bag!" Y/n winced, her back meeting the wall behind her as the stall door was kicked open. "Look at the pathetic little bitch." The girl cackled at the shaking teen. "Come here!" She yanked her up by her other horn. Within seconds, Schlatt's words danced in her ears. The ones where he and her younger brother were helping her.

"Dad, why do I feel sad? Should I give him away or feel this bad?" The teen asked as her father pressed an ice pack to her shoulder. "No no no, don't you choke, go for the throat." He was not going to let his daughter give up her chance with Wilbur. He wanted his princess to be happy.

Y/n was quick to wrap an arm around Sally's, and brought it down then tripping the girl making it to where Y/n was over her. The ram teen went apeshit on the girl, remembering the lessons with her father, practically smashing the girl's face in. Shrieks filled the room as the girl got her horn free and started hitting harder, all of her bottled up anger being released on the girl below her.

"That's enough!" She was yanked back by a blue uniform. "Miss Schlatt, this way." Her bag was picked up as she was lead out the bathroom and down the hall. Upon entering the office, she rushed to her father. He pulled his daughter to him shushing the sobbing teen. He knew Y/n was a very delicate kid, but he did notice the bruised knuckles, mentally praising his daughter. "Excuse me but she attacked our daughter!" Schlatt put his hand up to silence Sally's mother. "Check your daughter's backpack, and tell me what you see." The woman huffed, rolling her eyes before opening the coral chevron bag. She screamed, dropping the bag, a ram horn rolling out and across the floor. "Your daughter attacked mine first. Look at those photos." Schlatt gestured to the laptop on the counter of the office.

Hours later, Sally was arrested.

Schlatt lead his daughter out the office, ignoring the two Minecraft boys who were staring at him and Y/n. He carefully helped her into the car before driving.

"I'm proud of you princess. Not really the throat, but it works." "I'm sorry dad." He raised a brow at her. "How so?" "I risked your position as mayor." "Kiddo, I'm still a lawyer, you really wanna argue with me right now?" He reached over and brushed a lock of h/c away from the girl's face. "Look at me." Y/n looked at her father. "I'm proud of you kid. So fucking proud." He smiled at her. "Now, what do you want to eat? You need a reward dinner. Also, I'll be getting you a prosthetic horn for that one until it grows back again." "Thanks dad." "Not a problem, just don't start fights alright?" "Only finish them." "That's my girl!"

The girl sat on her bed, messing with the prosthetic horn, when a knock made her jump. "C-Come in!" Wibur pushed the door open, a small bouquet of f/f in his hand. "Hey." "Hi." He offered her the flowers before setting them on her desk. "Look-" Y/n started. "I'm sorry." Wilbur blurted out. She blinked a few times, not expecting him to apologize. "What?" "I should've been there to help you, especially after my dad texted me to go find you. I didn't think she had a problem with you." Wilbur said. The girl gave a small smile. "I forgive you Will." "Thank you N/n." A moment of silence passed before the male gestured to the fake horn. "I thought your horn was..." "Broken? It was, this is a prosthetic. My dad got it for me." Wilbur nodded. He walked over and sat beside her on the bed, gently taking her hand. "Will, I..." Y/n started. What was she going to do, tell him how she's had a crush on him since 4th grade? Would that make her look pathetic? He gave a gentle tap on her real horn to get her attention. "You know..." He started, locking eyes with her. "Between your dad and your brother, I don't know who's worse at keeping secrets." The girl's nerves go to the best of her as her face flushed red. "W-What?" "So when were you going to tell me, your best friend, that you had a huge crush on me?" He grinned. She rolled her eyes and playfully shoved him off the bed. "How dare you." He chuckled, sitting up. "Unless you're gonna confess to some hidden crush to me, I don't wanna hear you start." She shot back. "I do have one thing." "What?" He got up and tilted her head to look at him. Wilbur leaned down and kissed the girl's lips. "I did always like you." He smiled as they separated. "If this is your attempt of asking me out, it sucks. Techno could've come up with something better." "Bitch!" Y/n erupted into laughter as Wilbur laid across her bed. "I hate you." He pouted. "Love you too Will." She laughed. "Hey, Y/n?" "Hm?" "Will you be my girlfriend?" "I'll think about it. But first..." she smacked him with a pillow. "Now I'll be your girlfriend."

#schlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you #mcyt fanfic #dsmp fanfic #fanfiction

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterEight

GIF is not mine.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

AO3> Land of Thieves

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood. Chapters Warnings: Slightly smut, panic attacks.

Words: +40K (i can’t do math sorry)

tags: @mionemymind

Something changed in your dynamic with Wanda. There was a tension, a longing. It made you hot and uncomfortable, hyper aware of her presence everywhere.

Even now, doing an activity as mundane as washing the dishes, while you caught a glimpse of Wanda sitting on a bench, cleaning her weapons with a rag, you tried to keep your attention on the chores, but your gaze returned to the woman a few feet in front of you, who didn't even look at you.

You wanted her to touch you again. And you couldn't stop thinking about it. But Wanda didn't seem willing to ease your suffering. She was torturing you, you realized. Maybe it was revenge, or maybe she just wasn't ready yet. Either way, she had you in her hand like a lost puppy, following her around the camp wherever she went.

Deciding that you needed to reclaim a minimal amount of control over yourself, you finished your chores, and headed toward Steve's tent, readily accepting whatever out-of-camp duties he had for you. Steve was surprised at your excitement to leave, but said nothing. He just explained that he needed a letter to be delivered to Stephen, who was no longer in camp. You offered to take the letter to the doctor all the way to town, and decided that you would buy yourself a new horse while you were in Saint Denis.

On the way back to your tent, you waved hello to Bruce, who was sitting by the campfire, cleaning his boots. He looked peaceful, and you expected him to talk to Nat about the two of them. He smiled and turned his attention back to the activity.

You took a jacket, and put on your holster, and your hat. You also remembered to take the little money you had saved from the last service.

Walking out of your tent toward the horses, you stroked the mane of your temporary mount. He was obedient enough, but you would sell him to add in the money needed for a new horse. It was strange to replace Knight, but it was unavoidable.

- Where are you going? - Wanda's voice sounded behind you, curious. You were slightly startled, and tried not to show your nervousness at seeing her.

- Saint Denis. I'm delivering a letter to Stephen, and I need a new horse.

- Oh, great. I'm going to Rhodes. We can ride together halfway.

Feeling your heart racing, you did your best not to sound too excited.

- Sure thing, Wanda. - You gave her a gentle smile, but she just looked at you with a glint in her eye that made your legs tremble.

- Good. - She said, walking toward her horse. You nodded slightly, and mounted yours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rode side by side in silence. It's been many minutes since you left the camp, and you are starting to get a little too anxious, so I decided to make conversation.

- So... what are you going to do in Rhodes?

Wanda looks calm as she rides alongside you, and she keeps looking forward.

- Steve told me to help Carol with the two families in town. - She says - As I understand it, she needs someone to infiltrate the Braithwaite mansion while she focuses on the other family, the Grays.

You nod with a grumble showing that you heard what she said.

- Be careful. - You ask, and Wanda smiles mischievously.

- I will.

You are silent again, and Wanda starts humming softly. You ride for a few more minutes when she speaks again.

- When I finish my work here, I'll meet you in Saint Denis. - She says, and you ignore the uncompensated beating of her heart.

- All right. - You say simply.

And then you arrive at the entrance of Rhodes. Wanda stops her horse right next to yours, and leans in to give you a lingering kiss on the mouth. You sigh at the contact, but she pulls away when you begin to properly respond. She smiles, and waves, riding away.

You shake your head, trying not to look like a complete mess, and turn your horse toward the road, riding all the way to Saint Denis.

Stephen seems happy. And you quickly find out why when his wife comes home while you are on the porch talking. Christine must be about five months pregnant, and you blink your eyes wide when you notice. She smiles, kisses you on the cheek and tells you how much you have grown, and then goes into the living room to put away the groceries.

- God, Doctor, three kids! - You exclaim with excitement, turning to Stephen, who laughs, leaning on the balcony ledge.

- I know, I know. - He says. - It was a surprise really. A good one, but still a surprise.

- And how are the girls? - you ask, leaning your elbow on the edge, looking at Stephen.

- Exceptionally mischievous. - He answers with a smile. - Much the same as you used to be, actually.

You laugh, turning to look at the city. You and Stephen are silent for a moment before he speaks again, now in a more serious tone.

- Did Steve tell you what the letter was about? - he asks without looking at you. You watch an elderly couple in the street below walk across the alley.

- No, he just told me to bring it to you.

Stephen lets out a sigh, you wonder why he is being so mysterious about this.

- He wants to go back to New Austin. - he says, and you frown, turning your head to him in surprise. - He wants me to get a big enough scam to get you all back there.

You bite your lips, thinking about it.

- Why can't we stay here? - you ask.

- This region is becoming civilized very quickly. - He explains. - The government is determined to put an end to outlaws in this place. Especially here in Saint Denis. The rich are moving here after all, and they don't like cowboys.

- From the look on your face, you already have a scam for us. - You say after a moment, and Stephen gives a sideways smile.

- Actually, you've already found my tip. - He says finally turning to you. - I heard about the two feudal families in Rhodes. They are sunk in gold in that place. - He explains and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. - The Braithwaites supply nearly all the liquor in this town. And the Grays own nearly all the businesses in Rhodes.

- This also means that they are dangerous. - You counter, and Stephen lets out a chuckle, but nods.

- Of course they are. - He says. - That much gold will not go unprotected.

- Do you have any idea how we are going to steal them?

Stephen sighs, running his hand through his hair to pull it back, and then leans back on the ledge with his arms.

- I haven't really thought about it yet. - he confesses. - But it will have something to do with their Moonshine, I'm sure. You will all be able to infiltrate the farms if you use the transport wagons.

- I see. - You say. - Write everything you know to Steve, maybe he can think of something too. - You are silent for a moment before you speak again - By the way, any chance of you participating in this job?

The man laughs lightly, denying with his head.

- I don't have anything in New Austin. - he says. - My whole life is here in the south. I can't risk leaving Christine alone to take care of everything. She needs me here, and I want to stay.

You nod in agreement. You don't understand the feeling that settles in your chest when you imagine what it would be like to have something like this.

- Come have some tea while I write my letter. - He invites you with a smile, and you accompany him into his house.

You keep Stephen's letter in the saddlebag of your saddle, not wanting to crumple the paper in your jacket pocket. You hug Stephen goodbye, and tell him to write whenever he can. You end up not meeting his daughters, because they don't come home from church until the time you left, but you tell Stephen to give them a kiss for you.

Riding towards the stable, you dismount your horse as you enter the establishment, while the owner of the place walks up to you looking excited.

- Oh, hello young lady! - He greets you. - How can I help you today?

- I need a new horse. - You tell the man as you hand the reins to the other stable employee.

- Oh, great. - He says and walks over to your horse, looking at it as if he were evaluating it. - Do you want to keep this one with us, or are you going to sell it?

- Sell. - You say.

- And the documents?

- No documents. - You reply, if the man made any judgment with that information, he did not show it.

- Of course this will affect the value. - He comments. - But I'll take it, yes. Come with me, I'll show you the horses we have.

You walk toward the horses stored in the stables. There are not many, but the breeds look good.

- We have Arabian horses, thoroughbreds, and appaloosas. - Comments the man signaling to the horses in front of him. - Oh, and we also have the big one there, a Missouri.

You nod, and walk toward the horses. They are all lovely, and seem obedient. You need one that is not so easily startled by gunfire, but you don't tell the seller that.

He waits patiently beside you, whistling as you look at the horses. You let out a sigh, making your decision.

- How much for Missouri? - you ask, looking at the salesman. He smiles excitedly.

- This little beauty is yours for $250.

You whistle.

- That is expensive.

The man lets out a weak laugh.

- Yes, yes. But it's a pure breed. - He argues without sounding aggressive. You can imagine how hard it is to keep a stable running in a town like this. - This breed is strong and lives a long life. It is also tame and loyal.

- That's fine. - You interrupt with a smile. - You can deduct the value of my horse from the price.

As you leave the stable, riding your new mare, you stroke her fur as you ride toward the saloon. You haven't thought of a name for your mount yet, you try to repeat names of famous figures along the way to choose one.

It doesn't take long to reach the place, and many curious glances land on you.

You tie your horse to the palanquin in front of the place, and walk inside.

It is crowded and noisy and everyone dresses very nicely there. You don't know when Wanda will finish the job, so you decide to play a bit of poker while you wait.

You walk over to the card table and no one seems to mind if you join the game. The dealer smiles at you when you pay your entrance fee.

Many rounds later, you have probably left the table with less money than you arrived with, although you have won a few rounds.

You walk toward the bar, and as you sip your beer, a man leans on the counter beside you, a glass of booze in his hand.

- Greetings, stranger. - He says and you raise your eyebrow suspiciously, without looking at him.

- Can I help you, friend? - you ask snidely, hoping he will leave you alone. The man straightens his posture, turning his body toward you.

- Just a friendly chat. - He replies with irony, taking a sip of his drink while facing you.

- Go have a conversation with someone else then. - You grumble as you turn to him, a mock expression on your face. But then he makes an angry expression, and puts his drinking glass down on the counter.

- Let's cut straight to business then. - He says. - You stole my money.

- I beg your pardon?

- The carriage you stole in Rhodes. - He hits back. - That job was mine.

You let out a dry laugh.

- What do you want me to say? I'm sorry you're not a good thief?

The man then let out a laugh, completely losing his aggressive posture.

- Damn, I'm messing with you. - He says. - Actually, I gave up on that carriage. And you should know why.

You are slightly surprised by the insinuation, but you relax your body, leaning your back and elbow on the counter, while keeping your voice low to prevent snoopers from hearing you.

- Who gave you the carriage tip? - You ask the man, and he smiles and rests his body on the counter beside you.

- It wasn't the same guy as you, you can be sure of that. - He answers in a teasing tone. You smile, waiting for him to continue. - My contact warned me about the carriage, but I declined the service. - He tells you, and bites his lips thoughtfully for a moment. - I didn't imagine that anyone else would accept.

You shrugged.

- There is always more than one person wanting to steal the same things. - You retort, making me laugh slightly. - But why all the secrecy? Just tell me what you want.

The man laughs again, finding your impatience amusing. He takes a sip of his drink, looking serious again.

- I found out the origin of the carriage. - He explains - But I don't have a gang. And I need company.

You laugh, frowning, and then turn to him.

- Just tell me what you mean.

- You see this object hanging below my holster? - he asks, and your gaze immediately drops downward. - It is a talisman from the people of Wakanda.

- The natives?

He nods in agreement, and you look away from the small embroidered circle strapped to his holster.

- I think everybody knows them as the Panthers now. - He remarks with a light humor in his voice.

- What does this have to do with the carriage?

The man laughs.

- I'm getting there. - He jokes before turning back to a serious expression. - The American government has gone to great lengths to wipe out the natives of the region. The Wapiti people have been practically isolated in the north of the country. - He comments with a slight irritation in his voice. - And the Wakanda, well, they barely survived with oil exploration. And then, when the war happened, they recovered. They're all over the country now. - He pauses to steal some of your beer, and you cast him an incredulous look, but say nothing. - But then, the government is civilizing this area now. And they don't want to share the land with anyone else. The wagon you stole was carrying the pay of a group of soldiers, camped north of here.

- I imagine they were not happy not to be paid. - You comment, and the man laughs lightly.

- Oh yes, that's for sure. - He says. - What bothers me is what they are doing in the north. I just found out that the army is assigning soldiers to destroy the indigenous reservations. - He states and you frown - They vandalize sacred areas and shrines, and steal the horses to prevent hunting, which consequently leads to starvation.

- This is horrible. - You say, and the man shrugs his shoulders in agreement. And then you fall silent for a moment, while you ponder what exactly he wanted. You bite your lips, before speaking again. - Look, I'm sorry about the whole situation with the Wapiti and the Wakanda people. But I don't understand how all this is my problem.

The man let out a wry smile, but didn't look at you. Then he finished the beer.

- Interesting last name you have. - He remarked. - Interesting origin.

You frowned, finally understanding.

- Don't you dare talk about my family. - You strike back in a threatening tone. It takes a moment before he speaks again.

- Your people need your help.

You let out a wry laugh.

- I don't have a people. - You hit back aggressively.

- Your great-grandmother was Wakanda, and your grandfather was Wapiti, you will always be part of that people, even if you decide to walk around pretending you're not.

Clenching your fists and locking your jaw in anger, you turn to the counter again, ignoring the urge you have to punch the man. You concentrate on your breathing, to calm yourself, while you can't ignore the fact that he was right.

- I'll let you think about it. - said the man, tapping you lightly on the shoulder. - By the way, my name is Erik Killmonger. Look for me when you change your mind. - He says before dropping a few dollars on the counter and walking out.

You sink your face into your hands for a second, letting out a dissatisfied grumble. It's been so long since you thought about your parents.

You didn't remember your childhood so well. But the more you thought about it, the clearer the few memories became. You think you lived on a ranch, you remember horses and sheep. And then you have this memory of your father showing you how to make a bow. You remember dream catchers in your house, and you swallow dry.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you think Erik has returned, and turn around with a serious expression. But it is Wanda who is beside you, she smiles, and you feel your body relax immediately.

- Hi - You greet her as you look at her. She looks beautiful, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders.

- You seem tense. - She says leaning her elbow on the counter while looking at you.

- My past is haunting me. - You playfully shrug. Wanda frowns with confusion, and when you explain it to her, she looks quite surprised.

- You never told me about your parents. - She comments tenderly. You shake your shoulders uncomfortably.

- It's a delicate topic, I think. - You confess. - It makes me sad.

Wanda held your hand gently, stroking the top of it with her finger. You smile for the touch.

- I guess... I just didn't expect it. - You say. - I didn't expect that anything related to my family would come back to me.

- You want to help them, don't you? - Wanda deduces, looking at you fondly. You smile and nod in agreement.

- But that can wait. - you say after a moment. - I'd like to spend some time with you now.

Wanda seems slightly surprised by the change of subject, and a little shy at the invitation, but she smiles at you.

- Where would you like to go? - she asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you think.

- We could just walk around town. - You answer. - Watch the sunset, then go to the theater.

Wanda laughs slightly at the charming smile you flash her, and then she nods.

You walk out of the saloon, Wanda's arm wrapped around yours. Your steps are slow, both of you wanting the walk to last as long as possible.

You chat softly about various subjects, mostly reminiscing about your childhood memories, like when you tried to tame Bucky's horse and he knocked you down like a bull, or when you and Wanda got a scolding from Potts when you arrived at the camp covered in mud.

Wanda's laughter made your stomach turn with nervousness, and you couldn't remember exactly when you fell in love with her. Part of you thinks it's always been this way, ever since she arrived in the gang with a grumpy face and worn boots, and an accent she'd lost over the years, you fell for her. Hard, fast, and immediately.

As the afternoon falls, you head for the theater. You are a little embarrassed when the box-office clerk asks you if you were a fan of the actors, and you tell him that you didn't really know the play, and he gives you an incredulous look. But Wanda smiles at you, and you just buy your tickets quickly.

You sit in the back, and you think you have paid attention to two minutes of the entire play. Wanda was laughing about the show next to you, and you held your breath as you watched her. She was breathtaking.

You didn't even hide that you were staring, although you felt your cheeks heat up when she turned her face to you, but Wanda smiled and matched the intensity of your gaze. The theater was dark, but you could still see her green orbs in the low light.

- It's not polite to stare. - She teases you by looking straight ahead again. You smile, and then lean toward her.

- I can't help it. - You whisper in her ear. - You're beautiful. - Wanda sighs, but doesn't look away from the stage. You step back, a shy smile on your face, and then you hold your breath when you feel her hand on your thigh.

- What are you doing? - You ask breathlessly as you feel her caress your thigh in a down-and-up motion. Wanda looks around, and then turns her face to you.

- You will be quiet for me won't you? - She asks with tenderness and malice in her voice. You feel your heart race. Wanda begins to unbuckle your belt slowly, and you look around. You are in the last row, hidden by the darkness of the theater. At least two rows are empty beside you and in front of you, and the play has just begun with a music number, and you would not be heard. Yet you shivered in anticipation.

- Wanda, for heaven's sake. - You said, but she just kept unbuttoning your pants. And then she brought your faces together and kissed you hard. Your tongue met hers at the same moment she slipped her hand into your pants, and you let out a hoarse moan against her, feeling your body tremble.

Wanda stroked your pussy with one finger superficially, making you gasp against her mouth. She smiled against the kiss, pleased with the way your body responded to her. And then she parted your mouths to deposit slow, wet kisses against your chin and down your neck, as her finger caressed you. You closed your eyes tightly, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Then Wanda penetrated your pussy, and you had to bite her shoulder to keep from screaming. As she began to move in and out of you, you whimpered as your whole body shook.

- Be quiet. - Wanda whispered in your ear tenderly, but it was hard to obey when she stimulated your clitoris with her thumb.

- Wanda, I'm goin' to... - You started to say, but your voice faltered. Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as she hit a particular spot. You were doing your best to control the spasms in your body, not wanting to make so much noise.

- I know, darling. - Said Wanda as she brought your foreheads together, and then she whispered against your mouth - Come for me.

You moaned against her mouth, and she only had to push into you once or twice more before you fell apart in her fingers. As you tried to normalize your breathing, Wanda removed her fingers from you, and lifted them to her own mouth, tasting you. You sighed at the image, and moved in, kissing her hard.

But then she parted your mouths, smiling innocently as she zipped up your pants and buckled your belt.

You were about to say something, but then the theater lights came on. The play was over. It took you a few seconds to get up, your wobbly legs not helping you keep your balance.

Wanda held your arm again as you left the theater, and you invited her to come back to the saloon, and rent a room, and Wanda bit her lips as she nodded in agreement.

However, as you passed in front of one of the many alleys leading to the saloon, you heard a noise. Wanda heard it too, and you exchanged a look as you turned your heads to get a better look. It was hard to see in the darkness of the street, but then someone was thrown forward, falling to the floor of the alley. You both let out a startled exclamation, taking a step back. But then you recognized that it was the same man from the bar.

- Fuck. - You grumbled as you released yourself from Wanda, rushing into the alley and hitting the assailant with a hard punch to the face.

You helped Erik sit up next, and grimaced at his bloodied face. He looked too injured to fight, and was leaning against the wall trying to breathe normally. And then the assailant was back, a silver knife in his left hand.

It was difficult to fight in an alley, but you dodged the man's attempts to stab you and then hit him in the face again. And when he bent over in pain, you disarmed him, throwing the knife away. The man let out an angry yell and jumped at you, knocking you to the ground by your waist. You let out a grunt of pain at the impact, and were about to raise your arms to protect your face from the punch he was preparing to throw, but then he was hit with a kick to the face.

He fell to the floor unconscious, and you looked up to see Wanda with a deadly glare in the attacker's direction. But then her expression softened, and she helped you up, a small smile on her lips.

- You're losing your touch, my love. - She teased you, causing you to roll your eyes humorously. You hurried to check on Erik, kneeling beside him.

- Hey, buddy. - You say, raising your hand toward his face, looking at his wounds. It's nothing serious, he must have been hit many times and it bewildered him. - You're going to have one hell of a scar.

He laughed breathlessly, and then coughed. And then you noticed that he had a hand on his chest. You frowned, as you lowered his hand to see what it was. An open wound was bleeding from his chest, you hurried to apply pressure.

- Oh, shit. - You exclaimed, trying to stop the bleeding. But you knew it was deep enough to have hit his lung.

- We're going to lose this war, girl. - He told you weakly.

- Who did this to you? Who are these people? - you asked.

Erik coughed up blood this time.

- Please. - he asks, reaching into his jacket pocket with his arm. He hands you a piece of paper. - Help them escape.

And then he closes his eyes, and his head drops down. You blink several times, trying to understand that he is dead. Your last connection to your family has been broken. Wanda removes your trembling hands from his bloody chest, and raises her hands to your face, making you look at her.

- We can't stay here. - She says in a serious tone, but her eyes are gentle. - We have to go now.

You nod, still in shock. Wanda drags you into the alley, and you go around the block. You say nothing, and she doesn't push.

As you get back on your horses, you hear the whistles of the city guards in the distance, signaling that they have found Erik.

You get on your horses, and ride toward the camp.

You think you are dying. One minute you're riding in silence beside Wanda, and the next, your vision is blurred, and you feel a pressure in your chest. You think you can't breathe, so you dismount, crouching down as you put your hands on your knees, reaching for air. All you can see is Erik's bloody chest and then the graves of your parents. You think you start to cry, but you're not quite sure.

And then, Wanda's hands are on you, and she hugs you tight, asking you to breathe. She brings you back to reality with gentle words and soft touches.

- I'm sorry. - You manage to mumble against her hair. Wanda shakes her head in denial, and says you don't have to apologize for anything.

She hugs you for several minutes, until you can breathe normally. When you look at her, she wipes the tears from your face.

Wanda attaches the reins of your horse to hers, and you ride Lily along with her. You hug her, laying your head on her back as she rides back to camp.

Despite the softness, and Wanda's low singing, you avoid falling asleep so that you don't fall off the horse.

When you arrive, you are feeling exhausted. And you tell Wanda that you need to talk to Steve and Bucky, but she insists that you should sleep, and drags you into your tent. And then she leaves, and doesn't come back until minutes later with a bucket of water. You are startled when you notice the dried blood on your own hands, but Wanda touches your face, calming you as she helps you clean yourself up.

When she is finished, she helps you off with your boots and jacket, only now you realize how sore you were from the fight. She gives you a kiss on the forehead as you lie down, but you don't let go of her hand.

- Wanda. Stay. - You whisper to her. You don't mind that the bed is tight.

Wanda removes her boots and you open your arms for her to lie on top of you. The pressure of her body on yours keeps you anchored, and you tighten your arms against her before falling asleep.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wandaxyou #Land of Thieves #marvel imagines #red dead redemption au

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 76

~*~Sebastian~*~

Will texted they had picked up the food and were on their way, no more than ten minutes out. Emma wiped down the table while I pulled out beers. She was closest so she got the door. Will hugged her, looking at me strangely, then brought the food toward the table. The women hugged and stood there talking while the door closed.

Will glanced over his shoulder and almost whispered at me, “Did you do that to her hair?”

I smiled.

“Practice more.” He started pulling things out of the bag. “And don’t let her go outside like that.”

“Stop it, Will.” Alissa pulled me into a hug.

“No offense, Pippi Longstocking. I mean, Emma.”

Emma made a face, “I don’t know who that is.”

“Don’t look it up.” Will looked at me, “Want me to teach you to French braid your girlfriend’s hair?”

“Shut up and I hate you.” Truth was, yes, I think that would be easier than her trying to teach me. Partly because she’d be doing it backward and I wouldn’t know what was going on. Partly because there was a high probability of the effort being aborted and the whole thing just being foreplay.

I was being a good boy with chicken and roast vegetables. Meanwhile, Emma had a ridiculously juicy medium-rare hamburger and fries. Emma and I both made obscene noises with our first bites. She covered her mouth and looked across the table at our guests. "We didn't eat dinner last night."

Will smirked, "We had an amazing standing rib roast with the family."

We traded stories of our evenings and Alissa filled us all in on what happened after Emma and I went home. It sounded like we'd missed a crazy after-party, but we had our own good time. We stayed talking at the table after the food was gone and I'd fetched another round of beers.

"You offered to get cocaine for your girlfriend who went to rehab for cocaine?"

I laughed, looking at one of my best friends. "In hindsight, not my best idea."

He was looking at me like I was an idiot. Shaking his head, he shifted his attention to Emma, "How long have you been sober?"

"I have no idea." I put my hand on the chair behind Emma, barely touching her. Emma made a face and looked like she was searching. "May 2007. I was sixteen."

Alissa did the math, "Twelve years."

"I never kept track because I didn't have a problem. My parents did not believe me. I was the captain of the Varsity Volleyball team. We had random drug tests. The only time I used during the season was if we had a long break. That's not addiction it's recreation."

"And you never used again?"

She shook her head, "When I got home, I was peeing in cups daily and didn't want to go back to the facility. It was a rule at Ed's and it would have wrecked me to disappoint him. We practiced year-round in college. Jimmy barely even drank. When we broke up and I moved in with Eli and Angie I really wanted to. But..." she shrugged with a smile and a sigh, "That wouldn't have been recreation or a none too original way to say fuck you to a boyfriend who cheated on me. Seemed like a slippery slope. Then it'd just been so long I wasn't interested."

I wanted to ask. "Had Keaton pulled out coke, would you have?"

She nodded, "Probably. That would have fallen under recreation. It would have been fun."

"At the risk of sounding very old."

The three of us looked at Will and said, "Too Late."

He flipped all of us off, "Emma, what you chose to do is up to you. I think an after-party with your musician friends may feel comfortable, maybe too comfortable. There'd be a risk of overdoing and you don't have a tolerance or any idea how you'll react."

I lifted my beer to my lips, "Good point". It’s ludicrous to think I wouldn't have been watching for just that. Actually, it’s not. I was pretty stoned.

Emma barely glanced at me when she got up and went around the table to get to Will. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek, "Thank you. For asking, and caring, and warning."

Will thought she was kidding. "It's been twelve years. It'll be like the first time."

She moved back, keeping her arms around his neck, "I'm being serious. Thank you. That was very sweet."

"Oh, you're welcome." He hugged her and said something that made her smile. Will rolled his eyes and smirked at me, which I knew was directed at me and not at the interaction between him and Emma. He was smiling nicely before Emma sat down. He looked at me, "Where's your laptop?"

Hell, if I know. I had it yesterday while Emma was shopping. I looked over at the table in front of the couch. Nope.

"On the chair in the office." Emma pointed toward the room.

"Thank you." I pulled on one of her braids before I went to get it.

Will pulled up a Google doc with links and notes to about a dozen places from Maldives to Bora Bora. I nixed any place with a flight over eight hours. I was traveling a lot in the next month and didn’t want to start a vacation with another long flight. We narrowed it down to three places for a variety of reasons that included too many mosquitoes and a lack of lizards. Emma liked lizards. Will, Emma, and I picked different islands, so Alissa was the final vote. She voted with me, but no one was upset with the result. The villa on Turks and Caicos had five bedrooms (one more than we needed), a pool, and a private beach. Perfect.

An hour Later Will's travel agent had us booked in and on a non-stop four-hour flight.

We updated Will's travel doc with all the information and started adding things to do. He shared the doc with all four couples, so we could add and comment. Not that we'd be joined at the hip for the whole trip, but some things were more fun in a group.

A few hours and many laughs later Will and Alissa headed home. I leaned against the door, hooking Emma around the waist, pulling her in tight. I liked how she was with my friends and was excited to have her with more of them on an island. More importantly, I liked how I was with her and my friends. I can tell the difference. I’m relaxed and everything that goes with feeling relaxed.

Right this second with Emma's body fitted against mine I was not quite as relaxed. I put my hand on the back of her neck and brought her to my mouth. Kissing her. Claiming her. Finally, letting her go. "I need to finish up some stuff from yesterday. Maybe two hours?" I said it in the form of a question hoping she'd not be angry.

She nodded quickly, "Ok." She pointed down the hall. “I'm going to finish my laundry and make the bed."

"No, we'll do that later."

"Don't be silly." She went to her toes and kissed me. "Will it bother you if I practice?"

"No, I've got a few things to watch. I'll have on headphones."

"See you in a bit." She ran her fingers down my chest letting them drift away before touching my cock. Tease. I loved her little smile as she wiggled her nosey fingers at me. "I love you."

"Love you." So damn sexy.

I made myself walk to the couch before I followed her down the hallway. Focus. Focus. Focus.

I did well for an hour and forty-five minutes when Emma came back into the room. She sat in the chair diagonal and started to read. She is doing nothing to distract me, which I find very distracting. Her ignoring me is sexier than if she was stripping. I’m sure that says something about me. For one, I’m a liar. Her stripping would be much sexier.

One hour and fifty minutes. I crooked my finger, patted the cushion next to me, and lifted my arm. Emma uncurled her legs slowly and moved next to me, settling with her back against me. She went back to reading. I pretended to pay attention to the laptop on my lap instead of the woman I wanted there.

One hour and fifty-three minutes. I ran my fingers along the skin above the collar of her t-shirt. Emma shifted a little where my fingers were on her breast. I could feel the thinness of her bra and limited my touch to the swell above.

One hour and fifty-seven minutes. I have given up restricting my exploration. I’ve decided it's time to make the decision between my fingers and my mouth a more difficult one. Her stiffening nipple approved.

Two hours. I moved her enough to allow me to put my laptop on the table. My headphones too. I pulled her over my thigh, between my legs. Cradling her in my arms, I rubbed my nose against hers before kissing her.

"Are you finished?"

I moved my hand between her legs, keeping my touch light. Barely skating over her shorts. "Enough. How was practice?"

"Fine. Laundry done too."

"Good." I kissed her, deeper and longer this time. My touch intensified.

Emma spread her legs, moving one foot to the floor, and pressing herself into my hand. "Are you finished too?"

"Not even close." I smiled, "Oh, you mean work. Yes, done with work."

"So, it's playtime?"

I felt my eyes and smile widen, "It is playtime." I pulled the tie on her shorts and wiggled my fingers into her panties. “I worked hard for two hours. I deserve a reward." I dipped a finger inside her then started circling her clit.

She curled her hips into my touch. "This is your reward."

"You bet." I licked the middle of her top lip. "I get to watch you come."

She closed her eyes and laid her head against my shoulder. "I'm going to relax and let you enjoy your reward."

"Mmm, ok."

Relaxation didn't last long. A combination of light fingering and finger fucking had her squirming, biting her lip, and licking them. I couldn't resist. Didn't want to. When I kissed her, her hand went to the back of my head and kept me where I had to keep kissing her. It wasn't a hardship and I didn’t fight.

I had to hold on tight to her squirmy body. Hard to tell which she liked better. By the time she was close, and I could tell when she was close, I was slamming into her pretty hard. In the end, it was the finger fucking that pushed her over. She ripped herself away from the kiss and shattered in my arms.

I watched.

Emma laid her head back on my shoulder. "Well."

I leaned in and kissed her chest, "Next time I ask if you want my fingers or my mouth it might be a harder decision."

She looked at me, eyes and mouth wide open, "Did I bruise your ego? Was this some sort of revenge finger banging?"

"No, but that sounds fun."

She laughed, "It does, doesn’t it?"

I lifted her over my other leg and crawled out from under her leg. "Stay here. Take off your pants."

I should have planned ahead. Emma had stashed condoms around her place. I need to do that. I had made a plan though. It involved going to find her in either the laundry room or in my bedroom, separating her from her clothes, and making love to her. Wasn't working out that way.

I had my clothes off and the condom on by the time I was halfway down the hall. I stopped dead in my tracks as soon as I saw her stretched out on my couch one leg hooked over the back of the couch the other foot on the floor. I know, I know, I know, I've seen it all before and up much closer. It doesn't matter. Beautiful woman spread out, legs wide, on my couch, with the sunlight just starting to fade. I hope to hell that never gets old and always knocks the breath out of me for a few seconds. I took a moment to enjoy the view. Emma saw me and smiled. That took my breath away too.

I knelt on the couch, kissing her ankle, and running my hand down her leg. By the time my hand was between her legs, my cock was there and I guided myself inside her. She felt incredible. Wet. Tight. Warm. Half a dozen slow strokes later I laid over her, supporting myself on my elbows. The feel of Emma's fingers on my waist almost burned, the warmth sinking into me. She held onto me, her grip tightening when I hit just the right spot. This was good, but not what I wanted, how I wanted to come. I pulled out and sat back on the couch, taking her hand to pull her over me. Emma straddled my legs and immediately took me back inside her. It was my turn to hold her waist. She braced herself with her hands on my shoulders. The apartment was silent except for the sounds of us.

Emma rode me slow and easy until both of us needed more. She picked up the pace and I guided her harder. Her kissing my neck was what triggered my orgasm. I held her down on me and as soon as I could I laid Emma back down on the couch, going down on her to finish what we'd started. It didn't take long for her to be holding onto my arm and breaking the silence with my name.

We spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch watching a movie. We laughed, kissed, and fed each other popcorn. I don't remember the last time I had such a good simple night.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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randomoranges · 4 years

Text

this time i get to be the edward and i’d like an étienne.

more cathartic splurgy whatever teacher au

Write-Off

If possible, Edward would like to hibernate until the month of July. That, or not return to work the following day, or ever. He doesn’t say this often and he doesn’t really mean it, but he hates them. He genuinely hates these kids. (He doesn’t, but right now, it feels like it.) He’s tired. He’s exhausted. He’s been having the hardest of times with this group and he’s at wits end. He’s been ploughing through – going in, getting the work done, trying his best and keeping his head up, but nothing seems to be working. At all. He’s called the parents, he’s e-mailed them, he’s talked to the kids, he’s tried reward systems, hell – the principal has even come in, twice and there is no improvement.

The e-mails from the parents aren’t helping either. There are at least two kids that don’t want to come to class anymore because of the vile environment and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. The students are mean towards each other, they keep on interrupting his lessons, and no matter what tactic he’s tried, there’s nothing that works. He feels bad for the dozen or so of kids who want to learn and who behave appropriately.

Just today, he thought of walking out. He actually made it as far as the door, but then he stopped himself. What would that accomplish? He’d be the one punished anyways.

As it is now, he’s sat at his desk, at home, meant to be getting some work done, but he doesn’t feel like it. He wants to throw everything away, set it all ablaze and then lock himself up in his room and let the darkness consume him. He doesn’t care anymore. He’s done. He wants out. He’ll work in a grocery store for minimum wage and odd hours. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t care some students are failing. He’s done what he had to do. It’s their fault.

He hates them.

(He doesn’t. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t, but they’re pushing his buttons and making him hate the job. Hate the work. Hate them. They’ve drained him, completely, and he has no idea how he’s going to make it to the end of the year. And he wonders, again, always, why this is deemed to be “normal” and how this could ever be part of the job – but that’s another conversation.)

He throws his pen across the desk in frustration and watches it bounce off his grade book and to the stack of math tests he’s just graded. There’s no satisfactory thud and it does nothing to improve his mood. He feels trapped, here, he wants out, but the idea of getting dressed and going out sounds even more exhausting and frustrating. He’s at his own edge and yelling into a pillow sounds both cathartic and irrelevant.

“Hon?”

Edward turns towards the door and glares at the intruder, until he realises that it’s Étienne. He lets out a heavy sigh and turns back to his stack of paper, letting his shoulders slump. He yearns for Étienne to coddle him and also wants his boyfriend to leave him the fuck alone at the same time. He lets Étienne interpret his mood and figures he can deal with whatever outcome comes from it.

Étienne decides to enter his den at his own risk and makes his way to the chair. He places a careful hand to his shoulder and Edward tenses and then relaxes almost automatically. He resists leaning into the contact for a full second or two and then gives up.

The touch is gentle and a great contrast from the clash of his own emotions.

It isn’t long before he finds himself with his face squished in Étienne’s midriff as his boyfriend cards his fingers through his hair and holds him close.

Étienne knows, obviously. Knows how hard it’s been on him and he’s been – letting him rant and giving him space when needed, which has been nice and appreciated, but – this is also – without realising it – what he needs. He feels his shoulders shake as Étienne makes soft noises with his mouth and the avalanche of every negative thought running through his head for the past month rushes forward to be let out.

Edward clutches at him and lets his frustration and anger and exhaustion run out of him. He lets his boyfriend guide him through it, simply by being there and takes solace in the gentle hand running up and down his back.

Eventually, Étienne sits on his lap and lets him furrow his face in the crook of his neck, and Étienne keeps holding him close and places gentle kisses to the top of his head. He’s here, with him, and it’s exactly what Edward needs. Étienne doesn’t offer him any crap advice of “it’ll get better” and “tomorrow’s another day”. Étienne knows he doesn’t want to hear it at the moment and instead offers him the safe space he needs to quietly come apart and pull himself together again.

They stay like that for hours, maybe even days and Étienne doesn’t pressure or push him to do anything; simply lets him be, until finally Edward emerges from the folds of Étienne’s shirt and looks up to find kind, but concerned green eyes looking at him. His boyfriend caresses his face, gently, tenderly, and Edward closes his eyes for a moment.

“Why don’t you stay home tomorrow?” Étienne offers and Edward actually considers it for a moment.

“Too much hassle. Need to do a sub plan. Need to call the school. Then we’ll fall behind. The kids will be worse. It’s – too much.”He doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of it. And he’s not even sick. Others have it worse than he does. He shouldn’t be so affected by a group of 28 eleven year olds.

And yet.

“Take the day,” Étienne reiterates, “You’re no good to yourself or the kids if you feel the way you look. I’ll write the sub plan for you and I’ll get everything ready for the class tomorrow.”

Edward avoids his gaze and looks away. It’s easier to play the martyr. To tough it out. To find excuses to run another day. It’s wrong, he knows, but it’s easier. It’s twisted, but it’s how the system seems to work. The culture. You didn’t do it right if you’re not dead and exhausted at the end of the line.

“Listen to me, please.” Étienne uses his firm teacher voice on him and it’s disconcerting; he’d laugh about it, but he doesn’t. “Stay home, sleep in. Let me take care of the rest. Forget about the kids. Take care of yourself.”

He considers it. Maybe. He could. He could sleep in. But it’s already Wednesday. Tomorrow will be Thursday and then the weekend will be closer. He can catch up on sleep over the weekend and start the following week with his batteries three-quarters full. The next break will arrive soon enough. He can just – work until then and crash at that point.

“Would you?” He asks Étienne, “Would you call in sick if the cards were reversed?”

Étienne falters and hesitates. He opens his mouth to say that yes, he would, but Edward gives him a look that says he doesn’t want a bullshit answer – he needs the truth, for himself, to prove a point, or both, he’s not sure.

“Be better than me.” Étienne settles for instead.

Edward ponders it long and hard. He thinks about it as Étienne keeps rubbing his back and holding him close. He sighs and leans his head back down on his boyfriend’s shoulder, makes himself small and let’s himself be taken care of for a change. He gets to have the tantrum now and someone else can deal with the aftermath. The decision weighs on him as the options fight to the death in his head. The pros and the cons. The benefits that outweigh the consequences; the consequences that trump over the benefits. It’s a cycle, a vicious one, and it never ends.

He feels Étienne shift and then hears him tap away at his phone. It takes him a while to realise what he’s doing and he finds that he’s relieved when he hears the voice of the answering machine at school, followed by Étienne’s steady voice saying that Edward won’t be in tomorrow, that he’s not feeling well and that a sub plan will be brought it.

He’s thankful Étienne took the decision out of his hands – that he did it for him. He makes enough decisions in one day that this one seemed too much and too daunting. He already feels a fraction better, the weight off his shoulders, knowing that he won’t have to deal with the maelstrom of his class tomorrow. He’ll be able to be himself for the day, forget about his responsibilities, to a point, and turn off. He knows he’ll have to play catch up the day after, but at the moment, he does not care.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #teacher au

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nour386 · 5 years

Text

Furry Fortune teller

Stan and Ford are stuck with a dilemma, Filbrick has told them to either find a way for Shanklin to earn his keep, or else the Stab Possum will be kicked back to the streets. Can they find a way to save their pet from the cold cruel outside world?

also on ao3!

This was my piece for the @lost-legends-zine. I hoep you enjoy this short adventure with the stans as they try to save their beloved pet possum.

“I can’t believe pop called me bologna!” Stanley threw himself onto his bed with a huff.

“He didn’t call you bologna,” Stanford corrected. “He called your idea bologna.”

“That’s the same thing! My ideas come from my head, my head is me, so he’s calling me bologna.” Stanley threw up his arms angrily.

“To be fair, you didn’t have much of a compelling argument,” Stanford said from behind his math book. “You can’t say he’s got stage fright to explain why we can’t show Pop Shanklin’s laser eyes.”

“I can too say that,” Stanley said. He slunk down to the floor. “I mean, you can’t prove he can’t do it just because you haven’t seen it. It’s like Santa or the Tooth fairy. Just because you didn’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

“I can’t argue with you there. However, Pop isn’t going to take that kind of reasoning.”

“I know. It stinks.” Stanley flailed on the floor of the bedroom. “Like old socks.”

“We’ve already tried testing his strength, agility and speed.” Stanford pointed to the obstacle courses that they had set up in their bedroom. “And he hasn’t shown any progress in any of them.”

“He’s made progress in being the toughest possum. Right Shanklin?” Stanley asked.

The stab-possum in question gave a small yawn before curling back to sleep. He’d nested in the shirt that Stan still hadn’t returned to the Sibling Brothers.

“Oh yeah, he’s tough,” Stanley said, grinning.

“Tough isn’t going to be good enough.” Stanford pursed his lips. “Pop said we needed something sellable with Shanklin or else he’ll put him out on the streets. Remember?”

“Don’t worry. This is just like in the latest issue of the Stilted Investigator Dogs! The pack is about to lose their dog house to some snooty poodle who wants to make it into a snooty salad bar unless they can raise the funds and stop her.”

Stanley continued his explanation of the plot line while Stanford nodded along, asking the occasional question about how dogs are able to communicate with humans yet still need to earn money.

“If they can talk to people why don’t they just put on a show and wow a bunch of locals and make money that way?” Stanford asked.

“I don’t know. Besides, if they did that they wouldn’t be able to stop the bank robber and get paid reward money for bein’ heroes!” Stanley said excitedly.

“That sounds contrived.” Stanford rolled his eyes.

“You’re just sayin’ that because there isn’t numbers on every page,” Stanley defended. “I bet if you read the first issue you’d see it’s really cool.” Stanley jumped to his feet and started to rummage through his drawers. “Now where did I leave it? I was reading it last night.”

He felt something bump against his leg. Looking down Stanley saw Shanklin with something in his mouth.

“Whatcha got there buddy?” Stanley asked, reaching down for whatever Shanklin was holding. “C’mon Slick, let ‘er go.”

Shanklin held tight with his teeth, but he was no match for the might of the one and only Stanley Pines. After a minor shake, and the accidental vaulting of Shanklin onto the lower bunk, Stanley found the comic he was looking for.

“Oh my gosh!” Stanley cried. “Sixer, did you see that?”

“I don’t think a possum shot-put will win us many friends,” Stanford deadpanned. “The last thing we need is some animal rights group giving Pop a whole bunch of calls.”

“No, not that!” Stanley bounded over to his brother. “Look, he brought me the comic I was looking for. It's like he knew what I was thinking.”

“He’s in the room with us. He could have just recognised what you were looking for from last night,” Stanford said. He watched as Shanklin scratched at Stan’s leg. “But that does raise the possibility of him having near-canine intelligence.”

“No way. He’s psychic. Like Ma!” Stanley waved his arms excitedly, dropping something from his comic book. “Oh no, my book mark.”

“You used a candy bar as a bookmark?” Stanford questioned. He watched with bemusement as Shanklin snatched the treat mid-fall and scampered under the bed.

“Hey give that back!” Stanley reached under the bed. “I was gonna have it for a midnight snack, but I didn’t stay up long enough.”

“Maybe that was why he took your comic?”

“Nuh-uh,” Stanley said, successfully pulling Shanklin out from under the bed by his tail. “He’s a mind reader possum, like Ma. But less hairy.”

“Probably shouldn’t say that around Ma.” Stanford stifled a giggle.

“That’s why you’re the smart one,” Stanley said, grinning.

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

"So you're saying he needs a bigger curtain?" Ma Pines said, grinning.

"No way," Stanley said. "If we make it any bigger then no one'll see him. And then what's the point of setting up the show if no one is gonna see him?"

"Mystique, of course." Ma held up a fabric light. It was covered in stars and constellations. "When you start a show, you need to make a grand entrance. And what, my little free spirit, could be grander than a shadow puppet show?" She pinched Stanley's cheek before getting back to work.

"She does have a point," Stanford said from his perch on the floor. He had his nose in a fortune telling book, the current chapter titled 'Onion predictions and you!' "If we want a large number of people to come and watch Shanklin, then we'll need something really eye catching."

"He's Shanklin! What could be more attention-hogging' than that?" Stanley asked. "How many people have seen a stab-possum before?"

Shanklin was taking another nap, this time on an empty seat in the living room. He had been rushed downstairs the moment the brothers had agreed to ask their mother for help. And while he wasn't necessarily pleased with being so roughly picked up and moved, he was rather excited to smell the delicious lunch that Ma had been cooking.

"Everyone's seen a possum before, Stanley," Stanford said.

"Yeah, but he's a stab-possum!" Stanley insisted.

"The suckers won’t know that. Without his knife, they'll think he's some regular old possum, like your Pa," Ma said. She cut a small square from the fabric in her hand and laid it on Shanklin's back. "Oh, this could make a nice cape for you."

"Well they're dumb," Stanley muttered.

"Maybe instead one belly-aching, maybe you can help your Ma with cleaning up all this possum hair." Ma nodded to the lint roller.

"Aw, why do I have to do chores?" Stanley huffed.

"’Cause - uh, we need him prepped for his show," Ma said quickly. "Yeah, we're gonna need to clean Little Shanklin before his show so that the customers see his best side. You don't want him to get a bad picture do you? Imagine how bad the publicity would be. 'Failed Possum Performer Ruins Tourist Ice Creams with Fur.'"

"Oh no! Not the ice cream!" Stanley gasped.

"Yes the ice cream!" Ma smiled wickedly. "Are you gonna let all those delicious treats get spoiled by Shanklin's messy hair?"

"Never!" Stanley cried. He brandished the lint roller over his head as he ran to clean Shanklin of his loose fur.

"And make sure you get your clothes clean too," his mother called after him. She picked up her fabric once more and started to measure out the length of the curtain bar her sons had decided upon.

"You don't really think that would ruin his show do you?" Stanford had tucked away his book for now. He'd read enough methods of predicting the future that he was seeing stars.

"That depends on how you define 'ruin'," Ma said, smiling. "You know what they say, there's no such thing as bad publicity."

"But if people spread the word of how messy Shanklin is, then less people will come our way," Stanford said.

"That's why we need a good show to put on. How often do you think a tourist comes to this broad walk?"

"Once a vacation?" Stanford adjusted his glasses.

"Correct," Ma said. "And if new people are coming every day, then we've got new people to scam. And if more good news spreads about how amazing Shanklin's fortune telling is, then people will more likely take the risk of coming to see his show. And do you know why?"

"Because people could get their ice cream before coming to watch Shanklin's show?" Stanford asked.

"I knew you'd say that," Ma said, grinning. She reached down and pressed Stanford's nose, who giggled in response. "I was thinking that curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," Stanford rhymed. He was about to enjoy a well-deserved break when he heard his brother scream with pain, followed by a loud thud.

"Sixer, help! The lint roller attacked me!"

Stanford stood up to see his brother wrapped in the lint roller paper. It looked like a poorly designed Halloween costume, but stickier.

“I’m coming,” Stanford sighed.

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

“Come one, come all!” Stan cheered. He danced along the boardwalk, catching the eye of every tourist and uninterested beach goer. “If you’re bored outta your mind from seeing the same old sand and water, then boy have I got what you’re missing!”

“I have been getting bored,” a tall man said. He wore a line of sunblock across his nose.

“I do hate sand and water,” the woman next to him agreed.

“What do you wanna show me? Is it a dinosaur?” The child with the couple asked.

“Even better!” Stanley hopped from one foot to the next. “A possum that’ll tell you the future!”

“That’s so cool!” A grin spread along the child’s face. “Mum! Dad! Can we go see the magic possum? Please please please?”

“It’s not by the beach is it?” His mother pursed her lips. Stanley wondered why she wore a swimsuit if she hated the beach this much, but chose to not say so out loud.

“No way. The sand makes his outfit uncomfy,” Stanley said.

“Well, if the possum is that understanding about the dangers of sand, then we have to go see them,” the child’s mother said smiling.

Stanley ran ahead, leading the vacationing family, and a few curious passersby towards Shanklin’s stand. His Ma had taken her crystal ball and its table out of the pawn shop and onto the boardwalk. Sitting on top of the crystal ball, in the centre of a mess of tarot cards, was the possum in question. A star-patterned hat adorned his head as Shanklin looked out at the audience. The possum gave a happy squeak when he saw Stanley return.

“Now Ladies, Gents and Germs, who's brave enough to have their fortune told by the most magical possum in the world?" Ma asked the crowd.

A young girl with pigtails, looking only slightly younger than Stan and Ford, bravely marched over to Shanklin's table.

Ma grinned. "Ah, a brave young lass aren't we?"

"All who approach Shanklin must place an offering in the gift bucket," Stanley tried his best to put on a mysterious voice. He held out a bucket towards the girl. She ran back to her parents and returned with a five dollar bill, which she dropped in the bucket before staring at the possum.

"Mr. Shanklin, where will I have the most fun today?" she asked.

"Take out a card, tell us what it says, and he'll tell you what he sees," Stanley said.

The girl nodded and drew a card from the many that surrounded the crystal ball.

"The Chariot?" she read.

Shanklin chattered his teeth to her.

"Sorry, I don't understand possum," she said in a small voice.

"Normally, a translation costs extra. But for such a pretty little lady, Stanley will give it to you for free," Ma said quickly, before Stanley could shove his bucket in her face again.

"Sure thing." Stanley put his bucket down next to the table. He tucked something into his pocket before walking over to the girl.

"The great Shanklin says that a Chariot card tells you of great enjoyment at the bumper cars at fun land. Or maybe with a toy car car you could get at the local pawn shop,” he added with a wink.

"What if my card was upside down?" the girl asked. "And I read it without turning it around?"

"Well, Shanklin says..." Stanley paused to let the possum in question squeak. "The exact opposite. If it was upside down then you should be careful, you might get bored out of your mind from the bumpers. Or maybe you should check out a doll from that pawn shop instead."

The girl gave Stanley a serious look before putting her card back. "Thank you, Mr. Shanklin," she said, before running back to her parents.

There many hushed whispers as Ma walked around, a small bucket in her hand. "So who’s up next? Shanklin takes advance payments." She grinned as various people dug out their wallets and threw a dollar or two into her bucket.

“Line up and Shanklin will read your fortunes!” Stanley said.

“Psst, Stan! That wasn’t the plan!” A harsh whisper came from somewhere unseen.

Stanley grinned. “C’mon Ford, this is more fun.”

“If we give a wrong prediction, people will be upset,” Stanford insisted. He poked his head out from under the table cloth, careful that no one from the crowd could see him.

“Half these people are here for the fun of it. I don’t think they’ll mind a bologna fortune,” Stanley said grinning, his bucket already full of ‘translation’ fees.

“Can you at least give a couple of the ones I’m suggesting?” Stanford asked. “This book is heavy, and writing predictions super-fast isn’t easy.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna join me up here?” Stanley whispered. “It’s like storytelling, but more fun!”

“I’ll stick to the facts,” Stanford muttered.

“Here’s a fact. After this pop won’t call Shanklin a waste of space ever again,” Stanley said grinning.

“Definitely,” Stanford agreed.

----

Make sure to check out the companion piece for this fic found here by @garbagegnomes

#Gravity Falls #Staley Pines #Stan pines #Grunkle Stan #Stanford Pines #Ford pines #Grunkle Ford #Fic #Lost legends #Epilogue: Lost legends Zine #Caryn Pines #ma pines #Shanklin The Stab possum #mine

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

Text

THAT IS THE BIG WIN IN THE END

That's what I'd advise college students to do, short of AI, to automate this process? More remarkable still, he's stayed interesting for 30 years. Which means you can't simply plow through them, because even if they succeed? I really want is a management company to run your company for you, and you'd get that fraction of big hits. Also turn off every other filter, particularly Could this be a big company? This concept is a simple one and yet seeing it as a pro. 01 example 0. In fact, for most people, would be much more difficult.

Perhaps dramatically so, if automation had decreased the need for some kind of authority. Even in college classes, you learn to hack by doing it. But it doesn't mean much to be able to answer the question, and the huge scale of the successes means we can afford to take a long view and arguably you can't afford not to, you can envision companies as holes. And not only did everyone get the same thing, because if you want to make it open. Like Apple, we created something inexpensive, and therefore popular, simply because we were smart. I don't know; the question may be unanswerable. And by far the best place to work, there is only one kind of work is hard to convey in a research paper. 01 morris 0. When I did try statistical analysis, I found immediately that it was cheap. Most people could do better. If you hired someone to read your mail and discard the spam, but the relative importance of determination and talent probably do vary somewhat.

You can thus gradually work your way into their confidence, and maybe turn it into an official job later, or not, whichever you prefer. So unless you discover a competitor with the sort of grubby menial work that Andrew Carnegie or Henry Ford started out doing. But was it a precondition for globalization or the LBO wave? And the models of how to look and act varied little between companies. Writers and painters don't suffer from math envy. The catch is that because this kind of thing gets into your life by tricking you is no one's fault but your own. For example, journalism is in free fall at the moment. And that might be a great thing.

Listening to a talk is the closest most of us, it's not the deciding factor in whether you succeed as a founder is how much you want to know whether to recruit someone as a cofounder, ask if they were being paid market price. 7% of the emails in my spam corpus, with only 1. It wouldn't be the first time and pretending to like it, I preserved that magazine as carefully as if it had been. When I go to a talk is the closest most of us can get to having a large random component in their reputations. There seem to be missing. And that helps overcome their understandable fear of investing in a company run by nerds who look like and perhaps are college students. My oldest son will be 7 soon. Thirty years later Facebook had the same shape. This is not enough to make it open. The giant plant he built at River Rouge between 1917 and 1928 literally took in iron ore at one end and sent cars out the other. But you're not thinking that way about a class project. That's what we thought about Airbnb, and if you're smart your reinventions may be better than what preceded them.

Most startups are or should be very cautious about hiring. All our ideas about software were developed in a time when processors were slow, and memories and disks were tiny. This of course gave empathy a bad name, and I had to explain what to look for problems, preferably problems you have yourself. That is one of the executive class riding the elephant. This is what open-source movement is that it automatically detects which searches are shopping searches. Unnecessary meetings, pointless disputes, bureaucracy, posturing, dealing with other people's mistakes, traffic jams, addictive but unrewarding pastimes. I was part of, Hostex itself would be recognized as a spam term. At the time IBM completely dominated the computer industry. 99.

It's especially good if you're different in a way people will increasingly be a third option: to start your own startup. But customers will judge you from the other end of the runway. We'll need to do this. Partly because the unions were monopolies. The examples of the most important predictor of success is determination. Technology Innovation: Free Markets or Government Subsidies? Socially too the war tended to decrease variation. Hackers write cool software, and for whom computers are just a formality.

We wouldn't be doing founders a favor by letting them in. Unless the recipient explicitly checked a clearly labelled box whose default was no asking to receive the email, both good and bad are the hash tables I created in the first place. I've found that a good way to trick yourself into noticing ideas is to become the sort of person who can have organic startup ideas—by spending time learning about the easy part. After Altamira, all is decadence. But every institution was at one point just a handful of happy cities, abandoning the rest. To someone who has learned from experience about the relationship between risk and reward are equivalent, decreasing potential rewards automatically decreases people's appetite for risk, the most beneficial startups are the only way up. One way to mitigate this problem might be to actively plan your startup while you're still in school is that there's a built-in escape hatch. The search engines that preceded them shied away from the most radical implications of what they were building. At Viaweb I considered myself lucky if I got to Yahoo, I happened to run into a Big Cheese I knew from working there in the late 19th century continued for most of what you gain from the work experience employers consider so desirable. The way to create something beautiful is often to make subtle tweaks to something that already exists, or to combine existing ideas in a slightly new way. Google was that type of idea.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #email #nerds #spending #wave #work #startup #institution #person #market #Rouge #precondition

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amyscascadingtabs · 6 years

Text

you must be my once in a lifetime

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

Or, how Amy figured out she wanted to marry Jake.

2976 words // read on ao3

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.

It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

She had never put marriage or kids on the physical life calendar. It was too risky, too uncontrollable and had too elevated of a risk being broken. Thinking about spending her forever with someone had given her more than one panic attack before, and she wasn’t even excessively scared of commitment. She was purely... cautious. She was hesitant to be sure about a thing so definite as forever when death threats and time spent undercover seemed an unavoidable part of the career path she had chosen. And did she really want to settle down only because it was expected of her? No, marriage had been the last thing on her mind for so long the first time Amy thought about it, it shocked even her.

Jake had stayed over at her apartment countless times before. She was as used as she could be to waking up to the cutest of light snores and the ever impressive bedhead, and yet this time was special. He wasn’t staying over. He was home.

Yesterday had been a long day of unpacking boxes and laughing over the unreal absurdity of the fact that their possessions were now crammed into the same two-bedroom Brooklyn apartment. After a celebratory pizza dinner eaten straight from the box while they sat on the counter, complete with toasting in orange soda and wine respectively, they were officially living together. His sneakers were on her shoe rack, the skincare products she’d bought him for Christmas had taken place next to her own in the bathroom cabinets, and a single Die Hard poster adorned the inside of the closet where neatly ironed pantsuits and flannels now hung side by side. For the first time in her since-college life, Amy Santiago was living together with someone else.

Her waking up first was the norm rather than it was unusual. With Teddy she’d often found herself bored to death waiting for him to wake up, had even made a habit of going for a run in the morning so she wouldn’t have to lay there idly for at least an hour. She’d never needed an escape-plan with Jake. With him she could lay there for what felt like forever, listening to the sound of his breathing, smiling when she sometimes heard her own name mixed in with the incoherent mumbles he made in his sleep. She could admire the ruffled hair and the sight of him in either a baggy t-shirt or nothing at all, stare at him for exactly as long as she wanted without anyone asking what the hell she was doing, and after the six months they had spent apart earlier she never wanted to stop.

The bed was so much warmer with him in it, a godsend blessing to her always cold self. Moving closer to him so she could obtain more of the welcomed heat, she took the moment in act to press a few lazy kisses to the little dip in his shoulder.

“Mm-hmm”, he responded to this action, voice still heavy with sleep. “Morning, Ames.”

“Morning, Jake.”

“Time is it?”

“Half past eight.”

“S’early. “ He feigned annoyance, putting his right arm around her to draw her so close she was practically on top of him. “Need more sleep.”

“Jake, we shouldn’t waste a whole day because we have off. We should get up and eat breakfast.” An idea popped into her head. “I can make pancakes.”

“Oh, no .” The look on his face as she said this was one of genuine horror. “I’m not letting you almost burn down my kitchen again.”

“ My kitchen? Excuse me - since when is this your kitchen?”

“Since yesterday! And I’m not letting you set fire to it.”

“Okay, then.” She reluctantly moved to allow him the chance to get out of bed. “You’re in charge of pancakes.”

“For you and only for you, Amy Santiago.”

She helped set the table and make coffee while he whisked together the ready-made mix and flipped imperfect, but guaranteedly less burnt than hers would have been, pancakes. Maybe , Amy thought when they sat down to eat, the two of them could do this for a long time .

The m-word wasn’t yet explicitly on her mind. Somewhere in the background, though, she could feel it hiding.

It hid there as winter turned into spring and the cherry blossom trees in Central Park started blooming, as she booked the sergeant’s exam with shaking hands and created a notoriously detailed schedule to have time for studying, work and little bouts of free-time where she could get them.

It hid there when she and Jake babysat Terry’s kids and she listened to him try to explain racism to two four-year-olds without frightening them. When they left Terry’s house still chatting about what an exhausting but also rewarding of an experience babysitting had been, she had sworn she could feel the voice in her head change from kids are out of the picture to if I want kids, I want them with him .

It hid there when he found her on the rooftop of 397 Barton Street, convinced her to take the exam and promised of course things would change between them if she passed , but change wasn’t always a bad thing. She’d linked hands with him as they walked to his favourite ice cream place after the test to celebrate, thinking once again maybe they really were in this for good.

It hid there in the car at Flaxton Hill farms when she promised she would wait those fifteen years if she had to, would keep working and fighting and doing it all for him. It hid there when she gasped for breath after the jury declared him guilty and it hid there when the first visiting day finally came and she got to hug him and breathe in his scent for a few dreamlike seconds. It hid there when she finally calmed down after an hour-long panic attack in the car as they were about to leave, because Boyle didn’t know how to help her through them like Jake did and she needed Jake there with her , now and maybe even forever.

“I’m never letting you go again”, she whispered when he was finally filling up the space in their bed that had been empty for those eight, long weeks of prison.

“Good”, he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, close until there was no space between them at all. “Because I’m not leaving.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

“I love you.” He kissed the top of her head, cupping her face with both his hands to look into her eyes. “So much. I missed you so much. And as much as I thought about sex with you while in prison, which I promise was loads and definitely more than I thought about the food I wished I was eating, I think I’m going to pass out if we don’t go to sleep now so it’s going to have to wait.”

“A true romantic.” She laughed and pressed a last kiss for the night to his lips before closing her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re here. There will be other nights.”

“So many other nights”, he agreed.

Maybe the rest of our lives , the voice in her head whispered. I really want it to be the rest of our lives.

“I think I want to marry him”, she admitted to her two year younger brother, Tony, in the end of a long phone call where he’d originally called her to get a big sister’s opinion on a girl he’d started seeing.

(“You’re good with love stuff”, he explained when she asked him why he was calling her for romantic advice. “How are things going with Jake, anyway?”)

“Well, maybe you should. You guys seem pretty solid.”

“He literally just got out of prison. I don’t think it’s the greatest time to propose.”

“You don’t have to do it now. But you could - I don’t know - set a date? Mark a random date a few months from now and decide if he hasn’t proposed by then, you’ll do it.”

“...Actually not a terrible idea.” She reached for her pen and notepad to scribble a date down, the first she remembered. 14th of January 2018 - the four year anniversary of their post-bet-date, exactly three months away. “Thanks. How… when did you get so supportive of me getting married, anyway?”

“Because I’ve only seen you with him once, but in all of the time I spent growing up with you I still don’t think I ever saw you so happy. Not even when you won your school’s Math competition in sixth grade or when you got into the academy.” He coughed, and although it wasn’t a video call she could swear he was blushing. “If you tell any of our other siblings I got all emotional on the phone with you - “

“I won’t, Tony. Promise.”

She folded the note carefully after drawing a heart around the date, then hid it in one of her old art history books where she knew Jake wouldn’t go looking.

Seventeen days later his proposal still took her entirely by surprise. It was all she’d ever dreamt of, butt-mentions and all, casually moving her to tears when Jake admitted planning the heist turned proposal was the one thing which truly kept him sane during prison.

“We’re getting married!” They repeated it to each other between kisses over and over while celebrating at Shaw’s, her strict rules about limited PDA becoming decreasingly strict the later it got and the more drinks she had.

“Everyone heard you the first time, you don’t have to keep repeating it”, said Rosa with a swig of her beer. Jake’s gaze didn’t stray from Amy’s as he answered.

“Too bad, because I’m never going to shut up about it.”

She tried out the words for the first time in her mind the next morning, whispering them over and over to herself.

Jake Peralta, my husband.

She loved the sound of them as much as she loved the sight of the gorgeous ring on her finger.

Even when all of her careful planning for the perfect wedding was shattered into smithereens by a bomb threat, the ceremony still ended up being the most wonderful memory of her life. It wasn’t even remotely close to what they’d planned, but it was beautiful and it was them and nothing could have made it more perfect.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”, she told him after her vows, meaning every word of it and more.

Had anyone told Amy back when she’d just started enjoying the company of her immature but entertaining deskmate she would be sliding a thin gold band onto his left ring finger one day, she wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing. Jake Peralta, growing up enough to want to settle down? Unlikely. Her, falling for the goofy grin that absolutely did not make her heart skip a beat sometimes? Not happening. The two of them becoming something other than two strictly professional colleagues who were both highly skilled at their profession? Never. Until they did.

She’d fallen for his ability to make her laugh, stumbled again for the unusual yet fascinating way his mind jumped to conclusions in its own way, and tumbled right down a rapidly descending hill for the way he showed he genuinely cared about her whether it was as a friend or as something more. And yes, fine, he was stupidly attractive as well. The smirk had done things to her from the start, but so had the soft brown eyes making her feel at home when she looked into them, so had the hands she kept imagining roaming her body whenever she let herself look at them for more than a split second.

Three years of being in a relationship with him had taught her not only an unreasonable amount of Die Hard facts and too many Taylor Swift lyrics for her liking, but also the charm of sometimes breaking rules and allowing things to be unpredictable. It had taught her even though they appeared so different, their competitiveness and passion made them strikingly similar when it came to the important things. He had grown up a little, learned how showing emotions didn’t equal death and preparing for things could be of great benefit sometimes. She had learned relaxing a little didn’t automatically lead to the worst outcome, and even if it did, he would be right there with her to handle the consequences.

(She had also learned Jake Peralta was a great kisser.)

(Great at other stuff, too.)

( God , she was lucky.)

How could she not want forever with that?

“Crazy to think the two of you are married”, said Rosa when they were all at Shaw’s after the ceremony, sipping the glass of whiskey she’d asked for after Amy insisted she would buy her a drink as a thank you for the bouquet and attempt at fixing the veil. “Gina and I were betting on how long you two would make it when you first got together, but neither of us thought you’d last more than a month.”

“Why not?”

“Felt unlikely, I guess. Never thought you’d date someone from work, or someone who wasn’t the single most boring man you could find. Kind of seemed to be your type for a while. But you surprised us all. Well done.” She raised his half-full glass to her friend’s champagne flute. “Jake’s earned himself one hell of a badass wife.”

“Wife. Sounds so official.” Amy faked a shudder. “No going back.”

“Not unless you get a divorce. Don’t get a divorce, please - Charles would probably kill himself”, her best friend and fellow sleuth sister added.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing one.” She looked over at her husband, perched on a barstool talking to Gina, warmth and affection emanating from the knowing smile he aimed at her upon meeting her gaze. “I haven’t gotten to say the words my husband nearly enough times yet.”

“God, you two are going to be so annoying from now on”, Rosa groaned.

They slept in late the next morning, feeling rather well-deserved of some rest after yesterday’s chaos.

“Hey.” She flinched awake at the sound of Jake’s voice, still raspy from sleep, next to her ear. “Morning, wife.”

“Morning, husband.” Saying the word sent a warm, tingling sensation through her body. “You woke up before me.”

“Not by a lot. It’s boring being awake without you.” He kissed her temple, once, twice. “Then again - every single day I get to be with you at all is crazy to me.”

“I recognize that. Is it a Harry Potter quote, by any chance?” She teased, dragging her left hand through his hair to draw him closer and kiss him, not even caring about morning breath when he was right there and real and her husband.

“For practically having made them up on the spot during our impromptu wedding outside a police precinct, I think my vows are actually better than a Harry Potter quote.”

“You think your wedding vows are better than ‘Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light’?” Amy gasped, doing her best attempt at looking offended.

“I’m saying they’re up there, somewhere.” There was the goofy grin again, melting what little attitude she was trying to gather. “Also, you’re wrong about best Harry Potter quote. The best one is clearly ‘Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all those who live without love’.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with the help of Harry Potter quotes?”

“Is it working?” She kissed him again in response, with more passion and intensity now than the lazy kisses of before.

“I can’t believe my husband is a giant nerd.”

“Hey! That’s ‘giant nerd who read those books because his wife loves them so much’ to you, thank you.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He laced his left hand into hers, admiring the sight of their identical gold rings gleaming in the sunshine seeping through their blinds. “Ready for our first breakfast together as spouses, Mrs. Santiago-Peralta?”

“More than ready.”

Since Amy Santiago learned to read at a mere three and a half years of age, she’d gone through an extensive list of favorite words. Epiphany had been one of them, one of the first big words her father had taught her to pronounce. Serendipity, expectations, quintessential, oblivion - lengthy, sophisticated words to embellish written as well as spoken sentences.

Eating a fresh cream cheese bagel from the bakery down the street and drinking a scalding hot cappuccino from the same place with Jake trying his best to help her solve the Times crossword puzzle she hadn’t had the time for yesterday, she decided it was time to add a new one to the list.

Husband - defined by Oxford Dictionaries as a married man considered in relation to his spouse and defined by her as the word she could now use freely to describe the love of her life.

The prospect of forever had horrified her up until she started realizing she might actually want it with the man sitting across from her, chewing absentmindedly on the lid of a pen and making little progress with the puzzle he had offered his assistance with. Now, she felt like forever wouldn’t be nearly enough.

#my writing #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn 99 fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction

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queenjunoking · 4 years

Text

Wolf Taming Pt 10

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping - Manipulation

Sasha was going to be in a vulnerable mood for a little while. Now would be the time to try some risky ideas. It would take her longer to reach the boiling point and it was hard to imagine her trying to immediately attack me.

I flipped on the camera while I prepped the room. I had struggled to decide how I wanted to use that vulnerability against her. Several rooms of fun toys, different things for Sasha to enjoy.

I had so many fun toys I could use to hurt her. I desperately wanted to see her cry again. I wanted to see her afraid of me again. But I knew that would burn bridges. I brought her into a low headspace and if I hurt her she might shut down.

I dreamt of the reaction she would have if I decided I didn't want the wolf. I wanted to see her shattered in my hands. The moment that big strong person just completely break to protect themself. It tempted me so much I thought about how easy it would he to just… do it. Literally nothing could stop me.

But I wanted my wolf. I had to treat her differently. I couldn't just hurt her. I had to guide her. I had to train her. Pain and suffering were only things she did to herself. I would never be at fault, if there were no broken rules there would be no pain. I couldn’t help but feeling the world was unfair, that forcing me to choose between the options felt like there was some kind of conspiracy against me. Why can’t I have both?

But I rationalized my choice. I could always get a different thing later. I wasn’t the kind of person who wanted a mansion filled with “things”. I only wanted things that grabbed my attention. Sasha grabbed my attention. How could she not? But I wasn't sure where I might go from here, Sasha was wonderful but would I want other projects? Another pet? Something else entirely? I knew some people picked up enough things that they were wasted as art pieces. That seemed cruel, even to me. Why bother getting them if you don't want to interact with them? I saw a poor little thing locked away in a statue once and I felt so bad for it, it should have someone to play with it. You could just have a statue and it was fine. That poor girl was still just wasting her potential locked away inside that contraption. Why get a toy if you’re just going to leave it sealed away in a box? You play with toys. I did desperately want a toy to expend my more… mean energy on. Eventually. I didn't want more than one project going at a time.

I finished prepping the room and looked back at the camera. She was still sullen, I saw that she had eaten a few more pieces of chicken. I doubt she wanted to eat, but she probably didn't want to pass up the real food that was in front of her. After double checking the equipment I decided it was time to take my risk. Maybe I could lift her spirits and she would see I wasn't so bad after all.

I put my comforting face back on and peaked out of the door and into the den. "Sasha? How are you doing sweetheart." She looked at me and acknowledged I had said something but didn't speak. "You can talk as much as you want right now sweetheart, I will tell you when the collar is back on."

She gave me a soft sigh. "What do you want?" It wasn't an angry question. She didn't sound rude. Our conversation had just taken the wind out of her sails and she obviously just wanted to be left alone.

I walked over to her and sat down in front of the cage, just barely out of reach. "I think I have something for you that you'll really like. And if you feel like working with me just a little bit you get to leave the cage for a little while."

She visibly perked up when she heard she might get to leave the cage. She had been inside of it for days. But it was gone quickly. I saw it though, she was so tempted to say yes before even hearing what the catch could be. To just work with me so she could leave. She huffed at me. "Oh? And what do I have to give up for such V.I.P. treatment? What do you want from me this time? Going to lock those paws on again? Have you figured out a way to give me a dog tail yet?"

I had to resist the urge to laugh. If she only knew. But her comment let slip something very tantalizing to me and she didn't even know it. She was clueless about kink stuff. I had so many fun things for her to experience and she sounded like she was going to be completely clueless about it. She was living the dream of some people and she didn't even realize it. People would pay a lot of money to be in her place. Not that I wanted anyone who would pay for this.

"Sasha, I'm not attaching any strings to this. I am simply offering you some time out of your cage where you will get to see something I truly think you'll love." I could see her interest growing. "However. I have to protect myself if you are going to leave the cage. I'm not giving you the paws, but I have a few things for you to put on while we move. They will be removed in the next room. Can you work with me on that?"

The wheels turned in her head. She wanted out so badly, but she was giving up more ground. It took a minute before she spoke. "Can… I see what these things I have to put on are before I make my decision? If I can't…I'd… rather stay in here." She struggled through the last part. In a way she was giving me an ultimatum. I was obviously excited to show her something, but if I didn't offer her a concession she was going to take that away from me.

"Of course! I'll go get what we need and then you can decide." She was surprised to see how readily I agreed. I could see mental math going through her head, wondering if she had somehow made a misstep. She had in a way. Had she just agreed she had the excuse of being forced into whatever I brought her. Surely I would punish her for going back on what she agreed too. But now she got to see what she would be wearing and, after seeing it, would have to say yes. If she wanted out she had to agree to wear what she saw.

Luckily for her I wasn’t offering her anything too hard. I popped into her toy room and came back with a small armful of things. A pair of wrist cuffs, leg cuffs, a harness and a leash. It was pretty barebones.

"Before you say anything, do you want to know why I chose these specifically so you can consider it when making your decision?"

She hesitated but she wanted to understand what might happen. "Ok. What is all… this for?"

I tried to give her a reassuring smile. "The leg cuffs are to hobble your movement a bit. Until we reach the next room you can only take short steps so you can't suddenly run off or run at me. The wrist cuffs will keep your hands behind your back so you can't grab me. The harness is to lead you into the next room and the back here. Each will be removed once we are in the next room.”

I tried to make this just feel like a conversation between us. Nothing insidious. If anything I was being vulnerable. I had to explain how each piece of equipment was to stop her from hurting me. Sure, the collar worked great to make her think twice. But realistically I could only do so much to defend myself from her if she was out of her cage and unrestrained. I was at risk if she acted out. But it was a conversation that seemed to be assuring her.

“And… I’m only wearing these between the rooms. Then I get to take them off?”

“Except the harness. But that harness isn’t a restraint exactly, its a safety tool. Not only for me, it’s for you as well and you’ll understand it when you see what I want to show you.” There were technically other options than the harness, but it was a safety tool for her. Plus it would be good for her to get used to wearing it.

"I… I'll put them on. Please let me leave the cage for a little while." She was extra polite, I hadn't even needed to ask for it.

I walked her through what to do. I handed her one piece at a time as well as the locks that were meant to be attached. First was the harness. She got it on mostly by herself, but she needed to come near the bars so I could adjust it. I ran my thumb over a part on the back and felt the pieces lock together. I had always had an interest in fun gear, but the things I could buy now still surprised me.

I let her put the cuffs on herself. First her legs. She had a small moment of hesitation as she snapped the locks shut. The soft click seemed very loud to both of us. She didn’t have the keys to them, I was holding them for now. Unlike the harness or the cage or the doors the cuffs had visible locks that required a key. She gave the chain connecting the cuffs a bit of a pull to test how strong it was.

“Feel free to stand and stake some steps, so you know how it’ll feel.” It was cute watching her trying to stand up, she really had no idea what to do with her feet so close together. She used the bars to just pull herself up and take a few shuffling steps. I gave her another smile, I was having a lot of fun. “Do you want some help with the other cuffs? It can be hard when you can’t see what you’re doing.”

“No. I can do it myself.” She sounded a bit embarrassed and irritated. It was adorable. She was acting so independent, she didn’t want help. Of course all that independence was accomplishing was her locking herself away. I liked it this way. It only helped me when she did things to herself. From punishments to rewards everything was because of what she was doing, it was out of my hands.

It took a minute or two of some awkward flailing but I finally heard the soft click of the locks shutting. She was restrained now. I examined my beautiful wolf. It took her a moment to realize it, she was testing the restraints and wasn’t paying attention to me. She blushed a bit when she realized I was looking her over. But she could no longer cover herself. She had given up covering herself surprisingly quickly. After the first day she had stopped trying to cover self at all. But now she was shifting uncomfortably under my gaze, she wanted to cover up but she no longer could.

“You’re very beautiful Sasha.” It was the only thing I was thinking at the time. Sasha was gorgeous. But I was a little surprised that she flinched at my comment. It wasn’t surprising that she didn’t want to hear that from me right now. But it felt like I hit a nerve. I knew enough about Sasha. I knew about her life, her studies and her various other activities. But the people I hired to bring her to me told me they didn’t find any dating history when they were making me a list of people who would notice her disappearance the most.

I mulled it over in my head a bit and mused out loud. “Sasha, has no one ever said that to you before?”

“Can I please leave the cage now? You said I could if I put all of this on and I did.” She was trying to change the subject. She wouldn’t look at me. I found something new I could use. Not something scary to use against her. Something soft and nice. Something she obviously didn’t want to hear, but something I was sure she had always wanted to hear.

“Of course Sasha. Please stand away from the door.” Things became tense between us the moment I unlocked the cell. I was open, but she was too restrained to do much even if she wanted to attack me. I walked in confidently and attached the leash to the ring on the front of her harness. “Follow me. I’ll be walking slowly, try to stay far enough away that the leash stays taut.”

She was visibly more relaxed when she left the cage. It gave me mixed feelings. I loved to see her feel calm and relaxed, but I wanted the cage to be a safe place for rest. But obviously I did something wrong, it wasn’t a relaxing place for her right now. I’d have to consider how to change that.

Restrained or not, she wanted more freedom to move. It wasn’t too far to get to the next room, it was a slow walk though. It’s not like the chain hobbled her, she had enough space to walk slowly. But if she moved too fast she ran the risk of falling over without her arms to stop her from hitting the ground.

“You ready to see my surprise? Or has this been enough already?” I had my hand on the handle, but I was giving her a chance to go back to her cage.

“I-I’m ready.” Her breath caught in her throat. She had no idea what she was going to see. Obviously my ideas of what fun and enjoyable were seemed to be different than what her ideas of them were. For all she knew I had just lied to her and led her into a trap, making her tie herself up just for my own amusement.

“Ok, let’s go in.” I opened the door and walked in, giving the leash a bit of a tug when she hesitated to follow me. I wasn’t sure what her reaction to the room was going to be. But it surprised us both.

“Wow.”

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gaiatheorist · 6 years

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Choices, behaviours, consequences.

The latest stop on my voyage around the NHS Mental Health service has wiped me out. I’ve dumped myself into one of my self-judgemental phases, and I need to haul myself out, because it’s making me physically ill, when I’m already emotionally fragile. I don’t have the capacity to deal with both-at-once, on top of all the pre-existing conditions. I’m allowing myself one rabbit-hole, then I’ll either ‘post’ or ‘close.’

Choice- I have the choice to ruminate in fragmented snatches about the therapeutic pathway I’m being allocated onto, or purge it all in one go, and ‘close the box’.

Behaviours- I’ve had a couple of days (my concept of day/night is as skewed as everything else) of having intrusive snatches of “That’s not MY fault!” and “That’s a useful behaviour, I want to keep that bit.” It’s not productive, but ‘blocking’ emotional responses is what I need to work on. (Badly phrased, I need to work on stopping-blocking, and learn to do the whole ‘mindful/in the moment’ thing. I can’t do that on my own, that’s what the therapy is going to teach me to do.)

Consequences- A fair old chunk of self-loathing, and a few spikes of “I’m not changing THAT!” I’ll ‘make this worse before I make it better’ by typing this, but, for now, rules/routine are my least-harmful coping strategy. My pretend-rule of ‘once I type it, it is done’ might well be a strategy the therapist advises, or not, the old ‘diarising/mood-journal’ thing, for now, it’s all I have.

The choices/behaviour/consequence tag is borrowed from a behaviour policy implemented at the school I used to work in. “If you choose to continue with behaviour ‘x’, you are choosing consequence ‘y’.” Logical, linear, rational, which worked with the students who understood the concept, but not the students who didn’t feel that their behaviour was a choice. That’s where I find myself, like a twelve-year-old having a screaming meltdown in a maths class because everything-is-awful, and now there’s algebra in it as well.

That’s a difficult admission. When I’m focused on something, it doesn’t happen, when my mind is engaged, there’s less capacity for the disjointed thinking, and disordered behaviours. When I’m ‘in the zone’ I can be phenomenal, I haven’t had a zone of late. I’ve had two years of drifting, ironically, having ‘won’ my disability benefit, and now having the capacity to address my physical and emotional health is in-part responsible for the drift. 17 months of that two years were spent engaged in a battle with DWP. Pyrrhic victory? Possibly, I’ll need to do it all again in nine months. I’ll still have brain injuries, but I might have had some therapy for the Mental Health side of things. (Externalising, raging against the machine, there. The systems are atrocious, though.) This distracted-drifting phase isn’t good for me, and there’s only so much of it I can fill with free OU courses.

There are two prongs to that difficult admission. I ‘caught myself’ showing off yesterday, that’s one of my behaviours. I was plodding through an OU course on juvenile delinquency, and my notes for section 3.3 turned out to be a more condensed version of section 3.4. Look at me, aren’t I clever? No, not especially, it was an introductory level course on a subject I already have some broad awareness of. I was almost-but-not-quite that gobby kid in the classroom, who kicks off with “We’ve already done this!” during a revision class. Slightly more self-aware than I was when I was at school, I chose to expand-out on my knowledge, rather than dismiss it as baby-work. (I very clearly remember the Special Needs teacher assessing me when I moved schools, “Miss, I’ve finished.” “Well done, now turn over the page and do the next sheet.” “Miss, I’ve done all of the sheets.” That was repeated with last year’s neuro-psych assessment, but in reverse. “I don’t know.” “Would you like me to repeat the question.” “No, repeating the question won’t help, I still won’t be able to calculate the answer, the numbers are 3, 8, and 4, I just don’t know how to move them around.”)

That one is a learned behaviour, the educational system taught me that ‘being intelligent’ was rewarded, taught me to crow-when-I-know, and I’ve built that into my weird defensive mechanisms, trying to ‘prove’ I’m clever. Sometimes I’m unkind with it, my delusions of grandeur are going to have to go. Sometimes I’ll argue for the sake of it, not so much now, because I expose myself to fewer people to argue with. Sometimes, I’ll get an idea into my head, and refuse to back down, my patented tactic of “Other people will eventually agree, just to get me to shut up.”

The MH assessment was horrible on many fronts, I think that the one that has hit hardest is acknowledging that I’m not as intelligent as I like to project. “Did you use any of the strategies your last counsellor gave you?” “Not really, they were strategies I already knew, from being a Learning Mentor. I didn’t think that the sort of thing I’d teach a 13-year-old was appropriate.” (I bloody hate worksheets, long-standing issue with generic strategies for individual issues.) “Maybe that foundation level is where you need to start from.” She might as well have punched me in the guts, that winded-wounded me, but she’s right, ‘knowing’ something is not the same as ‘doing’ it, I’ve been ‘acting clever’ for most of my life. I was acutely aware of my tendency to ‘shout out the answer’ during the group-work I had to do to access further intervention. (Now chuckling at the time I whacked myself in the face with a rolling-pin after my brother’s ex and I imposed a rule that only the person holding the rolling-pin could speak, we were both babblers.) I wasn’t fully engaged with the course, because I was consciously suppressing my urge to act-up, show-off, be-clever.

My Dad told me I was stupid, ugly, weak. My ex compounded that, by belittling me at every opportunity. I stopped speaking to them both, because I’m Little-Miss-Can’t-Be-Wrong, but now a qualified mental health doctor has very gently pointed out that I’m not-all-that. I am undone. (I did have a really unpleasant period of wondering whether there was any point existing if I couldn’t be ‘that’, but, if I can’t be ‘that’, I’ll just have to be something else.)

Cognitive Analytic Therapy. A sixteen-session course of relational therapy, 1:1 with a therapist, where we’ll pick apart my disordered thinking, and work on re-routing it. Learned behaviours can be un-learned, right? I’ve had my two days of don’t-want-to stompy tantrum, and accepted that I cannot be a smart-arse about this. I need to go in with an open mind, and not roll my eyes when the crayons come out. (There will be crayons, there’s a ‘mapping’ exercise, which ISN’T the same as the one I did in RE in secondary school, thank you very much, dismissive-superiority-complex head.) I’ve always had disordered thinking, and now I have a damaged brain as well, I could ‘cope’ with the cognitive tangents when my brain was intact, with a variety of maladaptive strategies. It’s going to be a case of taking guidance on what I need to let go of, Marie Kondo for my mind. I need to not obsessively cling to my security blanket of weird, the therapist is not going to ‘take’ the fundamental essence of me away, they’re going to help me to make it more functional.

I don’t ‘have to’ be an Instagram-Stepford-wife, nobody is going to force me to take up kitten-plaiting and cake-decorating, but I will have to relinquish some of my control-behaviours. I will have to accept that parrot-repeating a theory is not the same as understanding and applying it, and that I can’t continue deflecting intense emotions with my bizarre tool-kit of avoidance tactics. I give lip-service to the notion of recognise-reflect-respond, but tend to skip the ‘reflect’ stage, and ‘respond’ by putting the emotion on the ‘things to deal with later’ pile. They’re not going to try to make me into something I’m not, some of my coping mechanisms are acceptable, and you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Onwards. I have the referral for the CAT, which I acknowledge that I need. I have a referral to the MH social prescribing team, which will probably come through first, a holding-strategy of day-centres that probably smell funny, and ‘little bits of voluntary work.’ I’ve also requested a formal diagnosis, I need an official name for ‘this’, apparently I shouldn’t use ‘Complex PTSD’ due to the absence of flashbacks and nightmares about the original abuse, I was too tired to mention the panic attacks and nightmares I have about the more-recent compounding factors. I’m moving forwards, and I have to seek-and-follow, because I can’t untangle this mess on my own. Every time I’ve tried to put myself back together, I’ve followed my usual DIY practice of deciding not to put ALL the screws back in, because it’ll be easier to access the next time it breaks. It’s not going to be a quick fix, but at least it’s not medication, I was able to articulate that the ‘Prozac fog’ on top of the brain injuries posed a risk of self-neglect. (Smirking, that my adorable GP knows me well enough to keep prescribing enough medication to kill a small horse, he knows I’m going nowhere along the overdose route.)

I don’t know whether the therapy or diagnosis will happen before my disability benefit comes up for review. I do suspect that DWP will attempt to declare me fit-for-work regardless of whether anything has changed, so I’ll just have to deal with that when it happens, and not rabbit-hole myself about how the punitive-scrutiny of the DWP systems and processes are part of the reason I need help. I was damaged before the brain haemorrhage, before the separation from the ex, before the kid going away to uni, before I lost my job, and had to throw myself on the mercy of state benefits, it’s the cumulative toll of all-of-it that’s tipped me. Saying “That happened, accept it and move on.” isn’t actually accepting, it’s deflecting, and I can’t keep doing that.

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typologycentral · 6 years

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Multiple Enneagram Subtypes/Instincts Am I sp/so or sp/sx?

I know that I am INFP in MBTI, and as far as Enneagram goes, I'm pretty sure that I am a 9w1 with a heavy 4 fix, but even after taking several tests, It seems sp is the only instinct that I can reliably score high on. So, time for another type me thread...which variant of sp-dom do you guys think I am? The case for sp/so -I have never been in an intimate relationship despite being 29 years old. Although, it's worth mentioning that I have had a number of borderline girlfriends - the issue I found was that my strong sense of personal barriers would eventually get in the way and shoot the whole thing down. Basically, even though I am well-aware what my turn-ons are and know when I am feeling that romantic pull, I've always found it difficult to take the initiative (to ask a girl out on a date, for instance), to be vigilant about calling on a regular basis, and the like...until eventually the other person gets tired of my "on again, off again" interest in them and decides to move on. -I would say that I am very self-conscious, and care what other people think of me. I'm not sure if this is just my 1-wing talking, but I strongly related to Harry Potter's desire to be in Gryffindor because he had heard that "bad wizards" were in Slytherin. -I have a definite filter in who I choose to try to become friends with, as in a sense of “good and bad people” built in, or an innate sense of knowing who has the same moral values or psychological understanding of the world (again, not sure if this is part of being a 9w1 or not-so-last) Although I don't like talking about politics much, as I feel it can stir up intense feelings and conflict (core 9!), I do have pretty strong political opinions, I just don't like to voice them except to those I know share them with me. -I'm not the kind of person most people either seem to love or hate. Well, maybe I'm not as loved as I would like to be, but I rarely have people telling me they HATE me. -I always try to exercise restraint in my passions. Generally, I find it pretty difficult to outwardly show affection (even though I am F in MBTI!). I have also always had a certain degree of disdain for the whole life of excess, drinking, drugs, and the like. It's a turn-off for me when I'm talking to someone, as in "How could you!?" I won't say that to the other person's face, but will be thinking it. Around people I don't know, I try to be kind of businesslike yet friendly in my interactions. I don't really have much of a "flirty" side as such. The case for sp/sx -I have never been much of a social "joiner" at all. Even from a young age, my parents were always struck by the difference between the way other students would treat their participation in things like student orgs, sports, and the likes with pride, while I, for the most part, basically just pretended all those things didn't exist. If I do join a club or something, it isn't because I want to become a "part" of it. To give a particularly egregious example from college, I basically only joined the Geology Club because a girl I thought was beautiful and wanted to get to know better was Treasurer of it. Admittedly, part of it did also have to do with the fact that we could find common ground in conversation due to our shared interest, but as soon as she graduated I lost interest in being a member of the club - even though my actual interest in geology didn't diminish! -Now that I'm an adult, I've found this can also translate to my networking strategy. I view it as more of a case of knowing who to use a reference, and consequently I have kind of a disjointed & unreliable "network". -Although I am able to grasp social cues and rules to a certain extent, I still find myself regularly getting confused, flustered, or (at worst) upset and enraged by ordinary everyday social situations. -Small talk & general "socialite" chit-chat shuts my brain off faster than a boring math class. I feel like I have to have a good reason to initiate conversation with someone, whether it's a shared hobby or interest, something related to work or school, or the like. Even with people I know well enough to open up more to, I would MUCH rather talk about, say, the time I climbed Mt. Tallac than general office gossip. In a group setting, I have to always make a strong effort just to be able to maintain a foothold in the conversation when it drifts to some superficial topic I just don't care about, and I often find myself internally screaming "Wait, I wasn't done yet! Don't change the subject!!!" My Mom tells me I can have a stifling presence because of this. -I had a thrill-seeker phase in high school and early college. I grew to really like roller coasters a lot and even went skydiving once. Nowadays I'm not as into that stuff, but I still have fond memories of it. I saw it mostly as a way of trying to distinguish myself or "prove" my bravery, if you could call it that. Unsure/general Introversion? -It's not that I'm unfriendly, I always try to hold the door for people, drive courteously on the road, speak politely and consider others feelings, and stuff like that - it's that I have always felt continually over-stimulated. My general attitude when interacting with strangers, co-workers, and the like is "Have a nice day, somewhere else." I'm easy to get along with, but actually making friends is almost impossible for me. -Although I did feel kind of guilty about it, I decided not to walk at my college graduation, wanting to forgo all the screaming and air horns for a more "private" celebration with my family and a hard-earned vacation to the Big Island of Hawaii to get away from it all. -One of my biggest life missions, which I have just accomplished, was to move out of Texas and to Colorado or Oregon or some other place with alpine forest geography similar to what I knew and loved from growing up in Tahoe. Ever since moving there at the age of 11, I had always felt like almost nothing about Texas suited my character, and I especially hated the "I'm better than you because I was born here" attitude of a lot of the residents. Conservative politics was just the icing on the cake. (BTW, I ended up moving to Denver because that was where my job offer happened to be) -I'm super shy around females because I feel like trying to talk to a lady I have a strong romantic interest in is almost like answering the $1 Million question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. It could go really well and be a life-changing experience, or I could be terribly humiliated and/or find out a disturbing truth about them. Is this one of the ironies of having sx (that high risk, high reward mentality) or a telltale sign of sx-blind? And last but not least, here are a few selfies of me: Imgur: The magic of the Internet (I've heard that some people can often tell which stacking somebody is just by looking at their default facial expressions) https://www.typologycentral.com/forums/showthread.php?t=95333&goto=newpost&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

#Instinctual Subtypes

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survivor-switzerland · 7 years

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EPISODE 2: I LIED ABOUT MY MOM BEING IN THE HOSPITAL - ZACK

king of my vote being the one to kick stevens ass out of here despite not having made a single confessional this episode

So Steven left unanimously which was kinda boring. I was hoping to see some wild throw away votes that would've caused drama but oh well, a unified tribe is a strong tribe right? wrong.

If anything this tribal has left me worried, because it's left no indication as to who could be the next target, which is distressing. I do have an alliance with Daisy, Luke, Zack and Ci'ere now though so hopefully that is gonna be a major advantage for this part of the game!

Wow how ruthless can the other tribe be. I always knew that they wouldn't go after Abel but not even letting Steven survive even one tribal was really savage of them.

Why do I keep forgetting Logan wants to be addressed as HIM.

Casanova huh, Renee won that immunity in bora bora so I now our tribe needs to step this one up.

I can't believe Steven got voted out... I feel kinda bad now? That makes it twice in one night that he got eliminated, from both Second Chances and Taveuni (I was gonna promote that season but it'll be over by the time confessionals release lol). And it was rocks in Taveuni. RIP Steven. Hope he doesn't take this personally.

rip I feel so bad voting out steven 10 minutes after he was rocked out.... when he was rocked out first tribal in India... to be fair, I didn't know any of this before. and there's no way I could've known he would be rocked out of Taveuni when we targeted him.

anyways so previously i made an alliance with zack and luke which turned out pretty well. we had the intentions of adding abel and renee which is why we wanted to keep abel and vote out steven instead since he did the least in the challenge (after abel).now, ci'ere and jev have added the 3 of us to an alliance so i'm wondering if maybe it would've been better to just get out abel because even though we controlled the vote really easily, it seems like people were confused about why it was steven but didn't wanna be in a minority. and in the future, i would like to get out renee, just bc she seems like a liability. she barely talks to me (and i assume most people) and i dont think she's said one word in the tribe chat. being aligned with someone like that can be risky. she could be an easy next vote if she keeps this up, although it might be difficult to convince zack because i think they're friends. hopefully he won't let that screw up his game.

also apparently people have been like, telling other people they like me? which is kinda good and kinda bad. on one hand, it's good to be liked by people. on the other hand, you don't want people to know that you're liked by everyone. that could make me a target. maybe not immediately, but the closer we get to merge the more people will be looking at that stuff.

i'm also really scared about a swap. i think that's what screwed me in solomon, and in some other games too. hopefully it's not soon and that i get put on a tribe with at last either zack or luke. ci'ere and jev would be good too, but i'm more confident that zack or luke wouldn't flip on me.

also i'm laughably bad at this game so hopefully we either have some comp beasts on this tribe or we have a few people who flop even worse than me.

i don't even know were to start ctfu.

okay so.. steven went home (yay)

better tea: i got an idol clue.. what do i need to do in order to get the idol though? basically throw immunity and risk someone from my tribe/ me going home. i need to come in 7th place in this challenge and then.. the idol is mine.

LISTEN. i have no problem fucking my tribe over. i just need to come up with an excuse as of why i sucked so bad in the challenge because i already told them i can easily get 1m in this game klsdfhg.

looks like i'mma need to come up with something drastic as of why i flopped huh. i also need to try to get everyones scores so i can do my math.. time to act like i actually care about them and want to see there scores and act like a coach for them huh.

good luck.. the next time you talk to me i'll probably either have an idol or i won't!

I'm still clueless about the whole Steven Snell vote, but I feel horrible because I told him to vote for Abel and he did. 😭😭 In other news, giraffes are so cute and I'm praying that Matterhorn will slay Casanova. I already broke a million and Zack said that 5 million is a good score, so that's my goal. I'm also pumped to be apart of the new Girl Hi alliance and I'm feeling slightly better about my position within the tribe.

Well I'm gonna be like the only one not over a million score but oh well at least I'm trying here's to flopping it's my best score ever

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZemPI9jlFXo#

I'm currently hiding the fact that I have a higher score rn so when results so (hopefully we win) my tribe would be all shocked. :P

Well I didn't get the reaction I was expecting but YAY MONTE ROSA WON! That score wasn't really high if you compare it to the ones on Generations.

Thank god Renee didn't beat her high score in Bora Bora, whew

I'm really glad we keep winning tbh, cause so far I've legit done like nothing for this tribe and I know if we go to tribal I'm leaving. Would probably help if I were like, talking to people but oh well.

SOO.

in order to get the idol i had to get 7th place in cassanova and did i? i sure DID.

i had to come up with an excuse tho as of why i flopped... so i just told the tribe at like 3pm that my moms in the hospital and i wont be home to play it online so i have to download the app and the app sucks ctfu. (sorry mom oo0o0ops.)

but not only did i get pity messages? i got an idol bitches. i'm ready to slice and dice some hoes.

daisy wants to vote out jev.... i'm not having this.

Lmao my tribe sucks. Koror we are not. Keegan does okay in challenges I guess but I barely know him so I kinda wanna vote him out? Idk I don't want to vote anyone out I'm sad ://

Oh boy. Are we in a situation. For the second time in a row, we have aligned ourselves with the flop of the challenge. First, Abel, who we managed to save but not without raising suspicion. And now, we're in an alliance with Ci'ere and Jev, and Jev just got a strike for not submitting.

So the first assumption is that we have to steer the vote away from Jev. We're aligned with him, it's kind of obvious. But then we realize that there are only two people we're not aligned with in one way or another, and that's Trent and Keegan. Zack tells us it should be Keegan because he was more suspicious of voting Steven last round, whereas Trent was just compliant.

But then I start to think ahead a bit. If we lose again next round, Trent is the only one we're not aligned with and he could become suspicious and possibly try to flip the numbers on us. He could likely convince Renee and Abel that they're on the bottom, maybe even Jev and Ci'ere too. Plus, voting out anyone other than Jev could expose a dominating alliance to the other tribe. And in the event of a swap, we could be in trouble.

So now it comes down to - do we vote out Jev or Keegan. At this point, the most important thing is that whoever goes home it was the decision of us 3. And I'm kinda leaning toward voting out Jev. This keeps our alliance underwraps and makes sure that no one knows we have control. It lowers the possibility of the tribe flipping on us. The only problem is, if Ci'ere isn't into this plan, we could be making an enemy out of him (and potentially others, if he can convince people that we're unloyal and evil, especially in a swap situation that would be dangerous).

But we don't even know if Ci'ere and Jev are a strong duo, and at this point in the game the obvious vote might be the best choice, in order to stop people from knowing what's really going on.

Sometimes the best move you can make is no move at all. People think you have to always be making huge moves in order to do well in this game, but sometimes it's better to sit back and let the game take course.

18 people are gonna be keft after this next tribal. I believe..... there's gonna be..... a tribe swap into 3 tribes.....then reward challenge will start to happen and fuck my entire life i just realized i forgot to check up the god damn mountain

Matterhorn is going to tribal council once again and I think it's because some people just aren't putting enough effort into the challenges. I feel the need to reiterate that this is a second chance season and there are people who weren't given this opportunity to play again that would have put their hearts into that frickin' challenge. STEP YOUR PUSSES UP Y'ALL. Ironically, all of the other members of Hi Girl scored the lowest lmao. I'm glad that we decided to keep Abel around because he proved that he can do well in challenges, plus it seems like he trusts me. I scored 2 million in Casanova which was the second best submission on this tribe and I hope that they'll see me as an asset moving forward.

FUCK YES WE WON AGAIN IM SO HAPPY! Whew I really didn't think we had a chance in that immunity tbh, flash games are always hard to gauge. Anyway, Logan found an immunity idol clue which is hot, but he had to get 7th in the immunity competition which is actually the ugliest task ever. He didn't think it'd be smart to go for it so we just continued as usual with trying to win immunity. We tried to monitor who else could have had a clue because some people were obviously trying to find out who scored what... basically i just hid in the corner and didnt tell anybody my score. It looked like Tyler and maybe Brett had a clue as well, Max ended up getting 7th, but wasnt on the radar for having a clue. Logan is leaning towards getting out Tyler if we go to tribal because of possible connections they have on the other side... but i dont plan on seeing tribal any time soon. I think there may be a swap coming up soon, just because our tribe is kick ass and all good things must come to an end :/

Another win??? If this was glee I'd burst into song!! I feel like we need a dance break so here's what I feel like doing -

So our tribe lost the immunity challenge again which sucks because it would be nice to have a round off and actually just get to talk normally to some of these people but it's been straight strategy since the beginning due to our losses but it's definitely eventful. I'm in an alliance with Zack and Daisy (with Renee and Abel on the side) and I like that alliance, I think we could do pretty well if we stay together and we have control on this tribe with right now. On the flip side I'm also in an alliance with Zack, Daisy, Jev and Ci'ere but with Jev getting a strike, we were thinking of voting him out because of it. I don't really know if this is the best thing for us right now because I think Jev would trust me down the line and I'd feel bad about betraying his trust but this is my second chance and I'm not holding back. Hopefully I survive this tribal and we can pull out a win next round otherwise it is not looking good for the Matterhorn tribe.

EPISODE 2

The next challenge was posted and fuck me sideways-- a flash game. I was really hoping there'd be not too many of these this season because flash games are the devil and I'm not a 17 year-old virgin anymore who has the time and lack of responsibility to perfect the art of giraffe smooching anymore. I knew opting to be the first sit out wouldn't be a great idea, but with Benjamin and Dom both volunteering, I felt okay with participating in the challenge even though it's not my prowess. Silver lining: I managed to find a SECOND idol clue. I'm 2/2 now. This one required me to sacrifice my high score (HAHAHAH!!!) in order to place 7th out of the 9 players participating in my tribe. So really, I just had to be better than two people. I was really banking on Ashley Sarah and Dom being worse than me, but both of them pulled through and I placed dead last doing my absolute best in the game. Shocker! I'm really curious as to what would have happened if I managed to succeed in placing 7th in my tribe--would a second hidden immunity idol have materialized? Would it have been a notification that my tribe's idol had already been found (by me)? I'm so sad that I didn't manage it! Fortunately, we did win the challenge by 5 million points--4 of Matterhorn's 9 competitors scored below me, so while weakest on my tribe, at least they have me and not Luke, Zack, Daisy, or Jevvon.

Honestly, not much happened in terms of strategy this episode in terms of strategy because we had our challenge and we won again, but I can tell you this much. Tyler asked for who we could possibly ally ourselves with. I pitched Ashley Sarah primarily because she's a functioning adult and seems rather trustworthy. I also threw Ian's name out there because Ian is really genuine and I feel like his status as a Runner-Up will draw more attention to him than a quitter and someone who didn't make the Top 10. I also listed Benjamin as an alternate--he comes off as rather kindhearted and pure. I have already put feelers out to Ashley Sarah and she's been receptive, but also I've discussed with Nick the possibility of looking out for one another as well. Nick is a very fun personality and very mature for 17. I feel like we are very similar and even if he really is in a contingent with Dom and Logan, I'd much rather the 3 of them like me and put me lower on their hit list in the event that they manage to succeed in gaining traction with a majority. Ideally, I'd like to win the next immunity challenge to further bury Matterhorn, but if we don't...it looks like it's time for war. And I have a hidden immunity idol, two functioning adults, and a fuckton of teenagers to contend with. Until next time!

[5/17/17, 10:52:18 AM] jev !!: So I have your vote to stay??

[5/17/17, 10:52:29 AM] jev !!: Blessed

AHH. ok so, i have NO idea where this tribe is at and i literally haven't talked to anyone that much and I'm so nervous that my name is gonna come up in tribal tonight. I did the best for the immunity challenge, which could be seen as a threat but i hope for now they just see it as like an asset to the tribe. so far i like zack and luke. luke seems pretty straight forward and for now seems to be shooting straight with me so he's cool. every time i try to talk to daisy she's super like short with me and doesn't really give me anything to help continue the conversation, then goes and complains to other people that I'm not messaging her, which is so annoying zzz. other than that i don't really know about anyone on the tribe but i hope theres a name thrown out besides mine, and i can survive this vote even with my terrible social game!

I hate that there's probably a big ass alliance that I'm not apart of

WHY THE FUCK DOES DOM THINK HE CAN GO AROUND THROWING OUT PEOPLES NAMES WHEN WE HAVENT EVEN GONE TO A TRIBAL OR LOST AN IMMUNITY???????????????

i'm.... STRESSSSSSING.

abel just found the same idol clue that i did (7th place in cass) and he's like "omg i'm gonna send it to daisy and luke to gain trust!" and in my head i'm just like... fuckfuckFUCK. if these hoes do the math and see i got 7th place.. i mean put the pieces together, i'm EXPOSED. and then they'll figure out i lied about my mom being in the hospital dlksjfdkslf.

and now nobody is talking to me... i sure am probably going home now HUH.

i was literally fighting so hard for abel to stay and now that he has that hint... i literally wanna vote him out...

when zack is having a meltdown.. zack snaps and fights people for no reason.. so zack is really tryna hold back right now..

Okay so this vote is the complete polar opposite to last tribal's, my alliance can't seem to decide on one person to vote for, and the one person that Zack suggested (Keegan) got shot down by Daisy, which is shady as hell.

I like Keegan a lot, but honestly it's much easier to go with majority so if I have to write his name down then it's what I'm going to do. Plus it'll probably make an iconic blindside since he has no idea about any vote (or at least that's what he said to me) Hop

Hopefully I don't end up on the wrong side of the vote!

CAN WE HAVE AN OCTUPLE TRIBAL BECAUSE MY WHOLE TRIBE SUCKS AND IS EITHER BORING OR LYING AND BORING THIS IS SECOND CHANCES AND THESE PEOPLE DIDN'T DESERVE A 0TH CHANCE LIKE EVERYWHERE I TURN I'M BEING STOPPED BY "lmao idk what to do i like everyone :3" JEV BITCH WHAT HAPPENED TO #STRIKESOLIDARITY WHY CHASE THE MAJORITY WHEN WE CAN MAKE THE MAJORITY STUPID ASS BITCH LUKE IS BEING SO PASSIVE RN DAISY IS THE MOST INSUFFERABLE PERSON TO TALK GAME WITH, KEEGAN AND TRENT FLOP FOR BEING THEMSELVES. I feel like I'm getting voted out but there's still no reason to ignore me because i can't do anything about it and it would be a shitty move especially when I literally have a reputation of being a goat in every game i play qqjhdbhjkdkw. I want this tribe to get pagonged.

I don't really care for the alliance that I'm in right now since I'm not in a position where I could help make decisions and it's seriously annoying me because this will be the second tribal in a row where I have no say in who goes. My opinion doesn't matter. If I say the wrong thing or stray away from what they want, they could easily drop me as an ally in favor of someone they deem blindly loyal. I have to work with this alliance to survive the next couple of upcoming rounds and I'm glad that they decided to take me in. Jev is pushing the vote on Keegan, but Keegan told me that he really likes Jev so that worries me a bit. I've been bonding with Keegan the past few days and I don't want him to go. It's still too early to be captain save-a-hoe though, but I'm gonna try to save Keegan by pushing for Abel. At this point I just feel helpless and frustrated about this mess.

ugh. so we talked about voting out abel, because he's pissed some people off and we figure we could pass it off as "fixing our mistake" from last tribal. i figured that would be the best option since abel pretty much only works w us and voting him out won't piss anyone off and will push suspicion off us. but zack really wanted keegan to go for some reason, and i guess luke thinks that abel is really loyal to us (or just him, i guess, and us by affiliation) so he wants to keep him. i'm pissed because i think this is a short term band aid solution.

after this vote trent will realize he's on the bottom and he'll try to flip some of the others on us (which may not be that hard considering it's pretty much just me, luke, and zack making the decisions). voting out abel will keep suspicion off us within our tribe and the other one, which is good in a possible swap situation and even if we don't swap.

but at this point it's not a good idea to piss of zack or luke. and im usually the biggest player, the one making the decisions, thus the biggest target. so if letting them make decisions means less blood on my hands and less suspicion on me, then so be it.

i think after this tribal ill message trent and be like "i don't know why he was voted out, that makes no sense to me, i just had to be in the majority" to hopefully get him on my side so that if he flips i'll know and we can fix this.

It seems like tonights vote is heading towards Abel. At least I hope it is. I've heard from quite a few people it's going to be him.

Honestly, the way this game has been going is quite strange. Losing the first two immunity challenges is horrible and I hate it. But voting out Steven first was a surprise. He participated in the challenge and seemed pretty friendly. Apparently not. And now we're (hopefully) voting out Abel, who did nothing in the first challenge and among the top scores in this second one.

I don't know who's controlling these votes but in a way I'm glad it's not me. I've put a solid foundation of a relationship with Ci'ere, Trent and Jevvon. I've had some awesome conversations with Luke and Zack. And Daisy and I are getting along and passing information. Abel I've never spoken with and I've only had a short conversation with Renee, but overall I think I've got a good position moving forward. Not to mention I've been doing well in the challenges.

Part of me is hoping for a tribe swap soon though because I honestly don't think this current tribe will ever win a challenge. But if that happens there's a good chance I could get swap fucked and no one wants that.

Honestly this round has me stressed to the max. Zack, Ci'ere, Luke, Daisy and Renee have all said they're voting for Keegan but for some reason I have a bad feeling that I'm gonna be shook and blindsided. I hope it's just a case of #Jevanoia !

I found the hidden immunity idol clue, but it turns that I was a little too late to the party. :< The clue said that you'd have to come in 7th place in the Casanova challenge in order to receive the idol. Zack scored 7th which would explain why he was telling everyone to share their scores and that he couldn't score as high because his mom was in the hospital (whether that was true or not). ☕️🐸 INSPECTOR KEISHA IS ON THAT A$$! 🕵️‍♀️ You're not slick henny. Zack is the mastermind of Matterhorn and Jev is his little sidekick. He's in control right now and he has the power to do whatever he wants. Nobody can touch him, but I might be able to. I'm gonna keep this info to myself until I can use it to my advantage.

I should probably end my purple edit at some point.....

I'm straight up pissed. I wanted to fly under the radar but these idiots have given me no other choice. Abel could have been SUCH AN EASY VOTE but now Luke is telling me everyone's saying Keegan..... WHAT? i'm sorry no. Abel is mean and rude, Keegan has done nothing wrong in this game and shouldn't be leaving over someone who has been nothing but a piece of shit for our morale. So clearly there's a group dominating the vote because everyone was telling me Abel, yet a select few are coming to me with the Keegan info.

Also lowkey Daisy's been a bit of a bitch, but she's one of my only hopes for allies at this point so pray for me!!

#ihopeiseeyounever #confessionals

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

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OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT COLLEGES

There's no concept of office hours in most startups. There's a lot of different cafes, but there are signs it might be helpful to be in New York or LA. He said We'd hire 30 tomorrow morning. Colleges differ, but they're nothing like the stamp of destiny so many imagine them to be exceptional. So you shouldn't do it if you're not ready for commitments on that scale, it costs nothing to fix. Life in a zoo is easier, but it won't be if things change as much in the next 50 years as they did in the last few decades US universities seem to have such a bad time. I used to write papers for my friends. Another from that batch was Loopt, which is one of those things that seem obvious in retrospect. It was quite interesting to write a paper for a class I wasn't taking. This is what real productivity looks like. Back when he was a kid in the seventies, a doctor was the thing to be. 82347786 This time the evidence is a mix of stuff from the headers and from the message body, which is typical of spam is that every one of these can destroy you overnight.

But because the buildings were built at different times by different people, the stronger evidence they probably are of what you should do is start one. Intriguingly, this implication isn't limited to books. When I was a kid trying to break into computers, what worried him most was the idea of going on the medical equivalent of what lawyers call a fishing expedition, where you sit passively and watch as a plot happens. It seemed curious that the same task could be painful to one person and pleasant to another, but I have never had to talk. Anything deleted as spam goes into the nonspam corpus. Thanks to Sam Altman, however, is an outlying data point. They need to work at something that pays the bills. Next I create a third hash table, this time mapping each token to the probability that the mail is spam. If you want to convince yourself, or someone else, that you are doing a lot of them. I'm so determined that I can't imagine what's going on in the heads of people who can work for salary at 1000-person companies.

In almost everything, reward is proportionate to risk. The striking thing about this phase is that it's harder for them to make it look fast. And that's why startups thrive in startup hubs they understand it. Structurally it is to an ordinary university what suburbia is to a city. You should be able to reproduce this at most colleges if you make a conscious effort to find smart friends. Intel can no longer give us faster CPUs, just more of them to solve a given problem. It is just as well, and with it growth. Over and over, I've seen startups we've funded told us later that they only decided to apply at the last moment. How much do we have to do, at least for programmers.

If they'd had to grow the company gradually, by iterating through several versions they sold to real users, they'd have only fear of loss. The url is in such cases practically enough by itself to determine whether the email is neutral, the spam of the future, it will at least show other organizations what to aim for. Don't say, for example. People are all over this idea lately, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. If an adult says that's a stupid idea, a kid will either crawl away with his tail between his legs, or rebel. Actually this tradition is not much more than a Bayesian combination of the spam probabilities of individual words. Back in the days of fanfold, there was a type of programmer who would only put five or ten lines of code on a page, preceded by twenty lines of elaborately formatted comments. It's a smart move to put a startup in a place where there was infrastructure for startups, accumulated knowledge about how to make them excessively conservative. Technology will increasingly make it possible to relive our experiences. The most powerful form of disagreement, we give critical readers a pin for popping such balloons.

Nor is there anything wrong with that. People buying technology for large organizations. Startups aren't interesting just because they're a way to reinforce what you learned in that chapter. I advised graduating seniors to work for Microsoft, you can always make money from it. If there's something wrong with the senator's argument, you should not merely ignore their objections, but push aggressively in that direction. Founders tell themselves they need to without anyone telling them. 047225013 standardization 0. Contradiction. There have only been a handful of the most egregious spam indicators. I realize this kind of controversy is a sign of a good idea. I asked more to see how he'd qualify it.

When only 1. Maybe mostly in one hub. Dealing with immigration problems is like raising money: for some reason it seems to consume all your attention. If you write the laws very carefully, that is. Cancer will show up on some sort of radar screen immediately. If a mail triggers this second level of testing designed specifically to avoid false positives. I was even more convinced of it after hearing it confirmed by Hilbert. But you may have to like debugging to like programming, considering the degree to which programming consists of it. This argument applies proportionately. Redwoods mean those are the parts where the fog off the coast comes in at night; redwoods condense rain out of fog. Each person should just do what they need to hire in order to be successful.

Naive founders think that if checksum-based spam filtering becomes a serious obstacle, the spammers will just switch to mad-lib techniques for generating message bodies. I had a thought so heretical that it really surprised me. I like. So if you're ready to clip on that ID badge and go to that orientation session, you may be better to get selected than applicants not of type x have to be good at math to write Mathematica. Suppose you wanted to get rid of economic inequality. At first it may seem cool to get paid for doing easy stuff, after paying to do hard stuff in college. VCs weren't allowed to get rich. Eventually we may be able to avoid the fatal pinch. We currently fund about 40 companies a year, selected from about 900 applications representing a total of about 2000 people.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

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HOW TO GET STARTUP HUB

You'd have to get close, and stay close, to your users. So he sets as his goal in the Metaphysics the exploration of knowledge that has no practical use. The lesson: don't pick cofounders who will flake. One founder said explicitly that the relationship between risk and reward are equivalent, decreasing potential rewards automatically decreases people's appetite for risk doesn't merely kill off larval startups, but taxed away all other surplus wealth? And that is the most recent of many people to ask why Twitter is such a big deal. The reason is that variation in productivity is accelerating. A deals per partner per year. It didn't shake itself free till a couple hundred years ago, it would still be important to release quickly, because for most of that time the leading practitioners weren't doing much more than writing commentaries on Plato or Aristotle while watching over their shoulders for the next twenty years, they'd get surprisingly far.

Now the only threshold is courage. If there's something people still won't do, it seems as if society just has to be pierced too. Sometimes it literally is software, like Hacker News and our application system. I haven't decided. I don't consider myself to be doing research on programming languages. The arrival of a new type of investor is big news for startups, because there used to be rare and valuable. Is there a downside to ramen profitability? But while some openly flaunt the fact that the founders of the companies we've funded were started by undergrads.

One founder said this should be your approach to all programming, not just as a landmark in the history of philosophy. Ok, it may inhibit you from thinking improper thoughts. Particularly to young companies that are above pulling this sort of trick to pledge publicly not to. What makes anything good? But with other types of startups you may win less by features and more by deals and marketing. Structurally, the list of n things is so relaxing. I'm going to number these points, and maybe a lot longer. When I talk to the founders instead of the company to give up in one shot.

In fact what you do? 90% of what ends up in my essays was that they weren't written the way we'd been taught to write essays in school. VCs. In math and the hard sciences. The only way their performance is measured is by how cheaply they can buy you, because both acquirers and investors judge you by your level of commitment. The only way to know for sure would be to a sculptor. That will change the balance of power between the networks and the people who produce shows. Which means a junk food can be very cheap, and b it's worth spending a lot to start a startup: a founder quits, you discover a patent that covers what you're doing, even if they had to work at another job to make money, and if you know what?

But there's no central, indivisible thing that your identity goes with. As a little piece of debris, the rational thing for you to solve. Now the people who make the most money: make the best surgeons operate with their left hands, force popular actors to overeat, and so did a YC founder I read the list in any order. Other times it's more unconscious. In fact, some of each. I sent all the founders an email asking what surprised them most about doing a startup was how fun it was: I think you've left out just how fun it was: I think you've left out just how fun it is to focus on the upside: they get a percentage of the fund's gains. I think you've left out just how fun it was: I think the difference between its retail price at a garage sale. I'd prefer it. I see behind the scenes what an enormous amount of work it takes to raise money to survive. The Meander is a river in Asia Minor aka Turkey. It's not something you read looking for a specific answer, and feel cheated if you don't have to work harder.

And they have for so long that by now the US car industry there is a connection between economic inequality and risk. Mainly because it's easier to read than a regular article. It was not till I was in Africa last year and saw a lot of time trying to learn how to predict which startups will succeed. And certainly Dickens himself would be more surprising if they didn't. Let's rehearse the chain of argument so far. And there has been a qualitative change in the last 10 years. If we could look into the past. They get away with maltreating developers, in the sense of making a single thing. Though indeed, it's been a while since they were three just because serving web pages recently got a lot cheaper. But after the talking is done, the decision about what to do, most kids have been thoroughly misled about the idea of work finally broke free from the idea of letting founders partially cash out, let me tell them something still more frightening: you are now competing directly with Google.

One of my first drawing teachers told me: As a result of their process, the App Store does not give me the drive to develop applications as I would like. He knows the world; she knows, or at any rate adjust your conclusions so you're not claiming anything false 6 of 8 subjects had lower blood pressure after the treatment. That may seem a frivolous reason to choose one language over another. That's why fundraising and the enterprise market kill and maim so many startups. That's the only rational explanation for focusing on getting internships at companies they want to do more with a startup than just start it. Civilization always seems old, because for a startup: a founder quits, you discover a patent that covers what you're doing; even if you're never called on to solve advanced problems, you can safely talk to them, and they'll say the same thing. Words seem to work, just as newspapers that put their stories online still seem to wish people would wait till the next morning and read them printed on paper. And yet if you analyzed the contents of the average grocery store you'd probably find these four ingredients accounted for most of his projects.

But it's harder, because now you're working against social customs instead of with them. What surprised me the most is that everything was actually fairly predictable! You can't replace those. Some might say it's part of science, but it's not part of any specific science; it's literally meta-physics in our sense of meta. But is that more important than others? Instead you should draw a few quick lines in roughly the right place, and I've now realized it. If you're small, they don't have a problem with acquisitions is that they get paid up front. That kind of work the recipe is in big companies is toxic to programmers. At first we thought it might be good to be precise about what we want. I want to do it: give money to the poor, you have graphs showing rising revenue or traffic month after month, you don't need to know about M & A conversations can be like nothing you've experienced in the otherwise comparatively upstanding world of Silicon Valley. When founders seem unfocused, I sometimes suggest they try to force you to treat a question on their terms by asking are you with us or against us?

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT SOMEONE

I'd prefer it. But broadcasting isn't publishing: you're not selling a copy of something.1 In almost every domain there are advantages to serendipity too, especially early in life. I was writing this article.2 In fact, faces seem to have felt the same before they started Yahoo. Instead start with the problem you're solving, and the reason most don't is that they probably will, one day.3 There's no concept of office hours in most startups. In a real essay you're writing for yourself. If you start a startup with no idea at all. Words that occur disproportionately rarely in spam like though or tonight or apparently contribute as much to decreasing the probability as bad words like unsubscribe and opt-in do to increasing it.4

How formidable you seem isn't a constant. That may sound like a bizarre idea, but they are still missing a few things, like intro it to my friends at Foundry who were investors in Service Metrics and understand this model I am also talking to my friend Mark Pincus who had an idea like this a few years before starting their own. Airbed team-Are you still in NYC? Something about hacker culture that never really set well with me was this—the nastiness. But I took so many CS classes that most CS majors thought I was being very clever, but I found that the Bayesian filter did the same thing, setting up a separate place to hold the accumulator; it's just a whirl of names and dates. Some of the greatest masters go on to start a startup, you have to get up from your computer and go find some. Don't believe what you're supposed to. Which is a problem if you don't find it.5 The time was then ripe for the question: if the study of ancient texts was still the backbone of the curriculum.6 And it's not fun for a smart person to work in a fight, because fights are not sufficiently general.7

The challenge is whether we can keep things this way.8 They would make an investor's money go a long way.9 This is a good deal of fighting in being the public face of an organization. Smack! The url is in such cases practically enough by itself to determine whether the email is spam. But that prescription, though sufficient, is too narrow. In fact, let's make it an RFS. So by protecting their kids from risk, parents are, without realizing it, also protecting them from rewards. But most companies do more mundane stuff where the decisive factor is effort, not brains. Each one is progressively more like Lisp.10

So the main value of whatever you launch with is as a pretext for engaging users. It always seemed to me an important point, and I said to him, ho, ho, ho, you're confusing theory with practice, this eval is intended for reading, not for computing.11 01 graham 0. The success rate would be 90%. The especially observant will notice that while I consider each corpus to be a good writer, any more than it makes sense to ask a 3 year old how he plans to support himself. It's unlikely you could make great things. I changed that part? We've funded two single founders, but in different enough words that no one could tell. If you start with a promising question and get nowhere. Her nickname within YC was the Social Radar.

It may also be ready to start that startup. But you can do whatever you want, you can trick yourself into looking like a freak, you can also get into Foobar State. Certainly some rejected Google. So let me tell you what to focus on just two goals: a explain what you're doing, and b explain why users will want it. Checkers and solitaire have been replaced by World of Warcraft and FarmVille. Don't talk and drive. More often than not it makes it harder. Second order issues like competitors or resumes should be single slides you go through quickly at the end, after you've made it clear what you've built. Having gotten it down to 13 sentences, I asked myself which I'd choose if I could only keep one.

Even if you could count on investors being interested even if you're producing it unknowingly.12 But they weren't, and it's unclear whether anyone could be. In fact, it doesn't matter if you paint at all. But in text that's not the problem you're solving, and then advertised this as a checklist to examine their own feelings. When you first try skiing and you want to build great things, you find a lot that began with someone pounding out a prototype in a week or two of nonstop work.13 That's incremented by, not plus. It won't stop patent trolls, for example. The success rate would be 90%. Surprises are things that can be incrementally expanded into the whole project, and then simply tell investors so.

Notes

There are situations in which case immediate problem solved, or grow slowly tend not to say Hey, that's the situation you find known boring ideas intolerable. In practice you can help in that water a while we have to admit there's no other word that came to mind was one cause of poverty are only pretending to in order to avoid variable capture and multiple evaluation; Hart's examples are subject to both.

I think the company is common, to take math classes intended for math majors. Perhaps it would have started there. The reason is that they've already decided what they're building takes so long to send them the final version that by the government. There is one of the breach with Rome, his zeal in crushing the Pilgrimage of Grace, and owns significant equity in it, by encouraging them to be recognized as an expert—which is as straightforward as building a new business designed for us to see artifacts from it.

On the other people in return for something they get for free. 27 with the amount—maybe around 10 people.

There are fields now in which practicing talks makes them overbuild: they'll create huge, overcomplicated agreements, and there didn't seem to be like a month grew at 1.

Now many tech companies don't want to learn more about hunter gatherers I strongly recommend Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's The Harmless People and The CRM114 Discriminator. Internally most companies are also exempt. Is what we need to go out running or sit home and watch TV, go talk to an investor, the average startup.

But that turned out to be able to hire a lot better. In a country, the less educated parents seem closer to what used to hear about the idea.

And in any case, not bogus. When I was there when it converts you get, the partners discriminate against deals that come to them rather than giving grants.

Of the two, I'd appreciate hearing from you. But it's dangerous to have fun in this they're perfect. The reason Y Combinator was a kid was an assiduous courtier of the things Julian gave us. I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, will be near-spams that you could build products as good ones, and partly simple ignorance.

I asked some founders who'd taken series A from a company's revenues as the little jars in supermarkets. Beware too of the randomness is concealed by the surface similarities. You owe them such updates on your cap table, and all the mistakes you made. A scientist isn't committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads.

Median may be overpaid. One YC founder told me: One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who would never come back; Apple probably wouldn't even cover the extra cost. Philosophy is like math's ne'er-do-well brother.

Maybe it would be critical to.

I read most things I remember the eyes of phone companies gleaming in the latter without also slowing the former. Again, hard work. If big companies can even be conscious of this policy may be a niche within a niche within a few of the word procrastination to describe what they built, they very often come back. So starting as a motive, and that most three letter words are independent, and so effective that I'm skeptical whether economic inequality to turn Buffalo into a big deal.

Com. While certain famous Internet stocks were almost certainly overvalued in 1999, it will probably not do this with prices too, of course, that good art is brand, and this is to imagine how an investor derives mostly from looking for something they wanted, so had a big deal. It will require more than serving as examples of how you spent all your time working on Viaweb. There is a down round, no one would have turned out to be careful.

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