#which would be manageable if we weren’t like. a week behind on LEARNING how to DO the projects before their fucking due dates.

[livvyofthelake]

um i already want this week to be over. cordelia you were supposed to fix me wtf girl. (i have not even been reading cordelia. maybe if i had been i would be doing better)

[folkloresthings]

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track two: wendy.

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

. . . SEPTEMBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. september twenty—seventh.

liked by niallhoran, lizzymcalpine and 761,320 others

yourusername first song from the good witch! i wrote wendy after a day huddled under my duvet rewatching every adaptation of peter pan that exists. it’s all about falling for lost boys and trying your best to see the best in them even though your heart tells you better. it’s about not making sacrifices even though you want to, learning to put yourself first despite how much love might blind you to do the opposite. what about wendy!

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user STOP these songs are going to tear lando apart i just know it

charlottesiine wendy darling 🤍 lock the windows!!!!

user is lando her lost boy 😭😭😭

REWIND… AUGUST 2022.

for just under three years, heaven was all you knew. lando was a dream, all wrapped up in his love for you and forever devoted to your attentions. maybe the effect of being locked up together for months as the pandemic reigned had given you both a taste of stockholm syndrome and left you with nothing else to focus on. or maybe it was just time.

the beginning of summer break was when you felt the first shift. every other year, lando whisked you away on a holiday to the sunniest place he could find. he wined and dined you, making up for all of the lost time between the racing season and touring. only, this time, he had booked a trip to ibiza with max and his friends.

“what about me?”

“i don’t see them that often either, you know that,” he defended.

it was understandable, you supposed. he liked those kinds of places, you didn’t. so while he partied there, you spent a little extra time in the studio. but then it was a week in spain with carlos, another in croatia with daniel. the compromise came in the form of monaco. you would take some time off, leaving your london flat behind, and come stay with lando in his monte carlo apartment.

you were all excitement, until you realised your time there was scheduled around lando’s meetings and dj sets and boys night out. the desperation to be close to him trumped all else and so you followed him around like a lost puppy, forever blinded by the sweet kisses and doting promises.

“i’ll take you to dinner tomorrow night, just me and you,” lando would murmur in your ear, letting your frustration subside long enough to let him go back to his friends.

it took that whole month in monaco to realise that this is what lando wanted: someone to follow after him and live for the short term magic, only to be let down by the endless maybe’s, trusting that he’ll catch you when you fall. it terrified you, and yet your undying love kept you playing along.

“i have a show in brixton next week,” you told him on your last morning in monaco, shoving the last of your clothes into your case. “it’s low-key, for some of the really devoted fans. i got management to put your name on the list.”

lando zipped up the last of your belongings, soft thumbs caressing your cheeks. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you grinned happily, uncaring for whatever doubt sank in your stomach when it was just the two of you, his lips soothing on your warm skin. he loved you, truly.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—first.

liked by nicolacoughlan, hozier and 780,629 more

y/nupdates y/n in brixton tonight! 21/8 🤍

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user1 the intimate shows w her are my fav 🥺🥺🥺

user2 mother!

user3 was lando there? i heard she gave him a shoutout

⤷ user2 she sang feels like this and dedicated it to him!

⤷ user4 yeah but it seemed like she was looking out for him in the back when she said it and it didn’t look like he was there ☹️

⤷ user5 ouch 🥲

“are you alright?”

it’s the first thing you ask when he answers the phone, and you know it’s horrible that you hope something bad has happened — but it’s better than the truth that weighs heavy on his lips.

“i’m so sorry love, i meant to call you earlier,” lando groans through your speaker, your dressing room door clicking closed behind you. still in your stage outfit, you await the excuses. “the flight was delayed and then cancelled. i would get the next flight but i’ve got that thing tomorrow evening.”

“oh, i see.” your eyes sting.. “are you back in the apartment now?”

“huh? oh yeah, i just got an uber back from the airport and i’m ordering some food now.”

if you had the energy to scoff and argue you would, for you can hear the distant bouncing of club music on the other end of the phone, most likely muffled by where lando has hidden away in the bathroom.

“that’s nice,” you whisper, picking anxiously at the skin around your nailbed. “well, the show went really well. i think that—”

“babe, you’re breaking up. i’ll call you tomorrow okay?” lando’s voice raises as the bathroom door on his side opens to let the loud music peek in. “i’m sorry again.”

“okay, bye,” you sigh, but the call ends before he can even hear it. sinking into the small sofa of the dressing room, curling into yourself, the tears flow over your perfect makeup — fading the lipstick you’d chosen just for him.

you couldn’t live like this, is what your friends told you when you spent your evening crying on their sofa. but you loved him, and you would follow him to the ends of the earth. you could be married soon, waiting up at night for the sound of the door unlatching. it’s a life you could have and you knew it — even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—second.

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 722,784 others

yourusername a week in neverland

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user1 boyfriend lando pics!!!

carlossainz55 so great to see you!👸

⤷ yourusername time for you to come to london now!!!!

⤷ carlossainz55 ✈️🏃🏻💨

user2 ofc lando brings her to the track even on summer break 🙄😅

landonorris my wendy darling ❤️

⤷ user3 does this make lando peter pan?

⤷ yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user4 still sad we didn’t see lando at the london show :(

writers note: did i promise this new chapter ages ago? yes but just be happy you guys have it now 🫶❤️‍🔥

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

[sinsirellaxx]

Five times the Rogue Prince made you cry

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Daemon being Daemon, mentions of dubcon, angst and heartbreak?

Also: Not proofread – as always. Are we even surprised at this point?

The first time he had made you cry; was the second time you had met him. The first time you had met him was at a celebration at the Red Keep, his eyes had been glued to you the moment they had come across you. You weren’t sure what had drawn him to you, because you and everyone else were aware of his preferences – and you were nothing like the ideal woman that he was surely after. What you were sure of, however, was the feeling of discomfort and dread wash over you as his eyes burned into your skin. You had excused yourself early and parted from your friends and family before he had the chance to approach you.

After that, you saw him as he was invading your city, causing havoc and brutally cutting down everyone that came across him. Your wide teary eyes, filled with grief and hatred, had met his wicked ones before you turned around and ran. Ran until your legs burned – begging you to stop and rest. But you couldn’t. The sound of him hot on your tail haunting you and forcing you to push your muscles beyond their limits, scared of what he might do to you if he caught you.

The only thing that saved you that night was you jumping off a cliff and into the deep dark sea – lucky that you hadn’t hit your head on a stone upon breaching through the water surface. Before the Rogue Prince could reach the waters, you had managed to run into the woods and hide.

The second time he had made you cry was in the free city of Braavos. After having escaped that horrible night, you had not returned home to look for any remaining family – in fear of running across the Rogue Prince and having to face the reality of losing your family. Instead, you had traveled to Braavos to start a new life and to find the faceless men, for the world was not kind to helpless girls or women – you needed to learn how to fend for yourself. After weeks of trying to coax your way into the guild you finally made it into it. Moons pass by, before you cross paths with the Rogue Prince again. You don’t see him until he is just a few feet away from you, his hand reaching out towards you, his eyes filled with the same electric excitement as that night. You turned around just in time, stumbling back a few steps when your brain registered his Targaryen features. When you finally realized you turned around and ran, the blonde prince right behind you.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you at the Déjà vu, the situation so ironic that it made you want to laugh. You were thankful that you had spent a good amount of time exploring the city as you maneuvered through narrow alleys, pushing random objects to the floor behind you to slow the prince down.

Why was he here? Had he been searching for you? If so, why?

When you spotted the temple of the Faceless-Men your eyes lit up, but before you could relax the thought of luring a stranger to the guild to the temple would be fatal. You’d be in trouble with the Faceless-Men, and it was never wise to show your hideout to your enemy. Which is why you took a sharp turn, stumbling in the process. Fuck. Fear consumed your body when a hand shot out, grasping the back of your shirt with inhuman strength, pulling you back into the hard chest of your captor. You had lost. His strong arms wrapped around you, caging you in.

“I finally got you, little bird.” He chuckled into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your cheek like dragon fire, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You had started thrashing around immediately; kicking your legs, pushing your elbow into his sides but nothing seemed to help – his grip was like iron around you. His embrace would be your personal birdcage from then on. The more you seemed to put up a fight, the wider the smirk on his face grew. As impatient as Daemon was, he quickly grew tired of your tantrum, the elbow that had managed to hit him in the face was the last straw. He quickly turned you around before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, his arm wrapping tightly around your thighs. He wouldn’t take any more chances. He would not lose you again. After walking across the whole city, he had stopped in the middle of nowhere. When you heard the screech of his Dragon you felt tears burn behind your eyes. You truly had lost.

When he heaved you up onto the dragon, a lone tear rolled down your cheek. When he climbed up behind you, his arms immediately wrapping around you possessively the rest of your tears followed.

“Let’s go home, riñītsos.”

The third time he had made you cry was shortly after the second time. Instead of King’s Landing he had taken you to Dragonstone, locking you into one of the rooms before disappearing for a few days. The maids had been the only people you had seen over those days. They had washed you, dressed you and fed you, before disappearing again. On the fifth day, the Maids had entered your room in a rush, carrying a beautiful gown into your chambers before ushering you into the bathroom. A weird feeling had spread through your body; the gown looked like a wedding-gown, the feeling of nausea rushed over you, weakening your knees and if you hadn’t been seated in the hot water you would have surely fainted. The urge to throw up had grown worse when you were seated in front of the vanity, the maids working on your hair and applying some kohl and tint onto your trembling lips. Afterwards you were forced into the beautiful gown, the corset was tied tightly, and you had wished for the corset to completely cut of your airstream and suffocate you. But fate wasn’t that kind.

The maids had left you after that, but you hadn’t been left alone for long as the Rogue Prince entered your chambers with a wide grin on his face.

“Gods – you look beautiful, riñītsos. Have you missed me?” He came to stand behind you, his chest touching your back as he pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent.

When you had stepped away from him, he tutted his tongue, pulling you towards him again. You had tried your best to avoid looking him in the eyes, but you couldn’t help but look up when you felt the feeling of cold metal on your neck and chest. Your hand flew up to touch the necklace, looking down to see the beautiful ruby gemstones encased by dragon claws. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered as you examined it silently. “It’s my wedding gift.”

At the word wedding your whole body tensed up again. You had immediately started protesting, your hands frantically trying to unclasp the necklace, but the prince had only chuckled at your pathetic attempt. “No? What do you think will happen, if you start running again, little bird? Do you really think that you can escape me? Escape from Dragonstone?” The silence that had followed was loud, followed by a low, haunting chuckle. He had been right. You couldn’t escape.

That day you had cried in front of the sept as you were bound to the man you feared most in front of his gods. That day you had cried yourself to sleep after he had defiled you – after he had greedily taken everything from you until exhaustion finally took over you.

The fourth time he had made you cry was when Daemon had stormed into your chambers, an unreadable look on his face as he approached you with big steps. You had been scared, your body still sore from the previous night but instead of bending you over as he liked to do most of the nights, he had kneeled in front of you – hugging your body and pressing his face into your stomach.

“My little dragon. Thank you, ābrazȳrys.” He had said, before pressing soft kisses onto your stomach, his hands squeezing your bottom as he took in a deep breath. “The maester informed me you’re with child, little bird.”

His words had made your heart skip a bit, the feeling of anxiety threatening to consume your nerves as your eyes widened in shock. You were pregnant with his child.

“You are mine forever, riñītsos.”

The fifth time you had cried was when you caught him kiss his niece in a dark corridor – the pregnancy hormones had messed with your feelings you had told yourself as you had run back to the safety of the room. You had cried and cried, clutching onto the front of your dress at your heart’s betrayal. You had fallen for your captor. And your captor had cheated on you.

[munson-blurbs]

Get Out of My Head (Eddie x Fem!Reader)

You can’t get rid of Eddie Munson...but do you really want to?

Warnings: 18+ only (some smut, minors DNI), language, mention of Jason Carver, SO MUCH ANGST

WC: 2.8k

A/N: This might be my favorite one so far...feedback is so appreciated!

Late May, 1986. You just finished your second year of college, and you’re back home in Hawkins, Indiana for the summer. Your school is one of the first to get out among the smattering of high school friends you had left, which means you’re bored and alone for the next week or so. After unpacking and helping your mom with dinner, you drive your clunker of a Honda to Family Video in a meager attempt to cure your boredom. 

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley are behind the counter in matching uniforms. You remember them from high school. Steve was popular and obnoxious back then. Robin was quieter and, while you didn’t run in the same social circles, she was never mean to you. They seem to get along well now, though, and you wonder silently how this friendship came to be.

Your attention is quickly drawn to another familiar figure learning up against the other side of the counter: Eddie Munson, school freak and Dungeon Master extraordinaire. Your former closest friend and confidant, thrown away after one stupid decision on your part. 

You’d met in middle school in music class. He played the guitar and you played the piano. Your teacher had recommended you both join the school band, and he just snorted, wanting nothing to do with extracurricular activities. You didn’t like them much, either, considering you had enough trouble with bullies during normal school hours. 

It had kicked off a friendship that lasted until the day before you left for freshman year of college in August 1984. Eddie had to repeat his senior year (for the first time), so he’d be staying back.

“Holy shit. Y/F/N fuckin’ Y/L/N,” Eddie says now, snapping you back to the present. Your VHS copy of The Shining slips from your hands and clatters to the floor. You step forward to pick it up, but he’s faster, snatching it in his ring-clad fingers.

“Here, I got it,” he hands it over and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You home for the summer?”

“Mhm,” you nod, refusing to make eye contact.

“Maybe we could...catch up sometime?” His voice cracks a bit, and you can tell he’s nervous. Good. You weren’t the only one, then.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so,” you reply coolly. A bead of sweat trickles down your back, and you know it’s not just from the summer heat.

Suddenly, the room seems too small and you just need to leave. You toss the VHS on the counter, earning an annoyed “hey!” from Steve, and rush out the door. Your Honda stalls the first time you turn over the ignition, but it catches on the second time, thank God, and you drive off empty-handed.

~

You’re on your way to Bradley’s Big Buy the next day to drop off your application for a summer job, when the inevitable happens: your car breaks down on the side of the road.

“FUCK!” you shout as you slam your fists against the wheel, resulting in an appropriately angry honk. It catches the attention of another driver, who pulls over. 

You know that van. You spent so much time in there, getting rides to and from school and toking up in the back. You don’t even need to see the driver to know that it’s Eddie.

“Nope, nope, absolutely not,” you say loudly, going back into your car. You close the door and immediately feel the humidity stick to your skin. It’s between talking to Eddie and suffocating, and you’re having trouble deciding which would be worse.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Eddie walks over, kicking up dirt with each step. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail and off his face, showing off his beautiful bone structure. You shake off the thought, locking the door before he can open it.

“Leave me alone!” you say, blinking back tears in your eyes. You’d managed to avoid Eddie all last summer by taking an internship in Indianapolis, and now you’ve seen him twice in two days. Hawkins was just too small.

He raps on the window impatiently. “You’re gonna die in there!” 

Your response is just crossing your arms and turning your head. He’s right, but you won’t admit it.

He sighs. “Okay, look,” he says finally, “I’ll leave and get Wayne to tow it, but just get out of the car once I go, all right?” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice, and you secretly relish the ounce of power you have over him.

“Fine. Just go.” You should thank him. No, you’ll just thank Wayne. The old man didn’t do anything wrong; just his stupid nephew did.

Eddie leaves and you climb out of the car. Half an hour later, Wayne pulls up with his tow truck. He gives a small grin, the Wayne version of breaking out into song and dance. 

“Y/N,” he says, “Eddie tells me you need a tow.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you start, fanning yourself with your hand. “And maybe some AC?”

“I can offer you both,” Wayne answers, opening the door for you. You hop in as he hooks up your car to the rig.

Wayne Munson was never a talkative man, so you’re surprised when he strikes up a conversation with you as he drives you back to the shop. “Eddie told me you were back in town. ‘S good to see ya, kid.”

You’d practically lived at the Munson trailer, especially when your parents were being particularly hard on you. Wayne didn’t judge; just offered you a safe space to breathe and be yourself.

“‘S great to see you too, Wayne,” you reply. 

“We miss having you at the house. Not the same without you cracking jokes and baking for us. Hand to God, I’ve never had a chocolate chip cookie as good as yours, Y/N.”

This elicits a giggle from you. “I’ll have to drop some off sometime,” you say without thinking. You make a mental note to make sure Eddie’s van is nowhere to be found when you stop by.

Wayne nods. “Or, you can bake at our place like you used to. Makes the place smell good. Otherwise, it just smells like me and Eddie.” He wrinkles his nose. You just nod, knowing that won’t happen.

The rest of the ride passes by in a comfortable silence until you pull up to the auto shop. You see Eddie’s van parked outside and accidentally let out an audible groan. All you have to do is go in, call your parents, and then wait. Maybe you can even walk a few blocks so you don’t have to stick around. Yeah, that’ll work.

“I just need to call my parents to come get me, if that’s okay,” you say to Wayne as you walk in. He nods and points you to the phone, back to being a man of few words.

Before you can pick up the phone, Eddie hurries to your side. “Wait, Y/N,” he says. “Please let me drive you home. I need to talk to you about--about what happened.” You’re about to protest, but he cuts you off. “And then I will leave you alone. You never have to talk to me again, I promise.”

You roll your eyes, but mutter “fine,” and follow him to his van. You pull your knees to your chest, closing yourself off to him. You don’t even care if you get mud on his seats, though he probably does, which makes it even more satisfying. 

“I just want to say that I’m sorry,” he starts as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I was an ass, and I really messed up.”

You scoff. “Messed up? Isn’t that the understatement of the fucking year.”

Eddie keeps his eyes trained on the road, but you notice his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “Yeah, it probably is. I know I hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel...” he trails off, because words can’t adequately express the pain you felt that day.

“Make me feel what? Used? Discarded? Like a piece of fucking meat?” You snap. Your eyes brim with tears, and you don’t have the energy to will them away, so you let them slip down your cheeks.

~

The day before you left for college. August 1984. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, not just anticipating being somewhere new without anyone familiar, but because Eddie Munson is next to you, helping you pack up your parents’ station wagon.

“I think that’s the last box!” He says triumphantly. “You’re ready to leave the nest. Fly, baby bird, fly!” He’s so silly and dramatic, and you throw your head back and laugh.

“Eds, I’m gonna miss you,” you say softly. He pulls you to his chest for a deep hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“I’m gonna visit you all the time,” he promises. “Whenever I can. And then I’m gonna graduate and join you.”

You nod, your chest filling up with emotion. Your heart seems to be beating double-time, and you know you have to go for it.

“Eddie?” you pull away slightly to look up at him. He gives you a small smile and brushes a piece of hair from your face.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, I--” You’re doing this. You’re really fucking doing this. “I really like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I was too afraid...” 

He smiles, the shy grin stretching across his whole face. “Y/N, I’ve liked you for...forever,” he grabs your hand gently, and you squeeze his fingers. “Well, probably since Jason Carver vandalized the Hellfire room and you started that rumor that he has a micro penis.”

You giggled. “Not my fault it was so believable,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie cups your face in his strong hands, leans down, and kisses you. You grab one of his belt loops and kiss him harder, letting your tongue explore his mouth. He lifts you and you wrap your legs around him, weaving your fingers into his curls.

He breaks the kiss tenderly and smiles. “Holy shit. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You look into his chocolate brown eyes. “You wanna go inside?” you ask shyly, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Are y-you sure?” he stammers, “it’ll be your first time--and mine, too, I guess,” he admits sheepishly, even though you already knew he was a virgin.

“’M sure. I want you to be my first, Eds. And I wanna be yours.”

The next few minutes are spent in your bedroom, undressing each other. Eddie pauses before unclasping your bra, but you nod, and he removes it. He immediately kisses your breasts, gently caressing them as he runs his thumbs over your nipples. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You kiss his neck as you unbutton his jeans and pull down his fly, and he steps out of them. His cock is rock hard in his boxers as he climbs on top of you, running his fingers over your soaked panties. You expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t; he just slips his finger under the band and pulls them off. You reach for his boxers and slide them down, careful of his erection. 

You’re both completely naked. You’ve never felt more vulnerable, but also so free. You kiss him harder as he searches for your clit, and you guide his hand to that sweet spot. He mutters a “thanks,” and you smile in response.

There’s no one word to describe sex with Eddie. It’s clumsy and awkward but exciting and romantic. He slides a finger in you and moves it too gently, and you tell him, “You can go faster, Eddie. I’ll tell you if it doesn’t feel good.”

He gets his rhythm and adds another finger. You arch your back, riding a wave of pleasure. “Eddie,” you moan softly. You reach for his cock, stroking it. He places his free hand over yours and moves it faster. 

“Just like that, beautiful girl.” You swallow thickly. Eddie Munson called you beautiful.

You’re soaking wet as he presses himself to your opening, before stopping. “Shit. I don’t have a condom,” he grumbles.

“It’s okay. I just finished my period a few days ago. Just...just pull out, just to be safe.”

He nods and eases his way in. There’s a spark of pain and you grit your teeth. Eddie notices and pauses. “Y-you okay?”

“Yeah. Just hurts a little b-bit, but I’m okay,” you smile up at him reassuringly. “Please, Eddie, I need you.”

He moans, a little whimper, and gently guides himself into you. The pain stops, and then there’s just you and Eddie, losing your virginities to each other.

You giggle, and he starts to laugh, too. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” He says incredulously. 

“We really are.”

Eddie thrusts for another minute, his breath getting heavier. “Fuck, Y/N. I can’t hold out.”

“It’s okay.”

“But you didn’t--”

“It’s fine, Eddie. Lots of girls don’t their first time.”

He pulls out, finishing on his own hand. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters. His cheeks are flushed.

You hand him a tissue and kiss his cheek. “We can try again when you visit me at school, yeah?” you ask hopefully.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Of course.”

The moment is interrupted by a car door slamming.

“My parents!” you scramble for your clothes. “Get dressed!” The two of you rush around the room, throwing on your clothes.

“Eds, your shirt is inside out!” you whisper loudly. He tugs it off and flips it right-side in.

“I’m leaving tomorrow at 9 AM. Come over to say goodbye?” you ask.

He grabs your face and kisses your lips, then your nose. “I’ll be there.”

~

But he’s not.

It’s 9:15, your dad is impatiently waiting, muttering about traffic, and Eddie Munson is nowhere to be found.

“We gotta go!” Your dad calls, and your mom nods her head.

“One more minute!” But you know it’s no use. He’s not coming. You gave each other your virginities, and then Eddie bailed without even saying goodbye.

You run in the house to call him, a last-ditch attempt. Maybe he overslept. The phone rings and rings until the voicemail picks up.

You’ve reached Wayne and Eddie. Leave a message. Wayne’s gruff voice says.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s me. Just wondering where you are. You’re probably still sleeping...I’ll call you when I get to school and give you the number to reach me. Miss you already.”

You climb in the car, listening for the sound of his van rumbling down the street.

Nothing.

~

And now you’re back in that van, crying just like you did on your first night of school, when you realized that he was never calling you back. Only now, Eddie’s crying too. You’ve never seen him this upset.

“I am so, so sorry. I’m the dumbest person alive.”

“No, Eddie. You’re just like every other guy out there, just using women as sex toys whenever it’s convenient for you.”

You’ve hurt him, but you can’t muster up any empathy. “You think that’s what happened?”

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “No. No! I got...I got nervous.”

“Nervous? Eddie, I lost my virginity to you the day before.”

“Yeah, and then you were going off to college, where you would meet all these smart, athletic guys, and you’d realize that you could do better than me.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing; there’s a meanness to it. “So you got insecure and decided, ‘You know what? I’ll just break Y/N’s heart!’”

He says nothing, just stares stoically at the road.

“Fuck you, Eddie. Just take me home and fuck off.”

“Do you know what it’s like?” he raises his voice and it trembles. “Do you know how it feels to be the school freak, to be the butt of everyone’s jokes, and then trying to trust someone with your whole heart?”

Now it’s your turn to be silent.

“I know I fucked up, Y/N. I’m not pretending that what I did was fair to you. But please,” he begs, “please cut me some slack. I was so scared, but I’m not scared anymore. If I was, I wouldn’t be here talking to you, asking for your forgiveness.”

You feel your icy exterior start to melt. “Pull over,” you say.

“What?”

“Pull. Over.”

He does as he’s told, throwing the car into park. You turn to him, making eye contact with him for the first time in nearly two years.

“I forgive you, Eddie.” You place a hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears. “I know life hasn’t been easy for you. But what you did...it fucking broke me.”

You feel his chin tremble. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, but it’s still so genuine.

“And you know what really sucks? I still care about you. I want to kiss your stupid face and hold your stupid hand and go on stupid dates with you.”

Eddie gives a small laugh. “We could give it another shot,” he suggests shyly. “I won’t run away this time.”

You pull yourself closer and lean in. “You’d better not, Munson.”

--

[rune-writes]

Ephemerality

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Word count: 1827

Rating: G

Pairing: Xavier/MC

Summary: In the outskirts of Linkon City, there is a park listed as one of the Top Ten Romantic Parks of Linkon City. Xavier invites MC out for a Valentine's Day date.

Notes: A belated Happy Valentine's Day~

I wanted to write a cute Xavier/MC fic for Valentine's, but alas, I could only finish it now, and... it ends up not being very Valentine-y either haha.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Mind your step.” 

Xavier offered his hand as we came to a slope, pebbles rolling loosely over a steep incline. It wasn’t particularly treacherous. At least, not for me. I was a Hunter, and I was equipped with hiking boots and pants. A measly slope couldn’t outdo me. So I ignored his hand and said, “I can manage just f—” I couldn’t finish my sentence before I felt my foot slip. 

The wind rushed out of me and the world upended—

Xavier caught my wrist and pulled me up, giving me leverage to fix my posture and land on his side. I gasped, heart racing within my ribcage. 

“What did I tell you?” he said. His voice was carefully leveled, but when I chanced a glance, I caught the mirth behind his pressed lips. His eyes couldn’t lie. 

“Thanks,” I said tartly. 

He released a playful scoff under his breath, then shifted his hold to my hand, his long fingers enveloping mine in a secure grasp. His smile finally on full display, he said, “Don’t let go now.” 

Any counter or retort I had ready evaporated instantly at sight of his disarming face. 

This hike had been his idea. Well, mine if we’re talking about technicalities, but I had only made a passing comment on a passing article I was reading—Top Ten Romantic Parks in Linkon City. I knew most of the ones listed; some were popular spots in the city proper even for single people, which I had been one until recently. The tenth one on the list, however, was a place I had never heard of. A clearing out on the hills in the outskirts of the city; it was a hike at the end of an hour train ride. I’d asked Xavier if he knew the place.

“I do. I often pass by it on my way home,” he’d replied. I had learned not to pry exactly where he had gone. As far as I knew, there weren’t any no-hunt zones in the area. He’d leaned over the couch and I’d shown him my phone. He’d nodded, confirming the place. “It’s a bit far, and you need to climb a fair distance. I can see why it’s not a popular date spot.”

“It looks pretty,” I’d said, looking back at my phone. Rosalea Park: a fenced-in clearing with beautiful cherry-blossom trees overlooking the entire city. It’d make a perfect spot for flower viewing, if they were in the cherry blossom season. I’d looked at the panoramic photographs the writer had attached before I closed the tab and noticed Xavier’s gaze. I’d met his eyes.

“Do you want to go there?” he’d asked.

And so our plan had been born. Fast forward one week later, I now found myself holding Xavier’s hand as he led me down the trail with groups of cherry-blossom trees flanking us on both sides. It’d take another month or so to see the pink buds bloom and grace the crown of every tree on this hill. Apparently, some decades ago, someone had planted an entire grove of cherry blossoms on the hills outside Linkon, providing the citizens a magnificent view when spring came around. I liked to watch them from the window of my apartment. It was like being surrounded by an endless, undulating pink sea. Magical. But the flowers didn’t last long. The blooms would fall once the season passed and be replaced by an ocean of verdant green. But that would take another couple weeks. Now, however, the trees around us bore white flowers, small and delicate, creating a sort of mystical mirage with their ephemeral beauty.

I gazed at them, transfixed. I didn’t realize Xavier’s stare until I heard his breathy laugh. 

“Do you like them?” he asked. 

“They’re pretty.” I reached up and caught a falling petal on my palm. “They remind me of you.”

“How so?” 

“They’re quite hardy, and they foretell the coming of spring,” I said. “But they’re also brittle. A single touch could make them fall from their branch. Blink once and you’d miss the beauty they offer.” 

He paused, then said, “Do I seem brittle to you then?” 

I looked up and met his backward glance. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. I didn’t think my nonchalant observation would catch his attention. But then a breeze caught the petal in my palm and I watched it dance in the wind alongside other loose flowers. One landed on Xavier’s head, and I giggled, reaching up to brush it away. 

“You’re not brittle,” I told him as I picked the stray petal from his hair. Holding it between my thumb and forefinger, it quivered as the wind fought to keep it aloft. And then it broke free, and I felt a part of me fly away with it. “You’re…elusive. I fear that if I close my eyes, you’ll be gone from my side.” 

Xavier didn’t break his gaze away from me. I looked ahead and found that we’d reached the edge of the treeline. I tugged his hand, urging him to go faster. And then we were outside, and the view took my breath away. 

We were at the top of a hill: Rosalea Hill, judging from the sign they’d propped just outside the line of trees. But the trail didn’t stop there. It went on past the sign and into the clearing, winding around a plethora of flowerbeds in circles, squares, or crescent shapes. A mingle of scents greeted my senses. It felt like I was back in the flower shop Xavier liked to visit, except the smell was richer here, the colors more abundant and vibrant. 

We weren’t the only ones visiting the park either. Couples were already setting up picnic mats and several were taking pictures on the benches or by the wall overlooking the city. I let go of Xavier’s hand and rushed over to it, leaning over and peering down the stone structure. We were so high; the park ended in a steep slope that could easily break someone’s neck were they to fall over. Or, well, at the very least sprain their ankle. The slope wasn’t too sheer that your feet couldn’t find purchase, but I could imagine someone slipping over the terrain.

Like I had just moments before, to my mortification.

Xavier entered my line of sight and I grinned up at him. “Look,” I said, pointing at the entrance to the hiking trail at the bottom of the hill. “That’s where we came in, huh?”

“It appears so.” 

”Doesn’t seem like this place is unpopular,” I added, noting the crowd that was still trickling into the entrance. 

Xavier chuckled. “I never said it’s unpopular. I only said it might not be a popular date spot.”

Well, there were a lot of couples. Either Xavier was wrong, or they’d all fallen victim to the same article I’d read.

I followed the road, all its winding way back to the nearby train station, then finally to the city in the distance. Under the sun, Linkon City’s numerous skyscrapers glinted brilliantly, towers upon glass towers piercing the sky all the way to where Skyhaven hung with its gilded spires. I could spot the parks—clusters of little green dots sandwiched between rows of buildings. I could hazard a guess where our apartment was, though I couldn’t very well see the building from so far away. I saw the river, a sparkling blue line winding through the settlement, cutting right at the heart and finally draining into the sea beyond. Pristine ivory shores rimmed the city’s western edge. 

The place where I grew up looked so different from above. So serene and timeless, as though we had crossed over a threshold and were now gazing at a frozen sculpture. “It’s so beautiful,” I said breathlessly. Too beautiful, in fact. I couldn’t help the slight pang in my heart knowing that one day, things would change.

I pushed myself from the wall and took a few steps back, breathing in the scent, absorbing the view. I might have stayed like that for all eternity if I hadn’t heard the shutter of a camera going off. I looked to my right and saw Xavier directing his phone camera at me. He smiled sheepishly at being caught. 

“Let me borrow your phone,” he said, stashing his away.  

I blinked. “What for?”

He didn’t say anything, only held out his hand in silent inquiry. I indulged him, fishing my phone from my bag and placing it on his palm. 

“Now come here.” He drew me to his side, maneuvered us so that we had our backs to the city, then directed my phone at us to take a selfie picture. “Smile.” 

The shutter went off again. 

Even with the impromptu nature, it was still a pretty good picture. He managed to capture the city in the distance while also still capturing our smiles. He fiddled around with my phone for a while longer before giving it back to me. I looked at the screen—

—and realized he’d changed my home screen wallpaper to the photo he’d just taken. 

“Now even if you close your eyes, I’ll always be by your side.” 

I stared at my phone, then at his cheeky smile. “I want another one.”

“What?”

“It’s not good enough. Better yet, I’ll just take a picture of you ‘cause you already took mine.”

“Wait—”

I pushed him to the wall, had him pose for me several times. After a while, Xavier could only smile in resign. 

“Happy now?” he asked after his photo session ended. “You know, I only took one photo of you.” 

“And I took five.” I scrolled through my album. I couldn’t quite keep the grin out of my face. He looked so handsome in his jacket and turtleneck, and so cute when he pouted at the last picture because I couldn’t decide what pose I wanted him to do. I decided to use that for my homescreen wallpaper instead. 

“Why are you grinning at a picture when the real one is in front of you?” 

I glanced up, and true enough, the hint of a pout was already forming again in his otherwise poker face. I beamed from ear to ear. “Oh please, as if you wouldn’t look at my picture when I’m not looking.”

His response was a guilty, breathy laugh. 

I grabbed his hand and led him away from the wall to a quieter area. “Come on, then. Let’s set up our picnic mat. I made a lot of delicious meals this morning. I can’t wait for you to try them.” 

Later, Xavier told me that the park was even more romantic at night. They had lights stringed around the flower beds, and around the paths and walls as well. Like artificial fireflies, he said. He promised to take me here again to see it. Perhaps, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. 

~ END ~

[uramilf]

Day Eight - Eggnog and Mulled Wine

“Babe, are you ready?” Y/N called down the hall to Matty. “Coming now!” They were headed off to George and Charli’s place for one final get-together before Christmas. It was the first time they’d properly be hanging out with the group since Matty and Y/N got together, minus the night everyone found out about their relationship.

Matty came out of the bedroom with his tie hanging loosely around his neck, smiling in disbelief when he laid eyes on his girlfriend. “Fuck, baby. You look perfect.” She smiled back and turned round to show off the back of her sparkly red dress. “You like?” “I love,” he groaned. “I don’t think George would care if we were a bit late.” “Absolutely not, we’re not gonna see them until after Christmas! C’mere.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before tying his tie in a neat knot. “Fine, let’s go.” He took her hand and they left the house together. The car ride was full of laughter and bad singing to Christmas songs on the radio. Presents for their friends were laying in gift bags on the back seat, so many they weren’t sure they would get them into George’s house in one run.

They managed to get all the presents inside and started greeting their friends, everyone cooing over Adam and Carly’s son who had just started walking. Matty couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of his girlfriend holding a baby. “I know it’s early days, but this is making me want kids,” he whispered to her with a smile. “Good, so I’m not the only one with baby fever.”

Charli seemed to appear out of nowhere behind them laughing. “Baby fever? Good. Do it.” “Em, we’ve been going out for less than a month. Do you wanna fuck off?” “Matty!” Y/N hissed, gesturing to the baby on her hip. “You know he’s starting to talk now, do you really want him to learn that word?” “Yes, absolutely. Hann would hate it.” “What would I hate?” Adam called from across the room. Y/N, Matty and Charli looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Nothing!”

—————

The group settled back into the living room after dinner. There wasn’t enough room of the sofas and chairs for everyone, so Carly sat in Adam’s lap whilst Charli played with their son on the carpeted floor. Matty was drinking a glass of eggnog (which he hated, but it was such a nice Christmas cliche and he wanted to feel included) while Y/N sipped on some mulled wine that Carly had made.

“So, Denise’s for Christmas?” George asked Y/N. “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous if I’m honest.” “Don’t be, she’s going to absolutely love you. Didn’t you see her on Loose Women last week saying she sometimes prefers her sons’ girlfriends to them?” “No chance you watch Loose Women,” Y/N giggled. “To see my second mother? Absolutely!” “It’s true,” Charli piped up from the floor. “He loves it.”

“We’d better head off,” Carly said, reaching down to pick up her son and giving Charli a kiss on the cheek. “This little man needs to go to bed!” “Yeah, I should go too. I’m heading to Mum’s for Christmas tomorrow, long drive ahead of me,” Ross yawned, playfully ruffling the baby’s hair. “Thanks for the lovely dinner, Char.”

George showed them all out after a few hugs and Merry Christmases. Charli stood up and stretched, before saying “Y/N? Can you come help me in the kitchen for a minute?” “Yeah, of course.” “I’ll come help with the dishes,” Matty offered, standing up, but Charli shot him a look and said “No, it’s fine. We need a girls chat anyway, it’s well overdue.” Matty raised his hands in surrender and leaned back in his chair as George re-entered.

“So. Meeting the parents?” Charli grinned. “Yeah. How long did it take for you to meet G’s parents?” “A few weeks, about the same as you. But I wasn’t staying there for the holidays. You must be scared shitless.” “Finally someone who gets it,” Y/N sighed. “Everyone’s saying his family’s lovely, and I’m sure it’s true, but all his girlfriends before me were pop stars or supermodels. I just hope their expectations aren’t too high.” “Look, just because you’re not a model doesn’t mean they won’t love you. They’re probably bored of having the same conversations every Christmas.” “Maybe you’re right. I love Matty and that’s all that really matters, right?”

Charli’s jaw dropped before she squealed in excitement. “You love him?!” “Shit.” Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth. “I just said that, didn’t I?” “Yes!” “Oh my god. I really do love him.”

—————

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Matty and George were having a similar conversation. “I’m so excited for her to meet my mum. They’re gonna love each other. She’s just so perfect, G.” “She’s great,” George agreed. “I’m really happy for you, man.” “I think I’m gonna tell her I love her tonight. Cause I do. I really do. I’ve loved her since long before the whole secret Santa incident.” “Yeah, I fuckin’ know mate! You forget I’m the one who had to listen to you talk about her every day for months.” Matty just smiled. He was gonna tell her. And he was gonna mean it, more than he had ever meant anything in his life.

—————

They lay tangled up in each others arms at the end of the night, opting to stay at Matty’s house so they could look after Mayhem, of course. Matty decided not to make a big deal out of it, because he was sure she already knew. He hadn’t exactly been hiding it.

“I love you, baby.” Y/N’s heart started beating faster, her breath caught in her throat. “I love you too,” she whispered.

[ijwrff]

Hi if you're taking requests may I request a Yandere Henrik x reader where they're his new nurse and he becomes really obsessed with them

It ended up being longer than anticipated XD I know little to nothing about nursing and the medical practice in general, aside from my own experiences, so a whole friggin lot of this will probably be wrong. But thank you for requesting ^~^ yanderes be out here doing the worst. And we are all (me included) for some reason here for it.

@thattiredanimator1t0mblr @viciouslyyearning @serenitydusk

Word Count: 1,461

Becoming a nurse was something you always wanted to do. And you dreamed of being able to travel further from your little town, but you had to start small! There were a couple hospitals in your town, but one was bigger and dealt with more surgical procedures than the other. Being a surgical nurse seemed terrifying, but being able to start as an assistant rather than the full surgical nurse title couldn’t be so bad, right? You’ll have to go through more training, but it’ll give you time to get used to it! 

You were sure there were many applicants, but you were on the list to interview with the hiring manager, and then the head doctor in the larger establishment! It was equal parts exciting…and terrifying. You smoothed out your outfit, and went through the interview without a problem! You had amazing grades in school, and the hiring manager seemed a little apathetic. Hopefully not everyone here would be…and that fear was extinguished when you met the head doctor during the next part of the interview process. 

Dr. Schneeplestein was charismatic. Tired, but seemed warm hearted underneath that. He seemed to like you too, and within the week, you were hired! Those days waiting for a call were agonizing, but worth it in the end. You were over the moon, and already had scrubs and everything picked out! You even made sure to arrive a good few minutes early. Can’t be running late on your first day. 

When you watched surgeries, there were always at least three other nurses in the room. They talked to you quietly to inform you on the process, knowing you hadn’t been a surgical nurse before. It was nerve-wracking at first but over time you got used to it. The tools, the terms, and feelings all surrounding a surgery that you’d only read in your books now make more sense being exposed to them before having to actually use them. 

You didn’t see Dr. Sneep as he insisted on being called, much outside of shadowing him. If only you knew…how he’d been shadowing you too. But in a much, much different way. He turned down nearly every other applicant, once he had seen your excitement when it came to the job. You were new, and barely knew how things worked in an actual hospital. So when he said you’d be his only nurse in one of the following procedures, you simply took it as his way of saying you were ready for the job. Sink or swim. 

He was giving you a chance, and you weren’t one to mess it up! Even if you were pretty nervous about it, you chalked it up to being the first surgery nerves. It…couldn’t be too bad. You might mess up the surgery…but Dr. Schneep would be there. It would be okay! He wasn’t the head doctor for no reason, after all. If you were going to make a mistake, he would be there to correct it. Help you learn to be a better nurse!

The room was well lit, and after washing your hands thoroughly you had made your way into the operating room. He was waiting there, and had a patient on the table. It seemed like he was ready to begin the procedure, and you approached to figure out what kind of surgery it would be. 

He smiled behind his mask, which you could still see through the way his eyes and cheeks raised. “Hello, are you ready to begin? This one should be simple, a knee replacement. All the tools we need are laid out already, and the patient is sedated.” He pointed to his side, and said thoughtfully “It’ll be okay. The surgery will work out according to plan.” 

From there, it was mostly quiet. A few commands from him, but overall it didn’t seem as stressful as you expected it to be. Though you were so focused, you jumped a couple times when he spoke after several moments of silence. It got easier though, and it helped you weren’t doing too much of anything. He did still let you take the lead on some parts, but other than that he did most of the work. 

At the final stitch you did, it was over! You let out a sigh of relief, and smiled at him through your mask. “We did it! My first surgery…it went a lot better than I anticipated.” A couple small laughs and you looked over to him. But he wasn’t laughing. Just staring at you with the calculating eyes you’d seen all of the surgery. 

“Oh no, we’re not finished yet. No one’s here, no cameras or observation rooms.” He gestured to the person laying on the table, “I’d like to ask you something before we went back into the craziness.” He set his tools down, and faced you fully. “How long do you intend to stay with this hospital? I know in your interview, you mentioned potentially expanding.” His tone wasn’t warm, but you chalked it up to the stress of surgery. 

“Well…” It was odd he was asking you now, but didn’t think too much of it. It was…weird that a surgical room would have no cameras. Isn’t that a violation of some kind? It’s weird, but probably not unheard of. “I was hoping to get a transfer after working here for a good few months or so! I’ve been wanting to look in bigger cities for a while now.” You smiled and he smiled too, but his eyes were darker. Maybe the exhaustion really was getting to him. 

“Could I persuade you to stay?” His tone lacked any indicators on what he was feeling. It wasn’t happy, stressed, relieved or any of it. Just a straightforward emotionless question. “You’ll be an asset to this team. You show real promise. You’ve always wanted to be a nurse, and this could be your place to do it.” 

“Oh no, I’m not saying I don’t want to work here, but a bigger city is more ideal for me! I’d like to live closer to everything.” You laughed a couple times, and looked at your watch but he put your hand back down before you could even get a glance of the time. “Uh…Dr. Schneep? Something wrong?” His gaze wasn’t quite…a glare. But it definitely wasn’t anything positive. 

You stood in silence a good few seconds, when he sighed and dropped his gaze down to the medical tools. “Such a shame. Wanting to leave when the two of us were finally getting close.” He moved his mask down and you were met with a cold scowl. “I wonder what the medical field will think of you, if you ripped all these stitches open as you were placing the scalpel.” He chuckled, with his look still dark. “No one would ever hire you in the medical field again.” 

“Dr. Schneep? What…do you mean?” His aura had grown darker, much different than his usual composed expressions. “You’re not making any sense…” You hoped it was some kind of joke, but everything about it seemed too real. It was a serious threat. If he told the hospital about this you wouldn’t get to live out your dream! 

He tilted his head slightly and replied “I mean you’re not leaving the hospital, or me. I could also tell any amount of story to remove you from the medical field. Where would you go then, hm? What would you do?” He took a step closer, and you took a step back. “Go back to school? Find a new passion?” He had walked you into a corner, literally and figuratively. 

Dr. Schneep raised a brow, waiting for your response. You couldn’t get a word out, the only sound you made being the near silent sound of your tears hitting the hard tile floor. It gave him all the answers he needed. You wouldn’t leave, you cared about your job too much. But what could make a man like him just…snap. He had always been so kind to you, what changed? 

“You’re going to be my head nurse from now on. If you so much as said a word about this…”agreement” then you’ll be out of a job, living in that studio apartment of yours all alone with no way to pay rent.” 

“How…do you know what kind of apartment I live in?” He was insane! Completely delusional! You were backed into a corner by a madman. He had lost his mind, and completely changed your view of him forever. You just wish others would see him that way…maybe then you could escape him. But for now, his words will be ingrained in you for the rest of your days. 

“Because I love you, of course.” 

[justalonelyslytherin]

hello 😚💕💕 as an easter prompt, could we get a little more info abt ex stripper!curtis? 🥺 what does he do now that he's got a family? was he scared to be a dad?

Hello dear 💚

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to answer this. Easter is long gone 😅

Thank you for showing so much interest in and love for HFD Curtis! I greatly enjoyed talking some more about him and their story 🫶🏻💚

In order to talk about what he does now I need to first talk about where they actually are. Aka where they settled down and how they got there.

After that fateful night in which Curtis almost lost her, he first brought her to a friend. An ally so to say, that could look over her, and do a first medical aid. Since Wilford controls basically the entirety of their home city they couldn’t go to any emergency room or hospital without him knowing.

And after that, they pretty much left in a hurry. They packed a bag or two with the most important necessities. Their IDs, all the bar cash they both had and a change of clothes. With a bag for each of them, they left the city in a hurry, driving on and on to get out of Wilfords reach.

In the first couple of weeks, they lived as nomads, at day stopping by the nearest town or city to get food and at night sleeping in the car with which they traveled. Putting distance behind them and Wilford and making sure they weren’t followed. Curtis was one of many people indebted to Wilford but Wilford also had a special liking and interest in Curtis so they chose to play it safe.

Thank god they weren’t followed. Here and there they would stay a couple of days or even a week or two at one place, where they did small jobs to earn a little more money when they were running low. But ultimately they didn’t stay at any of those places.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t the perfect place for them. But with the passing time and her growing belly, the necessity to find this perfect place became a much more dire need. Curtis definitely felt pressured to find them something at least, so they wouldn’t welcome a baby into this world in their car.

The car in fact was what would be their angel in disguise. It was a quiet and small coastal or lake town they planned on passing through. Entirely opposite to the big and bustling city in which they had grown up and lived their entire - previous - lives. But as fate would the car would break down just down the street of a small restaurant/pub + inn. Curtis, even with a basic knowledge of mechanics, found himself unable to fix the car. At least for them to keep driving that day.

So they decided to stay at the inn. For just one night. As luck would have it they were the only travelers staying there that night and during dinner in what turned out to be the local's favorite meeting place. Sticking out like a sore thumb from everyone else they were quick to be roped into a conversation and made friends with some of the locals. Something they soon would need, as come next morning it would turn out that their car had a total engine failure and they would never be able to make enough money in time to pay for the repair and keep moving.

Some of their newfound friends took pity on them, offering them a little apartment above their woodworking & construction shop in exchange for Curtis’ working with them.

That’s how Curtis and his girl found themselves in the place that would ultimately become their home. Curtis turns out to be incredibly good with wood, a natural really. So he starts out helping in the shop, learning how to work with wood and create but he also helps on the sides where they build houses. Through his natural affinity with the work he quickly gets offered a permanent and full-time position that pays well.

With the soon-to-happen arrival of their son he takes the job and they manage to move into their own little home just some short weeks before they welcome their little one into the world.

He definitely was scared to become a father. There were lots of doubts in him. He didn’t think he’d be a good dad, he didn’t think he could offer her and their child any (good) quality of life so he was apprehensive at first. And while he would have never told her to get rid of the child in any form or way, he kept his distance. Both physical and emotional at first. Which is rather hard if you spend most of your time secluded in the small space of the car, with just the radio between them.

A couple of towns over, they manage to find a health center that does free ultrasounds. It’s the first time he truly realizes he is to become a father and it is also the moment when he realizes that he wants this, no matter how scared it is. It’s the turning point for him, as something clicks and he realizes he can’t keep acting like he did since they fled the city.

While Curtis doesn’t lose his fear of being a father or get comfortable with the thought of it overnight, something slowly shifts in him. Once they reach the place where they’ll ultimately stay and he begins working at the woodshop his employer and colleagues are a great help to make him realize he can do this too.

Holding his son in his arms for the first time worked like a charm too. He cried and shook like a leaf, scared of hurting the little thing, but he also fell in love all over. With her and with the little tiny boy that barely was big enough to fit into both his hands. He promised himself and them that no matter how scared he was of screwing up, he would do his best to keep them safe and happy and provide for them.

Turns out he is quite the natural dad too! And his worries were for nothing. They manage to make a really nice life out there. The house that was albeit a little big for them and empty at first is transformed into a cozy and warm home by the two of them. 

And Curtis manages to provide for them so well that they can add to their family in the future with no worries. (Which they will at some point. First with a dog and a cat, maybe even some small livestock like a couple of chickens or totally wild like a horse, and then with another kiddo or two).

He works himself up the ladder in the woodshop. From a low worker in construction to a site manager, to the leader of his own construction team in the company. Until at last he is asked to take over the shop when the employer is ready to retire.

[catonator]

Lol, internet

The largest imageboard in Finland, Ylilauta and its offshoot Northpole (rip in peace) had a major faux pas this week. Threads older than 2 weeks are now placed behind a paywall. Imagine if Discord set message history behind a Nitro subscription, and you have the gist of it. The latter board was just flatout killed off due to legal issues.

This majorly pissed off the users, and as a result my fringe alt-imageboard (won’t name the one, rules of the internet 1 & 2) got a surge of new users. However, the results weren’t as I feared! While Ylilauta isn’t really representative of smaller corners of the internet like it once used to be and nowadays is closer to a modern social media platform, the users who showed up were still willing to play along the rules of the smaller board, even if they ended up mostly asking stupid questions. Watching the entire thing unfold was quite fun, actually, and really reminded me of the kind of stupid shit I used to do online about 15 years ago.

The noob raid ended up reminding me of how you actually learn to be a fun part of the communities you happen to stumble upon. Observation. Lurking. You learn new things by reading the old users and seeing what this place is just about. It’s an image board, you don’t even have accounts! You can just stick around and watch!

Search engines and the internet didn’t die because of corporate greed and SEO. Well, just because of corporate greed and SEO. The internet died, because we, the users, collectively all jumped to places like Twitter, Tumblr and Discord. Especially Discord. The internet has always been a haven of user-generated stuff (for better or worse…), but sometime in the past 10 or so years we all decided to stop making it available. Twitter is a collection of barely coherent thoughts in posts that can barely encompass a full sentence. Many good posts are spread across dozens of tweets, usually out of which one at most is indexable, but often the entire thread is missing. Tumblr is a blogging site where the users stopped blogging, and the blogs aren’t visible to outsiders because fuck you. Discord is an instant messaging application meant to compete with fucking TeamSpeak that through sheer user laziness and insane overreach managed to overtake forums, and the message history is completely inaccessible unless you have an account and an invitation to the server.

The result is that all of human knowledge is now contained on like 5 sites, most of which are never going to be accessible to outsiders. For the past decade, we have unknowingly waged a war on lurkers, and in the process driven them all into extinction.

The issue is, lurkers are mostly those who aren’t newcomers. They’re the ones who have learned to keep their mouth shut and try finding a solution first and foremost. The questions they do eventually ask are also the ones that are going to be the most specialised, and also useful to other lurkers. They share personal experience and anecdotes, ideas they tried out but didn’t work for their purposes. They share abstract, multilayered concepts that simply aren’t something that can be demonstrated or proven algorithmically.

The sites that exist and rule the landscape today are practically fraud. What they sell is not funded by them, nor is it created by them. They sell the writings, media, humour, anecdotes and other forms of bizarre interactions that we, the consumers create. Without any user activity, these media megastructures would simply shrivel up and die, as there’d be nobody driving eyes onto the site. They don’t really deserve anything besides maybe being paid for the server costs, which still constitute a fraction of a fraction of the total revenue generated.

But nothing prevents you from just leaving. The internet doesn’t suddenly end when you walk out of YouTube or Instagram. Sure, you can’t just upload your data onto The Internet itself, but the way the web was constructed means that you haven’t lost your rights to obtain a small webhost and an address and setting up your own ramshackle site. You’ll just pay in discoverability.

Internet users need to be reminded that the concept of the internet isn’t just a technology that transmits data to a small number of applications, it’s an interconnected series of servers, clients, more servers and more clients. A server can be any computer you can find with a little tweaking, and as long as you have a router and an internet connection, that’s all you need. You can forward the computer’s IP address and make it behave like a website. The internet was created by users, for users, and so far there’s nothing that can take that away from you.

The change isn’t going to manifest itself overnight, and I also wouldn’t recommend jumping out headfirst into the abyss, leaving everything else behind. It’s just good to know the possibilities anyone can have at their fingertips, as I’ve seen more and more people wallow in misery over the state of current and future internet. Maybe if enough people create wacko self-hosted sites as side projects, we may one day not need sites like the one I’m publishing this text on right now. And if you’re you’re interested and are willing to dive through some tech jargon, this talk by Mr. Cory Doctorow was an incredibly fascinating listen, and provides some solutions to fixing the issues from the perspective of a higher-level operation. It still contains some tidbits of info for you, if you’re concerned about how you’ll move your userbase from one platform to another with as little compromise as possible.

Now, I’ve had enough of this wistful nostalgic hopes bullshit. Next time I’ll just write a story.

[purplehairedwonder]

Lead Me Back to Suffering Chapter 18

Fandom: One Piece Rating: R Pairings: Trafalgar Law/Donquixote Doflamingo (Non-consensual), Trafalgar Law/Monkey D. Luffy Words: 4,447 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey. D Luffy, Bepo, Chopper, Donquixote Doflamingo, Smoker, Fujitora Warnings: Rape/Non-con, suicide attempt Note: This was written for the “Kidnapping” square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo @badthingshappenbingo​ card. Anon prompted Law and Luffy.

The title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.”

Summary: In the wake of Kaido’s fall, Law is kidnapped from the shores of Wano.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Read also at AO3

Law blinked slowly, taking a long, sluggish moment to register the familiar metal ceiling of the Polar Tang’s infirmary, as consciousness returned. As the world took shape around him once more, he recognized sounds and smells that he knew like the back of his tattooed hands.

He inhaled and then assessed his condition; his entire body felt weighed down by a bone-deep exhaustion that only came from overusing his fruit, and his chest ached—scratch that, it burned—with every breath. He glanced down to see crisp white bandages enveloping his chest, and he exhaled shakily with a pained grimace as he remembered Doflamingo’s Fulbright impaling him. Right.

The exhaustion he felt was so profound that he was tempted to let it pull him back under; his eyes blinked heavily, but a familiar voice pulled him back to the waking world.

“Captain?”

Law grudgingly turned his head to see Bepo hurrying over to his side from whatever he’d been doing across the room. Law opened his mouth to reply but only managed a cough—which, in turn, jarred his chest, and he winced at the jolt of pain that went through him.

Bepo hurried back to the sink and filled a glass with water before returning to Law’s bedside. Law tried to reach for the glass, but his hands shook badly enough that he was forced to let Bepo help him sip until the disuse was washed from his throat. Once Law nodded that he’d had enough, Bepo put the glass down on the bedside table and pulled a chair up to Law’s side.

“How long?” Law asked once Bepo had settled himself.

“You’ve been out for three days,” the Mink replied.

Law’s eyes widened. “Three days?”

Bepo nodded, his expression going distant. “After the fight, your body kind of just… shut down. We got you back to the Tang, but your… Your heart stopped beating,” Bepo said shakily. “Using your awakening when you weren’t recovered put too much strain on it. And one of your lungs was punctured.” The Mink’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “You could have drowned in your own blood, Law.”

Law blinked at his friend. “I…”

But Bepo rallied and added, “Thankfully, Doctor Chopper arrived just as we were getting you to the ship, and he helped stabilize you. He’s been checking in on you. Everyone has.”

“I’ll have to thank Tony-ya,” Law murmured absently, turning over what he’d learned.

“Captain, this was…” Bepo shook his head. “We almost lost you right after we got you back.” Bepo’s voice cracked, and something behind Law’s breast twinged.

“Bepo—”

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” Bepo said, bottom lip trembling.

Law raised a shaky hand toward his friend, and the Mink’s fuzzy paw enveloped it immediately, squeezing lightly and helping ground Law in the moment.

“Me too,” Law said honestly. He’d been completely isolated in his captivity, forced to rely entirely on his captor for human connection—and Law did not doubt that was intentional.

But even before that, he’d isolated himself; he held himself apart from his crew as he plotted his revenge for more than a decade. When he’d split from them at Punk Hazard, he knew the likelihood was small that he would see them again. It had been a calculated risk that he had been more than willing to take at the time.

Then the Straw Hats burst into his life and, in the span of a week, changed everything. But despite the joy of reuniting with his crew at Zou, they’d gone right to Wano and immediately fallen into their roles to prepare to take on an Emperor—and Law had been taken shortly after Kaido’s fall. There had been almost no time to appreciate being with his nakama or to think about the future.

Speaking of…

“What happened to Doflamingo?” Law asked around a yawn. He could feel his eyes growing heavy once more as his body demanded more rest.

“He’s locked up in a cell in the palace. I think Jean Bart and Zoro are guarding him right now. We’ve had a rotation.”

Law nodded tiredly, feeling his eyes drift shut as something loosened in his chest with relief. He thought Bepo might have continued speaking, but the words were lost as he let himself slip back into the darkness.

-----

Sleep receded, and Law opened his eyes, blinking up at the infirmary ceiling once more. He was drowsily wondering how long he’d been asleep for this time when a familiar face entered his vision.

“Is Torao awake?” Luffy asked, blinking down at Law.

Law merely grunted in response, but Luffy grinned before moving out of Law’s sightline. Law followed Luffy’s movements with his eyes as the younger captain settled into the chair at Law’s bedside.

“What are you doing here, Straw Hat-ya?” Law asked, suddenly reminded of waking up from a nightmare in Luffy’s comforting embrace. He felt his cheeks warm and cleared his throat in a feeble attempt to banish the embarrassment.

“Hm?” Luffy asked, seeming unaware of Law’s reaction. “Oh, the bear said you woke up earlier, so I wanted to see you.” He pulled a face. “It’s been days, Torao.”

Law huffed a small laugh. “So Bepo told me.”

“Chopper said you were hurt pretty bad,” Luffy added, his tone becoming more serious, and he studied Law with one of those disconcertingly attentive looks of his. Law efforted not to squirm. After a moment, though, the spell was broken, and Luffy grinned again. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Law opened his mouth to reply, but he paused when Bepo peeked through the doorway. “Straw Hat, they’re here—” he started before he noticed Law. His features lit up, and he stepped fully into the infirmary. “Oh, Captain! You’re awake!”

“Who’s here, Bepo?”

Bepo’s ears wilted, and he glanced to the side. “About that—”

Law’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Bepo.”

“It’s Smokey and the old gambler,” Luffy piped up. “They’re here for Mingo.”

A pang of alarm went through Law at that, and he made to sit up, but his body spasmed painfully in response. He fell back into his pillows breathlessly. Bepo chewed nervously on his bottom lip while Luffy made a worried sound and stepped toward Law’s bedside. Law waved him off as he got his breathing back under control.

“You know what happened last time,” Law finally managed to grit out. “The Marines let him go.”

Bepo’s ears flattened against his head. “I’m sorry.”

Law immediately felt a pang of guilt at taking his worry out on his best friend. He sighed and held out a hand, which Bepo recognized as an invitation. Luffy stepped aside as Bepo made his way to Law’s side. Law patted the fur on Bepo’s cheek in apology, and the Mink leaned into the touch appreciatively.

“Fujitora said the Gorosei’s orders to leave Doflamingo alone have been rescinded,” Bepo explained. “They wanted him back in custody after the news about you came out.”

Law’s arm dropped from Bepo’s face, his arm starting to shake with exertion, and considered this. In that case, it seemed that revealing himself had been the right idea after all. He gave a curt nod, and Bepo let out a relieved sigh.

“I want to be there,” Law said.

Bepo’s eyes widened as he glanced at the various machines around Law’s bed. “But Captain—”

“Bepo,” Law said, softening his tone a bit. “I need to be there.” There was no way he would miss Doflamingo being taken into custody—for real this time.

“Okay,” Bepo replied quietly, clearly recognizing the truth in Law’s words—he’d been with Law the longest, after all—and set to unhooking the various leads connected to Law. Once the final lead was unhooked, Law tried to sit up but pulled up short as the world around him started to spin. He squeezed his eyes shut to ride out the dizziness.

Bepo tsked disapprovingly as he pulled Law up into his arms. “Idiot captain,” the Mink muttered fondly.

Law snorted as he felt himself being lifted from the bed. He opened his eyes and was met with a sea of white. Bepo’s fur. He blinked the fluff from his eyes and shifted to see Luffy standing on the other side the bed, a look Law couldn’t quite place on his face. The expression shifted into a smile as he met Law’s gaze.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Luffy said before slinging himself toward the door.

Law rolled his eyes as Bepo sighed and followed the echoing sound of Luffy’s laughter down the halls of the Tang at a more deliberate pace, considering Law’s wounds.

When they emerged onto the Tang’s deck in Luffy’s wake, there were calls of greeting from his crew, but Law only had eyes for the large Marine ship that had docked next to the two pirate ships. There was something about seeing a Marine ship on the shores of a country whose population they’d help wipe out that made Law’s skin crawl. But, he supposed as Bepo helped him sit on upturned crate at the Tang’s bow, it was a necessary evil as neither the Hearts nor the Straw Hats had the means to hold Doflamingo long-term.

It wasn’t something Law had ever considered; he’d always intended to kill Doflamingo—and likely die alongside him—so he’d never thought about needing more than the Tang’s basic brig (which mostly doubled as storage). After Dressrosa, Law had thought the choice taken from him entirely, but when afforded the chance himself…

He shook his head to clear the thought. There was no point in second-guessing himself now. He’d made the decision that felt right at the time, and he would live with the consequences.

Law started as he felt something drape over his shoulders but sighed in relief when he recognized his captain’s cloak wrapping around him. He gripped the fabric and drew it tighter around himself as he realized he was, in fact, a bit chilly with only bandages keeping his chest warm.

“Thanks,” he murmured to Shachi, who offered a cheeky salute in response.

“Torao, you shouldn’t be out of bed!” Chopper called as he switched forms to jump from the Sunny’s deck, where he’d been standing with the other Straw Hats, to the Tang’s before turning back to his regular form. He hurried over to Law, pulling out a stethoscope.

“Tony-ya…” Law’s protest was cut off by the small doctor checking his vitals while Luffy, who had moved out of Chopper’s way, chuckled.

“Shishishi, there’s no stopping Chopper in doctor mode, Torao.”

Law rolled his eyes in response but didn’t argue as Chopper continued checking him over. He answered the reindeer’s questions and let him poke and prod him until he was satisfied Law wasn’t going to keel over on the spot.

“But you need to keep resting after this,” Chopper said, gesturing meaningfully with a hoof. “Your heart…” he trailed off.

“Thank you, Tony-ya,” Law said, meaning it.

Chopper blushed. “T-that doesn’t make me happy, you asshole!”

“Trafalgar! Straw Hat!”

Luffy’s laughter at his little doctor’s reaction was cut off by the growled yell of their names. The captains shared a glance before peering over the Tang’s railing. Fujitora and Smoker stood on the dock next to the Marine ship. Smoker radiated tension, chewing on his cigars like they had personally offended him, while Fujitora stood loosely at his side, deceptive in his nonchalance.

Luffy waved. “Thanks for coming, Smokey!”

Smoker scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly ready to be anywhere but in the presence of two pirate crews. “Don’t act like we’re friends, Straw Hat. You’re still pirates,” he said, practically spitting the last word.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Luffy pouted.

“Trafalgar Law.”

Law started and turned toward Fujitora. The admiral had turned his sightless gaze in Law’s direction, and not for the first time, Law felt like the man was seeing him despite being blind.

“Admiral,” Law said carefully. While he knew what the others had told him about Smoker and Fujitora making a deal with the crews to stop Doflamingo and rescue Law, he remained wary.

Fujitora suddenly bowed in Law’s direction, and Law’s breath caught in surprise.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. He knew all about what the man had done on Dressrosa, of course, but bowing to an ousted ruler was one thing. Why was a Marine admiral bowing to a pirate?

“I am sorry the Heavenly Demon was allowed to leave his imprisonment,” Fujitora said. “He did not belong out in the world after his arrest on Dressrosa, and you did not deserve what he did to you.”

Law stiffened, and he balled his hands into fists. He knows, Law thought painfully. Smoker knows. They all fucking know what he did for all those months… The very idea made him ill.

He hadn’t considered—or perhaps hadn’t wanted to consider—that anyone outside of the two crews and Doflamingo’s people might know what had happened to him for all those months. But now on top of Law’s history, Law’s status as Doflamingo’s toy—his test subject and his whore—would be known.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Law finally grated out in response. Anger had always been a favorite defense mechanism of his. “I’m just a pirate, right?”

“A pirate,” Fujitora agreed, unoffended. “But also a man. One who, I dare say, has seen more than his share of horrors.”

Law flinched back, his reaction immediate and uncontrolled. “Don’t—” he choked out weakly, but Fujitora kept talking.

“Every man deserves justice, Trafalgar Law. And what has happened to you was not justice.” Fujitora’s careful phrasing made it clear he meant more than just Law’s captivity. “For whatever it is worth, I assure you that we will not be letting the Heavenly Demon out again.”

“The pink bastard’s lost his protection from the Gorosei,” Smoker added around his cigars. “He’s going into the deepest pit we can find in Impel Down to rot.”

“Is that what you think, Smoker?”

Law, still shaken by Fujitora’s words, recoiled at the new voice. When he looked up, he saw Doflamingo being wheeled in a wheelchair toward the docks. The former Warlord had a cast on the leg that had broken when he’d fallen from the sky. An unfortunate Marine had the duty of pushing the chair while Jean Bart, Zoro, Tashigi, and a small battalion of other Marines flanked the prisoner as an escort. Doflamingo was thoroughly wrapped in Seastone, including the very Seastone collar he’d tried to snap around Law’s neck.

Law felt a spike of vindictive pleasure at that. Served the son of a bitch right.

“That’s exactly what I think,” Smoker snapped in response.

The procession stopped in front of the two Marines on the dock, but besides a smirk for the fuming Smoker, Doflamingo held little interest in them. Instead, he turned his head to peer up at the deck of the Polar Tang. Law felt Doflamingo’s gaze hit him like a physical blow.

Enough.

Refusing to be cowed by this man any longer, Law grabbed onto the railing with both hands and pulled himself shakily to his feet. His legs trembled with the effort of holding him up, but he willed himself upright. He needed to stand in the face of the man who’d done his damndest to tear him down. As he met Doflamingo’s gaze, he lifted his chin defiantly.

Doflamingo’s expression was unreadable for a long moment until he broke into a rather unhinged grin. “I told you to finish the job this time. Your heart will be the death of you, little bird.”

Law’s grip on the railing tightened as he shook his head. “My heart is my strength. Thanks to Cora-san.”

Doflamingo’s expression went blank for the briefest moments before the grin returned, and he chuckled. “Fufufu.” Tashigi snapped something at the Marine behind the wheelchair, and he started pushing the chair again. But the movement didn’t deter Doflamingo. “See you soon, Law,” he called as he was wheeled away.

It wasn’t until Doflamingo was wheeled aboard the ship that Law allowed his legs to give out, and he dropped back to the crate he’d been sitting on. Bepo fussed at Law, but Law just waved him off. He, along with the Hearts and Straw Hats, watched silently as the Marines finished their preparations to take their prisoner to Impel Down.

“Law.”

Law started at the break in the quiet and peered down at the dock once more to see Smoker looking up at him. “What, White Chase-ya?”

Smoker tossed something in his direction, and Law caught it on instinct. It was a rolled-up piece of paper. “Seems you caught the government’s attention with your stunt in the paper. Watch your back.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“Call it a friendly warning,” Smoker said before turning his back and boarding the Marine ship.

Law snorted—he supposed that did pass for friendly when it came to Smoker—before unrolling the paper. His eyes widened as he registered what he was looking at: a new bounty poster. After Wano, his bounty had been 3 billion berries alongside Luffy’s and Eustass’s.  

“Four point three billion,” Bepo read in shock. “Captaiiiiiiin.”

“Wow, Torao!” Luffy whistled, looking at the poster over Law’s shoulder. “That’s even higher than mine!” He grinned. “Shishishi, I’m going to have to catch up.”

Law stared at the new poster, now with his full name emblazoned on it, and wondered what his parents would think. What Cora-san would think. All this fuss over an initial that Law still didn’t understand…

Hey Cora-san, I’ve made up my mind. I want to know the meaning of this checkered fate.

Now… Now, Law supposed, he could continue the search that had started all those months ago in Wano.

Penguin came up and pulled the poster from Law’s loosening grip, turning to show it off to the other Hearts on the deck. They made celebratory noises, much like they had after hearing about Law’s bounty after Wano. He felt his lips twitch in amusement—and more than a little embarrassment—at their pride.

As he watched the Marine ship pull from the harbor and sail off into the setting sun, Law’s nightmare locked away below deck hopefully to never see the light of day again, Law suddenly felt drained. Merely holding himself upright seemed a herculean task, and he felt himself sagging, until a familiar pair of fluffy arms wrapped around him. Law blinked up tiredly at Bepo.

“You should rest, Captain,” the Mink said.

Law merely nodded and pulled his cloak more tightly around him. His body was making its demands clear after Law had pushed it past its limits.

“Wait!” Law and Bepo both looked over in surprise at Luffy. The younger captain held his arms out. “Let me take him.”

“Straw Hat—” Bepo started worriedly, but Law interrupted him.

“It’s okay, Bepo.”

Bepo frowned, clearly not liking the idea, but when Law raised an eyebrow, he relented with a put-upon sigh. He deposited Law in Luffy’s arms, and the younger captain took Law’s weight easily.

“Be careful with him, Straw Hat!” Bepo admonished.

“Shishishi, of course!” Luffy replied before launching himself and Law onto the Sunny’s deck. Law, reminded of his time being carted around Dressrosa like a sack of potatoes, just gave a resigned sigh and turned his head into Luffy’s chest as they moved.

“That’s not being careful!” Bepo called exasperatedly after him.

Law could feel Luffy’s answering laugh vibrating through his chest. When they landed on the deck of the Sunny, Luffy immediately started walking toward the bow of the ship.

“Where are we going?” Law asked, glancing at the Straw Hats giving them a surprisingly respectful amount of space.

“To Sunny’s best place,” Luffy replied without breaking stride.

With a bit of maneuvering, they both ended up settled on Sunny’s figurehead, shoulders brushing in their proximity. Law leaned back against the mane and let himself look over the view of the setting sun spilling watercolors onto the ocean surface. It was beautiful, but Law still felt his eyes drooping shut.

“Hey, Torao,” Luffy said after several quiet moments. Law blinked his eyes open and hummed questioningly in response. “You let Mingo live.”

Law frowned at the unexpected statement, coming a bit more awake. “I did,” he said slowly, not sure where Luffy was going with this.

“Torao was mad when I didn’t kill him in Dressroba.”

“Dressrosa,” Law corrected absently, his mind going back to their argument in Kyros’s cabin while they’d both been recovering from their injuries.

They’d been left alone while others had gone out for food and medical supplies. Luffy had still been in bed while Law sat on the floor with his back against the bed. Law, after gritting out thanks for Luffy defeating Doflamingo when Law couldn’t, had demanded to know why Luffy hadn’t killed the former Warlord.

“It’s better this way,” Luffy said, which sent a surge of hot anger through Law’s veins. He twisted to look at Luffy, but his wounds protested, and he shut his eyes as a bolt of pain went through him.

“Better how?” he demanded when the pain receded a bit. “He’s killed so many people, ruined so many lives—”

“Like yours?” Luffy interrupted, turning onto his side to look Law straight in the eye. There was an intensity in his gaze that set Law’s teeth on edge. “And Cora-san’s?”

“Yes,” Law gritted out, anger still flowing beneath his skin. “He deserves to pay for what he’s done.”

“He’s going to,” Luffy replied simply. “He’s not a Warlord anymore. He’s not a king anymore. And he gets to be locked away knowing he doesn’t have any of it anymore.” Luffy paused for a moment then added, “And he doesn’t have Torao anymore either.”

That brought Law up short. “What?”

“Mingo wanted Torao to be like him, right?” Luffy asked. Law nodded, his throat suddenly tight. “If you’d killed Mingo, you’d be doing what Mingo wanted you to do. You’d be like Mingo, but Torao isn’t like Mingo.” Luffy poked at Law’s shoulder. “Torao is good.”

“You were going to let me kill him,” Law pointed out, rubbing the spot Luffy had poked absently. “With Gamma Knife.”

Luffy nodded, rolling onto his back again. He looked up at the ceiling as he said, “Because I thought that’s what Torao wanted.”

“It was—” Law snarled.

But Luffy kept talking. “But Torao wouldn’t have been free.”

Law felt like Luffy had slapped him in the face. “What?”

“Being like Mingo always would have haunted you,” Luffy replied, shrugging and turning his head to look at Law.

Law’s mouth worked for several moments before he swallowed and turned away from Luffy’s uncomfortably knowing look. “He’s going to haunt me now that he can escape at any time,” he muttered, but Luffy just chuckled.

“Then we’ll kick his ass again!”

“I was,” Law agreed.

“You were right,” Luffy said. Law frowned, but Luffy kept going. “Mingo got out and took you. He hurt you. If I’d—”

“You were right, Straw Hat-ya.” Luffy cut himself off and gave Law the most surprised look that Law couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “You were right that killing him is what he wanted. It’s not what Cora-san would have wanted—for him or for me.”

Luffy made an encouraging sound.

“Cora-san died so I could live,” Law said, dropping his head back against Sunny’s mane and looking out over the water. The sky was darkening as the final rays of sun spilled over the horizon and the first stars were starting to spark to life. “But what I was doing wasn’t living. Not really. I realized as I stood over Doflamingo that the only way I could truly be free like Cora-san wanted was to let the past go. Killing Doflamingo would have done the opposite.”

Law doubted he’d ever be able to let Doflamingo go entirely—the man he was today was far too influenced by the man—but a good first step was releasing the man’s insidious hold on his heart. Maybe now he could finally, after all these years, start living the type of life Cora-san had wanted for him all along.

“Torao.”

Law started, pulled from his thoughts, and turned to see Luffy’s face suddenly very close to his. His breath caught in his throat as Luffy slowly lifted a hand to Law’s face. He moved slowly, and when Law didn’t make any move to pull away, he cupped Law’s cheek, his touch soft like Law was something precious. Law briefly felt lost at the gentleness.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Luffy murmured.

“Yes,” Law whispered, and his eyes fluttered closed as Luffy’s lips found his.

Luffy’s lips were soft with a lingering sweetness from lunch, and Law’s skin felt charged everywhere it met Luffy’s. The kiss was hesitant at first, but then Luffy gained more confidence and deepened it. Law’s stomach swooped, reminding him a bit of the sensation of Shambles, before he responded in kind. And then Luffy pulled back, resting his forehead against Law’s, while Law let out a shaky huff of laughter.

“Torao?”

Law opened his eyes to find Luffy looking at him curiously, but all Law could think is that Luffy’s eyelashes were longer than he thought. How strange.

Law shook his head lightly, forehead still touching Luffy’s. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you su—”

“It was perfect.”

Luffy’s concern morphed into something much brighter. “Shishishi. Hey Torao, can I kiss you again?”

Instead of answering, Law reached out for Luffy’s collar and pulled him into another kiss. Luffy grinned against Law’s lips, and Law felt his own lips turn up in response.

Once they broke apart, Luffy rearranged them so Law was curled up against his side, his head resting on Luffy’s shoulder. Luffy curled an arm around Law’s shoulders, and Law entwined his own fingers with Luffy’s. In the background, Law could make out the sounds of their crews preparing for dinner while next to him, Luffy hummed happily. The familiar sounds of his nakama, his allies, and his… whatever Luffy had become settled something deep in Law’s chest.

Hey Cora, he found himself thinking as he settled more comfortably against Luffy. There was a bang in the distance and some responding shouts, and Luffy chuckled at the antics of their crews next to Law. I think I finally understand what you wanted for me.

I think I finally understand what you meant by freedom.

[notesonartistry]

Taylor Swift's road to fame

Behind the scenes of the teen sensation's career, from guitar lessons to sold-out shows

By Chris Willman

Updated February 05, 2008 at 05:00 AM EST

”I love turning on pop radio and hearing my song,” allows Taylor Swift, the 18-year-old country music sensation. ”But,” she adds, mindful of her base, ”I don’t look at it as crossover as much as spillover.”

Her cup definitely runneth over. In 2007, Swift’s debut album was one of the top 10 all-genre SoundScan sellers. And all those sales came in while a lot of non-country-lovers had yet to hear of her…or, if they had, were still asking, ”Taylor Swift? Who’s he?” She’s harder to escape now: Besides several smash hits at country radio, she’s moved into the upper levels of the Top 40 format with a remix of her heartbreak ballad ”Teardrops on My Guitar.” (In recent years, only Carrie Underwood, with ”Before He Cheats,” has successfully managed that leap.) MTV is even playing it. And since the album has such legs, it’s a good bet to cross the triple-platinum mark, almost unheard of in this era of plunging record sales. She’s got to be the most popular high school senior in America right now. So: teardrops, schmeardrops… Did being 18 ever suck any less?

But she wasn’t always the belle of the ball, personally or professionally; those rejection anthems she’s so adept at writing weren’t penned purely as fiction. We profiled the rising siren in this week’s issue of EW. But for this exclusive EW.com bonus feature, we also talked with some of the people who were with her on the way up, including her mother, manager, and label president, to find out some of the strategizing that went into achieving one of the last year’s few true musical success stories.

NEXT PAGE: From karaoke to Nashville

The chipmunk years. ”When I was 10, or younger than that, even, I would watch these biographies on Faith Hill or the Dixie Chicks or Shania Twain or LeAnn Rimes, and the thing I kept hearing was that they had to go to Nashville,” Swift remembers. She talked her parents into letting her fly out for a visit. ”I took my demo CDs of karaoke songs, where I sound like a chipmunk — it’s pretty awesome — and my mom waited in the car with my little brother while I knocked on doors up and down Music Row. I would say, ‘Hi, I’m Taylor. I’m 11; I want a record deal. Call me.”’ They didn’t. (But you have to wonder how many of the folks who answered those doors suddenly flashed back to that moment when they saw a grown-up Swift screaming over her Best New Artist nod at the Grammy nominations press conference.)

Rather than discouraging her, that rejection was like rocket fuel. It dawned on her that karaoke-style singing wasn’t going to cut it at any age; she needed to become a full-fledged guitar-picking singer/songwriter. ”She came back from that trip to Nashville and realized she needed to be different, and part of that would be to learn the guitar,” says her mother, Andrea Swift. Earlier, she had tried picking up an acoustic guitar and had no interest in it, but things had changed. ”Now, at 12, she saw a 12-string guitar and thought it was the coolest thing. And of course we immediately said, ‘Oh no, absolutely not, your fingers are too small — not till you’re much older will you be able to play the 12-string guitar.’ Well, that was all it took. Don’t ever say never or can’t do to Taylor. She started playing it four hours a day — six on the weekends. She would get calluses on her fingers and they would crack and bleed, and we would tape them up and she’d just keep on playing. That’s all she played, till a couple of years later, which was the first time she ever picked up a six-string guitar. And when she did, it was like, wow, this is really easy!”

She started writing, too. Two of the songs she’d recorded (”The Outside,” on her debut album, and ”Christmas Must Mean Something More,” from a Target-exclusive Christmas EP she released) were written when she was 12. When she went back to Nashville with her own songs in tow, people took notice: At 13, she signed a development deal with RCA Records, working with that label’s Joe Galante and Renee Bell, a couple of legendary figures in town. But when the deal came up for renewal after a year, she opted out, because she felt she’d have to record outside material if she got to the point of cutting her debut — and at 14, she was already married to the idea of only recording material she had a hand in writing. Not coincidentally, at 14, she became the youngest person ever signed to the major songwriting company in Nashville, Sony/ATV Publishing.

NEXT PAGE: Taking chances

Nashville acceptance, hometown alienation. Swift started to feel cut off from some of her friends, since she was writing songs while they were either playing soccer or partying. ”A lot of people ask me, how did you have the courage to walk up to record labels when you were 12 or 13 and jump right into the music industry? It’s because I knew I could never feel the kind of rejection that I felt in middle school. Because in the music industry, if they’re gonna say no to you, at least they’re gonna be polite about it.” (Being unusually tall for her age, or any age — she’s now 5’11”, without her cowboy boot heels — may have made her more of a junior high outcast.)

Now that she had publishing and recording deals in hand, she convinced her parents, when she was in the eighth grade, that it was time to move where the action is. ”I was from a small town, and nobody really expects you to leave, especially before you graduate. That doesn’t happen. I actually went back a couple months ago and played a sold-out show in my hometown, and it was amazing; ever since all this stuff started happening, the people in Pennsylvania have been the most supportive people I’ve ever known. But I wouldn’t change a thing about growing up and not exactly fitting in. If I had been popular, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

The Swifts never pushed their daughter toward a music career, and the family uprooted itself from the Christmas-tree farm where they lived only after it was clear that her stockbroker dad could do his job just as effectively down South. ”I never wanted to make that move about her ‘making it,”’ says her mom, Andrea. ”Because what a horrible thing if it hadn’t happened, for her to carry that kind of guilt or pressure around. And we moved far enough outside Nashville [to nearby Hendersonville] to where she didn’t have to be going to school with producers’ kids and label presidents’ kids and be reminded constantly that she was struggling to make it. We’ve always told her that this is not about putting food on our table or making our dreams come true. There would always be an escape hatch into normal life if she decided this wasn’t something she had to pursue. And of course that’s like saying to her, ‘If you want to stop breathing, that’s cool.”’

After getting out of her RCA deal, Swift found a believer in Scott Borchetta, who was then a big cheese at the Universal label group. ”I thought, ‘Oh, awesome, I’m gonna get to deal with Universal!’ I get this call a couple of weeks later, after I do this showcase and Scott’s on board and everything’s rocking. He goes, ‘I have good news and bad news. The good news is I want to sign you, and the bad news is I’m not gonna be with Universal Records anymore.’ Because he was leaving to start up this whole new record label.” She took a chance and went with what would become a new powerhouse indie label, Big Machine, figuring that at least she’d get more individual attention there. ”They only had 10 employees at the record label to start out with, so when they were releasing my first single, my mom and I came in to help stuff the CD singles into envelopes to send to radio. We sat out on the floor and did it because there wasn’t furniture at the label yet.”

NEXT PAGE: The viral marketing plan

The MySpace triumph. Swift’s album wasn’t Big Machine’s first release, or even its first relative success. Another early signing, Texas rocker Jack Ingram, had a song go to No. 1 on the country chart — but he still didn’t sell boatloads of albums. That would be up to Swift, and her success would help little Big Machine go on to become Garth Brooks’ new label, not to mention giving Borchetta the heft to sign Jewel (one of Swift’s childhood influences) to a country deal.

”The story that everyone is gonna tell with Taylor is her use of technology and viral marketing techniques — MySpace and texting — that are non-traditional for the country format,” says RJ Curtis, country editor for the weekly trade magazine Radio & Records. ”This kind of flies in the face of how to market a new artist from Nashville. It’s partly her being in that life group and using the things teens use to communicate and spread music around, but her label had a lot of savvy in that area too.”

But Swift’s manager, Rick Barker, gives the singer and her family most of the credit for working the Web. ”The parents already had her MySpace and her website up and running,” he says. ”The mom and dad both have great marketing minds. I don’t want to say fake it until you make it, but when you looked at her stuff, it was very professional even before she got her deal. And we put her music up there on MySpace before it was out, to help decide what was gonna be on the record. ‘Our Song’ made it to the record because of MySpace.” That song has been her biggest radio hit to date — written about her first real romance, premiered at her ninth-grade talent show, and nearly lost to the cutting room floor. ”If you notice the running order on the record, ‘Our Song’ is No. 11,” the manager points out. ”It was the last song added to the album, and a lot of that had to do with buzz that was being created on MySpace.”

Once the album was actually finished and ready for promotion, MySpace came in even handier. ”People laughed at me,” says Big Machine founder-president Borchetta. ”They said, ‘You’re starting a new record label and you signed a 15-year-old female country singer — good for you! You have a teenager — there’s a lot of those on country radio. You have a new female artist — there’s a lot of those on country radio.’ They were looking at me like I had two strikes. But I knew we didn’t want to count on country radio out of the box. So we went heavy on TV, putting the video out before the single, and doing a special with [cable channel] GAC, and we went heavy on her MySpace and online stuff. By the time we got to country radio, we said: We have you surrounded and you don’t even know it.”

It still wasn’t an easy sell. ”Her records are not records that researched fantastically,” says R&R‘s Curtis — and he ought to know, because when Swift’s single ”Tim McGraw” was first coming out in late 2006, he was then the program director of L.A.’s KZLA, and one of the guys balking at putting her on the air. ”But the radio guys hung in there because anybody who’s programming a station wants to get some younger listeners. Country does a good job of naturally getting 35-plus listeners, so getting someone who fits the image of the 18-to-34-year-old, that’s an asset. There’s a need for [youthfulness] in the format. When Gretchen Wilson and Big & Rich and the whole Muzik Mafia thing came along a few years ago, I said that, for the first time since the Garth phenomenon in the early ’90s, there seems to be a real movement happening here. It didn’t last long, because it was more of a fad than a trend; Gretchen really only had that one huge hit, and while Big & Rich have continued to have big songs, it’s been with their more traditional-sounding ballads. But there is definitely a need for a younger artist, younger feel.” Curtis thinks Swift’s adolescent-themed songs have a dual appeal to older and more youthful listeners: ”A lot of the theme of the album is first love, and those are things everybody can get sentimental about, no matter the demo. With things like ‘Our Song,’ a lot of people can relate because it takes them back to their innocent years — and in her case, she just happens to be living her innocent years right now.”

Barker, her manager, offers up some specifics about how they used MySpace to make the Taylor Case to radio. ”Radio does research, and we have no idea who they’re researching, but it was saying people weren’t digging ‘Tim McGraw.’ So we had to go out and create our own research — and that’s what we did with MySpace. What she did was put up a blog on her MySpace that said, ‘Guys, I would like to thank whatever station you’re hearing my song on.’ And people started telling us” — even with stations that were only tentatively programming the song in the middle of the night. ”We were able to take those comments back to radio in individual markets and say, ‘You’re saying researching is telling you it’s not doing that great, but here are 85 people who are telling us they love your station because you played ‘Tim McGraw.’ What MySpace and online told radio stations was: She’s already familiar to your audience. And radio loves familiarity.

”MySpace allowed us to tell the story about Taylor. And it really is her space,” adds Barker. ”She wrote her bio, writes her blogs, and if someone gets commented back to, it’s from Taylor. A lot of times, you can tell it’s somebody else hired to sit there at a computer. Taylor’s space is her space — that’s our secret.”

NEXT PAGE: Embracing the fame

Taylormania. On a brisk night in late January of 2008, the nexus for all this popularity is the Rabobank Theatre, a sold-out 3,000-seater in inland California where Swift is doing a headlining show. About a third of the way back, one delusionally hopeful suitor holds up a sign with his plea: ”PROM? 343-7547.” In the front row, a college-aged dude in a cowboy hat patiently waits for a break in the shrieking before finally blurting out, with half-shy boisterousness, ”Taylor, you’re hot!” But it’s hard for a male fan to get a word in edgewise when the young women in the house spend the entire show standing and screaming, much as their little sisters would for Hannah Montana. There are enough kids and parents on hand that it’s clear she has some appeal to the Disney Channel demographic, as well as to the 17- to 25-year-olds who make up most of the audience, though she writes about adolescent romance not as an aspirant but a fellow survivor. Swift represents the countrified missing link between Miley Cyrus and Alanis Morissette.

She is introducing her soon-to-be-released fourth single, the gleefully vengeful ”Picture to Burn,” which, like many of her songs, was inspired by an old school flame she refers to as ”Bad Cheater Guy.” Swift’s so impressed by the screaming, while going into her nightly spiel about getting back at the boys who spurned her, she adds a nod to tonight’s host city. ”Please know that I try to be a really nice person, in general,” she says as her band vamps through the intro. ”But, if you break my heart, or if you hurt my feelings — or ANY OF MY FRIENDS FROM BAKERSFIELD, CALIFORNIA — well, I will have to write a song about you!” Total eruption, as she marches across the stage in her spangly sun dress and cowboy boots, strumming on her six-string and singing: ”I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive/ You’re a redneck heartbreak who’s really bad at lying…”

Before the show, we watched her pose for photos for an hour at a meet-and-greet full of fan-club and radio-contest winners. (That’s nothing, for her; at most of the hundreds of shows she’s played so far, she stayed afterward to sign autographs till the last fan was gone, which might last anywhere from two-and-a-half to four hours. But as the crowds grow, those late-night signings are becoming increasingly more difficult to work in.) It’s clear that Swift doesn’t have the steeliness of a lot of starlets her age who were groomed for that by their parents almost from birth. Maybe because this whole massive career thing was her idea, she’s still digging it. When a little kid approaches, she gets down on her nyloned knees and cranes her neck in so that it is pressed against the tot’s. In pretty much every picture, she will look like that person’s conjoined twin. Every so often, with someone closer to her own age, she’ll say, ”Let’s do a funny one,” and urge the fan to screw up his or her face with her.

”She can’t go now to a store without having people come up to her — which she loves,” says her mom, Andrea. ”It makes her day when she’s gone somewhere and people have come up to her and said, ‘I love your music — can I take a picture?’ She’s always grabbing the camera and going, ‘Come here’ and getting the MySpace shot, holding the camera and posing together. She likes that attention. I think where she differs from some people who get to that spot and realize that they don’t really like their privacy sort of being restricted — well, for her that’s not an issue.

”But she never in her life ever said, ‘I want to be famous’ or ‘I want to be rich’ or ‘I want to be a star.’ Those words absolutely never came out of her mouth. If they had, I would have said, ‘Honey, maybe you’re doing it kind of for the wrong reasons.’ For her, the happiest I ever see her is just after she’s written a killer song. As a parent, I felt really good about that. If that’s where she draws happiness from, she’ll have that the rest of her life. She’s not always gonna have the awards, or the attention, or the celebrity, but she will always have the ability to write a song.”

”She has the combination of that 30-year-old business mentality with a real innocence,” says R&R‘s Curtis. But can country fans and programmers — who tend to be a little bit territorial — expect to keep Swift to themselves? Will the pop crossover success get to her? ”We’re talking about an 18-year-old, so it’s hard to know for sure what she’ll be doing five years from now,” Curtis says. ”But just from talking with her, I would say that her value system is a really good fit for country.” And though MTV recently did its first airing of her ”Teardrops on My Guitar” video on TRL, it did look a little bit uncharacteristically wholesome, programmed between Britney and Pitbull, so it’ll be interesting to see how things play out.

In the meantime, there’s still high school to finish up — home-schooled version, while her mom accompanies her on some dates this spring, when she’ll be opening an arena tour for Rascal Flatts. Says Swift, ”I already finished most of my course work, so I just have two electives left.” Which are? ”Public speaking and vocal performance. I guess I’m kind of coasting.”

[f1]

Norris says McLaren upgrades are a step forward while sick Piastri is happy to see the back of Baku

After a tough start to the season McLaren brought a significant upgrade package to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, and Lando Norris was able to put it to good use as he came home in the points in Baku. Oscar Piastri couldn’t follow him home in the top 10 though, the Australian having to settle for P11 on a weekend where he was laid low with a stomach bug. A promising qualifying on Friday had yielded two top-10 berths for the McLaren drivers, but neither found Lady Luck smiling down on them in Sunday’s Grand Prix. Piastri dropped out of the top 10 on the opening lap after contact with the Williams of Alex Albon into the second corner, the Australian caught between two cars and left with nowhere to go. As for Norris, he pitted early to switch onto the hard compound tyre – only to see his rivals get a ‘free’ pit stop a few laps later when the Safety Car came out. READ MORE: Hamilton rues Safety Car that ‘kicked me in the teeth’ as Russell vows to ‘come back stronger’ in Miami “[It] didn’t make a difference really,” Norris said afterwards. “I would have finished P9 either way. Just a tough race, long, sat behind the cars with our straight-line speed, and just with quite a short DRS zone. Not just for us, but everyone [it was] just very, very difficult to overtake.” Norris endured a frustrating race but did come home in the points Norris had been stuck behind the one-stopping Haas of Nico Hulkenberg for much of the race, but was able to pull out a move on the German late on, when he made a mistake and ran wide. “We did the best we could," he added. "Ninth is all we can achieve at the minute. I try and go with the guys ahead and one lap later the tyres go off a cliff. It’s a challenge. We are little bit closer, this track has definitely helped us, but we will see how we are in Miami.” When asked about the upgrades, which the timing sheets indicated had bought the McLarens about two tenths of pure performance, Norris conceded that the track characteristics here made it difficult to tell just how big an improvement it had given the team – but that they should know more next week after the Miami Grand Prix. READ MORE: What the teams said – Race day in Azerbaijan “[It] doesn’t feel any different inside the car but it is a step forward," he said. "I’m just being honest with it. Everyone will probably say ‘yeah it felt mega’ but you don’t feel it. It’s such a small amount in every corner, the oversteer is a little bit less. Piastri was unwell for much of the weekend in Baku "It’s a step forward in terms of like efficiency, also a little bit. We weren’t expecting a bit step, and like we said Baku was not the track where we will show its potential. Miami we will maybe understand a bit more, and some of the high-speed corners, because that was more where it was aimed at.” As for his team mate, Piastri had been fighting off sickness all weekend and had lost three kilos of bodyweight since arriving in Baku. He couldn’t back up his points finish from last time out in Melbourne, but P10 in the Sprint and 11th in the Grand Prix is still a decent showing from the driver who is learning fast in his rookie year. “I think the adrenalin is doing a very good job," he said. "But shame to be one point away – or one spot away from the points. I think we still learned a lot about tyre management stuff during this race, so definitely not a waste. Happy to get to the end of the weekend to be completely honest. But still, we can learn, and a lot to look at after the weekend.” HIGHLIGHTS: Watch as Sergio Perez wins the 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[brightatmidnight]

Work Has Begun on the Next Trailer for The Chaser’s Voyage!

Now that we have the playable tutorial complete it’s time to make our next trailer! So this week’s article goes into detail on what we’re aiming to accomplish with the new trailer. Enjoy!

Hello everyone. Today I thought I would just give you all an update on what I’ve been doing since starting work this year.

With some minor graphical updates made to The Chaser’s Voyage and our tutorial and intro cutscenes from last year now behind us, it was clearly time to begin work on making a new trailer to celebrate the milestones of our latest version. To prepare, I’ve been watching various tips & tricks videos on game trailer editing coupled with some feedback during our time in early access, I’ve been honing my trailer making skills to hopefully best convey the wonderful game I know Cameron and I have been working on.

For anyone curious, I have been singing the praises of Derek Lieu over on our twitter for providing such in-depth looks into what makes game trailers work. Personally, I have felt for a long time now that indie game trailers never adequately explain the “game” part of their game and instead try to sell me on either a world or a vibe. Worlds and vibes are cool and all, but, when I think of indie games, I think of new and exciting ways to play games. Derek’s videos helped me put into words why I think so many indie game trailers either look very unappealing or leave me asking “What am I actually going to do in this game?”

“When does the game trailer get to gameplay part?”

The plan now is to use the advice provided in Derek’s videos to make a game trailer that not only entices, but also explains just what makes The Chaser’s Voyage the fun and unique experience we’ve aimed for since the beginning. Some feedback we’ve gotten is also helping shape this trailer. Perhaps it’s because I’m too close to the project or a game like The Chaser’s Voyage is one that I’ve always wanted to play, but it seems like it was too hard for me to notice the extent at which potential players weren’t understanding the core idea of The Chaser’s Voyage and why it’s fun. That being the tactile, on-the-fly, power management system and the Han Solo-esque ace pilot maneuvers one might pull off.

So, we’re just going to have to explain it people. As mentioned in this Derek Lieu video, sometimes just explaining how to play a game is necessary if it uses a lot of abstract symbols or whose basic mechanics cannot be fully understood until someone plays. Based on the feedback we’ve received, once people understand what our game is about, something clicks and the mechanics all start making sense and are very fun. I think right now, what we’re battling against is people’s assumptions that our power management system is more akin to a power health bar system (which to be fair, we technically have something like that).

^Me getting ready to show our trailer once it’s done.

Fortunately, we devised a way to deliver information about the game while keeping that Star Wars inspired cinematic feel of daring space flights and intense chases. This will require some new voice work but luckily, that’s easy enough to obtain since Cameron also provides the wonderful voice of Edwin. A draft of the trailer has already been made that also utilizes some new video editing techniques I learned how to do (such as split screen) and so I’m very excited to show you guys it when it’s done.

For more updates on The Chaser’s Voyage, be sure to check back on our blog, follow us on Twitter, or join our Discord! If you wish to play The Chaser’s Voyage, you can buy it while we’re in Early Access on Steam.

-Eos//G

[lemonlocation18]

It isn’t always easy to see a toxic environment from the outside. We think of toxic workplace environments as ones where sexual harassment or physical abuse runs rampant. Something so clear and easily seen. It is quite the opposite. Most toxic workplaces use a lot of minor psychological mechanisms. Procedures that are in place, management styles, even the way that an employer talks to an employee. These are avenues in which toxic leadership manifests. It isn’t always immediate. Sometimes the toxicity seeps in slowly. Just like the venom of a snake bite. At first you start to notice you’re uncomfortable, something feels a little off. You don’t quite know what it is yet though. Then more venom seeps in: more restrictions on your hours, more micromanaging, more guilt about taking time off or sick leave. And before you know it it’s too late. The venom has totally taken over and you feel trapped in this toxic environment, unable to escape.

I moved 1,500 miles away from my hometown for two reasons: to be with the love of my life and the job I thought would set me on the path to success. It sounds like a fairy tale and if you had ended the movie there, it probably would have been a happy ending. But that's the thing about life, happy endings morph into conflicts again eventually. I think it’s easiest to see red flags in a job interview after the fact. “We work really closely together” is code for micromanaging. “We like to joke around a lot” is code for we will talk and joke about coworkers and stakeholders behind their backs. “Our schedule is flexible” is code for you will have to be available to work any day of the week as needed. Every job will have things that come up that weren’t clear in the interview. That’s the beauty of interviewing at different places and switching jobs early in your career. You get to learn a lot about the sneaky side of businesses and what lies can hide behind words and a paycheck. 

I was taking a pay cut for this job. I knew that going in but I thought this job could open a lot of doors for me. I still do think I can have career growth after I leave this job, but I didn’t realize how much of that growth would come from putting myself back together. I’m getting ahead of myself. I was told the job would pay close to $50,000 a year with overtime pay, even though I was officially offered $21 an hour. I should have done the math on this and questioned how that would work out, but I was willing to do the overtime and I didn’t think they would lie to me. My mistake. About 9 months into the job, I was set to make about $46,500 by the end of the year. Now, $3,500 might not seem like a lot, but I was taking a pay cut from $56,000 at my previous job. That means that instead of taking a $6000 pay cut like I had anticipated, I lost almost $10,000 in income. Ouch. 

I told myself that it would all work out. I would try to cut back on some expenses and see if I could find opportunities to grow within my new position. And I really tried. I joined committees, I worked extra hours, I volunteered, and I tried to offer new ideas and strategies whenever I could. I was doing a fantastic job. About 9 months into my position, I had started to see some things that were bothering me, started to notice the venom creeping in, but I was convinced that I could help change my department for the better. I thought if I worked hard enough and brought a positive attitude that it would catch on. I love myself for thinking like that. My coworker had moved onto another job and they needed someone to fill her spot. My supervisor asked me if I was interested and I said no, my current position was hourly so I got overtime pay. If I switched to the Manager position I’d be salaried and wouldn’t get paid overtime. I also applied for my original position because of the job description, I wanted to do the job I applied for. I was supposed to be a liaison to the community. Go to schools and help support them, manage and monitor social media and communications, go to meetings with other non-profit organizations to help plan community events. That is what I was told I would do. And although I hadn’t gotten to do a lot of that yet, I kept being told that we would get started on it soon. Another red flag I was blind to. My supervisor told me it was okay that I wanted to stay in my position and they began the search to fill the manager spot. Months went by and they didn't find anyone. Eventually my boss came to me and asked if I would take the manager role because it may be easier to find a candidate to fill my coordinator role. I agreed as I would get a title promotion and was told I would get a raise as well. I thought this part was important to include because I want it to be clear that moving up into this position wasn’t something I chose to do, it was something I was told to do. 

Upon finishing interviews with our HR Department and Executive Staff, I was officially given the “promotion” about two months later. There was no discussion about salary, there was a meeting with my supervisor and HR where I was shown what my new pay rate would be and told when that would start. I don’t even think I signed anything. Everything happened internally and over my head. I had prepared a spreadsheet and documents that broke down my productivity and current salary and showcased why I deserve a higher raise, but I had no opportunity to advocate for myself. It was already done. $46,000 in Salary. No overtime. I was given a pay cut based on the current projected rate I was making with overtime. I felt a little defeated, but I knew that yearly raises were only a month away at that point.  My boss told me that I would see an increase then so I shouldn’t be too concerned about the pay for my current position since it’ll only be for one month. Red flag again. There was no start date for this position, I was already doing all the responsibilities of the Manager position. I had been since my previous coworker left. In all honesty, the two positions dont have very many distinctions in the first place. Most of our “responsibilities” resemble that of an assistant, taking phone calls and filing paperwork on behalf of our supervisor. We’ll get into the nature of the job(s) work load later. But, understanding that this title change manifested very few changes is important. I had people come up to me often from other departments asking when I would switch over to my new responsibilities. I’d reply “there really aren’t any new responsibilities”. A new title, same pay, more restrictions, no responsibilities. This is the exact point where I started to notice the snake bite.

Let’s fast forward to my annual review next month. I had been looking forward to my annual review. I had been working really hard, made great connections within the organization and in the community, and really felt like I was great at my job, even if it wasn't very challenging. I filled out my self evaluation and gave myself decent scores. I knew I was excelling at communication and talking with stakeholders, that's the job I was hired for. I marked myself lower on some of the internal procedures as I was still fairly new and felt I would be more adept with these processes after working in them for a longer time. I remember my meeting with my supervisor when she told me I was too hard on myself in my self evaluation. I had heard her say that about other employees she had had before as well. (She talked a lot about her old employees actually, what was weird about them, what they did wrong, and what she didn't like.) It seemed like one of those things she said to everyone, she had a lot of those phrases she would repeat over and over again, whether they were true or not. She seemed to live in her own perception that way. “Employees are always too hard on themselves in self evaluations so that’s what I tell them”. I certainly didn't think I was too hard on myself, I thought I was fair. It became apparent that she also didn't actually believe what she had told me because come time for her to share her evaluation of me, every rating was lower than what I had given myself. If I had given myself a ⅘ she gave me a ⅗.  I was rightfully confused. She explained, “The executives don’t like when we score people too highly because it doesn’t show room for growth”. That red flag I saw right away. But I continued to listen knowing at least at the end of this I would still get the raise I was promised. She hands me a folded sticky note, like they do in movies, with my raise percentage on it. 3%. Company raise averages that year were 6-8%. I do my research, I’d already talked to other coworkers that were excited about their raises. I looked up at her. “Since you just got a raise with your promotion and with so much room to grow in the future they gave you a smaller increase this year”. And that is when the venom fully penetrated my system. 

I can’t remember what I did after that meeting but I’m sure I cried at some point. Was I not doing a good enough job? Did I not deserve a better raise? What did I do wrong? I kept asking myself these questions. I’m used to transactional work. You do well, you get rewarded. You work hard, you get praise. This obviously wasn’t the case. And I knew I wasn’t doing a bad job because I had numerous other staff members compliment me on my insights during the few meetings I was allowed to attend. So why was my pay continuously being leveraged from me? Why was my evaluation so different from my perception of my progress? I obviously had a lot of questions. And money isn’t the most important thing in a career, but taking a pay cut and living off a low salary does make keeping your job a necessity. I couldn’t afford to quit because I was already going into debt from not having the salary I had expected. I needed that paycheck. So I kept coming to work. I was trapped there. At a job where I had no tangible responsibilities, a meaningless title, and barely enough money to afford groceries in the rapidly increasing inflation. I could feel my motivation sliding away. I could feel the quality of my work slipping as the venom seeped in. I no longer wanted to volunteer for events or committees. I would take longer breaks and get distracted more easily. I didn’t go above and beyond, because there was no reward for going above and beyond. The structure of these positions was set up in a way that traps a person in mediocrity and poverty. 

I found I was getting more frustrated by the day. I started to notice how isolated I was from the rest of the staff. I started to notice that the work I was doing didn’t make any difference, it could be done by almost anyone. I had a couple of “responsibilities” that seemed to make up my job. Paperwork was the main one. Any applications, forms, or attendance came to me. I did not make forms, I did not analyze their data,  I was only to collect them and put them in the appropriate place. Paperwork includes a lot of highlighting, erasing, and stapling as well. I remember many instances where my supervisor would come into my office with a stack of contracts or forms that they had created and printed and asked me to staple them. I was not allowed to create forms, I was not allowed to manage contracts, (despite having a manager title) I was allowed to staple, and put away. This lack of contact with any real substance continued into other areas of my work. Another main focus of my responsibilities was acting as point of contact. I would answer simple inquiries about upcoming programs, schedules, or deadlines if any external stakeholder called or emailed. However, If a coworker emailed me asking about program logistics, budget, or long term planning, I found I didn’t have any of the information that I needed to answer their questions. Despite being titled as the manager of these education programs, I had no idea any of the logistics that went into them. I would ask my supervisor for the information and she insisted on emailing them back instead. I would try later on to answer emails with the information I did have, but often faced backlash for communicating without her approval when I did. It became clear that my role was not to manage the program, but to act as her assistant. 

I’m a rather ambitious person, soo this realization did not sit well with me. I would sit at my computer answering what few emails I was permitted to reply to and wait for her to come in with a stack of papers to staple or list of items to copy. If I had nothing else to do I was told to follow her as she would walk around the building asking other departments questions. At this point we had hired another employee to fill in my previous role as coordinator. Between the two of us, we have 3 masters degrees in the fields of education and non-profit management and 12 years of experience. Our coworkers would see the two of us following our boss through the hallways, waiting for a worthwhile task to keep us busy and say “oh look it's like the three ducklings” and “you’re like the three musketeers always together”. And I hated it. We were diminished to being her ducklings. I had lost all sense of ownership over my career, my title, and my professional worth. I truly felt isolated. Occasionally, coworkers would come by to talk to the coordinator and myself. But after a while we got in trouble for that too. They stopped coming as often. 

Each morning, the two of us came to work to sit in our office and wait for our leadership to assign what was starting to feel like busy work. Our interactions with other staff were to be limited. We were checked on often to make sure our work was up to standard and our mistakes, even if minor, were sure to be pointed out in front of everyone. It’s easy to see why morale and productivity started to drop. 

Now I will say that our boss was not a terrible person. I do not think she intentionally made things difficult for us. I believe her own need for her department to succeed and for her programs to look successful overpowered her ability to see the needs of her employees. But that was the main issue. Everything was about her. If a school didn't support her program, we didn't support that school. If a picture had a person that she didn't like in it, we weren't allowed to use it. If there was a conversation she wasn’t a part of she would complain about us bringing it up. If someone else got praise for doing something well she would comment on how well she could do it. I even remember one day I wore a new skirt and she asked me “have I seen this outfit before?”. Even my clothes were about her. So of course, her department also revolves around her and her success. I think this is the route of a lot of my dislike for my job. I love non-profit and education because they are careers that focus solely on helping other people. I truly wanted to make a difference in my community. I guess that wasn’t a part of my job description either.

6 Months after my yearly evaluation, I felt the snake venom taking over. I had lost all motivation to try when it was made clear that I wouldn’t be financially or verbally rewarded for hard work. I became emotionally detached when I realized I would never be taking on any of the responsibilities I was promised. I became apathetic when I realized that the motive and mission I was working for was being ignored. And I became angry when I wasn’t allowed to talk to my coworkers, or call out sick, or have a conversation on my own without a passive aggressive response from my supervisor. I am no longer unmotivated. I am no longer detached. I am no longer apathetic. I am angry. I am angry that the job I so desperately wanted was not what I was told it would be. I am angry that I’m not allowed to help people. I am angry that I was lied to about my salary several times. I am angry that I have been surrounded by selfish negative language for so long. I’m angry I felt trapped here. I’m angry that the executives at my organization don’t see what’s happening in this department. And I’m mostly angry at myself. I let myself ignore the red flags. I let myself stick around for far too long. I gave my boss too many second chances and I didn’t respect myself enough to do anything when I knew what was happening was wrong. I’m sorry to myself for that.

I started looking for a new job shortly after my annual review in August. I started seriously searching around October. By January I was applying to 10+ jobs every week fueled by the anger and resentment I had towards my current job, determined to find an antidote for this toxin that had penetrated my life. Now, it’s April. I’ve applied to hundreds of jobs and taken a handful of interviews, but haven’t found a lot of luck. It isn't easy leaving a toxic job. There are a lot of coworkers I really care for and the first couple of interviews were really hard. I didn’t even know how to market myself anymore. I didn’t get to do a lot of the responsibilities I was promised as coordinator or manager, so I didn’t know how to explain what my current role taught me in any interviews. I didn’t know how to put it onto a resume without lying. 

I eventually found strength in my coworkers. I focused on the skills they could see in me and I was able to find a lot that this job has taught me about leadership and a lot that I have to offer outside of stapling papers. While I don’t have a new job lined up yet, I have a couple strong leads right now and I don’t feel scared to interview anymore. I know I am a hard worker and have a lot to offer and I know my next opportunity will see that in me too. And until they do, I’ll keep turning that venom into fuel.

[w-ht-w]

Sam Altman

He was a formidable operator: quick to smile, but also quick to anger. ... Altman’s early aura of consequence, 

his ability to see people as chess pieces and work out their lines of play. ... “Since Sam can see the future, we want him to tell us what’s coming.” 

“Sam is not particularly religious, but he is culturally very Jewish—an optimist yet a survivalist, with a sense that things can always go deeply wrong, and that there’s no single place in the world where you’re deeply at home.” 

Altman makes a list of goals each year, and he looks at it every few weeks. It always includes a taxing physical objective—a hundred-mile bike ride each week; fifty consecutive pull-ups—and an array of work targets. 

He was always precocious and efficient. As a child, in St. Louis, he grasped the system behind area codes in nursery school, and learned to program and disassemble a Macintosh at eight. The Mac became his lifeline to the world. “Growing up gay in the Midwest in the two-thousands was not the most awesome thing,” he told me. “And finding AOL chat rooms was transformative. Secrets are bad when you’re eleven or twelve.” When he came out to his parents, at sixteen, his mother was astonished. She told me, “Sam had always struck me as just sort of unisexual and tech-y.” After a Christian group boycotted an assembly about sexuality at his prep school, John Burroughs, Altman addressed the whole community, announcing that he was gay and asking whether the school wanted to be a repressive place or one open to different ideas. Madelyn Gray, Altman’s college counsellor, said, “What Sam did changed the school. It felt like someone had opened up a great big box full of all kinds of kids and let them out into the world.”

Altman recoiled from venture capital. “You’re trying to find a company that will be successful with or without you, then convince them to take your money instead of somebody else’s, and at a lower price,” he said. “I didn’t like being oppositional to the entrepreneur.” Leery of tech’s culture of Golcondan wealth, in which a billion dollars is dismissed as “a buck,” he decided to rid himself of all but a comfortable cushion: his four-bedroom house in San Francisco’s Mission district, his cars, his Big Sur property, and a reserve of ten million dollars, whose annual interest would cover his living expenses. The rest would go to improving humanity. 

Altman felt that OpenAI’s mission was to babysit its wunderkind until it was ready to be adopted by the world. He’d been reading James Madison’s notes on the Constitutional Convention for guidance in managing the transition. “We’re planning a way to allow wide swaths of the world to elect representatives to a new governance board,” he said. “Because if I weren’t in on this I’d be, like, Why do these fuckers get to decide what happens to me?”

Under Altman, Y Combinator was becoming a kind of shadow United Nations, and increasingly he was making Secretary-General-level decisions. Perhaps it made sense to entrust humanity to someone who doesn’t seem all that interested in humans. “Sam’s program for the world is anchored by ideas, not people,” Peter Thiel said. “And that’s what makes it powerful—because it doesn’t immediately get derailed by questions of popularity.” Of course, that very combination of powerful intent and powerful unconcern is what inspired OpenAI: how can an unfathomable intelligence protect us if it doesn’t care what we think?

Altman worries that [Y Combinator’s] very potency has become problematic. ... warning that some founders had grown cocky and entitled. ... “It’s bad for the companies and bad for Silicon Valley if companies can stay alive just because they’re YC. It’s better for everyone if bad companies die quickly.” 

To keep your employees aligned, he wrote, it’s vital to have definite tasks and goals, to communicate them clearly, and to measure them frequently,

“If you believe that all human lives are equally valuable, and you also believe that 99.5 per cent of lives will take place in the future, we should spend all our time thinking about the future.” His voice dropped. “But I do care much more about my family and friends.” He asked me how many strangers I would allow to die—or would kill with my own hands, which seemed to him more intellectually honest—in order to spare my loved ones. As I considered this, he said that he’d sacrifice a hundred thousand. I told him that my own tally would be even larger. “It’s a bug,” he declared, unconsoled. 

The immediate challenge is that computers could put most of us out of work. Altman’s fix is YC Research’s Basic Income project, a five-year study, scheduled to begin in 2017, of an old idea that’s suddenly in vogue: giving everyone enough money to live on. Expanding on earlier trials in places such as Manitoba and Uganda, YC will give as many as a thousand people in Oakland an annual sum, probably between twelve thousand and twenty-four thousand dollars. 

The problems with the idea seem as basic as the promise: Why should people who don’t need a stipend get one, too? Won’t free money encourage indolence? And the math is staggering: if you gave each American twenty-four thousand dollars, the annual tab would run to nearly eight trillion dollars—more than double the federal tax revenue. However, Altman told me, “The thing most people get wrong is that if labor costs go to zero”—because smart robots have eaten all the jobs—“the cost of a great life comes way down. If we get fusion to work and electricity is free, then transportation is substantially cheaper, and the cost of electricity flows through to water and food. People pay a lot for a great education now, but you can become expert level on most things by looking at your phone. So, if an American family of four now requires seventy thousand dollars to be happy, which is the number you most often hear, then in ten to twenty years it could be an order of magnitude cheaper, with an error factor of 2x. Excluding the cost of housing, thirty-five hundred to fourteen thousand dollars could be all a family needs to enjoy a really good life.”In the best case, tech will be so transformative that Altman won’t have to choose between the few and the many. When A.I. reshapes the economy, he told me, “we’re going to have unlimited wealth and a huge amount of job displacement, so basic income really makes sense. Plus, the stipend will free up that one person in a million who can create the next Apple.”

“Someday, YC will be hundreds of times larger than when I took over.” Much could go wrong, he noted, but, really, “I don’t see how anyone can stop us.”Altman’s regime has left some people at YC nostalgic for the homey camaraderie of the early days. One YC stalwart told me, “Sam’s a little too focussed on glory—he puts his personal brand way out front. Under P.G., we had a family feel, and now it’s all institutional and aloof. Sam’s always managing up, but as the leader of the organization he needs to manage down.” 

When I asked Altman about this critique, he said, “I absolutely could do a better job at managing the organization—it was my chief weakness at Loopt, and I still have some learned helplessness about it. I don’t want to do weekly one-on-ones and let’s-talk-about-your-career-paths. But I think it’s O.K. to have a little mess at the organizational level if we’re making the big decisions right, since those are the ones that bring us all our returns.” 

More generally, he observed, “The missing circuit in my brain, the circuit that would make me care what people think about me, is a real gift. Most people want to be accepted, so they won’t take risks that could make them look crazy—which actually makes them wildly miscalculate risk.”

(1)

Altman’s talent lies in understanding what people want. “He really tries to find the thing that matters most to a person — and then figure out how to give it to them,” ... “That is the algorithm he uses over and over.”

a partner ... who worked with Mr. Altman as a board adviser to OpenAI, said it was like he was constantly arguing with himself. “In a single conversation, ... he is both sides of the debate club.” (2)

“Why is he working on something that won’t make him richer? One answer is that lots of people do that once they have enough money, which Sam probably does. The other is that he likes power.”

“He has a natural ability to talk people into things,” Mr. Graham said. “If it isn’t inborn, it was at least fully developed before he was 20. I first met Sam when he was 19, and I remember thinking at the time: ‘So this is what Bill Gates must have been like.’” (2)

Mr. Altman is not a coder or an engineer or an A.I. researcher. He is the person who sets the agenda, puts the teams together and strikes the deals. As the president of “YC,” he expanded the firm with near abandon, starting a new investment fund and a new research lab and stretching the number of companies advised by the firm into the hundreds each year. (2)

He resolved to refocus his attention on a project that would, as he put it, have a real impact on the world. He considered politics, but settled on artificial intelligence. He believed, according to his younger brother Max, that he was one of the few people who could meaningfully change the world through A.I. research, as opposed to the many people who could do so through politics. 

“Under Sam, the level of YC’s ambition has gone up 10x.” ... by precipitating progress in “curing cancer, fusion, supersonic airliners, A.I.,” was trying to comprehensively revise the way we live: “I think his goal is to make the whole future.” 

Altman, ... had his own warning for the timid: “Democracy only works in a growing economy. Without a return to economic growth, the democratic experiment will fail. And I have to think that YC is hugely important to that growth.” (2)

a fairly focused person with a high level of concentration. “He is mildly introverted because he spends hours and hours of continuous work on technology issues, which requires a certain type of isolation.” But at the same time he is extroverted enough to be able to create his own companies in which he has contact with investors. He is very astute in business models. He has a peculiar mix of attitudes about him. 

Altman is “the typical very smart young man (he is one of those who thinks through each sentence before saying it) who calmly admits that what they are doing will have a brutal economic impact, but that ‘everything will be fine’”.

His philosophy does not focus so much on moving fast, but rather on producing products that are a bit imperfect but that over time will be adopted by society. This includes people, institutions and governments. Let them adapt: ​​feeling technology as something practical.

“I understand why educators feel what they feel (…) And I think this is just the new we’re going to try to, you know, do some things in the short term and there may be ways to help teachers be a little better for detecting any text from a GPT-like system. But honestly, a determined person is going to pull through and I don’t think it’s something society can rely on. Now we are in a new world”, argued Sam regarding the impact of ChatGPT in education.

His great argument ... is that “humans will adapt” to these new advances, which is why he is constantly innovating. (3)

I’ve learned that I can’t be very productive working on things I don’t care about or don’t like.  So I just try not to put myself in a position where I have to do them (by delegating, avoiding, or something else).  Stuff that you don’t like is a painful drag on morale and momentum. 

It’s important to learn that you can learn anything you want, and that you can get better quickly.  This feels like an unlikely miracle the first few times it happens, but eventually you learn to trust that you can do it. 

You have to both pick the right problem and do the work.  There aren’t many shortcuts. 

I try to prioritize in a way that generates momentum.  The more I get done, the better I feel, and then the more I get done.  I like to start and end each day with something I can really make progress on. 

I generally try to avoid meetings and conferences as I find the time cost to be huge—I get the most value out of time in my office.  However, it is critical that you keep enough space in your schedule to allow for chance encounters and exposure to new people and ideas.  Having an open network is valuable; though probably 90% of the random meetings I take are a waste of time, the other 10% really make up for it. ... most meetings are best scheduled for 15-20 minutes, or 2 hours.  The default of 1 hour is usually wrong, and leads to a lot of wasted time.

I have different times of day I try to use for different kinds of work.  The first few hours of the morning are definitely my most productive time of the day, so I don’t let anyone schedule anything then.  I try to do meetings in the afternoon.  I take a break, or switch tasks, whenever I feel my attention starting to fade. 

I don’t think most people value their time enough—I am surprised by the number of people I know who make $100 an hour and yet will spend a couple of hours doing something they don’t want to do to save $20.

Also, don’t fall into the trap of productivity porn—chasing productivity for its own sake isn’t helpful.  Many people spend too much time thinking about how to perfectly optimize their system, and not nearly enough asking if they’re working on the right problems.  It doesn’t matter what system you use or if you squeeze out every second if you’re working on the wrong thing.The right goal is to allocate your year optimally, not your day.

I think it’s good to overcommit a little bit.  I find that I generally get done what I take on, and if I have a little bit too much to do it makes me more efficient at everything, which is a way to train to avoid distractions (a great habit to build!).  However, overcommitting a lot is disastrous.

Don’t neglect your family and friends for the sake of productivity—that’s a very stupid tradeoff (and very likely a net productivity loss, because you’ll be less happy).  Don’t neglect doing things you love or that clear your head either.

Finally, to repeat one more time: productivity in the wrong direction isn’t worth anything at all.  Think more about what to work on.

(4)

1. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/10/sam-altmans-manifest-destiny (2016)

2. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/31/technology/sam-altman-open-ai-chatgpt.html (2023)

3. https://time.news/sam-altman-the-genius-behind-chatgpt/

4. https://blog.samaltman.com/productivity

[cloveroctobers]

Can you do a fezco imagine where the girlfriend is high maintenance and a lil bit of a drama queen. Like someone that would be best friends with maddy.

how fez would be with a high maintenance gf ft. Maddy Perez

when he met you he knew what to expect, all dressed up just to pull up to his shop for your apparent slumber party with your girls

You were on FaceTime blabbing with Maddy as you browsed the aisles, “…and that girl thought i was going to fight her over teo and mess up my fresh new set? Please. Told her if it was that deep I could fit her into my schedule next week when it’s time for a new one.”

Maddy laughed as you barely held onto a metal wire basket tossing items in ever so briefly, “I mean teo’s cute and everything but britt needs to take that up with him. They weren’t even together when you two hooked up.”

“Exactly. Just because her and I worked on a project together a month ago doesn’t automatically make us friends tf?”

Fez ended up learning all about teo once he managed to ask you out and y’all become a solid couple

At first you weren’t budging on being in a relationship since you claimed you didn’t have time for it but you had a soft spot for your own personal lucky charms—as did he

You hated rolling his papers or grinding the kush since you didn’t like getting traces of it underneath your nails, you took pride in those obviously

Fez even paid for your new sets majority of the time which you never asked for but who were you to turn down a free manicure or pedicure

You modeled whatever new overly priced fit you ordered or received a sponsorship from since you were basically a IG influencer on your Koleen Diaz shit

“That’s straight,” fez would comment until you brought out the savagexfenty then it was a whole different tune

Hair appointments? Fez wasn’t sticking around for, he loved you but he was on his own business time himself so respectfully he would leave and would always be back on time to scoop you up and always gave compliments which boosted your ego

Fez enjoyed the hair appointments since it was always a surprise when you were done no matter what you got done and he knew he had the baddest beside him

Once you started to get into the lash extension business, both him and Maddy were your number one and two test subjects (ash was also ready to square up when you tried to hold him hostage since you wanted to test on him because Maddy and fez happened to be busy that day)

“Bitch what is this?” Maddy asked with uneven lashes which quickly shifted to (once you got better at the technique), “ooo since we’re besties and everything do I get a discount?”

Beauty school was ultimately for you at the end of the day and your lash business was slowly but surely becoming a success

Skincare was another story for you, sure you were more obsessed with lashes, brows, and nails but skincare was still top five top six on the list

When you would attempt to drag fez from the couch to join you for skincare routine night and he wouldn’t budge?

Here comes the damn dramatics

“Ayo, stop that shit.” Fez would tiredly say watching as you pouted and stomped your feet like a toddler

“I’m convinced you don’t love me anymore.” You would lay on the floor dramatically

Fez would dig in his elbows into his knees and puff out his cheeks before blowing out a breath, “I dunno how you got that from this but aight. What are we doing tonight?”

And you would jump up, dusting off your backside + hair and drag fez to his room shoving him on his bed while you disappeared to get some of the products you left in his bathroom that would benefit his skin

Most of the time when he didn’t have energy for this, this is what you would do. He would lay on his back, arms folded behind his head while you felt his skin (with clean hands ofc!) before getting ready to wash it for him

“My boujee ass girl.” Fez mumbled with a smile on his lips while you attempted not to waterboard him (since he didn’t want to stand in front of a sink!this part could be a little tricky)

Maddy would call on ft to see what you were up to—this was nothing new—and would love to watch!

“Um, when is it my turn?” Maddy would comment.

“When you book Besjana, Aparecida, or Dayana at the spa, bitch?” You laughed just as Maddy sent you a middle finger with a smile

Soon fez fell asleep as you smeared a turmeric and honey paste onto his skin before snapping a pic with his phone that you sent to yourself with Maddy also taking screenshots

“For someone who hates being my Guinea pig, look at his ass. My own personal Maggie and the ferocious beast. He’s the beast obviously.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Bitch, did you not watch 2000s cartoons?”

“I’m surprised you did. I didn’t have time for the cartoons, I was too busy watching the best reality shows like the simple life, the hills, and bad girls clubs to prepare for these shiesty bitches.”

You laughed, “you gotta have a variety too! I love me some parental control, America’s next top model, and pimp my ride but I need some cartoons in my life too.”

“…You’ve been spending too much with the drug dealing leprechaun. I can’t.” Maddy sighed.

“That’s not true both of you have custody over me, what’re you talking about?”

Suddenly the phone was smacked from your hand making you turn to fez who was now on his side looking at you, “bye Maddy, we’re busy.”

“The hell, fezco? You were just over there sounding like a snow plow.” Maddy’s argued as you glanced at your phone which was now face down on the floor

“Well…I’m awake now so…and why is my face sticking to my pillow right now?”

You sighed, “you’re supposed to remain laying on your back for another…five minutes and you’re ruining it.” You put on your best British accent, “and you’re lucky I have the best of the best phone case because if you cracked my screen? The crack of your ass will be extended up to your throat?”

“I’d just buy you another one.” Fez shrugged, struggling to pull himself from his pillow and not taking your threats seriously

Huffing you hopped off the bed to pick up the phone to see Maddy still on the line, “gotta go. Having a crisis, fez fucked up the mask.”

“Whatever. Text me later, love you. Bye luck of the Irish!” Maddy screamed before ending the call.

Inhaling you turned back to fez who was staring at you wide eyed, “if you weren’t invading on Maddy and I’s conversation you wouldn’t be stuck to your pillow right now! You’re making this harder for me babe and I haven’t done my routine yet.”

“I wasn’t asleep tho. How was I supposed to know I was only restricted to one position?”

“Hush,” you held your hand up, “do you guys have a gum scrapper? If not I’ll need a spatula or a wooden popsicle stick… if we have any left.”

“Yo, what are you talking about? Can’t you just pull me up? Is my skin gonna peel off you do that?”

“And sweat my edges out trying to pull on you? No thanks. I like to use my tools. Worse case scenario we’ll get ash to get the torch.”

“…that better be cap.”

You blinked, “I prepared for the cons. Just have a little faith in your gf okay?”

“Why didn’t you just give me a sheet mask? I told you I didn’t want to get into this shit tonight.”

“Don’t catch an attitude with me, fez. I’m trying to elevate you while catering to you. You should be thanking me, it’s winter and nobody likes dead ashy skin.”

“Thanking you?” Fez questioned as you moved around his bed, “I hope you’re praying that my skin don’t look like Kruger when I get up because if it does? You’re done for.”

You mocked him with your hand as you went to leave the room, “remember you said you loved me?”

“Yeah and sometimes I forget why.”

“Ugh. Don’t be an asshole or I might just leave you there.”

“Don’t play with me rite now, y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a minute. It’ll be fine. You’re gonna love the results…if I get you up that is.” You mumbled.

“What?!”

You kissed your lips at him then skipped out the room before fez could start throwing things