#interview coding problems

[coyotetatertot]

Promotional for Tate's company in my interp of A Better World AU.

FULL TEXT BENEATH THE CUT‼️‼️

God, I love exploring what he can do if he hadn't suffered through his father abandoning them and then YEARS of caretaker burnout as he tried in vain to heal his dad. What if he hadn't learned to fear his intellect and skill. What if Appalachia hadn't been cut out of him by being raised in the Bay Area. What if his abilities and cultural identity were both nurtured and encouraged by loving parents and a strong educational support system. What then. 👁️

I think he definitely still has his issues, because public figures often do lol. Fame causes so many problems. But fuck if I don't wanna let this lil scruffy genius out of his mental cage of repression, burnout, and depression. I think he's wild, enthusiastic, and has so much heart and spirit underneath all those layers of bullshit. 30 years of suffering and he is in his 30s, the divergence of the AU puts him on a radically different path from childhood and that makes him a TOTALLY new person.

On the highest peaks in the world, the strongest tethers aren't your rope, but the emotional ties which unite your climbing team and keep you connected to those waiting for you back home. Whether it's by blood or by choice, Tater Higgs McGucket understands the importance of family. Son of revolutionary inventor and co-founder of the Institute of Oddology Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, Tate describes his father as his closest friend, collaborator, and mentor. In collaboration with family friend and other co-founder of the Institute Stanford ("Ford") Pines, the three first designed their renowned supplemental oxygen delivery system after an expedition studying anomalies in the Himalayas.

"Our investigation took us to Camp 1 of Manaslu," Tate described in an exclusive interview with Mountaineering Monthly last week, "And I was shocked by the amount of traffic. This was some of the roughest terrain on the planet, but we saw more people out there than on some of my hiking trips back home in Oregon. . . Ford was our interpreter, and after talking with the locals, we realized that there were all these companies selling tickets to the top — with sherpas puttin' themselves on the line just to ferry tourists to the summit."

The influx of inexperienced climbers has had disastrous consequences, as Tate witnessed firsthand. "A lot of these people, they're physically and mentally capable of makin' that kinda climb, but maybe they don't follow best practice. You can summit without any oxygen, if ya stop and acclimatize along the way. But that takes a while, so it can be really temptin' to ignore your body and throw an oxygen bandaid at the problem. But then you're puttin' yourself in an emergency situation if it fails. While we were there, one of those climbers ran out, and a sherpa had to run more oxygen up there. I told him there was a storm a-comin', but he went up anyway. And we ended up losin' 'em both."

Tate's growing twang was underscored by a nervous bouncing of his leg, and he took a moment to collect himself before resuming the interview.

"Dad and I had a look at these open circuit breathing apparatuses. While they were reliable, we saw they were plum wasteful. Knew we could make somethin' better. There's a growin' culture of risk-takin' 'round them mountains. And maybe we cain't stop the industry that's causin' these problems, but we can at least make it safer for them climbers. 'Cuz at the end of the day, regardless of what ya think about these people? With an accident like that, there’s people left behind that're a-hurtin' somethin' fierce. Partners, friends, kids without parents. I mean, just the thought of losin' my dad like that is enough to break my heart — but that's reality, for both the families of that climber and the sherpa who died tryin' to save him. . . Naw, I reckon we can do better."

That was how the youngest McGucket, who had become a household name in the 1990s for his work in designing personal computers with his father's company, first ventured into the world of alpinism. But what he hadn't expected was to fall in love during the process.

"I always needed nature," he explained, "I get overstimulated awfully easy, and so I go out there to clear my head. Been hikin' and fishin' since I was a kid. . . And so, after workin' with climbers to test this equipment — I saw a lot of them eight-thousanders up close, right? And one day, I just knew I had to see it from the top."

But having become familiar with the dangers involved, Tate knew that preparing himself for such a climb would be no easy task.

Luckily, he found a trainer in Ford's twin brother, Stanley Pines.

“Stanley is a stand-up guy. Real old school. Throws a hell of a punch, catches a hell of a catfish.” Tate said of his mentor, “He’s a fighter. So I knew I needed him, because all it takes is one slip up or act of god for these expeditions to turn life-or-death. And he’s been great. Neither of us knew much about rock climbin’ or mountaineering before all this. But we’ve learned together. And having summited a few eight-thousanders now, I can tell ya, I wouldn’t be here without his help.”

Also aiding in his expeditions were his prototype real-time weather and vital monitoring systems, which have since become standard issue in all McGucket brand protective wear. But Tate is most proud of his high-frequency beacon system, which allows climbers to communicate with their partners and first responders — even from inside perilous crevasses.

"The danger of avalanche or serac collapse is real. There are times when your life just ain’t in your own hands. Our systems allow climbers to communicate when they’re entering or exiting a perilous area, and can send out an SOS. They’re also constantly pinging, so in the event somethin’ does happen, they’ll help your climbing partners or first responders find you.”

But high altitudes aren’t the only place you’ll find the twin peaks of McGucket Mountaineering. Tate’s inventions have seen heavy use by first responders of all stripes, from firefighters to wilderness search and rescue — and he has recently signed a contract to manufacture respirators for medical use.

"At the end of the day, it’s all about making it home safely.” Tate concluded, “You gotta prioritize what matters most. You can do incredible things in this world, but none of it matters if you can’t share them with the people who love you.”

[sn4kebites]

please god give me this job the experience is in the exact field and study i want please god if you fw me big g.o.d pleaseeee give me this job

i have my technical interview tomorrow but its more stressful because i asked if i would be writing code and he said no . this is a data science role what are you going to have to me do if not that ?!?!?!

[jujuthewulfpup]

I bombed a coding test earlier this week because I didn't think and put too much faith in a // todo comment in the given empty Typescript class, and accidentally wasted at least half my time wondering why it wasn't working. I tried to implement the interface methods inside the constructor

[ofmd-alsaurus]

.

[moreaujeans]

YGHHHHFHF interviews are a joke

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[castor-redd]

I fuckin whiffed that interview, damn.

[hey-heigo]

online applications for cs jobs are so ridiculous you're telling me i have to spend 4 hours of my life doing this thing that will make me miserable? and if i dont do it in a way that you exactly like you'll waste my time and ghost me? what if we both became shooting stars passing in the night

[ijustwannabecool]

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Out of frame 2/4

Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know they’re a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.

Genre : angst, SMAU

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Faceclaim : @suanbeiii

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

@landonorris 📍Tokyo, Japan

Incredible night. Thank you to everyone who came out to support us. Big things coming 🫡

@_user1 he really posted all his friends but not his gf again... yikes

@_user2 is Y/N not in Japan with him? 😭

@_user3 nah this is getting embarrassing at this point. she literally always supports him and he can’t even tag her once??

@_user4 QUADRANT IN JAPAN LET’S GOOOO🔥

@_user5 the helmet is SICK omg 🔥

@_user6 weird how he never has a problem posting the boys 👀

@_user8 so hyped for this drop!! love seeing quadrant going global 💥

@_user10 where’s the queen?? y’all okay??

@_user11 y/n deserves a man who posts her like she posts him. period.

@your_username 📍Monaco

Girls can buy themself flowers too 💐

@_user1 wait. no japan trip for y/n this time?

@_user2 something’s off. they never miss a race weekend together 😶

@_user3 how is she real 😭😭 Lando you better be sending her flowers too!!

@_user4 the softest prettiest queen 🩷 Lando won the lottery and acts like he forgot

@_user5 Lando… be fr. how do you not post HER???

@_user6 she looks like a dream. if my gf looked like this I’d post her every 5 minutes lol

@_user7 you’re literally the prettiest person I’ve ever seen I can’t even hate you I’m obsessed 🥲

@_user8 i don’t care what’s going on but if he lets her go… we need to talk, Lando 😭

@_user9 okay but where do I sign up to be your girlfriend if Lando’s slacking??

@_user10 I hope he knows what he has. because the rest of us DO.

Texts messages

Lando You didn’t like the flowers I sent you?

Lando Seriously, Y/N? That post? What is that supposed to mean?

Y/N It means exactly what it says.

Lando So you ignore my apology and post something that makes it look like I did something wrong ?

Y/N You sent flowers. That’s not an apology, Lando. It’s a gesture. A pretty one, but not what I needed.

Lando You always want more. It’s never enough with you.

Y/N Because you don’t listen. I told you how I felt and you acted like I was being dramatic. I didn’t ask for a parade. Just for you to acknowledge me

Lando So you skip the race, don’t say a word for days, and make me look like an idiot online?

Y/N I said I had work.

Lando No. You said “don’t worry about it.” That’s code for “figure it out or I’m gone,” right?

Y/N You want to talk about code? Because not posting me, not bringing me up, not defending me when people speculate, THAT’s a message too.

Lando I thought keeping us private protected you

Y/N It doesn’t feel like protection, it makes me feel like a secret

Lando This again…

Y/N Yes. Again. Because you keep brushing it off like I’m asking you to tattoo my name on your forehead

Lando You want public affection. Fine. But maybe you could’ve talked to me instead of putting it on Instagram?

Y/N I tried to talk. You shut down. You always do.

Lando Because every time I mess up, you make me feel like I’m never enough

Y/N And every time I open up, you make me feel like I'm too much

Lando Right. Okay. Here we go.

Y/N Yeah. Here we go. Again. You don’t want to make the effort? That’s fine. Your loss.

Lando You know that’s not fair

Y/N Neither is loving someone who makes you feel invisible

Lando I have a race to focus on.

Y/N Enjoy it, Lando.

Lando Sure.

@F1LiveMoments 🎥Live interview moment of Lando at the Japan GP

Interviewer: “We didn’t see your girlfriend this weekend, is she not in Japan with you?” Lando Norris: laughs “Which girlfriend?”

@_user1 nah “which girlfriend” is CRAZY??? like are you trying to be single or stupid 😭

@_user2 he really said that on live TV… with a mic… and a camera… okay.

@_user3 and this is the man she’s been flying around the world to support in silence 💀

@_user4 he better deactivate, apologize and send 400 roses

@_user6 this girl has been nothing but quiet and supportive and he humiliates her like that? I’d be GONE.

@_user7 you can’t be “private” and also crack jokes like that… pick a struggle 😐

@_user8 and then men will say “why is she upset with me” like sir… you said WHICH GIRLFRIEND

@_user9 his media training just packed its bags and left the building

@_user10 @your_username deserves BETTER. we’re all saying it.

@_user12 this man’s idea of romance is “which girlfriend” I can’t breathe 😭😭😭

@your_username 📍Monaco

Sunday ritual 🧡

@_user1 she still supports him after that interview?? I’d be EMBARRASSED

@_user2 baby you didn’t see the clip, right?? pls say you didn’t

@_user3 I have to respect the loyalty but girl… the way he said “which girlfriend” like it was nothing 🤡

@_user4 wait… WHY is she still watching him like this?? I’m actually speechless

@_user5 this is such a sweet post but… after that live interview 😬

@_user6 girl did you see the interview from yesterday 💀

@your_username which interview?

@_user9 oh no oh no oh no 😭😭😭 she doesn’t KNOW

@_user10 this one comment just ended their relationship for real

@_user12 NAH IM SCARED. SOMEONE TAKE HER PHONE AWAY

@_user13 Lando better call her RIGHT NOW because this is about to go so bad

Texts messages :

Y/N “Which girlfriend?” Are you fucking serious right now?

Y/N Was that funny to you? Was humiliating me on live TV was what you needed?

Y/N You really went out there and said that like we’re nothing. Like I never existed.

Lando Y/N... Don’t do this.

Y/N Don’t do what, Lando? Get mad that my boyfriend made a joke like he doesn’t even know me?

Lando You didn’t want to come to Japan. You literally said you needed space What was I supposed to do?

Y/N NOT JOKE THAT YOU HAVE MULTIPLE GIRLFRIENDS ON LIVE TV MAYBE? Just a thought.

Lando It was sarcasm. The interviewer caught me off guard

Y/N No, what caught you off guard was the reality of being called out for once

Lando I didn’t mean it like that

Y/N You never do. That’s the problem.

Y/N Everything’s a joke or a deflection or a fucking PR-safe answer You don't even realize how much it hurt. You made me feel invisible

Lando You ghosted me for a week. You turned down my calls, ignored my flowers, and posted some cryptic caption like I never tried

Y/N Because sending flowers isn’t trying, Lando. It’s damage control

Y/N I was begging for real effort, for presence, for proof that I matter to you

Y/N And you know what you gave me? A joke about having multiple girlfriends ??

Lando It was a stupid moment. I panicked

Y/N God, do you even hear yourself?

Y/N You panicked and defaulted to disrespect. That says more than anything

Lando Okay well maybe if you were actually there we could have talked like normal people.

Y/N Don’t flip this on me.

Y/N I didn’t come because I was hurt, Lando. I needed space to breathe, not to be mocked globally

Y/N You know how hard it’s been? I kept telling myself you just needed time, that you were scared. Or shy. Or private

Y/N But maybe you were just comfortable keeping me secret, comfortable not choosing me when it’s inconvenient

Lando That’s not true.

Y/N Then prove it

Lando I’m trying to...

Y/N Trying would’ve been not letting those words leave your mouth.

Lando I messed up, okay? I didn’t think. I was tired and pissed...

Y/N No. You chose the words.

Y/N Enjoy the rest of Japan. Don’t worry about me.

Lando Y/N…

Y/N No. Fuck you, Norris.

Taglist (closed) : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw, @mattslovelygf, @strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty, @janonymus0, @taetae-armyyyyy, @charlesgirl16, @angstynasty, @jules-bea2308, @afternoonarchive, @itsbieberxholland, @rexit-mo, @chlmtfilms, @vampgege, @mochimommy2002, @budgetcupid, @lemon-stvrrr, @bell1a, @taebearyoongs, @hazzasmunchkin, @sainz0fthetimes, @didaaa4, @madelyn2000, @il0vereadingstuff, @march32nd, @chlmtfilms, @literallysza, @cheapdocmartens, @wolfstarsimpxx, @pretzelcat4-blog, @larya810, @6-noir, @urfavftoomie, @ficr3ccs, @strawberrylov-er, @wosof1, @behindmygreyeyes, @justheretoreadthxxs, @pinklemonade34, @ninass-world, @landosbabe4, @leclercdream, @raynetargaryan2,

[sreegs]

You're interviewing as a software engineer and you sit down to begin a coding exercise via remote video chat. Your interviewer joins a minute late. You exchange light pleasantries, then intros. They ask you a few questions relevant to your experience and you answer them satisfactorily.

The interviewer says, "Right, lets move on to the coding exercise," and directs you to a collaborative coding website. You select your language of choice and they begin to describe your problem.

"You have an array of souls recently liberated from their mortal shell, represented by this array of signed floats called "theDead". You must design a function that determines which souls go to heaven and which souls go to hell,"

"Heaven and hell are empty. The cumulative value of all the souls in heaven and hell must both be nonzero, and exactly equal to each other. You may leave any number of souls in purgatory,"

"Your function must return a bool indicating whether the balance of heaven and hell can be met given the array of souls. The count of souls will be 0 < n < 1,000,000. Do you have any questions before you begin?"

[bullet-prooflove]

The Merry Go Round: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: Reality starts to crash down on you in the wake of your recent trauma.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.

Sex, Lies and Cocaine Dreams - John takes his revenge on the man that shattered your dreams.

By The Grace of God - An unexpected ally goes to bat for you during your beard hearing.

Choices - You and John discuss your options moving forward.

The Sexual Revolution (NSFW) - You decide to give John a private show before the event.

A Love Story - Your performance sparks an unexpected conversation with Gamma.

The Problem With Winning The War - The problem with winning the war is that you don't expect the second attack.

Mack The Knife - You come face to face with a nightmare in John's apartment.

There’s a moment after a trauma when reality hits. Everything before that is a quasi-state. The world moving around you but it’s not touching you, not really because your focused on that moment, the one that requires your full attention.

For you the fall comes in the silence, in the five minutes you sit alone in the Suture Room staring down at the six inch slash in your left forearm. You can’t remember if you’re supposed to be stitching it or if you’re waiting for someone else to because the past two hours are scrolling past you like a series of grainy snapshots.

John bleeding out into the tarmac as the rain pelts down upon your skin.

The first time he coded, and then the second.

The police interview after he was wheeled up to the O.R because apparently you had to justify why you permanently disfigured the man who had not only stabbed your boyfriend but was planning to rape and murder you.

“I wanna get off this merry-go-round.” You tell Carol Hathaway when she enters the Suture Room. “You need to fucking sedate me otherwise I’m going to lose my shit.”

“So lose your shit.” She says frankly as she leans back against the door, giving you space. “You have every right to.”

So you do. That iron clad control of yours it finally slips and all of those emotions they just come rushing to the surface.

The horror of it all, the unfairness and that rage, that fucking rage that has you throwing shit around the treatment room because John doesn’t deserve this, you don’t deserve this.

You cry, you sob, you scream until there’s absolutely nothing left inside you but that emptiness and that’s when you sink down to the floor, your back against the wall your palms scrubbing over your exhausted features.

“I don’t know what to do without him.” You whisper as Carol sits down alongside you, her shoulder bumping against yours. “Without his laugh or his smile, I don’t know how to function, how to live, how to breathe…”

“You don’t need to think about that right now.” Carol says gently, her head bowed close to yours. “Carter, he’s fighting with everything he has to come back to you. He’s gonna make it, you both are, you just gotta have faith.”

You nod your head shakily because faith, it’s the only thing you have to hold on to right now. Faith that John’s strong enough to survive this, that you are too.

“What about the other asshole?” You ask using the back of your wrist to wipe away the tears from your features. “Did they manage to stabilise him yet?”

“No.” She sighs. “He coded ten minutes ago. He went into shock, the damage to his airways, it was too much.”

“Oh.” You say, your gaze fixing on the stainless steel suture tray you’d tossed on the floor during your breakdown. “I know I should feel bad about that but I just… don’t. I know it must make me a terrible person…”

“No.” Carol says firmly. “It doesn’t. He tried to hurt you, he did hurt John. I think he deserved everything he got and more.”

“The cops might not see it that way.” You remind her, thinking back over the interview. There was definitely a tone of accusation there when they learned the full story. A love triangle they had called it.

“The lawyer Carter’s grandma hired might make them see otherwise.” Carol responds and your head snaps up towards her. “He’s been reading them the riot act ever since he turned up.”

“Gamma’s here?” You whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. You have no idea what to tell the other woman, how to explain any of this to her.

“Yes. She wants to know if you’re ok and she’s very adamant that she needs to see that for herself so why don’t you let me stitch you up and you can head out there and reassure her.”

“I don’t...”

“Crystal…” Carol says sternly as she raises to her feet and holds out her hand to pull you up. “Nobody’s trying to blame you for this, so please stop trying to blame yourself.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[race-week]

After a boring race everyone screams for smaller cars. Today, in the Monaco post race interviews, some drivers suggested smaller cars may be of benefit. Is there a reason the cars are still this big? Even the 2026 cars are only marginally smaller, when the "we need smaller cars" narrative seems to be close to a decade old by now. Is the hybrid era simply not able to fit cars that aren't this size?

Also, I'd love to hear your opinion on whether smaller cars will actually fix anything, if you have one.

The cars are the size they are because of safety (predominantly), the fact that they have to be able to carry 100kg of fuel (no refuelling), and aerodynamics

This graph shows the length and width of F1 cars from 1950 to 2022

The current F1 cars are wider than my road car (Hyundai i10 - a compact car) but so have all of the cars since the 60s

To have cars small enough to race around Monaco you’d need 1970s era cars, even in the 1980s Piquet described the track as riding a bike in your living room, and other drivers in the 70s and 80s mentioned that in order to win in Monaco you just have to stay in the middle of the track (and block)

Below is the number of overtakes for each Monaco GP from 1984 to 2024 compared to the average number of overtakes per race for that season (the colour coded blocks are the different engine regulations)

There are some years where Monaco had more overtakes than the average number of overtakes per race whether that’s due to weather or incidents, but on average each Monaco GP has had less than half of the average number of overtakes per race for each season.

The turbo hybrid era has had less overtakes than previous regulatory periods but I don’t think that’s due to car size so much as car speed, honestly modern F1 cars more so than being too big for Monaco, they are too fast. The fastest lap of the race was a 1:13.221 and most drivers fastest laps were around 1:14, in comparison the older cars have much slower lap times, the fastest lap in 1993 was 1:23.604, 10 seconds slower.

This is also why Formula E typically have exciting races around Monaco despite their cars being only slightly shorter and narrower than F1 cars, their lap times around Monaco are around 15-20 seconds a lap slower, specifically the cornering speeds are lower which means that a driver spends more time in the corners aiding the opportunities for a lunge or an overtake.

Reducing the size won’t fix things unless they got go karts out there, the best way to improve overtaking opportunities is to either reduce the grip (wet races have higher overtaking numbers), give the cars worse brakes (so they have to slow more before the corner), increase degradation on tyres

Size isn’t the problem, as we’ve seen with wet races around Monaco and the one off random theatrics (and what we’ve seen from FE) it’s possible to overtake, even with cars nearly 2m wide, narrower cars wouldn’t be a magical fix, they would still need help. Formula E can overtake because of the slower speeds, more nimble cars and less downforce and grip, so it’s a matter of finding a balancing act.

[ovrgrwnivy]

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

[qvicksilversass]

Hey you with the sad face

(John Walker x reader)

Recruited by Valentina to spy on clean up after the misfits, you can fix almost anything, except a way to get them to trust you. Then there's Walker, he's the only problem you don't want to fix. words: 6021 warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, bit of fluff, ptsd flashbacks, mentions of parents with cancer and dementia an: watched Thunderbolts, mainly for Bucky, definitely not expecting John Walker. Heard a good song and started writing again after a year -ish. My first Walker fic, so let me know if anything's off. x p.s. I've called his son Hobie, I can't find his name anywhere, if you know, let me know x

For months you'd drifted, taking any job you could to pay for your dad's treatment. So, when Valentina called recruiting you to rebuild the tower for her in exchange for his fees. Well, you jumped at the chance. You should have realised you were signing away your soul. After the tower, she never stopped. Forcing you from one job to another.

Now she's dragged you into a new mission, cleaning up after the new Avengers. Oh, and she wants you to spy on them for her, easy right?

Every single one of them regards you with suspicion the moment you step out of the elevator behind Valentina, that and annoyance.

Valentina doesn't wait for a greeting. "This is y/n, she's here to clean up after you."

"Yeah, how's she gonna do that?" Bucky spat back at her.

Valentina pushes you forward like a prize, "Y/n here can fix anything; your weapons, your suits, buildings, bones, you name it. She even fixed up this place for me…."

You glare at her, crossing your arms. Yeah, like you did it out of the goodness of your heart. Not that you had no choice, stuck in a contract you could never escape. You hated working for Valentina, nothing was ever enough.

“Can she fix it so you're not a bitch?" Yelena quipped.

“Unfortunately not.” You snicker, earning an amused smile.

"Remember why you're here y/n." Her lips press into a tight smile and you step back behind her, rolling your eyes.

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You mock-salute her, noticing Alexei giving you an approving grin, "I like her.”

"You should all get acquainted. You'll be spending a lot of time together. She goes with you on your next mission, Barnes."

Bucky gets in her face, but it doesn't faze Valentina, that you are impressed with.

“You don't tell us what to do.”

“You need all this right?” she smirks and his jaw sets, knowing she's right,  “do this little thing for me. She'll be great, won't you y/n?"

“Y/n.” 

“Yep, great.”

She heads for the elevators, her knowing smile grating on you almost as much as the sound of her heels. There's never any kindness with Valentina. You can breathe again when the doors close, her malevolence leaving with her.

“I hate that bitch.” You and Walker grumble in unison, both sharing an amused smile. He wasn't what you expected from Valentina’s files.

“Yeah, she's not a nice person.” Bob pops his head over the sofas, making you all jump. Had he been hiding all this time? 

“That's an understatement, Bob.” 

You sit down, not expecting them to follow your movements. They all sit across from you as if you're at the world's worst job interview. Not nerve-racking at all.

 “So you're here to spy on us right?” Bucky states, more than asks.

“No, just clean up.” You answer as steadily as you can, fighting the urge to fidget, make too much eye contact. Anything that would give away that, yes, that's exactly what you're here for.

“Right.”

“Are those contacts?” Ava asks.

You shake your head, pulling your hair over your eyes a little more. Forgetting that the purple was strange to most people. 

“They're cool.”

“Thanks-”

“So, what can you do?” Bucky interrupts, impatient.

“Fix stuff, I guess.”

“She already said that.“

“Break your arm, get shot, I can heal it. Accidentally destroy a building, I can rebuild it. I can fight too, when I have to.”

None of them are convinced. You don't have a suit, a code name, you're a nobody as far as they're concerned.

"How come we've never heard of you?"

"I stay in the background, I guess."

Well, you did, until Valentina got her claws into you.

Bucky fires more questions at you, watching your every move. Hoping to make you nervous, trip you up. And fuck, you'd never been more intimidated in your life, desperately trying not to show it. 

“Is this what you always do between missions?” You ask, snarkily, “just sit here?”

“We do today.”

Remember who you're doing this for. You exhale, slumping back against the leather, pretending you're bored, irritated. Unsure how much longer you can keep it together.

The sound of bone cracking and a scream fills the room. You turn to see Alexei, his arm dangling at an odd angle. 

"Alexei, what the hell?!" Yelena screams at him, "did you just break your own arm?"

"Fuck, man."

“I want to see her do it!” Alexei grins at you expectantly, sweating a little. How is he not crying in pain right now? 

You run over, still not quite believing what he's done, "What if I was lying?!”

He just shrugs his good shoulder.

You feel along his arm for the break, conscious of the Avengers crowding around you. That familiar current tingles as it flows down through your fingers. Purple energy wraps around his arm and after a few seconds the bone cracks back into place.

Alexei feels over his arm in fascination, “So worth it.”

“You're crazy.” Yelena smacks his now-healed arm.

“It's even better than before, she can stay.” He moves his arm around, punching the wall, testing it as if it were a new toy.

“Do your eyes always glow like that?” Bob asks, observing you with curiosity and you give him a quick nod, "huh."

Your eyes go to Bucky, hoping you'd won him over too, though if he's impressed, he doesn't show it. His phone beeps and he frowns down at it.

“Is that?”

“Yep, let's go.”

You follow behind them, down to the tower basement and up the ramps to the trucks. 

“So what's the mission?” You fall into stride beside Bucky, him trying his best to ignore you. The others shrug past you onto the truck, Bucky's metal arm blocking your way when you try to follow behind them.

”Nope. You stay here, that's your mission." 

“I can help.”

You knew they wouldn't trust you straight away, you told Valentina as much. But how would you ever get them to trust you if they never gave you a chance?

“Valentina sent you. I don't trust you…sorry.” He closes the door on you with a sly grin.

Oh, he's definitely not sorry. 

Tyres screech and the truck disappears out of sight. Leaving you standing there fuming, feeling like an idiot. You turn to see Bob wave them goodbye. He tugs at his sleeve, peeking up at you through his hair, "I can show you your room, if you like? You don't have to tho-"

"I'd love that, Bob, thank you. At least you're nice."

You follow him back to quarters before hanging around the tower. Wandering the endless corridors and getting lost more times than you'd ever admit. I mean, you rebuilt the thing. You're so bored that you find yourself curled up in bed, scrolling through your phone. Anything to stave off sleep.

It's midnight when you hear the thundering sound of boots, then voices bickering in the hall outside your room.

“What did I say?! I told you to give her a chance!”

"She could've patched him up, now we lost the intel- ”

“I wanted to check her out first, Val-”

"Fuck, don’t worry about me, I'm fine..."

“He needs y/n.” 

“Go on then."

“Why should I knock?!”

“Oh, for-”

You yank the door open and lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. They're all dirty and battle-worn, though none as bad as Walker. He's leaning on Ava, holding onto his side, dark red covering his hand, dripping onto the floor.

“Told you I should have gone with you.”   

“You wouldn't have lasted five seconds.”  Bucky grumbles and you scowl back at him.

You'd have lasted at least ten.

"Hello? bleeding out here..."

Ava steps forward, exhausted from holding Walker's weight, "Can you help him? He won't shut up." 

Ava and Yelena help him onto the bed, lying him back. Blood covers his suit, he must be in agony. You sense the bullet, fragmented and cutting into his tissue. Working their way to his organs.

"How did you get shot?" 

"With a gun genius…"

"Hey, be nice, do you want to die?!" Yelena smacks his ear and Walker fumes up at her, his knuckles white with the pressure he's putting on his wound. The other Avengers step back into the hall and you give them a reassuring smile. Bob, still sleepy, the only one that stays in the room with you both.

Blood pools over onto Walker's hand, his breathing heavy. He's lost a lot of blood already. His face is a sickly shade of white, and you can tell he's trying to hide how much pain he's in. You see it in the clench of his jaw, the way his eyes dart to the wound. Filled with fear when he thinks no one's looking.

"I thought those suits were bulletproof?"

"Yeah, so did I."

“Hey, Walker, just let me…” You lift his shaking hand from the wound and begin to cut away the suit, assessing the wound. You'd only seen these kinds of wounds with powerful shotguns at close range. In soldiers hit with explosive shrapnel shells. Someone wanted to kill him, painfully and slowly.

"Noo, not the suit..." his head falls back and you think he might pass out. 

"Sorry, I'll fix it later…relax okay?” 

You focus on the wound, repairing the tissue as you have a thousand times before. The shrapnel and what's left of the bullet dislodging and clattering to the floor.

“Woah…you got pretty eyes...”

Your power also has a sort of anesthetic depending on how bad the injuries were. You guessed he got a big dose from the wonder on his face. You grin down at him.

“All done.” 

“Look at that,” You hear the relief in his voice, him grabbing over the now soft healed skin, “thanks, new girl.”

He sits up too fast, trying to stand but fails, his weight falling onto you. Bob takes his other arm and you both help him to stand. 

"Okay tough guy, let us walk you to the common room?" He grunts in reply, though he lets you hold him up and you reach round, grabbing what's left of his shield. 

“Oh, I've got your, erm, Shield? Taco? Sorry, want me to fix it?”

“Nah, still waiting on Bob.” 

You look to Bob for an explanation. He seems a little embarrassed though he doesn't say anything. You heal the rips and stains in Walker's suit as you walk, dropping him onto one of the sofas, careful not to hurt him. Bob sits next to him and Walker grumbles, shrugging off his concern. You saw right through it, and you had to admit it was adorable.

“Rest a while, you'll be okay.” 

Bucky and Yelena are deep in conversation by the windows. You head over, hoping they'd actually listen to you. They stop talking as soon as you're in earshot. Rude.

“You should find who shot John. They wanted him to suffer; they might come after more of you.”

“They wouldn't stand a chance y/n, but thanks.” Bucky dismisses you, checking a notification on his phone. 

“Yeah, John was just careless.” Ava shouts, trying to rile Walker up.

“I'm still here!” 

“Is he okay?” Bucky asks.

“Give him a minute.”  You smile and head back to your room, leaving them to de-brief. Walker nods as you walk by, Bob giving you a warm smile.

"Night y/n."

If you thought healing Walker would help your case, you were wrong. Bucky avoided you the next few days, hell, they all did, except for Bob. You're so frustrated, itching to help, to do something, anything. When they all sneak off again, you wait a second then follow. Hiding outside the briefing room, listening in.

“...terrorists trying to be the next Hydra, Rateliffs organised a rally in East Detroit.”

“We take him in, stop it before they gain more traction. There's gonna be lots of civilians so we need to minimise casualties-”

“I can definitely help with that.” You poke your head around the door and Bucky rolls his eyes at you.

“No.”

"Bucky, it's been days, please let me help.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes still his frown doesn't waver.

Ava lets out an exasperated sigh. You're not sure if she's sick of you or Bucky, “Well, did you find anything on her?” 

“Not till she started working for Valentina." He admits, clearly still unsure about you.

“Nothing bad, though?"

Reluctantly, Bucky shakes his head.

“Then can we go now?”

“Ugh, fine. She stays in the truck.”

"Come on, fucks sake." You mutter to yourself. You'd have to take it, at least he's let you go this time. Plus, it wouldn't be hard to sneak away...

“You sound like Walker.” Bob smiles over his shoulder at you from the kitchen, making a new recipe and your irritation dies away.

"They treat him like crap too?"

"Trash, actually." John smirks, smoothing down his hair and your face heats up when he nudges your shoulder. Have his eyes always been so blue?

"Wow, you're all assholes..." you call after them only half-heartedly, not quite knowing what that was, you never blush. 

"Except you, Bob.”

The rally is being held at an old railway depot, surrounded by abandoned buildings and junkyards. A poor area, forgotten and full of angry souls, the perfect place to recruit.

You've made your way there from a few blocks away, keeping to the back of the crowd. It's made up of mostly young men, talk of revolution on everyone's lips. The main guy, you guessed Rateliff doing his best to brainwash the people to his cause.

"If you want me to help, you have to tell me the plan.” You know you're annoying him. Bucky's still seething that you followed them from the truck. But you hated being left in the dark, it made you anxious.

He keeps his voice low so as not to draw attention, “Stay out of the way till we need you." 

“Fucks sake when will you trust me.”

“Valentina sent you, so probably never.” 

You start to reply, then you notice the quiet. Rateliff's stopped talking, people in the crowd are no longer cheering. You grab Bucky's arm pulling him back.

“Wait…this is a trap.” 

“How do you-?”

He stares down at you, only half believing you. You sense broken knives and cracked chambers in worn-out guns. Men in the crowd begin to move towards you, crowding around your position.

“Well, we're surrounded so…” 

The few civilians who are in the crowd start screaming, all running past you. Bucky pulls you along with them and shoves you behind a wrecked container.

“You, stay there.” Bucky warns, and you find yourself watching them fight off Rateliff’s men, feeling useless. Though they were all impressive, your eyes are drawn to Walker. The way he moved, the way he used his shield with such skill...his suit, you wonder if it's all padding under there.... Nope, not the right time y/n.

Explosions pull you out of your thoughts, cars and old freight on fire around you. They're closed in, surrounded, taking fire from buildings. They need to get back to you, back to cover.

Fuck it, you can't sit here and hide; you had to help them. Bucky wouldn't give you a weapon, so you grab a metal bar. All you had to do now was avoid getting shot.

You charge the first man from behind, kicking his legs from under him and knocking him out with the metal bar. One down...the group turns to you then, mocking you.

So you do what you always do when people don't take you seriously: you get angry and you focus. Remembering what your dad taught you. You let them come to you, anticipating their moves. Hitting pressure points and taking them down as quickly as you can.

“Is she using a metal bar?”

“Pretty fuckin well too.”

You stop and turn to see them watching you, a little too confident, liking the impressed look on Walker's face a little too much. You hit the last guy extra hard, showing off.

“See, told you I could-”

The breaths taken from you as you're shoved back. Walker shielding you from the bullets aimed straight for your head. Both of you hit the ground hard, his weight on you a second too long. He roughly drags you behind a car, sitting beside you.

Shit, this isn’t fun anymore.

"You're supposed to stay back.”  He mutters, dusting himself off. Raising an eyebrow at you, he pulls a bit of dust and concrete from your hair.

“At least I cleared a path for you.” You half smile, batting his hands away, hiding your fear. Though you know he sees through it.

Bucky and the others join you, scrambling behind the car, all trying to catch their breath.

“We need to get out of here, there's no cover and Rateliff's long gone-” Bucky starts, an explosion shaking the ground beneath you, covering you all in dust.

“Does it always go this badly?!” 

“Only on a good day!” Alexei roars, firing blindly over the car.

“Walker, you get her back to the truck. We'll draw their fire, meet you there.”

You're surprised when Walker doesn't question Bucky, he simply nods, holding his hand out to you. You take it, his fingers soft in contrast to the worn leather gloves. He pulls you along, keeping low, keeping you behind him. Constantly checking for threats, protecting you.

“Who taught you to fight?”

“My dad, he'd be pissed if he knew I was here…”

You can make out the road back to the truck ahead of you, only there's a group of men blocking your path. Walker looks behind you for another way through, frowning.

“Those guys you knocked out are getting up.”

He shoots you an annoyed glance. You don't care, there's no way you'd kill anyone if you don't have to. You fix things, you don't destroy them. You do have to admit that it's backfired on you both now. More men are joining the small group and even more are running out of the buildings. Shooting at Bucky and the others, drawing them away.

"How many goons has this guy got?"

“Goons?" John scoffs, rolling his eyes at you, “we're not in a fucking movie y/n.”

Okay then.

“Think you can take them?" You put on your best authoritative voice, punching his shoulder, and you can see him watching you for a second. Unsure if you're serious, your grin winding him up.

"Stop."

"Go, Walker! I'll cover your six!" You yell dramatically, enjoying his annoyance, at making him smile, shaking his head at you.

"Wow, I can't..."

He checks it's clear, creeping behind the men, tapping one on the shoulder. The guy turns and Walker punches him square in the face, knocking him out instantly. He turns to smirk at you before near effortlessly taking down the rest of them. You're more impressed than you'd ever let on.

He motions for you to run to him, thinking it's clear and you see the figure charge at Walker, too late to warn him. He ducks, spinning round and hitting the guy with his shield. The force of it sends him flying back, hitting the concrete so hard it cracks. Walker runs over and bends down, pulling off the assailant's mask and stumbling back.

“Walker?” You approach him slowly, a tentative hand on his shoulder. He tenses up, running his hand over his face. “Walker, are you okay?”

“He just came running at me, shooting, I thought...” 

Oh no.

The boy is too still, too lifeless. He only looked about thirteen. What was he doing mixed up in all this?

“Is he dead? Walker?” 

“I don't know."

You brush past Walker, kneeling and checking the boy's neck for a pulse, relieved to hear the faint beating. He must have hit his head, blood ran down his face, his breathing ragged. Maybe crushed ribs, internal bleeding? Fuck, Walker had done so much damage, he wouldn’t last long.

“Hey, it's okay, I think I can heal him…" You turn to Walker, hoping to reassure him.

“They killed him…what fucking choice did I have?“

Shit, this isn't good. You realise he's not listening to you, he's not seeing the boy, he's seeing that guy the day his friend died. Staring down at his shield, wiping away blood that isn't there. Pulling at the helmet he wasn't wearing. Back to feeling the effects of the Serum, newly running through his veins hazing his mind...

You want to help Walker, but if you don't help the boy, he'll die. You begin to heal the boy as Bucky and the others rush over. You try to signal to them that Walker's not okay. Only they're too furious to notice.

“Walker, what did you do? That's just a kid!” Bucky shoves him, Walker still lost in his head, he can't focus, can’t concentrate.

“No, he killed Lemar, he's one of them…” 

“What's he talking about?”

 "What's wrong with him?”

“Walker?”

Your powers fade, the boys injuries healed and his heartbeat steady. That took so much out of you, a few more moments and he'd be gone.  Exhausted, you pull yourself up, stepping between Walker and Bucky.

“Stop, you know he has ptsd right?”

They look between each other, how could they not know? They'd worked with him for months, they must have seen this before, talked about it?

“He’s stuck in a memory, my guess the day Lemar died-"

The boy screams, pulling a knife and charging at you. Ava knocks him out and you all give her a shocked look.

“What?”

“I just healed him.” You groaned in frustration, you’d need time to heal him again, though a 'thanks' would have been nicer.

“He's just knocked out, he's fine.” She dismisses you, heading for the road. You stay close to Walker, guiding him.

“How many times you gonna hurt innocent people Walker?”

Oh, come on Bucky. He had to get that dig in, even after what you'd told him.

“He came at me with a fucking gun!”

You have to hold Walker back, couldn't help but feel bad for him. His face set in anger, eyes filled with shame that they’d seen him like that. Seen him struggling to shake his flashback. You'd think Bucky would understand more than anyone. You thought of your dad, how devastated he was for days after a bad spell.

Yeah, Walker's an asshole sometimes, but Bucky always holds that over him. Every time he makes a mistake. Making sure he knows his place. Even in your short time with them, you'd had enough of it.

“Oh for fucks sake, Bucky, again?”  You step in front of Walker again, like you're shielding him, like you could protect him. Your mind back in all the times you'd had to do the same for your dad.

“How many people have you all killed? That guy was a terrorist, you mean to tell me if that was Steve, you wouldn't have at least considered it?”

That got to him, Bucky steps back from you, his anger wavering, “This never happened before." 

“That you've noticed. He's likely been hiding them from you."

“We aren't doing this now. Get him back on the truck.” Bucky growls and pushes past you. You realise you're shaking, not just from anger, from memories of having to protect your dad, keep him safe. From grief, god you missed him so much.

Yelena walks beside you, “Why are you sticking up for Walker?” 

“I'm sick of all the hypocritical shit, you're all as bad as eachother, give him a fucking break.” 

“Hey, calm down.” 

“She's got a point,” Bob whispers into your ear, anxious and soft through comms, “You're all just people who've done bad things trying to be better; you should be supporting each other.”

You shoot them all a ‘see, he gets it’ look and they storm back to the truck.

“Thanks Bob.” You whisper.

“No problem, y/n.”

“That's so weird, he’s like a voice from above.” 

The ride back to the tower is tense and quiet. Walker is still out of it and trying to hide it. You're all exhausted, Bucky glares at you every time you catch his eye, only Alexei seems happy.

Well, that went well.

After a long shower, you need a drink, need to clear your mind. The quiet bar a few blocks near to the tower drawing you in. Booths and low lights, only the sounds of people chatting; perfect. You order a beer, your phone ringing the moment you sit down.   

"Valentina. It's all work. Nothing about you, they're not plotting to kill you. They'd like to if that helps? They're saving people, doing avenger stuff."

There's a pause on the line, she doesn't believe you, "Get them to trust you, y/n."

"You should make me official, maybe they would-"

She snorts, "yeah, okay, no."

"Why's that so funny?"

"You fix things y/n it's hardly-"

"I can fight."

"What use are you injured? You can't heal yourself or your bloodline, look at your father,” did she actually laugh? Your grip on your phone tightens, wishing it was your hands around her neck, "you be a good girl and I'll keep him alive. Be a shame if he went the same way as your mother…."

"Fuck you Valentina." You hiss down the phone, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. 

"I own you y/n, don't forget that."

You heave for breath, slamming your phone on the table. How could someone be so evil? You brush away the tears that sting your eyes. You wouldn't let that witch make you cry. Mom developed early-onset dementia, made all the more cruel when her doctors discovered a brain tumor.

You lost part of her every day, until there was nothing left. Until she became frightened of her own husband and daughter, leaving you and dad devastated. A few years later dad was diagnosed and you'd lost it, how could you go through that again? How could you lose him? Your best friend?

"Hey, you with the sad face.” 

The voice catches you off guard and it takes you a moment to register that it's him.

"John?"

"Ouch, using the first name? Want another?" he asks, pointing to your half-empty glass.

He heads to the bar, and you try to collect yourself. He looks softer without the suit, his armour, more anxious, his fingers gripping the bar. Guess he was as okay as you were. Maybe you should go.

"Who got you so upset?”  He sits opposite you, beers clanging on the table. His hair is messy, you guessed from the shower, falling into his eyes, and you notice a few scratches, contrasting red on his cheek.

"I'm not." 

"Your face says otherwise."

Thanks for that, Walker

Ugh, you could lie, what was the point now? You wanted them to trust you, despite his reputation and gruff nature you had a good feeling about him. 

"Valentina asked me to spy on you guys," he raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, "but none of you talk, ever. About anything. She doesn't like me giving her nothing."

You take a drink and smirk at him, picking at your fingers.

"What has she got on you?" He asked, leaning forward with a hint of concern his eyes.

“She's paying for dad's cancer treatment.” You answer sadly.

“Can't you heal him?” 

"Nope, not myself or my bloodline. If I stop working for her, she stops paying.”  

"Fuck. I take it back, you deserve the sad face."

You both take a drink and you're fidgeting with the bottle, avoiding his eyes. You can sense he wants to talk, though he's not sure how to go about it. Whether you'd listen, so you decide to help him out.

"What about you? Why have you got the sad face?"

"I'm not sad." He dismisses you, shifting in his seat his gaze drifting over the bar.

"Yeah, you are. You hide it, but I see it.” You don't want to make him uncomfortable, but after today, it might do him good to talk to someone. So you both didn't go home to the quiet again, to the emptiness.

"You heard the stories, pick one..."

"Not from you." 

He takes a moment, actually looks at you, like it's the first time in an age someone's actually wanted to hear what he has to say.

"You'd actually listen? Why though?"

"Because I'm nice." He laughs and you give him the finger, knocking your bottle over the table, spilling beer everywhere. He laughs even harder at that. You scowl at him getting tissues from the bar.

"Fuck you walker, I am."

You mutter wiping over the table, the tissues making more mess.

"Everyone just sees me as an asshole.” 

"You are an asshole." You flop back down on the seat, smirking at him.

"Wow. Thanks."

You catch his eye again, smiling earnestly, "But I know that's not all you are. I got one good ear, try me."

He's struggling, wringing his hands and he doesn't, can't look at you as he talks.

"That today, it keeps happening. Worse since the void, most times I can feel them starting, but today, it hit me like a truck. You knew?"

"My dad was in Iraq, he was never the same after. He has these flashbacks where he's stuck reliving his traumatic memories. He won't tell me what he sees, but I know it's bad."

Walker studies you with understanding, "I guess it takes the edge off being part of something again. Maybe Olivia will let me see Hobie some more...I don't know." His eyes light up at the mention of his son, his smile easier and you liked it.

"What's he like?" John watches you strangely, like he's surprised you're interested.

“Hobie? He's fucking amazing. Nothing like me. He reminds me of Lemar sometimes. I miss him...part of me died with him that day...the good part…after Olivia left,  I was...I am fucked up, I was nothing, had nothing, I thought about…fuck, ignore me...”

That little sliver of happiness turns to pain and you wish you were closer, that you could comfort him. You knew. You'd been there. For weeks after the void, what you saw breaking you all over again.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't go through with it, who else would've saved my ass today?"

"That is fucking true, they still don't trust you, except for Bob."

"I love Bob!" You grin and he holds out his bottle.

"Right?"

You clink them together in mock cheers.

"I do though, I trust you."

"Thanks, Walker."

"No, I mean it, and for what you said earlier, helping that kid.”

"Bucky was so pissed.”

“Ain't he always?”

You get more drinks in, both of you are a little lighter. He tells you hilarious stories about Lemar, his eyes lighting up when he does. You tell him about your mom, all the good times and you both find comfort in being able to remember. To feel a little less alone.

Time runs away from you and the bar gets busier, noisier, harder to hear what he's saying. He's moved to sit by you, having to lean closer so you can hear him. But the way he's talking so close to your ear, you start to burn up.

“Want some air?”

You make your way through the bar, swaying a little and you both lean against the terrace railing. You close your eyes and let the cool air soothe your face.

“I'm gonna help you. Get you out of her nasty ass claws.” He's staring out over the city as he says it, and you're not sure he actually means it.

"How?" 

"I don't know yet."

He turns back to you, features serious in the glow of the low lights and it shocks you how sincere he is.

“But I will, I promise you.”

“It's weird you being nice like this.” You lean closer, your arm brushing his, conscious of his eyes on you.

“Must be the beer.” He murmurs and you fight the urge to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, must be.”

Finally, you tilt your head to him. He's leaning a little too close, eyes drifting to your lips, but you don't want to stop him. Your skin bristles where his fingers brush yours.

“Hey, you wanna-”

His phone vibrates and rings so loudly that you both jump back. He rummages in his pocket, clumsily turning the phone round and squinting down at it, 'Barnes' flashing over the screen.

 “Hey Bucky!” 

"Are you two drunk?" Bucky asks, that usual grumble in his voice.

"Nope."

"Definitely not."

"Fuck no."

"We've got a problem. Sober up and get to the tower. Now...” John imitates Bucky as he speaks and you splutter, desperately trying not to laugh, "You know this is a video call, right?" 

"Yes, sir." You both salute.

"Oh my god."  

Bucky hangs up on you and with one look, you're both laughing. You'd be in trouble for that later.

"Coffee?" You hold out your hand and he takes it, letting you pull him up him stumbling into a table.

“Ugh, it will take more than coffee.”

You link his arm, both putting weight on each other, somehow staying upright, "you don’t get much downtime with this job, huh?”

“Nope.”

You walk back, ducking into a coffee shop and downing as many espressos as you can carry. Still not completely sober when you meet the others at the tower.

“Someone's blowing up New Jersey again, we gotta go.”

“Again?”

You get no answer, Walker pushing you forward and up the ramp. A bright orange sky greets you in New Jersey, thick smoke and ash covering every surface.

You can make out the shape of someone hovering in the air, flames firing from their hands engulfing everything in their path, buildings and cars exploding, people screaming and running.

"I'm not sober enough for this." Walker groans, surveying the chaos. His skin is ashen, and he's holding onto the door of the jet like it's the only thing keeping him upright. All the way here, he'd been getting greener, all those espressos and beers not mixing well with g-forces.

“You can fix all this?”  Bucky asks and you nod.

“You'll have to put the fire out first."

"Right, you two get all these people away from the fire," he scans you both, "think you can handle that?" Oh, you were in trouble.

"Yes, sir-" You start soon regretting the snark when you see the look on his face.

"Don't push it, get to work." He warns, before he runs with Yelena towards the fire. Both yelling something about Asgardian power diffusing handcuffs...

“You heard him, keep up Walker.”

“Yay….”  

A few more missions later, you're already two months in. They're finally warming to you even Bucky. It helps you've given Valentina absolutely nothing. Making you happier the angrier she gets at each check in. You're waiting for her to pull you out, put you on another job but you're starting to like saving people.

You love backing the misfits up and Bob, well he's hilarious. You'd long since admitted your ‘secret mission’ to them. Not that they're surprised, you're a terrible spy.

After mission drinks with Walker became your favourite thing. Always the same bar as that first time, that same booth, like a ritual. Sometimes he'd be there first, waiting for you, sometimes you'd walk there together. Seems you both needed a friend. Friends. It should have been enough, but the more time you spend with him, the more your attraction grows.

You start to wonder if it was the beer talking that night, just a bit of loneliness. There are times you think he might feel the same. When he sneaks a glance at you, a little too long. When he thinks you don't notice. You wonder if he ever catches you, like now. You're just back off mission and he's messing with his hair, all roughed up from fighting. Completely oblivious to how gorgeous he is.

“Can you believe y/n’s been here two months?”

“Yeah she's getting like furniture.” Yelena jokes and you poke your tongue at her.

Alexei walks by you, patting your shoulder and flashing you a big grin, “I always said, I had a good feeling."

"So, you gonna stay?" Bucky asks giving you a warm smile, and you sit up. Wait, he's smiling at you?

"Do you want me to?"  You whisper, nervous now.

“I guess.”

"Yeah, she's helpful sometimes."

“Wouldn't be the worst thing…”

Walker watches them, waiting to add his take, "I do, I definitely want you…on the team I mean, god.”

"Smooth."

"My god, Walker."

“Can't say no to that, y/n,” Bucky smirks, ”meet back here tomorrow, nine am? Ugh, the witch is back.”

Valentina strolls in, taking mission notes from Bucky and everyone scrambles. The last thing you needed was another 'talk' with Valentina.

“Hey y/n, wait.”

Walker approaches you, a little shifty, is he nervous?

“Hey Walker, drinks later?”

John passes you a letter and you're confused, “Is this a love letter? John…you could text me-” You mock him a little, secretly hoping it was actually a love letter.

“Just open the damn letter.”

You do. Slowly. For effect. Him getting Impatient, you loved winding him up. You tear open the envelope, holding out the letter. Manhattan Cancer Care Centre? This place costs a fortune, even more than Valentina's clinic. 

“This says it's paid up as long as he needs it?” Your gaze keeps shifting between Walker and the letter, not believing what you're reading. That night, he actually meant it?

“How did you?” 

“Don't ask.”  You're searching his eyes, not believing them when he simply shrugs, the paper heavy in your hands. No matter how he did it, you would never forget his kindness. You didn't even think he knew how much this meant to you.

“He's there now?”

“Yeah, you can go see him.”

“It’s been nearly a year. She wouldn't let me see him.” You check the address, mumbling.

Happiness rushes over you, a sense of relief you haven't felt in years. So overwhelming you don't know what to do first. You start to run for the elevator, then run back. Shit, you should thank him. Flinging your arms around him you kiss him on the cheek.

“Shit, I didn't mean to make you cry. “ He reaches up to brush tears away, his touch lingering too long, leaving goosebumps and you'd never wanted to kiss him more.

Fuck it. You close the distance between you his breath hitching slightly when you press your lips to his. Soft and longing, his fingers tangled in your hair, gripping the base of your neck. The other at your waist holding you closer, the firm heat of him against you. Smiling, he pulls away a little, you chasing his lips.

“Thank you, John.” You whisper, biting your lip. His face flushes, squeezing your waist before you let him go.

“My god, go.”

You had so much to tell dad, though you'd leave out the getting shot at part. Valentina's still talking with Bucky and you hold the elevator.

Just one more thing.

“Fuck you, Valentina, I quit.”

“Excuse me?” Valentina turns to you, indignant. For once, you don't care. Didn't have to.

 “I said, fuck you. You don't own me anymore. I work for them now.” You grin and give her the finger as the door closes. 

Yelenaa joins Walker, who's watching you with amusement and something else she can't place. She shoves his shoulder.

“Wow, you did a good thing.”

“I guess.“ 

“How does it feel?”

“Pretty fucking good.”

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[justnshalom]

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