#i kept talking to him about java

[nightingale-the-lurker]

me and god’s sleepiest soldier have survived the final round of editing and coding

hic est nihilum is live

[floodlandss]

i have like a christian type devotion to logos bcus whenever i'm stuck on something i'm like help me logos and likeNo he is not going to help you learn java Can you lock the fuck in

[christian-ford]

Christian Ford: What You Need To Know

Talkative, passionate, and strong-willed, Christian Ford is either the life of the party or the person that turns on the lights…depending on the day. In actuality, he’s a thinker, and every action means something; still, something about him remains spontaneous, as if he’s playing life by ear just as much as he’s absorbed in a world of decision. What will he do next? Read on to get some idea.

Basics

Name: Christian Victor Ford

Age: 27 (born May 9, 1997)

Gender and Pronouns: cisgender male, he/him/his

Hometown: Seattle, Washington

Occupation: published novelist (two books in a series out, with a third on its way)

Residence: a surprisingly tidy condo on Coral Coast

Brief Biography

Christian was born to two seemingly loving parents in a seemingly perfect place. If that were the case, though, why did he feel so out of step? Seattle was beautiful, at times; but Christian longed for different vistas, a place where he could “imagine”, as he put it. “Imagining” meant dreaming of different universes, different people. It meant the beginnings of what would become his occupation: writing novels.

Christian’s father Michael did not “imagine”. He charmed—neighbors, public figures, extended family (on his mother’s side). And he seemed to change in different lights—in one situation, a leader, then all at once, an avid supporter. In fact, he didn’t seem to have a personality at all. Christian suspected that his father was less than genuine when they were eating Christmas dinner one year and his father said, “I hate this.” The remark was worded so succinctly (unlike him), so callously (what Christian was forced to acknowledge was really him) that Christian could no longer deny what had been in front of him the whole time. His “businessman” of a father really dealt in promises—promises that were paper-thin.

When Christian left for college, flying halfway across the country to Chicago, he implied that he would return home. This was something that his mother, who he loved (and loves) deeply, could have discerned was false. His dad bought it, however. The college graduate that emerged from U Chicago and moved to Windsor Bay made Michael Ford absolutely livid. But that was life! If Christian’s father wanted to enter the town that his predecessors had founded, taking on the dark legacy of the Fords, he could do so. But Mr. Ford would never follow his son anywhere, least of all to a destination of Christian’s own decision. And Mr. Ford had no idea that Christian’s motivations for choosing Windsor Bay were truly Christian’s own. He liked the idea of continuing something (though he’d learn the full extent of what he’d be “continuing” later, once he’d settled into town). And he liked small towns. This would make the move well worth it.

Now Christian writes to his heart’s content, settled on the beach the way he likes. It’s not all fun and games. He’s restless; and he hates the very recent loneliness his lifestyle has granted him (via the popular duology he wrote that seemingly must be “lived up to” with a showstopper of a third novel. It’s driving him absolutely insane). But Christian will likely find that life, despite its reliability at times, doesn’t play by rules and doesn’t do what it “did before”. He’ll learn something; the only question, and one he asks himself on these new, lonely nights with his thoughts as company, is what can be taught to someone with such anger.

His secret, well-kept, is that he is deeply angry. And the kicker? It’s not directed at anything at all. That’s pretty dangerous.

Wanted Connections

Testing the Waters (1/2)—While Christian doesn’t do casual hookups anymore, he does date. (Maybe too enthusiastically… He really likes romance.) If your character (identifying as female) wants to “test the waters” with Christian, going anywhere from Java Junction to Christian’s own place to see if they have a spark, this connection is for you. And you can opt for the meet-cute, or the date itself, or even something more unique. This connection is to learn if there is a connection…or to ease into one.

Closer Than Brothers (0/2)—Christian already has a brother (who he honestly doesn’t like), but if your male character wants a close friend—someone who is loyal and dedicated to those he trusts—then this connection may be for you. Christian loves all kinds of company, but he cherishes those most who are open and real with him. Maybe that’s your character?

Taken Connections

Exes (1/1)—Christian has an ex in town, one that he fell in love with and ended things amicably with (it was a mutual agreement). But something about her still gets to him late at night… If your character wants an ex who is somewhat moody, extremely passionate, and loves both mixed signals and big gestures, this connection is for you.

[haru-kuneko]

I may not be a big fan but there is just something unique and fun about stuff from the 1980's-2000's. Two of my novels, TCOTRB (The Case of The Red Bubble) and "AMANDI," were inspired by a lot of the movies and shows I used to watch as a kid.

There are so many of them that it's gonna take us forever if we're gonna have to mention every single one of them. So, let's start off with three of my personal faves: "Cabin In The Woods", "Detective Conan" and "Martin Mystery."

Cabin In The Woods (2011)

I remember seeing this on TV during the weekends when I was about in middle school. It definitely creeped me out and almost kept me up at night because, seriously, imagine finding out there is a secret underground facility that controls these dangerous creatures beneath the cabin you and your friends are sleeping in.

There are various references to ol' horror films and video games such as The Twins from The Shining, zombies from Left 4 Dead, and the Deadites from The Evil Dead. What makes this movie stand out to me is its unique take on common tropes.

For example, you have a freakin' cult pulling the strings on a group of five unsuspecting teenagers, each must fill these archetypes (The Whore, Athlete, Scholar, Fool, and Virgin) and be killed as a sacrifice to The Ancient Ones (who are basically giant creatures that used to roam the earth thousands of years ago).

Detective Conan (1996 - ongoing)

Based on the manga by Gosho Aoyama, the series follows a seventeen-year-old student detective Shinichi Kudo who suddenly gets knocked out by a couple of members of The Black Organization and forcibly given a strange drug that turns him into a little kid.

Now, he goes by the name Conan Edogawa (which is a combination of Arthur Conan Doyle and Edogawa Rampo) and must keep his identity a secret as he helps crack the world's greatest crime mysteries. I used to like how Conan owns these nifty gadgets such as the voice-changing bowtie, stun-gun wristwatch and super-enhanced shoes that enables him to kick objects at a mile away all made by the elderly Professor Agasa.

I used to resent Kogoro Mori as a kid as he was always mean toward Conan. This guy is supposed to be the detective yet sucks at his job. I swear a kid had to put him to sleep and voice as him to explain his findings, then he ended up taking all the credit.

Martin Mystery (2003-2006)

For some odd reason, I was banned from watching this show when my mom saw how creepy and disturbing it was. Let me tell you how obsessed I was with this show. I remember back in elementary school, a couple of friends (who happened to be boys) and I would constantly talk about it.

Now, to those who don't know, the show is centered around sixteen-year-old Martin Mystery, his stepsister Diana Lombardi, and a caveman named Java as they are tasked to solve all kinds of weird mysteries around the world.

They work for a secret organization known as "The Center," which covertly protects the people of Earth from supernatural threats and investigates the unknown and the paranormal. Their boss is known as M.O.M.

Here's a fun fact: The anime was based on the 1980's Italian comic of the same name by Alfredo Castelli and artist Giancarlo Alessandrini. Unlike the series, the comics are much gritty and mature.

I also loved the iconic title cards such as the one above. You have others like "Curse of the Deep," "Beast From Within," "Attack of the Sandman" and "Terror from the Sky." People would say how lame my book titles are but even those basic corny-a** titles didn't stop Martin Mystery, CITW, and other movies from gaining a sizeable fandom.

[kylo-wrecked]

@madxwonderland :// { cont'd from here! }

— ☾ —

He was squinting at the triptych of the London skyline from the Whitehall Gardens, sucking down a cigarette behind Sir Henry Bartle, and trying to remember where he was supposed to be over an hour ago. 

And it was fucking ugly, a stuffy patchwork of beige, limestone, and rust glittering on the backs of skyscrapers done up in Dubai style. Ben decided then and there that skies shouldn't have glass buildings imposed on them, particularly not if they came with a sepia filter, and any spit of land with this many ugly fucks on its surface should go the way of Java—straight into the sea. 

That London Eye was haunted. 

Ben blew a smoke ring around his view of it and the Christmas tree looking edifice on its right when he noticed a soft, buzzing voice in his ear, and for a blink, he thought he might be living Through the Looking Glass. Could he have fallen asleep on a bullet train? Did he miss Yokohama again? 

He looked down at the little mousy thing speaking with her gaunt-ish, pretty-ish, pale-ish face turned up at him. She was definitely British. This was definitely off the Hungerford. Any minute he expected some putz passing by to tell her she had a face like a wet weekend, 'Chin up, luv, it might never happen,' on his way to the bus stop.

"No." Ben tapped his cigarette into a flowerbed. "You have anything I can sign?"

She wasn't registering his meaning. Who was this chick in the burglar's rig? Really? His eyes, inflamed and dilated like a shark's, hovered over her polyester-nylon top, then her unhemmed black slacks. He wondered, briefly, what the fuck she thought she'd get from him with M&S bucks. 

"I don't want your Monopoly money, Stripes."

She could be a deranged fan. Ben scrutinized her, leaning in close, his smile revealing a crooked canine. She had a hell of a pair of peepers, like emeralds. 

"What about your eyes?"

He kept smiling in his decidedly unfriendly way. Not the remote smile he reserved for cameras, the one reserved precisely for private moments with his fans. 

"I'm joking," he said, in riposte to her silence. "Well, we're talking now. So?"

She clearly didn't want to fuck. She looked like she hadn't been fucked since the Victorian era (or since the lobotomy). 

"Anybody in there?"

[iheartchv]

Hello, I would like to get a COD match up :)

I'm 5ft 6 female, INTJ and Leo. I have a short hair dyed light brown and bangs.

I was told that I'm quiet at work and school. I really enjoy hanging out with friends or someone whom I care about. I love to explore new places such as finding new park, cafe or shops. I also enjoy doing stuff at home such as cooking, watching movies & documentaries, playing games and drawing (in bed lol).

I enjoy talking alot to someone who has the similar interest (I can talk non-stop when given the chance) and to someone who's willing to properly listen. I have a problem with expressing my feelings and I wish to be able to express it to someone who I can trust haha.

I love dogs and I wish to be able to own one. I love dad joke secretly. I enjoy tea instead of coffee. I enjoy learning and gaining knowledge. I can be competitive and slightly perfectionist as I tend to plan things ahead.

Thank you so much for doing this!

🤔 I'll pair you with...

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 🧼

I think Soap would be your match

I feel like he would be both your best friend and life partner

Opposites but you both bring out the best in each other

For this scenario, lets just say that Soap lives near or close to where you do

You met Soap one day when you were shopping;

You had already seen him around for sometime

He was behind you in line at the register

You were short on some money so he offered to pay for what the remaining amount was

He didn't buy much for himself anyway

"Thank you... you didn't have to..."

"True. But I wanted to. I wouldn't be a decent human being if I didn't help you out, would I?"

You were quite shocked at the actions of this man

You thanked him again and gathered your groceries, having enough going out for the day

The next time you saw him, he came into the cafe to buy him a coffee

He noticed someone was looking at you with malicious intent

He knew the guy was planning something with the way he kept looking at you

Looked like he was concealing a gun, probably planning to mug you and steal your bag

He knew these guys all too well, what with all the training he did before after joining the SAS

So with a small cup of java in hand, he came to where you were sitting and tried to start a conversation with you

"Hey, there you are. I was looking for you"

You stared blankly and blinked in confusion

"You... were?"

"Yeah. Why'd you go off without me?"

Your face: 🤨

In a hushed voice he'd tell you there was some man looking at you very strangely but not to look at him, otherwise he will run away and try to jump you when he wasn't around

"I'm trained to notice guys like that."

"Just play along"

He then started to lead you into a conversation, trying to act normal and casual

"I was worried about you."

"Oh... sorry. I thought you'd want me to go on without you." you replied

He asked questions, trying to find something to talk to you about

He finally got a hit when he asked about pets, or animals

He found out you liked dogs

He did, too

The guy finally gave up and walked out

Soap breathed out a sigh of relief like he was holding his breath, and you did too

"Good job, lassie. He'll probably go else where, but... I think I'm gonna stick around to make sure."

He accompanied you home, being your body guard for the day

No sign of the creep since earlier that day

But during this time, you both were properly introduced

"The name suits you for a bonnie lass like yourself."

He flirted, just a little

He loved seeing your light rosy cheeks

Thought you were such a cutie

🤍

Since then, he got to know you more

Soap is always up to go to new places

When going out, is it Soap dragging you around or you dragging Soap around? 😆

"If you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here for you" He'd say to you

He really means it

You've become a special friend to him

And he didn't know when, but he started to fall for you

It was a little crush, nothing harmless

And then he started thinking about you a lot

Then you'd be in his dreams

He'd then notice how his heart would jump and race at the sight of you

And he wants to do everything with you

Welp, he knew it then he had it bad for you

He didn't want to scare you off or ruin your friendship, but he wanted to tell you how he felt for you

When he tells you he waits for your answer....

What do you say? OvO

[the-firebird69]

Frank bisogno and he is Jason who wants to put me in prison in Florida to threaten me for everyone else's stuff personally I find his plan to be trite and pedestrian in that of every other kid in Calcutta obviated the fact that he looks like a kid from Calcutta. To State the obvious Trump has been this character and Jason and they fight over stupid things table company stuff credit card stuff and they beat the s*** out of each other and it doesn't do much to me hopefully it will just carry through and it looks like one of them gets really upset and Jason's couch goes flying well the rest of him is incinerated in a fireball. All that is set off by princess Leia who heard about the experience with Leia not with her and her husband and her husband's been treating her me and ever since saying she has a thing for me doesn't want the boy he couldn't perform the ACT and Jason admits it went in there a bit and he was horrible to our son and committing in the illegal Acts they both were threatening him very badly. And it's he and I and he says where the hell am I that was me doing it and they do it sometimes but usually it's about topics like this he says that I do it it's very sensitive and horrible I was upset and I rate for weeks he says no it was kind of a year thing no it was for years he did say the right thing but okay yeah he pissed the bed the same bed the same mattress they finally got a new one. So I made another weird comments. She's a murderer and he dies and he was obsessive in a brother and their kids are teeny and it never really amounted much and they feel she feels bad for them and she loves him like a mother but she wants kids they can do more and to use them as children and they don't mind it but yeah she's not a tyrant with them and is with him cuz he's a pig doesn't do the right thing ever he's trying though okay it's not really his fault that's beautiful and the couch bottom goes flying it's made out of stone very surprising

Hera

Zues

I'll say this it's her doing it he doesn't want her since she looks funny had a poster of her to find out who it was thought it was Lori who kept saying it was her so he took it down because of that Lori got pissed off started fighting Lily I thought I was going to get out of it and now it's worse. And he says how so you can always drop out of the thing like a piece of poop and that's very funny then you can sell the Java company good for you

Jason

You see him in other movies I don't think so

Mac Daddy

Haha Hera hahaha Zues hey Jason he says what what's the easiest way for you to get into prison oh try and put him in prison okay we'll see you in prison but I won't be there I might visit LOL like I'm visiting Ken in the hospital

I didn't want you in the hospital these people do they suck they're so stupid yeah Jason going on in prison we're going to visit you

Ken

Because of you are friends and stuff no because you want to come in and say oh what happened and he says yeah exactly that so I'm going to try doing it now and it says f*** you. Continue cooking and Stan will fire me to try and blame our friend to force him into the hospital down the street as the final option and it seems to be closed you says no one's open next door and says thank you very much and the lunch and dump some more barbecue sauce on you and he's talking to Stan and of course it's stupid to say yes

Jason cuz I wanted to go there so he can murder a Stan no that's the plan but really a crappy one

Olympus

[dollycas]

Knight Brew (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery) Cozy Mystery 9th in Series Setting - West Virginia Publisher ‏ : ‎ WoodHaven Press (November 11, 2024) Language ‏ : ‎ English Paperback ‏ : ‎ 190 pages ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8987556979 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DMST6FZM Book Nine in the RWA Daphne Award-winning series! Welcome to the Barks & Beans Cafe, a quaint place where folks pet shelter dogs while enjoying a cup of java...and where murder sometimes pays a visit. The Barks & Beans booth at the Renaissance Faire is hopping, since Macy managed to talk her muscled redhead brother into donning a kilt for the occasion. Even better, Macy's boyfriend Titan has come for a visit, so she can't wait to peruse the shops and watch the shows with him. But when a well-rehearsed joust takes a fatal turn, Macy becomes a key witness. Can she believe her eyes, or did someone cloak their ruthless intent with smoke and mirrors? A late night stakeout seems the only way to determine what really happened...but someone scarier than the plague doctor is lying in wait for Macy, and this time, the damsel might not find a way out of her distress. Dollycas's Thoughts The Barks & Beans Cafe is taking its delicious coffee drinks on the road to a booth at a Renaissance Faire. The pooches are not tagging along but Macy has flyers to promote the shelter and the dogs that visit the cafe. Macy has even talked her hunky brother into wearing traditional Scottish garb and her boyfriend Titan arrives in costume too. She will be wearing a Viking dress. One of the biggest events at the faire are the jousting matches. But one goes terribly awry when one of the knights doesn't survive. Macy saw it with her own eyes but she can't explain it. When she learns the cause of death, she tries to remember everything she saw at the arena. Did she see the murderer? Titan and Bo don't want her involved in another investigation but what trouble could she get into doing a teensy weensy late-night stakeout? ____ I have to say I love these characters. Siblings Bo and Macy Hatfield and their significant others Summer Adkins and Titan McCoy are such good genuine people. Their relationships are blooming at a natural pace. Their pets are absolutely adorable - Macy’s Great Dane, Coal, who she dressed up as a dragon for his visit to the fair,  Bo’s kitty, Stormy, and Vera’s dog Waffles. Vera lives next door to Macy and the cafe and she has her fingers on the pulse of the community and sits on her porch to keep an eye on everyone too.  I always open a book in this series with a smile because it truly is like catching up with old friends. Now the murder at the Ren Faire was a complex one with several suspects including someone who works at The Barks & Beans Cafe. The victim was a dastardly individual. Macy knows her talents, people open up to her better than they do to police but she has to be careful not to push too hard. With the end of the faire near Macy took a very frightening risk and I truly was at the edge of my seat trying to see where the author was going in that scene but she's a pro, the moments didn't last too long and she kept the drama in the cozy realm. A subplot had Macy nervous about meeting Titan's family, especially his Granny McCoy. The introduction happened in the final chapter and all I can say is I can't wait for Book 10. Huzzah! Heather Day Gilbert has served up another stellar cozy mystery in Knight Brew. It is another Perfect Escape! Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About the Author HEATHER DAY GILBERT, an RWA Daphne du Maurier Award-winning author and 2-time ECPA Christy Award finalist, enjoys writing contemporary mysteries with unpredictable twists, much like the Agatha Christie books she read growing up. Her novels feature small towns, family relationships, and women who aren’t afraid to protect those they love. Find out more at heatherdaygilbert.com. Author Links Author Website     Facebook Page    Twitter/X    Instagram    Goodreads   Bookbub The Barks & Beans Cafe cozy mystery series in order: Book 1: No Filter Book 2: Iced Over Book 3: Fair Trade Book 4: Spilled Milk Book 5: Trouble Brewing Book 6: Cold Drip Book 7: Roast Date Book 8: Shade Grown Book 9: Knight Brew   Standalone Novella: House Blend Find all of Heather Day Gilbert's books HERE. This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” “As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases.”   Read the full article

[thehazbins]

OOC // Okay I'm at the computer now for a bit, we do gotta do some cleaning today (The house is a mess after D&D last night and breakfast tihs morning) We're just taking it slow though. So Imma reach out to some folks I've been plotting with, I'm thinking of redoing Eve's bio, and might be working on a new character.

If anyone actually wants to know the shit that happened in D&D last night it's under the cut.

First off was the rice thing, my partner divvying up the rice the others brought and said there was none left. They got super aggressive. "What?! That's SO MUCH rice, when we make it at home we have left overs!!!!" Another one: "That's so much rice, did everybody get some?" "Yes" "Still!"

Like ?!?! It's MOST of the dish...?? The rest is gravy cheese and a little chicken. And obviously there's left overs if you make this much, there's three of you and five including us. What the fuck?

Then the DM just like... barely paid attention to me. He would glaze over shit I did regularly and I'm so confused. It was basically him talking to his partners and I'm like ?!?

Also the other two now that they're dating too are very clearly forcing a ship (Which is whatever, they can ship what they want) one character had NO inclination of being romantic now they're like touching other's arm like "ooo what can you do with those. tee hee" and we're like ...?

Merry (my partner) made a joke about getting a lizard and L said "We're here to do this thing, not get a pet." AFTER THREE TIMES the DM has asked if he's carrying his dog or not. I said "Well you have a dog." "That's different, she goes everywhere with me." "And A has a raccoon...?" "That's different, let's go we have stuff to do." FUCKING IS IT? They literally picked up the raccoon and just decided to put it in a bag and the Dm decided it would stick around because we can talk to it sometimes (speak with animals) and we gave it food. Like what?!

My partner just made a comment like "L you do that, Java can you do that, and A you can aid L?" "We're all tied for medicine checks, like java just said." "I just said that 'cause L said it first. Whoever do it, it's fine I'm just going to aid Java." "Well I said it first, not him but okay." Like so aggressively???

The other times we've played so far have been alright and L was really kind when I went off briefly and was like "Let's get Java back in." When it was clear I should have been back and he KEPT insisting until the DM did. I don't know what's up or why the DM just doesn't seem to want to interact with me but I'm confused and I'm not sure the really neat plot is worth feeling like a background prop for the DM, L and A show. I already lived with that for six months. Not really interested in doing it again every other Monday. I have a different game I'd rather play Mondays that's actually very fun and the folks are invested and like US as people too.

[unbounded-cardinality]

What to do with Google?

November, 1998

I entered Susan Wojcicki's home. Actually, it was her home's mother-in-law's cottage in the back. I didn't know who she was. I didn't care. I was there in response to a 25-character ad I had scrounged up in the back of the San Jose Mercury. It was late 1998. Everything was going digital, and I intuited that all the regular-thinking programmers would likely be looking at digital ads, too. That's why I scoured paper ads -- I had to think different, because the valley was already against me. I scarcely knew how deep that resentment would grow in the coming years.

First in line for my job interview was a guy named Sergey. There weren't many words. When he presented me a math problem to encode in C, I demolished it like roadkill. My Yale professors had taught me well. I only learned years later that he had been an NSF fellow in the graduate Department of Computer Science at Stanford, and that he would become a member of the National Academy of Engineering and one of the richest men in the world.

Next in line was a chirpy fellow named Craig. We chatted at length about indexing web sites and related questions concerning coherent persistence of data. Craig was a bright guy, but I was able to keep pace with his line of questioning. We circled around different strategies, and again, only years later, did I learn that one of our central talking points was what would come to be known as Page Rank. Craig himself would be recognized as employee #1.

Finally, I spoke a bit with a gentle, soft-spoken fellow named Larry. We exchanged a few words, and then he was off with a phone call.

The three guys I met that day were of course Sergey Brin, Craig Silverstein, and Larry Page -- the co-founders of Google and their first employee.

When we met, Google was hardly four weeks old. They were focused on search and programming in C and Python. I had retrained my programming skills on the new language of Java, and alas, we went our separate ways. Whenever I bumped into Sergey in the years that followed -- whether at a trade show or a Mexican eatery in downtown Palo Alto -- he was eminently polite. I don't care whatever happened to Sergey since then; I will always remember him as the youthful, nice guy who smiled and politely greeted me on the streets of Palo Alto.

June, 2004

I had just returned from East Africa, where I served in the Peace Corps while our country waged war in the Middle East. I scoured every resource I could for my next gig. I had to, as I knew elements in the valley would do all they could to block my advancement. I kept thinking about Google -- it's upcoming IPO, the wealth of problems they advertised on their website. I thought I would pause my objection to working for a search company and just see if six years later now I might find a comfortable place there. And if I made a few bucks -- let's just say after working for almost nothing in Africa -- I might just feel justified with a small windfall from Google's IPO.

There was no call back. There was no in-person interview. There was merely a brief email explaining that HR did not perceive that I was a good match.

The monopolists had arrived at Google.

Reach of Google inextricably embedded in the valley

Although tangential to the story of Google, I continue to benefit from its largesse -- as a consumer of technology, as an author of software, as an employee at start-ups financed by present or former Google staff. Google, in short, is so entwined in the story of Silicon Valley that even someone like myself -- someone whom the valley has notably marginalized -- feels a bit uncertain about a Justice-mandated assessment against Google.

You shouldn't break or share Google's data

The better Google's data, the better search results are. The better search results are, the better off humanity is in the aggregate.

These are statistical assertions. But I would say -- without ever having logged onto a single Google server -- that this probably is the case.

You can't just break apart that data. I submit that sharing that data is not that great an option either. That is, sharing data -- so the argument goes -- might level the playing field for search. But you have to imagine what this means: either competitors access Google server farms directly, or Google does a data dump and some competitor reproduces Google server farms. The latter is not going to happen -- no way. It's expensive and doubles our entropic footprint -- this amidst what might be called our direst hour of climate change.

So then does Google share access to its server farms? This is a dicey proposition as well.

Can you sensibly break apart Google?

I don't know enough about the firm's divisions or revenue profile to answer this question. However, I doubt if a conventional break-up would matter -- let's say breaking away hardware from search, or breaking away software services (GMail, GPC, etc) from search.

In any of these scenarios, you are still left with the big gorilla in the room: Google search.

Create investment pool by garnishing future revenue

I believe Google's importance to society is so immense -- I have called it a national treasure elsewhere in this blog -- that I believe any conventional anti-trust thinking here just does not work. But there are still ways to penalize Google's anti-trust behavior, and I propose one.

Justice should consider garnishing Google revenue and creating an investment pool for start-ups. The fund would be managed outside of Silicon Valley and advisably would exclude Stanford and valley interests.

This accomplishes several things. First of all, I believe we would see more venture deals per year. We would most certainly squander more capital -- but imagine, there would be more good-paying jobs to go around, and importantly, we would cultivate more young talent.

Compare that to now: venture companies are whimsical about whom they fund and how many deals they make each year. Meanwhile, a young Computer Science graduate may struggle finding her first job.

So in short, I am saying this: take money from Google and spend it liberally across the country, across everything. We will see a lot of start-up failures, but out of that destruction we will create something even better.

How large should fund be?

Large. Really large. For example, if valley risk capital is 100b, then achieving 100% of that is fair game, in my opinion. Valley capitalists will frown on this as it obviously would feel like artificial competition orchestrated by the government. My response: venture capitalists have gotten too conservative. Let's mix it up, and mix it up fast.

Whatever happens to Google sets a precedent.

Whatever happens with the anti-trust case against Google will surely set a precedent for other technology behemoths. So it's important we get this right.

What will happen with the other big players? Amazon, Apple, Facebook, and now NVIDIA.

Would breaking apart any of them make sense? Would breaking them apart now -- on what feels like the eve of an embattled world -- make any sense?

My general reaction in all of these scenarios is that government interference is undesirable. But we have to see the wider picture -- the macro-picture: these last 30 years have been a resounding success for a handful of firms and their employees, but that success has also coincided with a wider erosion in small businesses, a dwindling middle-class, and a notable uptick in drug overdoses.

Maybe what happened in the valley has nothing to do with what happened to the rest of America. Maybe it does. I don't really care what the answer is. But if I am going to spend money on America, I would do it sooner rather than later.

August 16, 2024

[gazlocked]

𝟏𝟓: 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— Chapter 15 of Call of Duty: Kinktober (2023)

In which Alex gives Gaz the perfect "pick-me-up".

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & Alex Keller

𝐱: workplace setting, suggestive, non-sexual pairing, mentions john price and simon riley, 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈 A/N: i ship these two so mf hard, it's not even funny. (736 words)

The coffee machine whined before seeping inky, dark liquid, filling the glass carafe below. Gaz massaged the back of his neck, his head tilted back in a lazy stance of impatience.

Boy, he thought, am I in for a day.

The breakroom had been relatively quiet aside from the sputtering of the coffee machine. It should have been easy for Gaz to hear the door open behind him, followed by heavy boots and a voice.

Alas, he didn’t.

“Garrick!”

Gaz jolted as a hand clapped against his back. An arm decorated with greys and blacks hung around his shoulders. He followed the designs until they disappeared behind him. He turned his head, tracing the bared fangs of a colorful, Japanese-styled cobra before meeting the eyes that studied him.

“Huh?”

“I said…‘good morning’ and ‘how are you,'” Alex grinned, the corners of his eyes deepening with humor. “Well?”

“M’good,” Gaz mumbled, scratching his chin. He scoffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Sorry, mate. It’s been a long morning.”

“Yeah? No kidding.” Alex quietly laughed, nodding his head down at the brewing coffee. His arm remained around Gaz for a moment as he looked back over.

“Gotta be careful with caffeine,” he continued as if he spoke from experience. The daylight coming from a nearby window caught the blues of his eyes. Gaz noticed, upper lip twitching with a smirk.

Gaz nodded. He relaxed under the warmth of Alex’s arm. The touch quelled the tension in his back. His eyes settled on the pot before him, and his foot began to tap. “I’ll be careful."

He was careful, but he was more than ready for that coffee. That kickstart it would offer after a few sips. That internal hug from a mug…

Alex’s arm slid away, his hand rubbing the muscles of the Sergeant’s back tenderly. Gaz didn’t even catch the words the man spoke, too lost in his thoughts about his cuppa when-

The tips of Alex’s fingers were noticeably colder as they brushed over the collar of his shirt, igniting his skin. The sensitivity of his neck was exposed the second Gaz sucked in a sharp breath, body flinching before he stiffened again.

Alex watched, head tilting as his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“On edge, are we?” the man quipped, lips pulling into a slow smile. Gaz ignored the heat crawling up his neck and to his cheeks. His head swung back in forth as he took a pointed step forward.

“Like I said, Keller,” he huffed. “Long morning.”

Gaz pressed against the counter, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands fumbled with the stack of disposable cups. All thoughts had muddled into one: the ghost of Alex’s touch lingering on his skin.

Alex opened his mouth to speak, stopping promptly as the door swung open with a swarm of words. It had been John, talking absentmindedly with the Lieutenant on his heels. Alex’s head snapped to the two, while Gaz kept a tense back against the noise.

“Ah, just the blokes I need. Kyle. Alex. My office, will you?” John spoke quickly as he flitted from the fridge and back to the door, a bottle of water in his hand. Ghost trailed him like a shadow, something of a file in hand that caught the Captain’s attention once again.

“Sure thing, sir,” Alex returned with a short nod, his body facing the door as John and Ghost exited. He took a glance over his shoulder, pursing his lips.

Gaz kept his head lowered, methodically ripping open a third packet of sugar and pouring it into the cup. He paid too much attention to the way it dissolved in the steaming pool of java.

What the fuck was that, Kyle?

Alex reached out, patting the Sergeant’s left shoulder as if to either say ‘see you later’ or ‘I know, it’s okay’. The thought of both made Gaz close his eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“Can’t keep the Captain waiting,” Alex called over his shoulder as he walked out, the door closing painfully slow behind him. Gaz didn’t move until he heard the ‘click’. He deflated immediately, dispelling a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Bloody…Christ,” he growled, slamming a hand on the counter. Gaz snapped a lid over his cup before taking it in a tight hold, ignoring the subtle tent that had set up camp between his thighs.

read the rest of this work on my ao3 (𝟏𝟖+ || 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈)

© 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐆 || 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 / 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 / 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞.

[super-unpredictable98]

Heavenly | The Mortal Instruments AU

Chapter 5: The High Warlock of Brooklyn

Warning: Strong language, a little angst

(Masterlist)

"Hey, y/n... I just wanted to check on you, you said you wanted to be alone, but I'm a little worried. I also wanted to explain the whole Clary thing, it really isn't the way you think. I miss you, and I love you, and I hope we're okay. Anyway, call me. Or just show up at the apartment, I'll be there all day. Did I already say I love you? Okay, um, bye I guess." Simon's voice echoed around your flat through the answering machine.

You didn't know how to feel, on one side you were angry at Clary and Jace for trying to drag you into their mess, on the other you were angry at yourself for not having the nerve to be dragged into their mess, after all, the world needed your abilities. It would be like Spiderman deciding he doesn't wanna be a superhero and just ignoring everything bad going on around him. 

And just to make it worse, you were angry at Simon, you were not sure why... Maybe because he didn't tell you that the girl was Clary, maybe because he kept being friends with her even after what happened, maybe because part of you thought he still had feelings for her. 

You were angry at Clary for being the girl, for being so beautiful, for being so nice. It was bad enough to imagine Simon with Isabelle, now you had someone else to worry about.

Most of the day was spent in your bed, looking at the wall and thinking, considering every possibility, even going back to California with your parents and praying that all of this goes away. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it, so as the night came, you grabbed your phone and...

"y/n?" Simon picked up after a single ring.

"Yeah, hi."

"Thank God, I thought you'd never talk to me again."

"Well, you're my boyfriend, I just needed some time to think."

"Are you mad at me?" He asked hesitantly.

"A little..."

"Because of the Clary thing? Because I don't feel like that anymore, I love you."

"You understand why I have a hard time believing it? You still live together, you're still so close. I can't imagine losing feelings for someone that fast."

"That's because I haven't, I love her, but as a friend. Maybe I just mixed things up in my head, all I know is that I've never felt this way about anyone before and I feel it with you."

"You could've told me," you felt tears gathering in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, angel, I'm really sorry. I should have," he agreed, his voice trembling. "I just didn't want to make things weird, I thought it wasn't important anymore and you were already weirded out when I told you my roommate was a girl."

"I understand, but now it just feels like you were trying to hide it from me because you still like her."

"I would never play with your feelings like this y/n, I swear, you know I'm not like that. If I weren't completely over her, I wouldn't have said that I love you. Can I please come by and explain everything better? I wanna see you, please."

"Fine," you sighed.

"Don't move, I'll be there in a minute."

You thought it was just a figure of speech, but in less than a minute, you heard a knock on your door. Simon was on the other side, not one single drop of sweat or shadow of exhaustion from running nearly a mile from his apartment to yours.

"Hey," you tried not to look at him, not wanting to be hypnotized by his charm. "So what is it?"

"I understand your frustration, I would feel the same in your place, but there's nothing between Clary and me except for friendship."

"How can I ever live up to Clary Fairchild? She's the most powerful shadowhunter, she's the big hero of the story, she's the most special girl, she's your first love... If she loved you back you two would be together now, you're only with me because she rejected you." 

"The universe has a weird way of making things happen. Maybe if I wasn't heartbroken that day I went to Java Jones you wouldn't have therapized me and we wouldn't be together, because I would've been way too shy to talk to a beautiful girl like you," Simon followed you inside, closing the door behind him.

"I feel like a consolation prize... And I don't wanna feel like this, because she's your friend. I don't wanna be the person who dislikes her partner's friends because of stupid jealousy," you felt tears running down your face again.

"Everything that happened to me brought me to you. The failure, the heartbreak, it was like a bridge that made it possible for me to meet the one who actually loves me and who I love more than anything," he licked his thumb and used it to wipe your tears, making you instantly relax. "Clary is my friend, I love her as a friend, that's it. There's no living up to, there's no competition, both of you are important to me. I love you so much and it makes me sad that you feel that way."

"I love you too," you muttered under your breath. 

"Do you forgive me, angel?" He wrapped his arms around you. 

"Yeah," you finally nodded. "But I'm still not joining your friend's cult."

"That's fine, I'm not here to talk about that, I only care about us... Do I get a kiss then?" Simon gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and catching his lips in a passionate kiss. 

"Are we good?" He asked while taking you to bed.

"We're good..."

—————————————————— 

"Where are we going again? Who is this Bane?"

"Magnus Bane, he's a warlock," Simon explained. "Clary invited us to a party he's throwing. Last time I went to one, I got dragged by vampires, I couldn't even enjoy it."

"Oh nononono we're not going there! I don't wanna see Clary, plus that's the place where they kidnapped you!"

"Don't worry, angel, they can't get me now. And Clary is feeling really guilty, she said she wanted to apologize."

"Wait, you've been talking to her? About me? She must think I'm so pathetic! I know she's your friend and I wouldn't ask you to change that, but I don't ever wanna see her again."

"We were talking about how shitty I felt for hurting the girl I love," Simon gave your neck a lick hoping to calm you down, but it only made you angrier.

"Hey! Don't! Don't use your Twilight powers on me! I have always been team Jacob and you're on thin ice!" You tried to wipe it away, but that familiar excitement and the butterflies in your stomach were already there, it was too late. And you hated how much you loved that feeling.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make you feel better. I told you, there's nothing to worry about and I know you'll be great friends if you ever want to. If you don't, that's fine by me, as long as you're happy and still mine... Don't think I could live without your monthly supply of period blood," he teased.

"You dollar store Spike! That's the only reason?"

"Of course not, I can't live without you and I'm already half dead."

"Fine! I'd love to be civil and awkward with Clary, but the demon killers are just gonna try to drag me again, they won't take no for an answer..."

"I promise you y/n, she told me if you don't wanna do it, you don't have to, she won't insist," he chuckled, lifting you up in his arms. "If you really don't wanna go, I'll call her and let her know, but I think we would have a great time."

"You really think so?" You held onto his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I really do."

"Okay, you can put me down, I'll go with you."

"Nah, I'll just take you," he teased as you headed towards a weirdly obscure, industrial side of Brooklyn.

"You're such an ass..." You grunted, but made no effort to come down.

"Oh, sorry, you don't like it when I carry you? Cause I can stop."

"No, I like it..." You quietly hid your face in the crook of Simon's neck.

"Finally!" Alec rolled his eyes as the two of you approached the gates.

Everyone was already there, Alec and Isabelle seemed extremely annoyed for having to wait. Jace didn't seem to mind all that much, mainly because he never seemed to care about anything, that was his thing. Clary was the only one who seemed happy to see them.

"Hey, Si, y/n! I'm so glad you guys decided to come," she moved to give you a hug as Simon put you down.

Alec huffed before turning and knocking. "It's me... And the others," he added unenthusiastically. 

"Come up, sweetie, there has been a last-minute change in location, but nothing we can't manage," a soothing voice came through the intercom.

That place was amazing, the decoration was just the right amount of chic and fun. Even without any clue about the shadow world, you'd immediately know a wizard of some sort lived there. The walls were covered in dark paintings with mystical motifs, the lighting was dim and inviting, it smelled like incense, and you were greeted by yet another cat.

"Hey, little guy!" You kneeled to pet him and he immediately started purring, rubbing his head against your thighs. You didn't even notice as the cat's owner emerged from his bedroom wearing shimmery trousers and a black see-through shirt. "Aww! You're so cute!"

"And who is this?" Magnus asked, taking your hand to help you up.

"I'm y/n," you grinned, finally feeling more at ease. That man was not at all what you expected, you thought he would look scary and menacing, or very broody like Jace, but he was like a human disco ball. "I love your outfit, so stylish!"

"Thank you, y/n," he smirked, certainly knowing how amazing he looked. "I haven't seen you before. Alec didn't mention a new member in your gang."

"She's my girlfriend," Simon raised his hand timidly.

"And a child of the Nephilim I see," Magnus tilted his head as he checked the rune on your wrist before looking up at you as if staring into your soul. "So you like cats?"

"I love them, yours is just the cutest. I wish I could adopt one, but my building doesn't allow pets," you sighed wistfully. 

"Hmmm I like you, that's a good one," he finally concluded, winking at Simon in approval. You had no idea they could get along, Simon being so shy and Magnus being so extravagant, but they were both downworlders, so maybe that was a stronger bond than you anticipated.

"Are you kidding me, Mag?" Alec rolled his eyes, certainly still mad at Simon for picking you instead of his perfectly gorgeous sister. 

"What? She has good taste, and Chairman Meow is an excellent judge of character, he seems to like her," the warlock gestured to the cat, rubbing himself against your legs.

"Yeah, y/n is pretty okay," Isabelle added, almost as if to calm down her brother. She wasn't your biggest fan by any means, but she couldn't deny how happy you made Simon and you were definitely an improvement from his stupid crush on Clary. 

"Wow, I didn't know you loved her so much," Jace mocked with a chuckle. 

"There's no way anyone could not love her," Clary added, finally breaking the silence. She felt horrible for causing the fight between you and your boyfriend. "She's amazing."

She was antsy to find some time to speak with you in private, but the last thing you needed was a pity speech from the perfect Clary Fairchild... It still stung that she was the first one to hear 'I love you' from the man you loved with all your heart.

"High praise coming from you I imagine..." You simply sneered.

"Enough! You're all bringing down the aura in my house," Magnus clapped dramatically before offering his arm for you to take. "Let's get to that party. I made up a new drink I think you'll love it, y/n."

"I don't usually drink on school nights-"

"Tonight you do, darling."

[bookishjules]

Prompt: “For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”

Ship: Jimon

:D :D

alright babe I see you ;) enjoy ✨️

(send me a prompt!)

For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something . . . Simon's pencil lingered on the paper a moment before continuing in a frantic scribble . . . Jace, on the other hand, would rather continue on as if that night never happened. He hasn't brought it up once, and every time I try to talk about it, he deflects, pretends he doesn't know what I'm talking about. Like, okay, maybe you made a drunken mistake, but at least own up to it?

Simon sat back and pushed his notebook away from him. The point of his pre-lyric writing journaling was to bring his emotions to the surface, but he had a feeling he was going to have to take things slowly today.

It had been an accident. It had been a stupid Stupid Simon moment. It was very possible--likely, even--that Simon hadn't been the only one with a lapse in judgement. He was pretty sure he'd made the first move, but then again, he had been drunk. And how much did one move count for, anyway, considering how far they had gone past a hand on a knew or a peck on the cheek, or whatever that first move had been?

"Refill on your coffee?" a voice asked from above him.

Simon startled, looking up at the barista who had spoken--it was Patrick, the ginger kid who usually ended up working the late nights at Java Jones.

Before Simon could gather his thoughts enough to nod his head, Patrick was producing a steaming mug of fresh drip coffee from behind his back. "Lyrics not coming tonight?" he said, replacing Simon's empty mug on the table.

Nothing eluded the Java Jones baristas. He sometimes wondered if they kept files on their regulars.

Simon shrugged. "If I could even get to the lyric writing . . ."

There was a ding across the cafe. Simon glanced over at the sound and saw no other than Jace Herondale pulling open the front door. His eyes wandered determinedly around the room before finding Simon at his table in the corner.

"Oh good, looks like your lyrics have arrived," Patrick said conspiratorially.

The barista faded away just as Jace was reaching Simon's table. He took the seat opposite Simon, who quickly flipped over the notebook he'd been writing in.

Jace wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at him.

Simon raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"We need to talk."

It was Simon's turn to stare. "Yeah, no shit." He paused, then said in a lower voice, "I've been trying to talk about this for days, Jace."

"I just-- I don't get it."

"What isn't there to get? We--"

"Oh shut it, Lewis, I get that part." Jace ran a hand through his golden hair, and Simon couldn't help but imagine what it had felt like between his fingers--soft and thick and-- "But why you?"

Ouch.

"Thanks so much for coming all the way to Brooklyn to tell me that," Simon said.

Jace went on. "Look, I'm sure you're feeling similarly. We can hardly keep up a civil conversation--there's no way this wasn't a mistake."

He was trying to convince himself. Simon could hear it in his voice. It was true that he and Jace annoyed the shit out of each other, but that didn't mean he didn't know his friend.

"I know most people find me irresistible." Jace was saying, the glint of humor in his eyes obviously forced, "I'd just assumed you'd be immune. But I came here because I thought we should clear the air and--what?"

Simon was shaking his head. "You really didn't feel anything Jace?"

Silence.

"Could've fooled me," Simon said. He stood, his coffee refill untouched, and grabbed his notebook. "Come back when you can be honest with yourself."

He wasn't mad. Not exactly. He'd always been better at reading other people, and he knew there wasn't a chance in Hell that Jace didn't want this, them--didn't want whatever had happened the other night to happen again.

Simon walked out onto the sidewalk, heading for his band's shared apartment. If anything, Jace had definitely brought with him a whole host of lyrics--just like Patrick had prophesied.

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 7 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8

Jude did not lose her job at Java Island.

The boss was certainly not happy, but once she produced the agent's card he was suddenly very taken with the idea that a celebrity might have their origin story as a waitress at his cafe. So he let her stay.

She finished her shift, floating from table to table and not any of Cardan's crew or anyone else could bring her down from this high. Jude sang as she made coffee, sang as she wiped tables, and when she got home she sang when the excitement was too much for her to be able to sleep.

Early the next morning, as soon as was polite, Jude called the agent. He picked up after two rings.

"This is Bryern" he said in a clipped voice.

"Hi," Jude said, breathlessly. She tried again. "My name is Jude. You left me a business card yesterday and said I should call."

"Jude?"

At that moment, Jude remembered he she had never given him her name.

"Ain't No Sunshine," she prompted. "Juilliard, practice room B."

"Ah yes! How could I forget? You know I saw a lot of students that day, and Juilliard is lucky to have you."

"I'm, ah, actually not a student," Jude corrected, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say.

"Even better!" Bryern said. "I won't have to share any of the credit for discovering you! Listen. I'm glad you called. I've got a meeting with a bunch of producers this afternoon, but my talent cancelled on me and now I'm going in empty handed. Can you make it down to LA by 4pm?"

That sounded impossible.

"Sure," Jude said weakly.

How could she say no? For this, she would make the impossible happen.

"Great! I'll text you the address. This is your number?"

"Yeah, this is me."

"Alright. See you soon, kiddo."

Bryern hung up the phone and Jude stared at nothing.

It was certainly possible to get a flight if she left right this second. But after paying rent two days ago, and a week away from her next pay cheque, Jude had all of fifty dollars to her name. That left only one option. She hated it, but it was the only one.

She whipped around her room and put a change of clothes, a handful of toiletries, and the little makeup she owned into a bag. She collected her wallet, charger and passport. Then she tugged her shoes on, walked up the stairs, and knocked on Cardan's door.

It took a few goes to get Cardan out of bed, and she was expecting that. She knocked loudly, insistently, and would just have to apologise later. After a couple of minutes, he arrived, clearly straight out of bed.

Cardan's eyes flickered when he saw who was at his door.

"Hey," he said muzzily. His gaze rolled languidly down her body, and his tongue licked at his bottom lip. "I was just dreaming about you."

"Cardan," Jude said.

"Jude," he returned.

"I know this is so shit. But I need to ask you a favour."

Cardan yawned. Jude needed him to help her, but the lazy pace he was moving at made her want to slap him awake.

"Well you've got good timing," he said, "because I'm pretty sure I owe you. Or at least, I owe dream-you."

Out with it. He clearly wasn't fully functioning yet, and there was no time for beating around the bush.

"I need to fly to LA," she told him. "Would you lend me the money?"

That got his attention. Cardan raised his eyebrow, and stood a little straighter.

"Any particular reason for the sudden departure?" he asked.

"I called Bryern this morning. That agent, from yesterday. And he said if I could make it over to LA by 4pm today, he would introduce me to a bunch of producers. And I... I have to go, Cardan, this wil never, ever happen to me again I just know it, I..."

Cardan had walked away. Jude paused, uncertain if he was coming back or if this was her dismissal.

Then he returned, and handed her a matte black credit card.

"Here," he said. "This should get you there and make sure you're fed and sheltered etc, etc."

"What's this?"

"My credit card, what does it look like?"

"Don't you have... uh, cash?"

Cardan stared at her. "Do people still carry cash? Jude, it's fine, take it. There's a $100, 000 limit, don't spend it all in one place." He winked at her.

"I'll pay you back," Jude promised. "And I won't spend any more than I have to."

Cardan just waved her away.

"You can pay me back when you're famous and I need to borrow money from you. Now off you go, you have a plane to catch."

Jude exhaled a breath she didn't know she had been keeping in.

"Thank you," she breathed, and then went to the airport.

////////

Jude was gone for three weeks, all up.

Twenty-two days, to be exact, and Cardan knew this because that was the number of days he had not slept.

When Jude had showed up at his door all those weeks ago, he had thought he might have still been dreaming.

After that morning in the practice room, Jude had gone back to work at the café, and then immediately went to a shift at the diner. He didn't get a chance to talk to her, and then when she got home it was late and he knew that she liked to sleep early. So he contented himself with listening to her sing while she pottered around, and figured he'd try catch her the next day.

Of course, after Jude had come on the piano and he had left school with with a boner that chafed on the zipper of his jeans, she had been on his mind all day. When he realised he wasn't going to see her, he stood in the shower and replayed the sounds of her pleasure and the taste of her pussy until he found his release.

Only to walk out, hear her voice floating up through the vent and find himself hard all over again.

No wonder then, when he finally fell asleep it was Jude he dreamed about. And in his dream, it was him on the piano and Jude on her knees.

And then he had woken up to find Jude in real life right on his door step. It took an enormous amount of self control to lean the door, feign nonchalance and to not drag her back to bed with him.

At first, Cardan had been more than happy to help Jude off to LA. She had an amazing talent and if all that was in her way was a few hundred dollars, that was an easy fix.

But then he went off to school, came home and worked on his composition, and when he stopped playing the silence rang out like a death toll.

It sunk in then that he had been relying on Jude to help him fall asleep ever since he had heard her that day, and had no idea what to do without her. Had stripped the carpet and kept the vent open just to bring the sound up.

Cardan tried, he really did.

He tossed and turned for three nights, before he reached for the Grey Goose in his top cupboard. It helped a little, but the sleep was patchy and the dreams were bad.

Over the next couple of weeks, Cardan started to unravel, and was so ashamed that all it had taken was for Jude to leave the downstairs apartment. He sat at the piano to compose, but no inspiration came. He tried to practice, but his fingers rebelled against him. And this time, there were none of Valerian's antics, or Locke's parties, or Nicasia's kisses to distract him.

Cardan did think once about calling Jude, just to hear her voice. Even if she was just talking. Then he realised he didn't actually have her number; they had always just found each other in person.

Probably for the best, he thought. How pathetic was he that he couldn't cope without her?

Cardan went out that night, and even thought that he might take someone home. Sometimes sex helped him fall asleep.

But as many people as he met, none of them were Jude, and that particular crime was so unforgivable that he despised them all.

Fucking hell, how did he used to do this?!

Cardan went home, drunk but somehow still not sleepy, and lay down on the floor by the vent. No voices came through it, but he stayed there anyway, and poured vodka down his throat until he passed out.

****

Don't worry Cardan, she's coming back in the next chapter x

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

[qqueenofhades]

It's so good to have you back! I actually went and got myself a tumblr account in the meantime, so now I can properly follow you instead of just lurking anonymously 😄 Don't have an actual prompt for you, although I saw that you've been watching shadow and bone, and I'd certainly love to read anything you write about those guys if you happen to feel like it 😇 In any case, welcome back, and it's great to hear that things are looking up for you ❤

Haha, thanks! Since you didn’t specify a prompt, and because people seem very excited about this Helnik modern AU that is, to nobody’s surprise, becoming a full-length fic, I will give you an excerpt from chapter one for Important Reasons.

Nina boots up the secured OS, opens Tor, and navigates to a secured messaging site, accessed via a one-time key that will deactivate when used (another one of Jesper’s inventions) and randomly generate a new encryption code that she has to access elsewhere. The Crows have gotten very good at not putting all their eggs in one basket, but when you run a successful grey-hat hacktivist collective that has made a specialty out of pissing off powerful people (including in this very country), it’s a necessary fact of life. There are five of them: Nina herself, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, and the boss, Kaz Brekker. It took a long time for them to reveal real names; for the first few years, they communicated only under pseudonyms. Nina is “Heartrender.” Inej is “Wraith.” Jesper is “Sharpshooter,” and Wylan is “Runaway.” As for Kaz, their mysterious, mercurial man-in-charge who was teaching himself C#, Java, and VBScript at twelve, running Nazi-doxxing ops with Anonymous and Bellingcat at sixteen, and establishing himself as the head of his own feared gang of cyber-criminals at eighteen, he’s “Dirtyhands” or sometimes simply “The Bastard.” The epithet is apt. You don’t survive in this life by making friends or trusting your enemies, and Kaz has a knack for not doing either. Not that Nina’s about to complain. God knows, especially now, she could use a little ruthlessness.

She signs onto the Crows’ dedicated chat channel and sends an innocuous-looking phrase about bad weather which actually means, “I am in deep shit and need to talk to someone right now.” Then she waits, staring at the screen, wondering how long it’ll take to be answered. Kaz and Inej are currently based in Amsterdam, an hour behind, which isn’t too bad. They’re probably awake, not least since neither of them keep a remotely standard schedule, but there are any number of other things they could be doing, most of which are flagrantly illegal. But it’s only ten minutes or so until Nina’s notifications ping, and a message pops up:

Wraith: I’ll call you. Give me a couple min.

Heartrender: Primary phone got snatched. Use burner.

Wraith: Oh shit. Nvm. Calling now.

With that, it’s no more than a few seconds until Nina’s burner phone starts buzzing, she fumbles a little as she grabs it, and tucks it under her ear. “Inej?”

“Nina?” Her best friend sounds understandably worried. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“I – ” Nina’s relatively sure that the FSB doesn’t have a fix on this crappy throwaway phone, since she changes the SIM card every month, gets a new number, and otherwise does her best to make sure they don’t, but deeply ingrained habits are not easily shaken. She shoots a glance at the door, making sure her parents aren’t listening. Finally, having been assured that this call is as free of outside interference as can ever be assured in the modern world, she says, “I got busted last night. Big time. They meant business.” There’s a quaver in her voice. She chokes it down.

“Oh Nina, no. Did they hurt you?”

“No, but they – like I said, they were not screwing around. They openly threatened to send me to IK-2 if I kept doing my stuff, and – I’m not giving up. You know I’m not. But it might… it might be time to get out of Russia for a while.”

“Where are you now? Are you safe?”

“At my parents’ house. My backup gear is here. But there’s no way I can work here. They don’t know the half of it, and if they did, they would hit the roof. I don’t have anywhere else I can think of, and…” Nina trails off. “Is there any way I can come to Amsterdam with you?”

“I don’t know.” Inej is clearly thinking hard. “The Crows aren’t exactly a registered company that can offer you a work visa. Kaz is Dutch, obviously, but he could probably only sponsor you for permanent settlement if he married you, and I doubt you want that – ”

“I doubt you want it either – ”

“I have right to remain, at least until Brexit goes through,” Inej says, evidently deciding to power right on past that comment and pretend she didn’t hear it. She and Kaz might be living together, and obviously devoted to each other, but they’re still not yet at the “actual relationship” stage of things, and for all Nina knows, they might never be. “Unless – wait.”

“What?”

“I was joking about Kaz marrying you,” Inej says slowly. “But what if it’s not such a bad idea?”

“What? No. I am not marrying Kaz!”

“Not him,” Inej says. “Someone else. Someone with a non-Russian passport who could theoretically get you out of there. It would be hard, and we’d have to do some work to make the relationship look real, but Jesper could help with whatever we needed forged. Have we ever mentioned Matthias Helvar to you?”

“Matthias who?”

“I’ll take that as a no. He’s another one of Kaz’s… contacts. Norwegian. We helped him get out of jail a year ago, and he owes us a big favor. He’s also stupidly honorable, unattached, and probably pathologically unable to resist helping a lady in distress.” To Nina’s horror or her hope, Inej sounds like she is actually considering this. “If he married you, he might – ”

“If he what? He was in jail?” Nina is aghast. “So he’s a criminal?”

“You know,” Inej says, bone-dry. “We’re all criminals.”

“Yes, but if he was in jail, that means he got caught, and that means he’s a stupid criminal. I could marry a criminal, but I draw the line at a stupid criminal.”

“He wasn’t – it was complicated.” Inej’s tone portends a very long story they definitely do not have time to get into. “Anyway, Kaz helped get him out, and he lives in Oslo now. You could do a lot worse than Norwegian spousal citizenship.”

“This is insane,” Nina says weakly. “Is he ugly? He must be ugly.”

“Really.” Despite the gravity of the situation, Inej is definitely trying not to laugh. “That’s your objection? For the record, no. He’s not ugly. He’s just your type.”

“Oh. Oh, like that��s any better. He can’t possibly be my type. Inej – ”

“Look,” Inej interrupts. “Do you want to get arrested or not?”

“No,” Nina says meekly. “No, I really don’t.”

“So should I ask him?”

This is nuts. This is nuts this is nuts this is nuts this is nuts. Especially since Nina genuinely is starting to play the idea around in her head. Just for a moment. That’s all.

“Maybe,” she says, after a very long pause. “But I am not necessarily agreeing to this.”

“Of course not.” Inej sounds annoyingly smug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”