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the-last-teabender · 3 years

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FANFIC: Oxventure - Duel Destinies

RATING: G

WORDS: Just under 7k

SUMMARY: Corazón gets hit on the head.

A/N: This isn’t my first time writing fanfic, but it’s my first time in literal decades writing something that a) isn’t going into a charity anthology and b) isn’t single-sentence goofs in my Gchat window with @randomthunk. So I actually am a little nervous to just yeet my work out into the world without an editor/publisher frontline protecting me from looking foolish. I do have plans to fic more tho.

I approached this as though I was writing an official tie-in because that’s my comfort zone (and occasionally my job). Which was a little challenging because there’s a lot that’s not part of the story but is part of the viewing experience. I have not mastered it in one story but the attempt was fun. Also I haven’t smashed alt-codes this obsessively while writing since I wrote about Señor 105.

Thanks aforementioned Ginger for being my beta reader and basically sitting on me to post this instead of hide it in my writing folder.

Anyway, if you like what I’m throwing out here, I have actually a lot of stuff in print and even more coming.

----------

“Right,” Dob said, pacing the length of the deck, “before we go, let’s review. Prudence, what happened yesterday?”

“We found a bad man killing off local slimes to make slime booze.”

“Good. Corazón, what happened yesterday?”

“I began my awesome new career as a detective and threw someone out a window.”

“All right. Merilwen?”

“Mow.”

“Excellent. Egbert?”

“I set a tavern on fire and got my seal very drunk on slime gin.”

“All right, that’s us caught up.”

That wasn’t the entire catch-up, but all of them knew the events of the day before well enough. The forest outside the town of Esterwell was in turmoil, according to the wizard Binbag after he tumbled unexpectedly out of a pantry. It was suddenly bereft of slimes — the cute little blobby creatures generally used for target practice by up-and-coming adventurers. As it happened, slimes had other uses. Serving as the base for a delightful high-end alcoholic brew, for one. Serving as the base of the entire local food chain, for another. If the slime population continued to plummet, eventually the other animal populations would follow suit.

An investigation of the local slime hunters (led by DCI Jeff Crimestopper, a pseudonym Corazón was becoming increasingly attached to) turned up that they were all in the employ of the same man: one Alonzo Horgan, owner of the Horgan Distillery. One especially talkative young hunter revealed that Horgan intended to “wring all the slimes out of Esterwell Forest” before upping sticks to his next hunting ground.

The goal was, in short, to stop Horgan’s machinations before he destabilized the entire local ecosystem and went on to do the same to others. Somewhere along the way, Dob had got it into his head that the goal was to start a brewery of their own and hold a cider-making contest in the Esterwell town square… an idea the group at large now referred to as “Plan C.”

Plan A, currently underway, was to continue the detective lark and either talk sense into Horgan or (more likely) run him out of town. Plan B was burning down the distillery.

“I’m still very much in favor of bumping Plan B up to Plan A,” said Prudence, wiggling her fingers as the group made their way back into Esterwell.

“Mrow,” Merilwen the cat grumbled from Dob’s shoulder, which translated to something like, “But that doesn’t actually solve the problem of making him stop.”

“Oh, fine,” Prudence huffed. “Detectives it is.”

Corazón pumped a fist low and (he thought) out of sight. “DCI Jeff Crimestopper back on the case, bay-bee.”

They arrived at the home of Alonzo Horgan — a palatial manor in a town that really wasn’t the sort to have palatial manors. At least half a dozen residences would have to have been knocked down to make way for the place, which stood half again as high as the buildings around it that had survived.

Merilwen hopped lightly from Dob’s shoulder, turning back into an elf again, as the half-orc tapped politely on the door.

“No, no.” Egbert shoved past him, balling up one scaly fist. “You’ve gotta really punch it.” He slammed his fist against the door several times, making it bow slightly under the pressure.

“Open up!” Corazón shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We have a warrant!”

“Don’t just say we have a warrant!” Merilwen hissed.

The door was opened mere moments later by a tall, rail-thin man with an upturned nose and a downturned moustache. “Mmcan I help you?”

Corazón pushed past the man. “Yeah, you can take us to Alonzo Horgan. We’re taking him down to the station for questioning.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Horgan is not—” But the man was cut off as the rest of the group piled past and into the house.

“Where is he, then? Upstairs?” Corazón pointed up the stairwell, one foot on the steps.

The man at the door, to his credit, did his best to maintain his decorum. “Mr. Horgan is not taking visitors.”

“We’re not visitors,” Dob said gruffly, looming over the man, “we’re detectives.”

“Is that so? Well, I do hope you meant what you said about having a warrant. Otherwise I may have to take you to the authorities.”

Alonzo Horgan’s voice silenced the group, but had it not, his presence would have. Fully six-foot-four, a stocky mix of fat and muscle generally only seen on back alley brawlers, stuffed into a fancy suit. His glare was imperious; his moustache was excellent.

Corazón swiveled and approached the master of the house. “Alonzo Horgan?”

“Yes, I’m… not sure who else I would be.” Horgan seemed put out for a moment, but recovered himself. “May I ask what business you have here?”

“DCI Jeff Crimestopper.” Corazón pulled a piece of paper from his coat, flashed it briefly, and put it away again. “This is my DI, Dob Tyler.”

Dob grinned toothily; had it not been Dob, it might have looked threatening. “Here to make sure my loose cannon superior does things by the book.”

Corazón gestured to the rest of the party. “DS Prudence, DC Merilwen. And, er, PC Egbert, he mostly makes the tea.”

“It’s really good tea,” Egbert piped up.

“No offense, sir…” Horgan gestured to Corazón. “But you look more like a pirate than a detective.”

“Deep cover, obviously. I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand.”

Horgan waved a hand dismissively. “Even if I were to entertain the idea that you’re who you claim to be, I feel I’ve done nothing to warrant an investigation.”

Merilwen narrowed her eyes. “Nothing, Mr. Horgan?” Her voice was tense, hitting that slightly higher octave that her friends knew meant violence was quickly becoming an option. “Killing off an entire species for your own benefit is ‘nothing’? Allowing the local wildlife to starve is ‘nothing’?”

“Oh, it’s about the distillery, is it? I promise you, my dear, I’ve heard it all before.”

Dob gritted his teeth, giving Horgan a highly dramatic, highly knowing look. “I’d be careful if I was you, sir. DC Merilwen has a license to… er. Bear.”

Still, none of this seemed to faze Horgan. “If you think complaining about my methods is going to have any effect… let me assure you, it hasn’t yet. Now, unless you have any actual business with me…”

Prudence stepped up. “All right, look. Fine. We’re not actually detectives.”

“You don’t say,” Horgan deadpanned.

“That said… the whole slime issue is a real thing, and we really do need you to stop hunting them out completely. Or at least cut back.” Prudence looked back at Merilwen. “Cut back? Would that be good enough?”

“I prefer the idea of him stopping completely,” Merilwen seethed.

Prudence gestured to Merilwen. “Yeah, what she said. But I mean, it affects you, too. Do you like, uh… wild boar? I guess? Rabbit? Pheasant? I don’t know.” She spread her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Screw up the food chain and you don’t get any of those.”

Horgan looked them all over, one by one. “You come into my home. You pretend to be something you’re not. And then you make demands of me that would effectively shut down my business. Give me one reason why I should even listen to what you have to say.”

Egbert had mostly detached from the scene in front of him, his eyes scanning his surroundings in search of something entertaining. They lighted on a pair of crossed swords on the wall, with a bronze plaque underneath: Esterwell Annual Fencing Championship, Second Place. Without thinking, he blurted out, “A duel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Horgan asked. The rest of the party fixed Egbert with confused looks.

“A duel,” the dragonborn repeated, with a little more confidence this time — confidence filled in a lot of blanks, in his experience. “If one of us bests you in a duel, you have to at least give us a proper audience.”

Much to the group’s surprise — including Egbert’s, truth be told — Horgan seemed to consider it. “Hmm. Well. I suppose it makes more sense than… whatever we’ve been doing.” He gestured at the room in general, then turned to Corazón. “On the condition that I fight this one.”

Corazón grinned. “Hell yeah. I’ll fight you. Prepare to have your whole scene wrecked by Corazón de Ballena.”

“I thought you said your name was Jeff Crimestopper.”

“I told you. Deep cover.”

Horgan sighed wearily and turned to his doorman. “See them out. Tomorrow at sunrise on the lawn. Come alone, whatever your name is. And pray you do not lose. I have no patience for time-wasters.”

The five were ushered out without another word.

“Not sure it’s wise to challenge a prizewinning fighter to a duel,” Merilwen noted when they were outside town again. “That sort of seems like the main thing he’ll be ready for.”

Egbert waved a hand. “Pff, it’s fine. The plaque on his wall said he was only second place. That means there’s at least one person better than him in town.”

“Still… What’s going to happen if Corazón if he loses?”

Corazón laughed. “Pff. Hah. Nothing. Because Corazón won’t lose.” He unsheathed his rapier and stopped to take a few jabs at a nearby tree. A heavy branch, near to breaking, creaked overhead. “You know what my crew used to call me?”

“Yes,” said Prudence, “you’ve complained about it several times.”

“I mean in battle. You know, when we captured ships. My swordsmanship is second to none. They used to call me Corazón the—”

There was a crash, and silence.

Egbert stopped walking, waiting for the punchline. “Corazón the what?”

“Er.” Merilwen pointed back toward the tree hesitantly. “Corazón the unconscious, apparently.”

Prudence turned and lifted away the branch, wincing at the sight of the pirate splayed out on the ground. “Oh, dear…” Then she looked up at the group. “So does this mean I’m captain now?”

---

The general consensus had been to let Corazón be once he’d been carried back to the Joyful Damnation and bundled into bed. He would likely be full of opinions and complaints as soon as he woke up. That, and he’d need his rest before dueling Horgan the next morning.

There was no bleeding as far as they could tell. Just a big bruise that would get bruisier over the next few days. Egbert dropped a quick bit of healing on Corazón which, while it would likely be helpful in the long run, did nothing to wake him. Eventually, Dob took up a seat by the enormous bed in the captain’s quarters, keeping an eye on the patient and picking out a few chords to pass the time. Just as he was getting a good riff worked out...

“Ow.”

“Ow?” Dob leaned over the bed. “Did you say ow?”

“Yes, I said ow. Because I’m in pain.”

Dob jumped up from his seat and threw the door open. “Guys! Guys! He’s awake!”

Prudence was the first to run in. “Is he okay?”

“Sounds like it.”

Egbert followed, with Merilwen bringing up the rear. They crowded around Corazón’s bed, realized at the same time that that would probably look weird from his vantage point, and backed off a bit.

“Corazón?” Dob leaned in slightly. “How’s your head?”

He squinted up at Dob. “What did you call me?”

“Oh, right.” Dob laughed. “Silly me. How’s your head, DCI Crimestopper?”

This just seemed to confuse him more. “Who… what are you talking about?” Then he pulled himself up to sitting, perhaps a little more quickly than he ought, and pressed a hand to the top of his head, looking around. “I feel like I’ve been beaned with an entire tree. Where the hell am I?”

“Your room,” Prudence offered. “We figured you’d want a nap after the bludgeoning.”

He shook his head, still sounding a bit dazed. “No… this isn’t my room. My room is bigger. And it doesn’t rock and creak. Are we… are we on a ship?” He looked up at the others again, as though seeing them for the first time.

“... who the hell are all of you?”

There was an awkward silence.

“He’s messing about, right?” Egbert grinned nervously at the others.

“It’s Corazón,” Prudence said quickly, “of course he’s messing about. Just humor him, he’ll be on to something new when he’s tired of it.”

Dob was already on board at humor him. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, no! Corazón! All our precious memories, lost forever! Please say it isn’t so, old friend!”

If Corazón was acting, he was really leaning into the deadpan delivery. “Is this some sort of prank? It’s not a very good one, if…” His gaze wandered down to his hands resting on the bed sheet, his sleeves wrinkled back somewhat. His eyes went wide, and he made a sort of choking, stammering sound.

Then, again far more quickly than he probably should have, he threw himself out of bed, shoving past Egbert on the way to the largest of his mirrors. Carefully, he pulled his collar aside. And gasped.

“Oh, my God, I’ve been tattooed in my sleep!”

“Gosh,” Egbert said with an admiring smile, “he’s really devoting himself to the bit, isn’t he?”

Merilwen shook her head slightly. “I… don’t… know if it’s a bit.”

“Which one of you did this to me?!” Corazón pointed at the tentacle tattoo emerging from under his collar. “Why would you do that? Why… what happened to my hair!? How long have I been asleep!?” He grabbed the nearest person — Egbert — by the collar. “Are you trying to change my identity!? Am I going to be sold off to the highest bidder!? What’s your plan!? You have to tell me!”

Dob grabbed for his lute, a nervous grin plastered on his face. “Ooooh! Oh, dear! Looks like someone could use a nice lullaby.”

Merilwen held out a warning hand to Dob. “No? No. One second.” She waved a hand to Corazón, the way one might a skittish fox. “Hey, over here.”

“What!? What do you want now!?”

“Just. Okay. Calm down for a second. Calm…” Merilwen inhaled and exhaled slowly, guiding the breathing with her hands. Corazón, surprisingly did the same. That in itself was a sign that something was off.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me, all right?”

“Sure.” Corazón’s voice was strained.

Merilwen rooted around in the pocket of one of Corazón’s jackets, folded neatly over a nearby chair. She found what she was looking for — a little leather pouch of gold coins — and poured the contents out into her hand. She showed them to Corazón, as though setting up a magic trick. He watched and nodded tensely, his jaw set.

“Dob,” she said with a sweet smile, opening the cabin window. “Would you do the honors?”

“Would I?” Without hesitation, he took the little handful of coins from Merilwen, slid over to the window, and chucked them out into the sea, one by one.

All eyes turned toward Corazón.

“Yes, and?” The nervousness was tinged with irritation. “What?”

Another awkward silence, this one longer. And awkwarder. As they all, in their own time, came to terms with the fact that Corazón was not, in fact, acting.

Prudence tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. He flinched away, balling his hands into fists and holding them in front of his face.

“Hey, hey, whoa! No, no, we’re your friends! It’s us!” Prudence smiled, gesturing around the room. “You know. The Oxventurers! Can’t you recognize us?”

Corazón lowered his fists. “If you mean could I pick you out of a lineup, then yes, I certainly could.”

“Corazón…”

“Hff… and stop calling me that! It’s weird!” He brushed off his sleeve where Prudence had tapped him. “If you’re my kidnappers, then I would hope you already know who I am.”

“Y-Yeah.... Sorry.” Prudence frowned, then smiled. “Percy?”

“Thank you. That’s more like it.” And Corazón made a break for the deck.

---

“All I’m saying,” said the half-orc with the large hammer and the very nice hair, “is that we could be having a cider-making contest in the town square right now.”

“Or burning things,” said the tiefling, as a pair of ancient tomes played around her heels like rowdy puppies. “We could also be burning things right now.”

If this was a kidnapping, it was a very civilized one. Percy hadn’t had any practical experience with being kidnapped, to be fair. His father had suggested that it might happen once or twice in his youth, because that was just how life was for the children of rich and influential people. But after making it to adulthood without ever waking up in a dingy cellar surrounded by leering mercenaries, he’d just put it to the side.

He’d also been a bit disappointed, as escaping from said mercenaries could have been fun. But in retrospect, he might not have done as well at that as he liked to pretend.

He wasn’t tied up, or locked up. At worst, he had been prevented from leaping off the ship by all four of his kidnappers (and a seal, he was still contending with that information) piling themselves on top of him. They’d bundled him back into the captain’s quarters while they consulted with each other. Percy took the time to shave — the itch from his stubble was frazzling his already-frazzled brain — and change into a shirt that still had functional buttons.

The change had gotten a slight stare of disbelief from his captors, as though he’d gone and swapped heads, but no actual comments were made. And now, the dragonborn was sitting by him on the deck and handing him a cup of tea, and it smelled suspiciously like what he drank at home, and yes, this was absolutely one of his teacups.

“So!” the dragonborn said with a toothy grin. “Cora-... er, Percival. Percy? Mr. Milquetoast? Sorry, not sure what to call you now.” He had a cup of his own, but rather than sipping from it, he opened his long snout and splashed the contents inside. Judging by the reaction that followed, the tea was still very hot.

“Just, er… whichever? I guess?” Why was he sitting on a ship drinking tea with his kidnappers while they asked what to call him? Why had his father not been mentioned yet? Was that still incoming? His teacup rattled against the saucer.

“Mmmm… Percy. I’ve always thought you looked like a Percy.”

“Always?” Percy put his teacup down shakily on its saucer. “Then you’ve been spying on me? For how long?”

“No!” The dragonborn waved a hand frantically in front of himself. “No, no, I mean… we’re not…” He looked behind him, where the other three were peering at the scene thoughtfully. “Um, guys, I’m not doing great. Someone else try.”

The elf stepped in and tapped him on the shoulder, as though relieving him from duty. Good. As far as Percy could tell, she was the most logical of the group. She wasn’t panicking… not that he could see, at least.

“So you’re Good Cop, then?” Percy eyed her warily.

“No…” The elf sighed, a sort of long-suffering sigh that made him feel like this was not the first long-suffering sigh she’d issued him. “We’re your friends, really. And we’re just trying to figure out how to help you.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “My friends.”

“Yes.”

“Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the Milquetoast fortune.”

“No. Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the family fortune. I promise.”

“I mean, I have friends at home. I can just go home to my actual friends, and not whatever you guys are pretending to be.”

The elf’s face settled into an expression that somehow managed to be both neutral and confrontational, her lips pressed into a line. “Name four friends you have at home.”

Damn. “Uh, th-there’s, uh… there’s Steve… F-Friendsman.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s, a-um, Roger… M’buddy.”

The elf pressed a hand to her face. “Please, at least let us try to help you.”

She seemed absolutely genuine. It was making his head hurt. This was not how criminals acted. As far as he knew. “Fine, help me, or whatever it is you want to do.”

“All right, so…” The elf clasped her hands together. “It’s probably just a matter of jogging your memory. You got a little bop on the head, it shook things up, but we can help you connect things up again. Right?”

“Sure,” Percy said hesitantly, now with the added wrinkle of wondering when and how he’d been hit over the head. He considered asking, but he could already hear the answer. No, we didn’t hit you over the head intentionally. It was a love tap. Something like that.

The elf smiled. It didn’t seem like a kidnapper’s smile. But again, he had nothing to go on. Maybe kidnappers had really nice smiles. “Okay, good. So let’s just rattle out a few of the high points, and see what your brain latches onto.”

Percy nodded, taking a sip from the teacup he still held in a death grip.

“Okay. Spicy rat?” She paused, and he wasn’t sure what for. After a short silence, she picked up again. “No? Okay, that was a while ago, admittedly. Uh… baby-making watch?”

“Babies don’t come from watches,” Percy scoffed. “They come from under cabbage leaves.”

The elf ground to a halt in her questioning, but picked up again with a shake of the head. “What about the party? The one where you went dressed as a sexy nurse and made a teenage girl cry.”

Percy scowled. “I would never do that!”

The half-orc chuckled. “Oh, you very much did.”

“I will not allow you to paint me with the same brush as you, you… s-scoundrels!” Percy felt a chill down the back of his neck. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re trying to convince me I’m one of you and whisk me away to do unspeakable crimes, is that it?”

“Hasn’t taken much trying so far, mate,” Merilwen grumbled.

“Waaaait wait wait wait.” The tiefling squeezed up next to the elf. “We’re coming at this from the wrong angle. He’s clearly forgotten stuff from before we met him, too, right? What we need to do is remind him of why he became a pirate.”

Percy looked around the ship. Then down at the clothes he’d woken up in. And the tattoo on his wrist. “I’m a pirate?”

“Yep, you are a pirate.”

“So… this really is my ship?”

“Er, our ship, yes.” The tiefling seemed to take a lot of pride in saying that. Well, being co-owner of a ship was something to be proud of… if it was true, he’d probably let himself feel a bit proud, too. “So, maybe if you can summon up the feelings that made you want to run away from home and be a pirate, the rest will follow. So, tell us about your dad.”

“He’s… dumb?” Percy shrugged. “He’s annoying? I don’t know, it’s a lot of effort to run away from him for being dumb and annoying. I’ve got nothing.”

The tiefling leaned in conspiratorially. “Nothing about what a bad dad he is? How he has ridiculous expectations of you? Doesn’t want you to have fun and live your own life?” She paused. “How he’s got a stupid wig and he’s all stuffy and bossy?”

Percy leaned away from her. “You seem to have plenty against him already.”

“Oh, no, no. I don’t hate him. You do.”

“No, it really does sound like it’s you.”

The tiefling laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, no, that’s just because he bothers you. It’s a support thing. I’d totally love to live in his big ol’ house.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t like my father, but you do like his money, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

The tiefling’s face twisted into a confused frown. “Oh, man. Yeah, we do kinda sound like we kidnapped you for ransom, don’t we?”

Percy flinched away, nearly dropping his teacup. Oddly, the tiefling was once again trying to reassure him. “Which we didn’t?? Which we didn’t. I’m just saying.” She sighed. “I guess he forgot whatever happened that made him want to run away, too. How about you, Egbert? Got any paladin magic for him?”

“I’ve got something better!”

All eyes, Percy’s included, turned to the dragonborn — who was now swinging a mace from one clawed hand.

“So, you know how in all the stories, right? Someone gets knocked on the head and gets amnesia, but then they get hit in the same spot and all their memories come back. Let’s just do that!”

The dragonborn strode over to Percy, winding up the mace. Percy stumbled backwards, his teacup falling and shattering on the deck. “Don’t you dare!”

“Egbert, not that mace!” the elf shouted.

“Oh, it’s fiiiine. I had to hit whatsisname loads of times before he actually turned into a seal.”

Percy looked at the seal. The seal looked back.

“Eg.”

The dragonborn raised his mace over his head. Percy stumbled backwards towards the door to the captain’s quarters, eyes locked on the cursed weapon. He reached behind him for the doorknob and twisted frantically. The door wouldn’t give way.

The elf flung herself at the dragonborn, turning into an octopus in midair. The two hit the deck, the mace rolling harmlessly across the deck as the octopus held the would-be attacker in place. Percy finally managed to yank the door open, racing into the captain’s quarters and slamming the door behind him.

“I meant a spell!” Percy heard the tiefling yell from the other side of the door. “You’ve got more healing spells, don’t you?”

“Oh, riiiight…”

There was a gentle tap at the door. Percy eyed it nervously.

“Heeey, buddy. You okay?” It was the half-orc. “Can I come in?”

“No, you absolutely cannot come in. You’re all insane and there’s a seal man out there saying egg.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. I’ll just sit out here, how’s that?”

Percy heard a gentle thump against the other side of the door. “So… you really don’t remember anything, do you? About us, or your pirate crew, or any of that?”

“Last thing I remember is going to bed at Milquetoast Manor and thinking tomorrow night’s party was going to be very boring. Then I woke up in bed on a strange boat, with all of you standing over me looking ready to dissect me or something.” Percy sat down, leaning on the other side of the door. His head still felt foggy. “So? Which one of you blackjacked me?”

“You blackjacked yourself with a tree.”

Percy frowned. “Is that the sort of thing I’m likely to do?”

“Oh, yes,” the half-orc said cheerfully. “Merilwen had a stack of tree puns ready to go, but under the circumstances it seemed, uh… bit tasteless.”

“Merilwen?”

“The elf. Don’t worry, you can hear them later. You know, when your head’s right again.” A pause. “Oh! Haha. Of course. I’m Dob, by the way. The tiefling is Prudence, and the big dragon man is Egbert. And we’re all your friends, and we all do super cool things together.”

Percy nodded, still not completely convinced. Then he realized Dob wouldn’t be able to see him on the other side of the door. “If you say so.”

“Gosh. Introducing myself to you. That brings back memories.” Dob stopped himself, fumbling, as if he’d just said something extremely offensive. “I mean… you know…”

Against his better judgment, Percy got up and opened the door. Dob, leaning heavily on it, tumbled backwards… but turned the tumble into a backwards somersault and landed lightly on his feet. He gave a little bow, and Percy felt he ought to clap. Just considering the effort.

“You ready to come out and talk to the others?”

Percy leaned to one side and looked out onto the deck. Egbert was on his feet again, with Merilwen (now an elf) still clinging to his back, as though uncertain whether the dragonborn could be trusted on his own yet. Prudence wore a friendly smile that seemed to say “I’m not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god, but I’m also not not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god.” His trusted friends. Apparently.

Before Percy could answer, Dob slapped him on the back and walked him out onto the deck. “All right. We’ve all had a little breather, a little think, and I think… and this is just me… we should back-burner the memory loss issue and focus on the bigger problem.”

“There’s a bigger problem?” Percy looked at Dob incredulously.

The group at large winced. “Yeah…” Dob continued to speak for the group, and no one seemed to mind being relieved of that duty for the moment. “See, Percy. Percival. Friend. Our good friend of so long…”

“Just tell me what’s going to happen to me.”

“You have to duel someone tomorrow morning.”

Percy extracted himself from Dob��s friendly side-arm. “What? Why? Why would I do that?”

“Again,” said Dob, “if it makes you feel better, it is extremely on brand.”

“Hsfd… it doesn’t make me feel better! I have to fight someone tomorrow and I’m not me! I mean, I am me, but I’m not this other me who went and did a thing I didn’t do!”

Amongst them, Percy’s friends(?) laid out the entire situation. All he managed to retain were slimes, collapse of the natural world, very large man, and imminent swordfight. The rest was a sort of blur, and one he was in no mood to attempt to figure out.

“I can’t do this.” It was a statement of fact. “Maybe this Corazón guy can do this, but I can’t. Horgan’s going to be expecting some jerk pirate who can swordfight.”

“We can try another refresher,” suggested Merilwen.

Egbert reached for his mace. “I could try—-”

“No,” said everyone, possibly even the seal.

“Look,” Dob said gently, “we’ll have puh-lenty of time to work on the memory thing, right? All we have to do is get through tomorrow, and if it hasn’t cleared up by then, we’ll find someone to help you, no problem.”

“How can you be so sure?” Percy asked, the fretting feeling coming back even stronger than before.

Egbert shrugged. “It’ll happen. That’s how it tends to go. A problem comes up, and then a couple days later someone comes along with a quest that’ll fix it. It’s really handy.”

“Okay, that’s great for after tomorrow morning. But what about me, tomorrow morning, with swords? What’s my guarantee I get past that alive? Because I’ve never actually stabbed a man.”

“Yes you have,” Prudence pointed out.

“Like a lot,” Merilwen added.

“Apparently you kicked a man to death once,” said Egbert. “I mean, I found out later, but I believe it.”

“But I don’t remember that!” Percy flailed an arm helplessly. “It’s… hds… that’s some future guy and I’m not the future guy, I’m the me guy. How is the me guy going to survive?”

The group fell silent.

“... did I actually kick a man to death?”

They all nodded.

“Oh…”

“And see? That’s why we believe in you, Cor… er, Percy.” Dob threw an arm around Percy’s shoulders again. “We know what you’re capable of. We know it’s in here.” He jabbed at Percy’s chest with one finger. “And in here.” At his head.

“Ow!”

“The head, Dob,” Merilwen hissed, “watch the head.”

“Right, right. Look. We’ve got tonight to train you up into a believable Corazón de Ballena. You’ve already got the look, you’ve already got the voice. That’s more than most people start with.”

Percy let out a weak groan.

“Hey! No, this is good! We can do this! And maybe, somewhere along the way, something will trigger the ol’ bean and the memories will just come flooding back. Right, guys?”

The rest of the team seemed to believe it about as much as Percy did. Which wasn’t much.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Percy motioned to the anchor rope. “Leave?”

“No,” Merilwen said firmly. But her expression was still hesitant. “No, we have to stop Horgan. More than anything else, that has to happen.”

She was insistent. This was important to her. Percy groaned again.

“Come on, buddy.” Dob lifted his arm from Percy’s shoulders, grabbing him by both arms and staring him in the eyes. “Look me in the eye.”

“Yeah. Looking.”

“Now. Are you a Thieves Cant, or a Thieves Can?”

Merilwen, at least, seemed to appreciate what Dob was going for.

---

Plan B no longer stood for Burning. Plan B, as indicated by a wild-shaped Merilwen taking up a spot behind the topiaries on Horgan’s lawn, now stood for Bear. And possibly Bomb, and Blast, and Bard Casts Thunder Wave, depending on who got trigger-happy first.

No amount of swordfighting or storytelling brought Corazón’s memory back. Nor did any amount of actually insisting on calling him Corazón. Their last ditch hope — that he’d wake up the next morning acting like nothing had happened — didn’t pan out, either. Dob gave pep talk after pep talk as Corazón fretted uncharacteristically, the latter eventually wrapping the uneaten bacon sandwich he’d made for himself in a piece of paper and stowing it in a jacket pocket. Finally, though, they’d all had to take up their positions and leave the rest to luck.

Corazón was left to make the walk up the lawn alone, but the other four had formed a perimeter: Merilwen in the topiary, Dob in a nearby tree, Prudence behind a fence, and Egbert peering over a hedge. Dob promised to shoot Corazón an occasional prompt if things got hairy; but, by and large, it was all him.

As the sun began to rise, Corazón walked up the paved path to the appointed spot. He’d not quite gotten his own swagger down, instead walking slow, measured steps with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Try to look like you’re too cool for the room! Dob thought; Corazón looked up and around, surprised, then seemed to remember what Dob had said about sending mental messages. He stopped where he was, pulled his hands out of his pockets, squared his shoulders, and walked even more awkwardly up the path.

Fine. It’d have to do.

Just as the light of sunrise hit its best and most aesthetic hue, Alonzo Horgan and his servant walked out. The former wore a rapier at his belt.

“Corazón de Ballena,” Horgan said broadly, his voice dripping with fake friendliness. “Or are we going by something new today?”

“No, er, that’s me.”

Dob thought another swift message.

“I mean… that’s right! That’s me, Corazón. The mighty pirate. Here to run you through like a tasty kebab and grill… grill you on the fires of justice? What the hell does that mean?”

Just go with it, Dob thought irritably, but the moment had passed. Shame. He was rather proud of that one.

Horgan eyed Corazón with amusement. “I can wait if you need a moment.”

“No, no. Erm. Yes, that’s me.” Corazón’s hand hovered over the hilt of his rapier. He was tense. He was ready. He might have been about to faint. It was hard to tell.

Horgan’s retainer’s voice was soft. None of them could hear it from their respective points along the perimeter. Corazón didn’t look especially surprised by any of it, which hopefully meant there was nothing odd about the rules of the duel.

From their spots, separated though each of them was, they all had the same thought at the same time: what would it take? What hadn’t they done? Would they need a spell? Some sort of quest? A skilled healer? Would another bop on the head really have done it?

A shrill whistle blew. Each of them was shaken out of their thoughts to see that the duel had begun, and Corazón was already flagging quickly. It was less of a duel and more of a chase, the enormous Horgan lumbering across the lawn after his smaller opponent. Corazón, for his part, was holding his ground… though “his ground” was constantly moving backwards across the lawn in zigzags.

His heel came dangerously close to a stray root, nearly hidden by the grass.

“Look out!” Egbert shouted. Merilwen, Dob, and Prudence shushed him. Horgan looked up and around for the source of the voice. Corazón, on the other hand, missed the warning entirely. His heel caught on the root, and he windmilled backwards, landing flat on his back.

Merilwen hesitated behind the topiary, one huge, clawed paw creeping around the side of the greenery. Was it go time? The others were in the same state of indecision, poised to attack but waiting to see what happened.

Corazón lifted his head slightly. The massive form of Horgan hovering over him, blade raised threatening, blocked out the faint light of sunrise. The sword hung there for a moment… then was flung across the lawn, accompanied by a disgusted sigh from Horgan.

“How very disappointing.”

The group shot each other quick glances. The message was clear. Well, clear-ish. “Stop Horgan before he can leave” was clear enough, but what would be done with him once apprehended was likely still up in the air. Corazón, unaware of any of this, propped himself up on his elbows.

“Where are you going?” he asked weakly. “We’re not done here.”

“I rather think we are.” Horgan shook his head in… amusement? Disappointment? It was hard to tell. “What a shame. You were so full of piss and vinegar yesterday, and today you’ve got no real fight in you.”

“I’ve got fight… I’ve got plenty of… hhhh.” Corazón put a hand to his head.

“Serves me right, thinking I’d get a good fight out of some puffed-up fake pirate.”

“... what did you say?” Corazón’s voice was suddenly oddly sharp and cold.

Horgan chuckled. “You heard me. You’re less convincing than the chap I hired for my niece’s seventh birthday party.” He waved a hand to his servant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve not had breakfast yet and I’m peckish. Think I might go to the kitchen and have a bit of a graze.”

On his next step, Horgan’s booted foot slid forward, sending him falling backwards into a puddle of grease that had absolutely not been there moments ago. Now it was his turn to look up at a looming silhouette: Corazón de Ballena, sword pointing down threateningly in one hand, bacon sandwich in the other.

“How appropriate. You fight like a cow.”

Horgan spluttered, eyes bulging. “You… what nonsense is this!?”

“It’s called the power of grease, that’s what nonsense this is. Now get up and fight me so we can have our little talk. Or would you rather we just go ahead and burn your whole scene down?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I think Prudence might, though.” Corazón shouted toward the fence. “Prudence! Plan B for burn?”

Prudence threw her hands in the air. “Plan B for buuuurn!”

Horgan had managed to pull himself up to one knee, the grease still dangerously slick beneath him. “I said to come alone!”

“Yeah, well, pirate. Don’t know what you expected.” Corazón stepped back, taking a bite of his sandwich. “So, I’m calling this a win for Team Oxventure. Which means it’s time for some negotiations concerning your, er, current business model.”

“But…” Horgan looked in the direction of his servant. He was long gone. Whether he’d run off, or whether the large bear standing where he’d stood had disposed of him, Horgan couldn’t tell.

“Oh, yes. That’s our sustainability advisor, Merilwen. She’ll be taking over from here.”

Merilwen growled.

---

“So what you’re saying,” said Egbert, “is that my plan was the best and would have worked.”

“Hff… no! Absolutely not.” Corazón was rubbing a hand over his chin, displeased with the lack of facial hair. “A one-in-six chance of being turned into an animal is not a best plan. Why did you let me shave? I hate it.”

“It’ll grow back.” Prudence poured out a mug of slime beer… the last remaining barrel, which they’d taken with them as a gratuity after aggressively convincing Horgan to discontinue his fermented slime line. She offered the mug to Merilwen, who waved a hand in front of herself emphatically.

“No, I don’t want to drink the poor baby slimes…” The rest became too high-pitched and tearful to translate.

“I’ll drink the poor baby slimes.” Dob grabbed the mug and necked half of it, much to Merilwen’s chagrin. “Anyway, what snapped you out of it? Was it hitting your head again?”

Corazón wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Don’t know. I know I got really mad when whatsisname called me a fake pirate, and I wasn’t having that.”

Prudence’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, spite! Literally the one thing we didn’t think to try!”

“Well,” said Dob, passing Corazón his mended teacup topped off with beer, “I think we’ve all had a chance to learn something about friendship and patience and being true to ourselves.”

Egbert poured himself a pint. “I haven’t learned anything.”

“I have.”

Everyone looked at Corazón. “Have you?” Dob asked.

“Yep.” Corazón took a sip of beer from the teacup. “We are absolutely terrifying.”

Merilwen nodded sagely.

“Yeah,” Prudence said dreamily. “It’s good.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room, and I’m not coming out again until my good facial hair is back.” The door to the captain’s quarters slammed behind Corazón.

And that is the story of how the Oxventurers brought down a corrupt businessman with a breakfast sandwich.

#oxventure #outside xbox #i'm supposed to be writing other things but i won't tell if you won't #anyway yes i write stories a lot i do them for a living #please read them #i love approval from strangers

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spnbaby-67 · 7 years

Text

Craving You 10

Summary: Jensen and Reader has some quality time in the pool. Things get a little heated after Jo pushing them in.

Warning: This does have sexual content, fingering, female receiving, pool sex,

A/N: HI Ya’ll, Thank you to all who are still sticking around, it really means a lot to me and i only hope your enjoying this story. After this chapter, I promise you it is going to be much better. I miss underestimated the chapter we know Jensen’s job, but depending on how my beta gets chapter 11 done, i will be glad to post it as soon as it’s back also a surprise in that one. Chapter 11 is going to be very long i had to do part one and two. If you want to be tagged please let me know. My work is to not be posted on any other sites without my permissio, Gifs are not mine thanks to the editors who do them. Also thank you to Portia at @writersaredreamers for beta’ing my chapters all other mistakes are my own. without further ado lets read.

Chapter 10

Once we get back to Jo’s house, Jensen walked me inside. We barely got past the front door only to hear Jeff yelling at Jo by the bar about Lisa, clearly I could tell he was a bit peeved.

“I don’t care about Lisa Braeden Jo, ya’ll had no right to keep egging her on. For hell’s sake, she punched {Y/N} in the eye. Lisa is a force to not be messed with, you should know that very well.” His face was a bit red from anger.

Jo was toe to toe with Jeff after she heard us come in, “Don’t say anything to {Y/N}, Lisa has been on her ass since we were kids. She coming here tonight for the barbeque with her husband, she’ll be in my territory. She’s the one that better chill out.” She gave him the look of death Jeff knew she meant it, then walked over to {Y/N}. “How’s your eye?” She had a fresh ice pack for me that she grabbed from the freezer.

“It hurts like hell, but I’m a big girl I can handle the pain.” I smiled at her to reassure her. “I’m going to go shower and change, I’ll be back ok.” I look at her and she hugged me.

“Ok, I’ll keep Jensen entertained.” She teased and winked at me.

“Jo, he’s mine.” I gave her a stern look, I knew she was joking, but I wasn’t in the mood. I told Jensen that I needed a shower and then disappeared into my room.

I threw the ice pack down on the countertop in the bathroom, I looked at my eye. Yeah not so great, “Damn it,” I pulled out my makeup bag to see if there was a chance to save some of my face from being center of attention tonight at the party. I put everything out on the counter I need and took my shower. I was still fuming from the fight Lisa instigated, for her sake I hope she doesn’t see me any time soon.

I heard the music starting up in the backyard, which meant that people were starting to arrive. I put on a new top, which flowed down to the hem of my boy shorts, I loved this pair, they are so comfortable. The top was strapless, and hugged my chest perfectly leaving my shoulders bare. I put my sandals on, then done my makeup. My hair was half up half down and my mom’s necklace that she gave me before she died draped around my neck like it was always supposed to be there. I managed to cover up most of my black eye before I left to join Jo and Jensen. Entering the backyard, the good mood I had earlier with Jensen, just went away when I saw her. Seriously? She has to be here too? I shook my head, this is not going to be a great night.

Lisa was standing by the bar leaning her back against her husband’s chest. Really? She has to make my whole night miserable? I rolled my eyes, then I went back inside and to the kitchen to see Jo and Jeff semi talking. It was more like they were trying to keep their voices down than anything, which had me kind of worried about their engagement. I know Jeff loves Jo like there’s no tomorrow, but at the same time it has me worried about a lot of things. I jumped when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I knew who it was and I could not help the huge smile on my face.

I turn to face him. “Hi, how’s your eye?” he asked as he kissed the top of my head.

“It’s ok, what are they talking about?” I nodded my head backwards to indicate Jo and Jeff.

“I don’t know, but um Lisa is here.” He waited to see my reaction.

“Yeah, unfortunately I saw her already.” I sighed, “Want to go out back?”

“Sure,’ He grabbed us a couple of beers then took my hand, he led the way to the back yard.

The wind was cool, it’s that type of breeze that touched your shoulders with the right amount of coolness to it. I love nights like these, they are the best to snuggle up to someone comfortable on the back porch swing. Unfortunately, there went that idea when I saw Lisa and her husband already occupying it.

I started to walk away with Jensen to show him another place to go, but got interrupted. “{Y/N}, Jensen, come join us. My husband was just telling me about work today.”

I rolled my eyes before I turn to face her, “It’s ok Lisa, you enjoy your husband time.”

She stood up and she was already three shades to the wind, what she drinking all day? She grabbed my right elbow and turn me around so fast that my right hand met her face with a slap that was heard throughout the back porch. She stumbled and her husband grabbed her before she fell sideways down. My hand went immediately on my mouth in shock waiting to see what she was going to do.

Her husband took her by the shoulder and turn her to face him, “It’s all good, why don’t we go get you another drink hmm.” He kept her facing him to keep her mind off of me. Jensen and I disappeared after we got the hint.

We walked over to the shallow side of the pool, the water was just beautiful with the purple lights cascading across the oval shaped pool. The stars shone above us and country music played in the background. Jensen helped me sit down on the edge of the pool, then after I slipped my legs into the water. Jensen followed suit. He rolled his pants up to his knees after taking off his shoes and socks. He sat next to me so close that I could lay my head on his shoulder if I wanted too.

“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?.” His voice was sweet and smooth,

I turn to look at him, our noses almost touch. “No, you didn't, thank you, and you are handsome yourself.” I kissed his lips.

He put our beer bottles behind us, took his left hand and ran his fingers thru my hair as he kisses me deeper. Without any kind of warning, we were pushed into the pool by Jo. “Seriously?” I asked as I looked at her.

“What? You two needed to have a little fun, just helped it along.” She winked at me. “You’ll thank me later!”

I rolled my eyes, as I splashed water at her. She jumped back to avoid the hit, then walked off. Thank god we were at least in the shallow end of the pool. She had walked off like she had won the game, and I look at Jensen. “I hope you didn’t have your cellphone.”

“No, my wallet and cellphone is in my truck. You have my total attention tonight.” He picked up where he left off.

I nodded over to the hot tub “Follow me,” I smiled at him and then went over the partition wall that separated the pool and hot tub. I placed my hands on the sides of it then pulled up my body to let my legs straddle it a moment, Jensen did the same. He kissed me, then we continued the plan to actually get into the hot tub.

As soon as we were in, we sat down on the cemented bench that was built into the square hot tub. The water felt amazing almost like heaven. It was perfectly warm not hot, just warm enough to envelop our bodies like a blanket on a cold day. He was to my left side and his lips were dangerously close to mine, while his hand was back in my hair threading thru it like it was searching for a good spot to hold onto. Once he found the the back of my head, the grip he had tightened a bit as if he was saying I was his. I love the authority he was taking, it kind of turned me on.

He pulled away from our kiss and looks at me with dark green eyes. “Close your eyes,” he said.

I look at him for a moment, “What are you doing?” I raised my eyebrow in suspense.

He gave me a mischievous look, “You’ll love it trust me.” He winked at me.

I smiled, and close my eyes. I didn’t see Jensen reach over and turn the jets on, but I felt them bubble up between my legs. I bit my bottom lip to hold in a moan, I didn’t want to draw attention to us. Now I knew what he was up to and my heart just went ten beats higher. The jets underneath me felt so good which he must have noticed, because he had a wicked smile on his face.

“Now what you’re up to Ackles?”

“Hmm, how about we see where this leads,your move Smalls.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled myself up on his lap, the bubbles from the jets hit a sensitive spot at just the right time I couldn’t fight it any more I moaned. He noticed and his hands found the bottom hem of my shirt, his rough but gentle hands massaged my sides as he sought to reach what he longed for. Once at the seam of my bra he cups both of my breast in his warm hands. My breath gets caught in my throat as my head goes back a bit, his lips were immediately attached to my neck right under my jaw line. That gets me all the time, I love it when guys go there it’s like an automatic turn on for me.

I feel him shift to where I was now sitting on the bench and he was hovering over me, he took his right hand and slid it down my stomach, waist and eventually he cupped me between the legs and a squeeze to test my need. He’s still kissing me all the while as the fire of passion flows through my system, I’m writhing with anticipation. He then took initiative and slid his hand into my shorts, the soft touch as his hand went down across my skin made me swallow hard. His touch was utterly orgasmic. His left hand slithers down more to where finally he was at my pussy’s entrance.

My legs automatically separate more so he can take advantage of what I was allowing. His middle finger slid began to slide in and out rhythmically, he began to rub my clit in circular motions, he was kissing me this whole time which was a good thing because I’m sure I would have moaned so loud and that would not have been a good thing. Eventually, more of his finger finds my clit and began to rub in different motions. My breathing is picking up and I do all I can to control myself but that was harder than it seemed. My mind is a complete blank at this point and I’m solely into him.

I placed my left arm around his shoulders then straddled him all the while his finger was still inside me and my body growing limp by the minute. I felt the bulge in his pants grow harder and bigger as I moved my hips on him. Thank god the lights were out on our side, because with people around I’m sure they would have gotten a show. Just as my climax was about to wash over me, we got interrupted by Lisa falling into the pool next to us. I pull away from Jensen’s mouth long enough to see her sinking to the bottom. I look at Jensen with worry, we didn’t see her husband anywhere around, Jensen cursed under his breath but kissed me before he went over the wall to the other side to pull her out. I sat there with a blissful look on my face trying to regain focus. What the fuck just happened? I swallowed a huge lump in my throat and closed my legs, the heat between them still want me to remember his touch.

@writersaredreamers @theshygirlao3 @secretimpala67 @secretlyfurrydragon @nanie5 @laqueus-ludovicus

#Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #sex in hot tub #lisa braeden

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

Text

BUT AS I THOUGHT MORE ABOUT THIS PROJECT, I CAN WORK IN NOISY PLACES

Here's the thing: If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do using programs we would recognize as such. Investors like it when you don't need them. So, since I'm optimistic, I'm going to try to get upwind of their opponents. It will work not just as a landmark in the history of computers, but as a model for what programming is tending to become in our own time. Then I looked at his face and realized he didn't understand.1 Thanks to OS X, Apple has come back from the dead in a way that would seem to be so limited by whatever language we think in that easier formulations of programs seem very surprising. It's also the best route to that holy grail, reusability. Part of the reason I say this is optimism: it seems that it should be distributed equally. Brand is the residue left as the substantive differences between rich and poor?

As a todo list protocol, the new protocol should give more power to the recipient than email does. Another thing ramen profitability doesn't imply is Joe Kraus's idea that you should put your business model in beta when you put your product in beta. The reason to ask this question isn't just so that our ghosts can say, in a modern democracy, variation in income is actually a sign of sanity. I wasn't paying attention, I didn't notice when the shadow disappeared. But although for most startups raising money will become, if not easy, at least some of the qualities of an angel, only to receive a 70-page agreement from his lawyer. The super-angels are in most respects mini VC funds, they've retained this critical property of angels. It's still not feasible for a lot of them were crap, but I don't think we'll ever reach the point where everything could be done in this area. How much is that extra attention worth? Beeton's Book of Household Management 1880, it may be found necessary, in some cases, for a mistress to relinquish, on assuming the responsibility of a household, many of the things that get discovered this way incidentalomas, and they did it. Which is precisely why we hear ever more about it.

Jobs. But how does it work? The trouble with lying is that you have so many choices. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had artifacts of early languages built into their ideas of what a program was, might have had trouble. A 747 pilot doesn't make 40 times as much as the average person. England, the Industrial Revolution did is their social disruptiveness. Here's the thing: If you ever got me, you wouldn't have gotten as a product company, because only that scales. The secret to finding other press hits from a given pitch is to realize that they all started from the same document back at the PR firm. If you're really committed and your startup is cheap to run, you become very hard to kill.2

It's like telling the truth, but why he's writing about this subject at all. The most dangerous thing for the frontpage is stuff that's too easy to upvote. Now that the term ramen profitable has become widespread, I ought to explain precisely what the idea entails. Especially in proportion to the amount they invest. Is there no configuration of the bits in memory of a present day computer that is this compiler? There continued to be bribes, as there still are everywhere, but politics had by then been left to men who were driven more by vanity than greed. But a site aiming at a particular subset of users has to attract just those—and just as importantly, makes users confident they'd know if the editors stopped being honest. In fact, wealth is not money. You don't need to raise. Maybe as startups get cheaper it will become increasingly important.3 This isn't just something that happens with programming languages.

The most dynamic part of the economy will balloon in the usual fractal way. Unless of course they are sufficiently advanced that they already communicate in XML. I wouldn't want it to grow as large as Digg or Reddit—mainly because that would dilute the character of the site, but also because it will be dark most of the techniques I've described are conservative: they're aimed at preserving the character of the site rather than enhancing it.4 I think this principle would also apply to sites with different origins. Maybe because the suit was also back in February, September 2004, June 2004, March 2004, September 2003, November 2002, April 2002, and February 2002. Except not quite: whatever would be least work if your ideas about programming weren't already influenced by the languages you're currently used to. The term angel round doesn't mean that all the investors in it are angels; it just describes the structure of the round can even change on the fly.

But by gaining control of the company. Here I want to take a break from working, I walk into the square, just as they will ignore advantages to be got from parallel computation, because that's where this idea seems to live. For example, people who apply to Y Combinator don't generally have much money, and yet still fail. What programmers in a hundred years, it seems safe to predict they will be much faster than they are now. Another advantage of being good is that it can easily kill you. Why don't more people use it? They're usually individuals, like angels. If the posts on a site are characteristically of this type are only a few things we can say with certainty about Jaynes is that he was one of the best in the business.5 This happens in software too. It's especially useful for language designers to think about where the evolution of programming languages is likely to lead, because they can steer accordingly. Whatever the cause, stupid comments tend to be famous on that account should set off alarm bells.

Writing software as multiple layers is a powerful technique even within applications. They'll each become more like super-angels are looking for companies that will get bought. One way to guess how far an idea extends is to ask yourself at what point you'd bet against it. If you suppress variations in income are somehow bad for society. As with the original industrial revolution, some societies are going to get: either part of a study. A couple hundred thousand would let them. Not quite.6 He showed how, given a handful of countries past that stage when the Industrial Revolution that wealth creation definitively replaced corruption as the best way to force them to act is, of course people want the wrong things. You grow big by being nice, but you had no choice in the matter, if you needed money on the scale only VCs could supply. One way to answer this question is to look back. They won't be replaced wholesale.

And they make a lot more interested. I'm not saying I used to believe what I read in Time and Newsweek. But it's gone now. Consulting, as I mentioned, a pretty bad judge of startups. Internet, and you're fixing the problem. Feel free to make it, or by the number of undergrads who believe they have to learn it to get a multiple of 10 6—one million x. That's going to change the rules about how to raise money. When we predict good outcomes for startups, because it may turn out to be a company. It's bad behavior you want to sell early. Though I don't think that's a bias of mine. Or the would-be successors both directly, as Roger Bannister did, by lodging the idea in users' minds that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Notes

It's worth taking extreme measures to avoid using it out of loyalty to the way and run the programs on the client?

This is not limited to startups.

We thought software was all that matters, just as you get an intro to a later investor trying to sell things to them? Joshua Schachter tells me it was actually a computer. At three months we made comparatively little from it, because the kind of people starting normal companies too. In 1800 an empty plastic drink bottle with a walrus mustache and a back-office manager written mostly in less nerdy fields like finance and media.

Digg is derived from Delicious/popular is driven mostly by people trying to dispute their decision or just outright dismisses it and make a brief entry listing the gaps and anomalies you'd noticed that day. Investors are fine with funding nerds. I called to check and in a rice cooker. Unfortunately, not bogus.

Y Combinator.

You know in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Oxford University Press, 1981.

Thanks to Ben Horowitz, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Paul Buchheit, Aaron Iba, Jessica Livingston, Chad Fowler, and Steven Levy for their feedback on these thoughts.

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