#technically i could argue for a third time but really i'm not THAT surprised the third one didn't exist already
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if i had a nickel for every time i came up with a pokemon ship by accident that i genuinely thought would have already existed at least by name on the shipping extension/branch of bulbagarden, only to be surprised and faced with the truth of possibly being the first to ever consider them together, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's WEIRD that it happened twice
#pokemon#pokemon shipping#technically i could argue for a third time but really i'm not THAT surprised the third one didn't exist already#(i know the shipping branch hasn't been updated in years but it helps as a baseline yknow)#for the record they are:#stormbreakshipping#calem pokemon#hugh pokemon#waveshipping#riley pokemon#n harmonia#rhodoniteshipping#steven stone#the first two are GENUINELY surprising. hugh/serena exists as a name but not hugh/calem for some reason#also surprised that stormbreakshipping wasn't taken yet??? like that seems like one that should've been snatched up a while ago#& riley and n are both prettyboys with weird abilities and are closely tied to the only pokemon that weren't legendary/mythical with movies#(don't feel as strong about waveshipping anymore but that's entirely because of legends arceus making me thing riley's a lot older)#there. is an explanation for steven and miror and it's very much just for one story/canon because i thought it'd be fun#(quartz takes after one of her parents much more than the other)#rival calem#rival hugh#stat trainer riley#n pokemon#champion steven
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Second Years (Haikyuu!!)
This fic was commissioned by @bumblebeedrizzzle. Thank you!
Primary Universe: Second Year
Summary: Hinata and Kageyama contemplate their upcoming season with a changed team, and Kageyama decides his friend needs some cheering up.
**THIS FIC IS SPOILER FREE!**
A/N: I'm actually really glad to have gotten this request (even though technically Haikyuu isn't on my commissions list - I made an exception) because when I look at the last several fics I've posted for this fandom, they were all predominantly lee!Kageyama. I love lee!Kags, obviously, but it was time Hinata got some love, too! So thank you for the commission!
Also, if I continue writing for Haikyuu, I feel like I've done pretty much all I can with the anime storyline, so I'll likely write about our boys as second years going forward for the most part. I will always let you know if there are spoilers ahead! <3
Anyway - on to the main event! I hope you enjoy! ^^
Word Count: 1,833
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“I can’t believe Noya is a third-year now,” Hinata mused as he walked his bike up the hill the team used for workouts, Kageyama walking at his side with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
His friend snorted. “Forget Noya, I can’t believe Tanaka is a third-year. Neither of them really act like it.”
“Kinnoshita will keep them in line.”
“He’ll try to.”
“Who do you think will be captain next year? Tsukishima?”
Kageyama shuddered and growled, “I hope not.”
Hinata laughed, though it came out halfhearted. Silence fell between them for a couple of minutes as they focused on climbing the last crest of the hill to where it leveled out before rounding up into the second half. Once there, the redhead slowed his bike to a stop and glanced out at the city view. It was getting dark out, but there was still enough light in the sky for them to make it home before sundown.
Kageyama took a few more steps before realizing his friend had stopped. He turned, saw the look on Hinata’s face, and frowned. “What’s the matter?”
To his surprise, Hinata didn’t try to shrug off his question with a claim to be fine or a forced smile. Instead, he considered a moment before asking, “Does it feel off to you?”
“Does what feel off?” Kageyama asked, striding back over to where he stood.
“After everything that happened last year, doesn’t it feel kind of…wrong to not have Daichi and the others with us?”
“It’s different, sure, but it’s just the natural way of things.” Kageyama glanced out at the cityscape as well. “They had to graduate and move on. This year Noya and Tanaka will graduate, and then we will next year. We’ll all move on and become adults. It’s what happens.”
Hinata scoffed. “Okay, Mom.” He glanced up at his friend with an even deeper frown. “Don’t you miss them at all?”
Kageyama suddenly realized what Hinata was getting at. He didn’t want reassurance or lectures about how “life goes on.” Not from him. He was hurting, and he wanted someone to understand that. So, with a sigh, the taller boy relented.
“Yeah, I do. Especially Suga.”
“Doesn’t it seem weird that we’re just…doing another season without them?”
“I guess so.” Kageyama considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, it does. I got so used to Daichi’s leadership and Suga’s guidance that it feels weird not having them around to help anymore. And since none of the third-years are setters, I’m the senior on that position and these new guys are looking to me for guidance, and…”
He trailed off, and Hinata nodded. “Yeah. You’re kind of in charge of that position and you’re not ready for it.”
Kageyama couldn’t even argue with that. “Exactly. I wish I’d had another year with Suga.”
“I wish all of us could do last season over now that we’ve learned so much. I really feel like…”
This time Hinata trailed off, and when the silence descended, neither of them tried to break it for a while. It felt right, somehow, having this moment to really let it sink in that their friends were off doing other things now.
After a few minutes, Kageyama let out a breath. “But Kinnoshita is doing well as captain so far, and these first-years have promise. Really the only thing I can’t stand is that Tsukishima decided to stick around.”
Hinata snorted out a laugh. “You guys really don’t get along.”
“Understatement.” Kageyama smirked, then glanced at Hinata again. He looked like he was feeling a tad better, but not by much. He nudged him. “You know we’re gonna be fine, right?”
“Of course I do,” Hinata replied, though his voice lacked conviction.
“Yeah, I definitely believe that you believe that, boke.”
“I do!”
“You’re going to have to convince me a little harder than that.” With a smirk, Kageyama suddenly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him against his chest, making him drop his bike and yelp as fingers suddenly dug into his sides.
“Eeeek! Kahahahahageyama, wait, nohohohohohoho!” Hinata cried, giggles spilling out of him as he squirmed uselessly in his taller friend’s grip.
“You can’t fool me. I know when you’re just toughing it out.” The setter chuckled and hugged him tighter, aiming for his ribs. “Come on, lighten up, boke.”
“I’m light! I’m lihihihihihihihight! Kageyahahahahama!” Hinata’s laughter rose in pitch once his friend got to his weakest spot. Thankfully he wasn’t going too hard yet, but it was still enough to make him cackle and try to pry his arms away. “You jeheheheheheherk! I’m fihihihihihihihine!”
“Liar.”
“EEEEK!!” Hinata screeched when his friend found that spot along his last few ribs that had him absolutely howling with laughter, frantically trying to escape his grip to no avail. “KAGEYAMA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”
Kageyama chuckled, deciding he wanted to make it a bit worse by hefting the little spiker up into the air so he really had nowhere to go and nothing to ground on. Hinata squealed and laughed and kicked the air uselessly.
“You seem to forget that those three aren’t the only teammates you had,” Kageyama grumbled good-naturedly into his ear as he tickled, reaching down to squeeze a hip, earning him another shriek. “Noya and Tanaka are still around, and so are all the others from last year. And we have these new guys – and you have me. So don’t feel so sad, boke. We’re gonna be just fine.”
“STAHAHAHAHAHAP, STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Hinata cried, tapping his friend’s arm, writhing in his tickly hug of doom. “PLEASE, VOHOHOHOLLEYBALL!”
Kageyama stopped immediately, gently letting his friend back down to the ground and holding onto him to make sure he didn’t fall. He frowned, worried he’d been a little too pushy. “Sorry, are…are you okay? I thought it could help…”
“You tickle too hard,” Hinata replied, glancing up at him with a tiny leftover smile. “And that’s my worst spot, so it just got to be a bit…much. Especially if you’re trying to cheer me up.”
Kageyama blinked. “Are you seriously trying to tell me how to tickle you to make you feel better?”
Hinata grinned. “I mean, as long as you’re trying to, you might as well do it right.”
“Oh, you little…” The setter pulled him back in again, slipping under his hoodie to scribble against his belly directly. “There, is that better?”
“Ehehehehehehehe! Yeheheheheheheah, thehehehere you go!” Hinata squealed, gripping his friend’s arms all over again despite his praising words.
Suddenly inspired, Kageyama grabbed his wrists and pulled them above his head with ease, using his free hand to keep tickling his tummy, and finally he got the noise he was looking for – the particular shriek Hinata let out when he was surprised but in a good way. When he was having fun.
“Boke,” he muttered with a smile, keeping it up. “Let’s try this again. Are you still feeling sad about Daichi and the others?”
Hinata squirmed in his hold but giggled freely, daring to glance up at him and sputter, “Of cohohohohohourse I ahahahahaham!”
“Hmm, not enough, then? All right. I can do this all day.”
For a couple of minutes, they stayed that way at the top of the hill – Hinata caught in Kageyama’s grasp and giggling hysterically at the soft, light tickles his friend was purposely trying to inflict, the setter smirking and holding him tight, determined to bring him back into a good headspace before letting him go.
“We’re going to be fine, Hinata,” he said after a short while, keeping his tone soft and genuine – a rare occurrence for the taller boy. “You’ve still got Kinnoshita and Noya and Tanaka and Yamaguchi and…and Tsukishima.”
“And yohohohohohou, rihihihihihight?”
Kageyama smiled despite himself. “Obviously. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I still have to take you down out there, you know.” He paused, then slowed his tickling to a gradual stop and murmured, “I’m here for you, boke. If you need me. Just like you’re always there for me.”
Hinata caught his breath as he let out a few more snickers, turning to look up at his friend as Kageyama released his grip on his arms. “You know, you’re not too bad at this cheering up thing when you put your mind to it, Bakageyama.”
The setter couldn’t help but smile. The use of the insult/nickname was a clear indicator the redhead was feeling like himself again, and Kageyama was more than happy to count that as a win.
“Shut up. Just trying to make you see reason. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to have another great season and take everyone down.”
Hinata beamed. “And this year we don’t have to face stupid Oikawa!”
His friend was right – and it was a detail Kageyama hadn’t considered until just now. He couldn’t help but grin. “You’re right. We don’t.”
“Ooh, that made you all kinds of happy! Glad to see you cheering up, too.”
“‘Too’? I’m not the one who was being all pouty about the others graduating last year.”
“I wasn’t pouting!”
“You absolutely were.”
Hinata huffed. “You were just going on about how you missed Suga—”
“You brought it up, genius!”
“Oh, now who needs cheering up?” Hinata’s grin morphed into something more sinister, and he brought his fingers up to wiggle teasingly at Kageyama.
The setter hated how fast he blushed at the sight of them.
“Someone’s excited~”
“Shut up – I don’t need cheering up, boke! I’ve been better off than you this whole time!”
Hinata laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to talk me out of tickling you back? You’re always in the mood for tickles, Kage~”
“I am not…!” Deciding it was a lost cause, Kageyama took a step back, and when Hinata made to lunge for him, he dodged out of the way and began sprinting up the second half of the hill, hoping for enough of a head-start to at least tire him out a little.
But he’d forgotten one important detail.
Not only did Hinata have speed on his side…
Today, he had a bike.
Just when Kageyama had gotten to the top of the hill entirely, Hinata chimed his bike’s warning bell. The setter whirled around in time to see the redhead abandon his ride and sprint toward him, and there was absolutely no getting away from him at that point.
“Wait, wait, wait – wahahahahahahait!” Kageyama shrieked, his laugh coming out both panicked and genuine as his best friend latched onto him and dug into his tummy right off the bat, making him squeal and crumple to the ground in a heap, cackling and squirming. “Hinatahahahahahaha!”
“Well, would you look at that? Grumpy Kageyama does want some cheer-up tickles after all!”
“I dohohohohohon’t nehehehehehehed them!” Kageyama cried, shrieking again when the redhead pushed him to the ground entirely and hopped onto his waist to keep him pinned.
“Maybe not,” Hinata conceded with a playful grin, “but I think you want them, Bakageyama.”
#fanfiction#tickle fic#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq#hinata shoyo#kageyama tobio#kagehina#platonic#fluff#cute#cheer up tickles#friends#tickling#ticklish#tickle
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you’ve read the elemental logic books? can I ask you for content warnings? because I tried reading the first one but put it down when I realized that the tribe that was described as destroyed on the book flap wasn’t destroyed yet and that this meant it was probably going to happen on page. but it also has the vibe of 80s fantasy *and* is queer, so I kind of want to try again
specific triggers I would like to know about (beyond the usual): graphic depictions of the aftermath of disasters (man made or natural), betrayal, amnesia, time travel/dimension travel
thanks!
Hmmm. @spiritintheteapot, @slipperyliz, @hello-delicious-tea, care to weigh in?
I'm not great at triggers because I tend to be a bit sociopathic about disasters, so I'd like a second opinion.
-aftermath of disasters man made or natural: the entire series is about the aftermath of war and colonialism. They are extremely idealistic and hopeful books, but brutal things happen to people. The narration is not going to dwell on it, but these things do happen. There's also a plague sequence because, y'know, what happens when you murder all the physicians in a population, but it's in the context of 'oh well I guess our overpowered mages will go deal with this for a time then'. (I find the plague sequence underwhelming.)
The destruction of Zanja's tribe does happen on page, and does happen in flashbacks. Again, the narration is not going to dwell on this but neither is it going to shy away.
-betrayal: technically Zanja's tribe is betrayed by a practically nameless character. Technically one of the core people is a traitor but it's definitely a good thing. Technically the plot of the entire first book is people choosing to betray their people and their cause for the sake of peace, and hope, and love.
-amnesia: in the second book Zanja deliberately does a ritual that causes complete memory loss for a significant chunk of the book. There is a later ritual that restores her memory, and she is... the sort of person who just sort of makes room for the time in her life that was occupied by another person?
-time travel/dimension travel: in the third book there is time travel to give greater historical significance to the present day. There is no dimension travel.
I don't really know what 'the usual' is but these are books about war, and ending its tragedies, and those will include things like death and maiming and destruction of libraries and a long plot arc about drug abuse and its use in war. And forced prostitution of children. Wow, I am surprised by the number of atrocities in these books, they really stick in your head as more 'and then Garland shows up and bakes apple pie and kicks someone out of his kitchen for not plating the whipped cream properly' kind of books, for what that's worth.
So, in sum: Yeah, kind of ticks off all your boxes! I'm tempted to argue that it's one of the gentler ways you could approach these topics, but you should take care of yourself, and you know best what you can handle.
If you want to give it a try, I could always give you a summary or offer you pages to skip?
#replies#elemental logic#heaven knows the books themselves are about how good friends good food and good sex can solve any problem#so they would be 100% in favor of you doing what's right for you#but it's a far cry from like. Doctrine of Labyrinths for getting into the trauma and really /living/ there
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Rating • 7.5/10
Era • evermore 🍂
Thoughts
Evermore holds a special place in my heart, it was a surprise album mere months after its sister surprise album, folklore, which followed the same poetic and (at times) acoustic style.
Now, it's important I say that I am in no way any sort of musical expert, however I have a deep love for music and the ways it can make you feel so I will use words that may not be technically correct, but fit with the emotion felt during the song.
Long story short (forgive my capitalization those who would be offended) is lovely, surprisingly fast for such light vocals but paired with hard-hitting background music that compliments both these aspects. The lyrics...there's a reason these sister albums are seen as her best writing yet (but I'll argue that in later posts) because there is no comparison. From what I could establish, this song is personal, showcasing Swift's perseverance from her "fall from the pedestal" and public criticism of just sbout everything she did, describing it as "surrounded on all sides". Eventually discovering a period of peace as this backlash ended or, at least, subsided for a while.
Song Analysis
Verses 1/2/3
We open on Swift singing of her downfall and the backlash she faced in the midst of her career. She describes being "surrounded on all sides" which is a very lyrical way of saying she was getting attacked from every angle people could think of.
Verse 2 transitions from this bleak outlook into growth, Swift is realizing she can leave this behind and mentions dropping her sword and living in peace with someone. She's found comfort snd peace in her life, but the immediate next line is "But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready." so she clearly remembers her attackers and refuses to let them ruin this peace she's discovered.
Verse 3 is a reflection, Swift is telling her past self (and maybe even her listeners) not to worry about these "enemies" because they will "defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing". Another mention of the "he" which helped bring her peace and a reiteration that this person is home and she's sticking to it no matter what.
Chorus/Post-Chorus
Swift's chorus is describing her fall from grace (specifically "I fell from the pedestal") and it seems like going on the rebound with the "wrong guy". Now this mention of the wrong guy is only in the first two times the chorus is sung, the third time the last three lines shifts to mention Swift clawing her way out of her demise, then the iconic line "long story short, I survived." In the post-chorus it is a reiteration that this "you" is an important figure in her newfound peace and that she is "all about" them.
Bridge
Of course, the bridge. This one is really beautiful she mentions that she's stopped "keeping score" or playing this "tug of war" with (presumably) her reputation. She instead is with the person who helped bring her comfort.
Favorite Moment
"Past me
I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty
things
Your nemeses
will defeat themselves before you get a chance
to swing"
Final Thoughts
I love evermore very much, easily my second favorite album, and while this song is great and I love Swift singing about reclaiming her reputation and growing to be the musical icon we all know today, it is not my favorite of the album, though it does rank in the top 10.
#Spotify#taylor swift#evermore#long story short#song review#song#music recs#music#song of the day#first post
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Discworld, Book 6: some thoughts
I've recently started working my way through the 41 Discworld novels again. I've read them all before at least once, but it's been a long time, and I really enjoy Terry Pratchett's writing style.
Today I'd like to talk a little bit about Book 6, Wyrd Sisters. It's a complicated story, but I'll try to keep it brief.
It's also a very easy read, and I would strongly suggest you find a way to read it yourself. If nothing else, I suppose there's nothing stopping me from uploading my collection of .cbr files of all the Discworld books somewhere.
In theory, Wyrd Sisters is the second in what is often called the Witches series, or the Granny Weatherwax books, because they all feature witches, and Granny Weatherwax is one. Most folks call her Granny, but her name, her real name, is Esmerelda. Though witches don't have leaders and don't rank themselves in terms of power, "Granny Weatherwax was the most highly-regarded of the leaders they didn’t have."
The first book, which was the third, Equal Rites, is theoretically the first of the Granny Weatherwax books, and is often listed as such when listing Discworld books. I'll do so myself, even, because it's technically correct. The problem is that I don't think Equal Rites means much in the grand scheme of things, as far as the Discworld series goes. The events of it don't matter much. They almost become non-canonical as the books roll on. Equal Rites sees the first female student enroll at Unseen University in the largest city of the Disc, Ankh-Morpork, and she isn't mentioned again for dozens of books, at which point she appears briefly in a scene that affects nothing at all.
I think it is fairly safe to skip the first three books in the series, honestly, but I didn't, and I won't, going forward, either. But they don't mean much, really, and it isn't until the fourth book that Pratchett really finds his footing in Discworld. Book five is something of a return to the themes and subjects of the first two books, though done a bit better, and book six is the one I'm talking about today.
Granny Weatherwax is possibly the best character in Discworld. She is not, however, my favorite. To be honest, I don't even think she's the main character of this book, though she's often given top billing. This is hardly surprising; she's the best character.
In the opening scene, Granny Weatherwax uses her powers of headology (the art of manipulating people, essentially) to avoid being killed by a soldier from out of town who doesn't understand that he ought to respect witches. She does this by looking over the soldier's shoulder at another soldier, a local boy, and saying "Then strike, man. If your heart tells you, strike as hard as you dare." The soldier about to kill her believes she is talking to him. She is not. She is speaking to the one behind him, who stabs the first soldier in the back and saves Granny's life.
That's Granny Weatherwax's power as a witch. She very rarely uses actual magic, though she can. She convinces people to do and to think and to feel the way she wants them to, and makes the world a better place for it. If she didn't, then, well, she probably wouldn't be the most highly-regarded of the leaders the witches didn't have.
That opening scene also introduces the two other members of Weatherwax's coven: Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick. Granny, Nanny, and Magrat make up the crone, mother, and maiden trio that pops up a lot in this kind of story, respectively. The coven was Magrat's idea, as Magrat is a newly-minted witch now that her teacher, Goodie Whemper, has passed on. She's inexperienced, barely knows what she is doing, and is trying her best to earn Granny's respect, which she never really will.
I would argue that Magrat is more the main character of the book than Granny is.
Magrat is not pretty. This is made abundantly clear very early on. We're given this description of her early on, for example:
The best you could say for Magrat was that she was decently plain and well-scrubbed and as flat-chested as an ironing board with a couple of peas on it, even if her head was too well stuffed with fancies.
Later, we read this description of her hair:
It is one of the few unbendable rules of magic that its practitioners cannot change their own appearance for any length of time. Their bodies develop a kind of morphic inertia and gradually return to their original shape. But Magrat tried. Every morning her hair was long, thick and blond, but by the evening it had always returned to its normal worried frizz. To ameliorate the effect she had tried to plait violets and cowslips in it. The result was not all she had hoped. It gave the impression that a window box had fallen on her head.
These kinds of things are repeated ad nauseam, culminating in this lengthy description of her suiting up for the rather important task of rescuing the imprisoned Nanny Ogg from the villain of the story:
She’d dug out a startlingly green dress that was designed to be both revealing and clinging, and would have been if Magrat had anything to display or cling to, so she’d shoved a couple of rolled-up stockings down the front in an effort to make good the more obvious deficiencies. She had also tried a spell on her hair, but it was naturally magic-resistant and already the natural shape was beginning to assert itself (a dandelion clock at about 2 p.m.).
Magrat had also tried makeup. This wasn’t an unqualified success. She didn’t have much practice. She was beginning to wonder if she’d overdone the eyeshadow.
Her neck, fingers and arms between them carried enough silverware to make a full-sized dinner service, and over everything she had thrown a black cloak lined with red silk.
In a certain light and from a carefully chosen angle, Magrat was not unattractive. Whether any of these preparations did anything for her is debatable, but they did mean that a thin veneer of confidence overlaid her trembling heart.
She drew herself up and turned this way and that. The clusters of amulets, magical jewelry and occult bangles on various parts of her body jingled together; any enemy wouldn’t only have to be blind to fail to notice that a witch was approaching, he’d have to be deaf as well.
However, we aren't even halfway through the book at this point. There are many more insults for Magrat left to go:
The guard looked at her occult bangles, her lined cloak, her trembling hands and her face. The face was particularly worrying. Magrat had used a lot of powder to make her face pale and interesting. It combined with the lavishly applied mascara to give the guard the impression that he was looking at two flies that had crashed into a sugar bowl. He found his fingers wanted to make a sign to ward off the evil eyeshadow.
...
Magrat pushed her way through the actors and clasped him to what could charitably be called her bosom.
...
He became aware of someone else looking at him, their gaze playing across his face like a blowlamp on a lolly. He looked up. It was the third witch, the young…the youngest one, with the intense expression and the hedgerow hairstyle.
We are made to understand, dozens of times over throughout the course of the book, that Magrat is simply not an attractive woman.
And yet.
And yet, she is absolutely beautiful to one man in the story, who falls in love with her, who eventually marries her in a later book: the Fool.
Perhaps you've seen this line elsewhere:
“Come hither, Fool.”
The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.
That's from this book. That's this Fool. The one who is cleverer than he appears, who winds up rising far above his given station as Fool, who becomes a hero, and, in a later book, marries Magrat.
“Are you really a witch?” he said. “They said you were a witch, are you really? You don’t look like a witch, you look very, that is…” He blushed. “Not like a, you know, crone at all, but absolutely beautiful…” His voice trailed into silence…
...
The Fool had been edging along the log. “If I kiss you,” he added carefully, “do I turn into a frog?”
Magrat looked down at her feet again. They shuffled themselves under her dress, embarrassed at all this attention.
[…]“We shall have to see,” she said.
It was destined to be the most impressive kiss in the history of foreplay.
And, towards the end of the book, after she's "clasped him to what could charitably be called her bosom:"
“Are you dead or not?” she said.
“I must be,” said the Fool, his voice slightly muffled. “I think I’m in paradise.”
And we believe him. We know that what he's saying is true. He sees Magrat and all her flaws, all the ones we've been repeatedly told about, to the point where we understand very well that she's plain and has a boyish figure (at one point, when she's backstage at a play, someone believes her to be a man in drag and tells her that she needs to stuff her clothes with more padding to pass as a woman) and she has bad hair and bad makeup and ridiculous jewelry, and he sees her as beautiful and desirable and he is absolutely, undeniably correct, and we know that to be the truth.
It's a skill Terry Pratchett has: he can write heroes who have so many flaws that they can't possibly be heroes, or even considered heroic, and yet they are. He does it anyway. It's as though he was setting up challenges and obstacles and hurdles for himself to clear, hoping to drag us as readers along with him, and off we go, dragged along, believing for all the world that Magrat Garlick is, in fact, not just gorgeous but also a powerful witch and in complete control of every situation. It isn't true, yet it is.
It's a quote that's been cited a million times from Wyrd Sisters, and I'll cite it again:
Granny had never had much time for words. They were so insubstantial. Now she wished that she had found the time. Words were indeed insubstantial. They were as soft as water, but they were also as powerful as water and now they were rushing over the audience, eroding the levees of veracity, and carrying away the past.
I say all of this because, of course, it's the trick I most want to learn from Terry Pratchett. I want to keep reading his stuff, studying and dissecting it, killing the frog, as it were, to learn more about it, until I understand it well enough to create a pale imitation of what he's been able to manage.
The main characters of my stories are deeply flawed. They aren't heroic, either. Can I make them into heroes anyway? I certainly hope so. Can I write a story in which the main character marries an orc woman taller than he is, with a network of battle scars and a handshake that could crush walnuts, and convince the reader that she is also beautiful? That's what I'm going to try very hard to do, at least.
The trouble, of course, is that Terry Pratchett was one of the greatest writers around. What I'm doing is very much like someone who wants to learn kung fu going and watching every Bruce Lee movie, slowing down the footage and practicing Jeet Kune Do in front of a mirror and a screen, then thinking to themselves, "Yes, I think I can choreograph a fight scene now."
At best, they'll wind up like the Star Wars kid, flailing around and looking absurd. That's what I'll wind up becoming.
Which is, of course, why I've spent the last two and a half years taking writing classes, and why I'll continue to do so for at least another two years. I just wrapped up the "Second Draft" course, meaning that the second draft of my novel is now complete. The "Third Draft" courses are longer, and they don't even start until October.
So I have plenty of time to read before then, I suppose.
I'll keep you posted.
I don't know if it would be worthwhile for me to write more about Discworld as I reread it, but if anybody's curious for my thoughts, I do have quite a few. For one thing, I don't think that Wyrd Sisters is alone in lying to the reader about who the main character is. I mentioned that the fourth book is the first one where Pratchett gets a grip on what it is that Discworld is going to be. That book is Mort, and though it begins and ends with a boy named Mort, and we watch him grow and change and learn things throughout the story, I honestly don't believe him to be the main character of the book. I think that Death, the anthropomorphic personifcation of death, the Grim Reaper, the man who hires Mort as an apprentice and teaches him the craft of ushering souls into the next life, is the real main character of Mort. Death is the one who learns and grows the most over the course of the story. He's the one who makes hard decisions and fights a difficult battle in the climax. You might think it's Mort who fights the difficult battle: after all, it's a duel between himself and Death. But Death is the one who really puts it all on the line.
After all, the worst that can happen to Mort is that he dies. The worst that can happen to Death is that he has to live with killing Mort. Dying is easy. Living is hard. Sometimes, it's the hardest thing there is, even when you're Death. Especially then, because he knows just how much of it he's going to have to do.
Maybe that's all I have to say about Mort, though. I'll think about it.
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another comment compilation! shoutout to @eclipsedmoon87 a.k.a. @midnightchronicles87 for being incredibly gracious about my barging in and vomiting this entertaining, but only tangentially-related, nonsense all over their excellent TFA Blitzwing edit post (check it out, it's a little unnerving perhaps but very cool!).
Behold the consequences of encouraging me... 😂
Some minor edits from the original comments, fixing my own typos.
avoid-avoidance: This looks SO cool. So weird. But SO COOL.
I would venture to say it’s not *quite* cursed territory. True Cursed™ would be if you did this to the Random face lmao
a-a: Also big lol to the notes saying they got jumpscared by this — now I’m imagining Random pestering Hothead in their shared headspace until he agrees to walk up behind various Decepticons, quietly remove his visor, and wait for them to turn around and double-take.
a-a: Megatron: gives an almost-invisible twitch of surprise but otherwise manages to carry on admirably as though nothing is different
Blackarachnia: 100% unfazed as opposed to Megatron’s 98% unfazed — she’s just like, two eyes huh? Is that supposed to impress me? I still have more than you.
a-a: Starscream: lets out a tiny audible shriek and then FURIOUSLY denies he did any such thing.
Lugnut: does not audibly react, but is physically startled enough that his pedes actually leave the floor — he can’t really deny he reacted because the THUMP when he landed was very clear
@sztefa001: STILL HAVE MORE THAN YOU xD xD xD
a-a: bonus: he also tried this on Professor Sumdac while Sumdac was the ‘Cons’ prisoner. Sumdac did appear surprised, and then stammered something sort of awkward like ‘oh you *do* have eyes — I mean optics — under there… they‘re, uh, very nice?’. which is the first time Hothead’s ever been complimented on his optics, and he tries not to feel kind of warmed at the squishy’s offhand comment but doesn’t really succeed.
a-a: eyy what’s the use of being a traumatized accidental techno organic if you can’t use that to win absolutely petty and pointless arguments with your coworkers?
s: Awww xD
a-a: of course, Icy would argue that Blitzwing as a whole actually has *six* optics to BA‘s 4; Blackarachnia would counter that some of those hardly even count, and plus since her alt mode also has eyes she technically has more than 4; Hothead yells back that THOSE don’t count…
a-a: Random interjects that they’re both trying to compare apples and eyes anyway, or is it oranges and optics?…
a-a: The one time they both get caught up in the ridiculous argument enough to try and solicit a third party opinion, Megatron has the great misfortune to be walking by. After having the question explained to him, he gives both his officers a long blank stare, then just walks out of sight without a word. A moment later, a faint thunking can be heard, like the sound of a helmeted head impacting a wall.
midnightchronicles87: I love EVERYTHING about this, thank you for the story in my notes
a-a: haha you’re welcome! glad you don’t mind my spontaneous rambling
m: Of course I don't mind!! Nothing I've made's ever gotten this much attention before, I love it
a-a: it is my personal opinion that many TF continuities could benefit from a Soap Opera Of The Decepticons’ Everyday Lives treatment lol
m: That is an objectively correct opinion
m: If any of you want me to make more, send me some decent quality screenshots of Hothead you want me to de-visor, and I might make a fourth update to this post
m: Oh, also what expression you want, otherwise I'm doing whatever I think fits
a-a: ooh there might be moooore? 👀
a-a: they’re objectively awesome edits, if I hadn’t seen the show I wouldn’t know that wasn’t just what Blitzwing normally looks like
a-a: I’m not sure I’d know where to look to find good quality screenshots tbh… but I do think it’s hilarious to ponder Blitzwing pranking everyone by swapping his personalities around so they don’t match his faces, to freak people out. Like can you imagine what Random-face with an Icy-expression would look like, or Icy with Random-expression? (And Random with Hothead-expression = just pure nightmare fuel.)
m: OH. I like you
a-a: I mean, once everyone Blitzwing knows gets so used to him that Random’s randomness isn’t surprising anymore, I figure he’d HAVE to do *something* to up his game, right?
a-a: Random would’ve loved a certain subset of Internet culture at a particular past point I can think of…
“I made you an energon goodie… but I eated it >.<”
a-a: (as a bit of a side note, I also hold the belief that with TFA Megatron being one of the smarter, more practical Megatrons, it is funny as heck that he’s saddled with TFA Blitzwing in particular as one of his top officers.)
a-a: (reblog of original TFA Blitzwing edits post, with his ‘Hothead’ face modified to have two optics instead of a single optic band. The third image has Blitzwing wearing a skeptical expression.)
He is Pressing X To Doubt 😂
#transformers #blitzwing #also his eyeliner game is on point #mayhaps this is another fan of that well-known Cybertronian musician Gearhard Wave? #it is so neat how just the contrast between a visor and separate optics shows such different vibes #also it is sorta hilarious that despite this being the AngryFace™ #none of these edits so far are angry expressions #screenshots from a timeline where TFA got as many seasons as Supernatural #these are from a multi-episode arc where Bumblebee managed to steal Blitzwing’s visor in battle via Shenanigans #so while Blitzwing’s coworkers are having minor crises #“We didn’t even realize your red face HAD optics under there?!” #Bee is just roaming Detroit like usual but wearing a comically oversized red visor as a trophy
m: @avoid-avoidance your additions to this post keep getting better and better
a-a: ☺️
a-a: what can I say, these edits are inspirational 😂
a-a: Starscream gives a disdainful laugh. “Well, who’d have thought Blitzwing of all people would have hidden depths! What next, our fearless leader confessing that ugly head of his is actually a helmet that comes off??”
Lugnut opens his mouth but Megatron discreetly elbows him and makes a “shut up” gesture. One revelation at a time is probably all his High Command can handle..
m: XD this thread just gets better and better, and quickly ages like wine
a-a: right?!?? not bad at all, considering it’s about a side villain in a series that’s been discontinued for like a decade!
a-a: now that’s it’s occurred to me, the idea that Starscream has been one of Megatron’s key officers for ages, but somehow *no one* has ever clued him in that Megs’ helmet comes off, is cracking me up
m: Same
a-a: maybe Megatron is holding that knowledge in reserve, in case of a specific situation where a Starscream™ assassination attempt *almost* succeeds and Megs is forced to part with his helmet to escape, like a lizard’s tail coming off
m: Leaving Starscream shook for at least a megacycle
a-a: He would absolutely be torn between “At least I took a piece off of that bastard this time!” and “ WTF WTF WTF”
m: It makes me so happy that my quest to see what Hothead would look like without his visor led to this
a-a: fandom spitballing/brainstorming/crack-AU-ing like this probably makes up the biggest slice of my personal fandom-participation-pie, just in general. it’s a little addictive
a-a: ooh, if Hothead’s visor has built-in filters of some kind (e.g. tagging specific Autobots and Decepticons with notes/data, supposedly for tactical purposes?), which still function when someone other than Blitzwing is wearing it, then Bee stealing and putting on the visor could spawn all sorts of interesting plot lines
m: Oooo I like where this is heading
a-a: I’m glad you seem to have an idea where this is going bc tbh I don’t! 😆 From there it could go shippy or not, Looney-Tunes platonic wacky, or I guess there’s probably a way to make it angsty although that’s not as much my specialty…
a-a: the absolute most crack-filled idea that’s coming to mind might be (and this is definitely AU since I think there is canon backstory of some kind re: how Blitzwing became a triple?) if the visor is like… secretly a magical artifact of Primus that bestows an extra alt mode upon its wearer. so Bee steals the visor and slaps it on his face just to be a taunty little shit, and then suddenly Blitzwing is no longer a triplechanger and Bumblebee IS.
a-a: Bumblebee: *suddenly gains an additional flight-capable alt mode*
Every Autobot AND Decepticon on Earth, simultaneously: *suddenly gains a feeling of horrible creeping dread, as if They Are All Doomed*
m: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
a-a: (and there’s definitely a Bee Movie script meme joke to be made somewhere in here about bees not being scientifically able to fly but flying anyway 🤣)
a-a: and to continue the cracky “war? what war?” vibe, the Decepticons see this cocky young newbie flyer stumbling about in the air, and instead of laughing and shooting him down, they go “ohhhh… it is A Baby…” and try to adopt a Very Not Keen On Being Adopted newly-triple’d Bee
m: EVEN BETTER
a-a: Bee is like NO NO NO NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED TO BE MY DAD OPTIMUS IS ALREADY MY DAD— wait crap did I say that out loud oh noooo—
Optimus: whut
m: I'm grabbing popcorn this is amazing
a-a: hmmm, what other weird funny things can fit in this AU… let’s say Megatron and Starscream are chasing Bee around the skies while also fighting each other over who would make a better mentor for what they’re convinced is the next baby Decepticon-in-training. Meanwhile, Blitzwing (not used to being one instead of three and handling it Badly)…
a-a: … talks himself into believing that now he’s no longer a triple, Megs will discard him like trash at best or execute him as a liability at worst (and to be fair canon Megs probably would). So while Bee is basically a hostage of the ‘Cons, single-faced Blitzwing flees to the *Autobots* for sanctuary, and poor Ratchet ends up volunteered by Optimus to be Blitzwing’s new therapist despite loudly claiming to be Not Qualified For That in at least 3 different ways
a-a: “Dammit, Optimus, I’m a field medic, not a psychiatrist!” /briefly channels Bones from TOS Star Trek
a-a: Sari is missing her best friend Bee very much, and despite the other four Team Prime members trying to keep her as far from Blitzwing as possible — “No such thing as a reformed ‘Con, he’s DANGEROUS” Ratchet grumps…
a-a: …Sari keeps sneaking past them to try and befriend Blitzwing, first because she wants the single-jet-alt to take her up flying to go find Bee, and then because she can’t help but feel sorry for him, he’s so distressed and obviously lonely after being three in one head for so long.
a-a: Honestly, Bumblebee’s youthful mischief and recklessness/carelessness could plausibly be misconstrued as Decepticon tendencies ready to be nurtured into full-fledged Decepticon-ness by a biased eye. That plus Megatron’s endorsement would have Lugnut on board the recruitment train for sure.
a-a: And at some point Megatron and Shockwave communicate to swap status updates, and Shockwave — who remembers from being Longarm that Bumblebee has a good Autobot-y heart under the brashness — is just like “… you’re trying to recruit WHO? Wait, since when can that little yellow Autobot FLY? What is going ON over there?!”
#transformers#transformers animated#blitzwing#megatron#blackarachnia#starscream#lugnut#professor sumdac#bumblebee#optimus#optimus prime#ratchet#sari sumdac#shockwave#with apologies to tfa prowl and bulkhead bc i think they're the only two tfa mains who got neglected here?#compilation post
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Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks
A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*
Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.
Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl
Rating: T
Word Count: 2800
Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)
^True love if I ever saw it ;)
Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.
“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.
“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.
“What do you want, Charlie?”
Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.
“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”
“How’d you swing those tickets?”
Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”
He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.
“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”
“Sounds good.”
“Are the other ducks coming?
“I’m gonna see who’s around.”
“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.
“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”
“Good night, Charlie.”
“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”
“Will do.”
Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.
He checked his watch. He was early.
He was always early.
Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.
“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.
“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”
She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”
“How are you? How’s the diner?”
“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”
“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”
Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.
Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.
“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”
“Would Tuesday work?”
“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”
Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.
“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”
“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“See you then.”
She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.
Adam sighed as he checked his watch.
“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.
“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”
There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.
“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”
“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.
Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.
“It’s gonna be a great night.”
“Are any of the others coming?”
“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”
“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.
Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.
“Yeah. It will.”
The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.
Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.
“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”
“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”
“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.
“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”
“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”
“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.
“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.
Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.
At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.
And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.
Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.
Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.
“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.
“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.
“Who said he was my first crush?”
Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.
“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.
“Except Banks,” Fulton added.
The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.
“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”
“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.
Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.
“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”
“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.
Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.
“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.
Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.
“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”
“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.
“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.
Their captain shrugged.
“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”
Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.
It was going to be a long night.
Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.
He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.
When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.
“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.
Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”
Connie rolled her eyes.
“Boys. He’s jealous.”
“Of what?”
“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”
His brow furrowed and he stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
She huffed and shook her head.
“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”
Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.
“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.
“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”
Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.
The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.
“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.
“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”
“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”
There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.
“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.
“Definitely.”
Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.
That did not help.
When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.
“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”
“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.
“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”
“Sorry?”
Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.
“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”
Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.
“Thanks?”
“Thanks what?”
Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.
“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.
Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?
His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.
Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.
“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.
“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.
“Oh. Okay. Cool.”
Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.
He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.
“It was a great game.”
“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”
“Definitely.”
“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”
The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.
“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”
“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.
The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.
“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”
“Have you seen him before?”
“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”
“That was pretty cool.”
“Are we good?”
Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”
“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”
“No worries.”
It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.
“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.
“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.
“Was Gunnar your first crush?”
It came out in a sigh.
“No. He wasn’t.”
“Who was it?”
“Guess.”
“Charlie.”
“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”
Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.
“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”
“Yes.”
“Someone on our team?”
Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”
“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”
“Did he go to Eden Hall?”
“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”
He was certain he’d know now.
“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.
Charlie hung his head.
“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”
“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”
“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”
“Me? You had a crush on me?”
“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”
Adam’s jaw hit the floor.
“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.
Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.
“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”
His best friend deflated slightly.
“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“
“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”
“Seriously?”
Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.
The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.
“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.
“Touche. God so much lost time.”
“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”
“I love you, Banksy.”
“I love you too, Charlie.”
A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!
#Charlie Conway x Adam Banks#Charlie Conway#Adam Banks#Chadam#Mighty Ducks#d2 the mighty ducks#d3 the mighty ducks#the mighty ducks
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I'm bombarding you with those prompts, so I fully understand if you just ignore all those you don't like, lol. Would WinterIronFalcon be an OT3 you're intrested in writing? Some established WinterFalcon with Tony pining helplessly after them, not believeing he could have a chance? With a dash of angst in it? Thank you ♡
There isn’t much angst in this but there is hopeless pining so yay?
Also on ao3 here
~
“Share Bear, it’s not fair,” Tony whines into the phone.
“What isn’t?” his cousin asks, sounding patient but also kind of amused. He takes the phone away from his ear and squints at it. Is she making fun of him? She probably is, Sharon always makes fun of him. She’s mean like that; he’s pretty sure she gets it from Natasha.
“They’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t stand it.”
“Oh. Them again. Seriously Tony, didn’t you used to have better taste?”
“Excuse you,” he says, offended. “My taste is perfect.”
“They think arguing is foreplay.”
“It’s bickering! And it’s cute!”
“Gross,” Sharon says cheerfully.
“God hates me,” Tony says dramatically, flinging his hand over his eyes. “That’s why he cursed me to work with two such beautiful humans who are already dating each other.”
“Tony—”
“I know Bucky stays up to date with the fandom,” he continues, going a little quieter. “He’s gotta know that tons of people ship the three of us. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Share Bear, why doesn’t he say anything?”
“Probably because for every person who ships all three of you, there’s twice as many who ship just you and him,” she admits. “I know that if someone were shipping Maria and Nat and ignoring that I even exist, I’d be pretty upset.”
“Yeah,” he says glumly.
“What’re you filming today anyway?” she asks.
“True Crime. We were supposed to be doing an episode of Supernatural at the Odinson Mystery House, you know, over in Norway where the son found out he was adopted and then got super into Norse mythology and supposedly disappeared into a rainbow?”
“Oh yeah, that guy was crazy.”
“Wasn’t,” Tony insist stubbornly. “There are three different eyewitnesses and they all saw the same thing.”
“All three eyewitnesses tested positive for meth.”
“It was trace amounts and ruled irrelevant to the case. Anyway, there’s some sort of blizzard so our flight got canceled. We figured we’d get a jump on this season’s True Crime episodes instead.”
“What are you doing this week?”
He scowls into the phone. “Fandom episode. They voted for Captain America.”
He can practically hear Sharon wince. “I’m sorry. That fucking sucks.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, not least because both of them know exactly what happened to Captain America. He was recovered from the Arctic back in the 50s and went on to live a very happy and fulfilling life with Aunt Peggy. But that’s a very closely guarded state secret; the U.S. government can’t let it get out that Steve Rogers survived nearly a decade in the ice. Technically, Tony and Sharon aren’t even supposed to know but Aunt Peggy had insisted she be allowed to tell them after she took custody of Sharon and Tony moved out of Howard’s and into her home. It’s kind of cool actually, knowing that Uncle Steve is really Captain America. He’s a pretty great guy. It just kind of sucks that he can’t tell anyone about it and now he has to do a whole episode about it when everyone knows he���s a shitty liar.
He’d talked it over with Uncle Steve and Aunt Peggy when the results of the vote had first come in. Aunt Peggy’s advice had been to act more manic than usual, throw even more outlandish theories into the mix, and really make this episode about the banter between him and Bucky. “Direct their attention away from Steve,” she’d said. “They’re already going to be looking at you. Just make sure they’re doing it for the wrong reason.”
He kind of wants to kiss Bucky. That would definitely draw attention away from the episode. But that’s not fair to either Bucky or Sam, who are very happy with their relationship and don’t need a homewrecker like Tony throwing a spanner into the mix.
“Good luck,” Sharon tells him before they hang up. “You’re gonna need it.”
“Wow, thanks,” he mutters but she’s already gone.
~
Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty webseries about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.
Now they have a fandom and merchandise and actual fanfiction written about them, which is the craziest thing. They both have several often-quoted gifs floating around the Internet and Bucky has somehow become the poster child for being unimpressed by literally everything (he actually makes some of the best faces when something genuinely scary happens but they always end up editing those parts out—he has an image to maintain after all).
They brought Sam on once they started gaining in popularity. Tony, by that point, already had a pretty well-established crush on Bucky. He’d even thought that he had a chance with his co-host, small as it may be, and at first, it hadn’t seemed like Sam was going to change anything. He and Bucky argued all the time so Tony had been absolutely stunned when he’d stumbled upon them making out like it was the end of the world.
They had just finished filming their second season. Sam had suggested going out to a local bar. He’d suggested it for all three of them but Tony had, inexplicably, felt like a third wheel all night as Sam and Bucky bickered. At one point, Sam had disappeared off to the restroom and a couple minutes later, Bucky had followed him. Tony doesn’t know how long he had sat there waiting for them but he’d eventually gone looking for them only to find Sam pressing Bucky up against a wall.
And that had been that.
Three years later, Sam and Bucky are still going strong, Tony is as smitten with Sam as he is with Bucky despite knowing how hopeless both crushes are, and the fandom seems convinced to either write Sam out of Tony and Bucky’s relationship or write Tony into Sam and Bucky’s. He wishes they would stop. He stays pretty up to date with the fandom as well and they have all these meta posts about the way Bucky looks at him or something. It just keeps giving him hope but, well, it’s been three years. If Bucky wanted him, or if Sam did for that matter, they would have done something long ago.
~
“Hey, you doing okay?” Sam asks him as they’re setting up.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He avoids meeting Sam’s eyes, focusing instead on adding creamer to the coffee. Marvels had presented them with these mugs last year to congratulate them on four years of Unsolved. They’ve got their most iconic quotes printed on them, Bucky’s with “Obviously I killed JFK” and Tony’s with “I’m the dramatic bitch your mom warned you about.” Sam has one too with his one and only line in the entire show printed on it (“Why did I agree to work with you?”) but since he’s always behind the camera, he doesn’t have to use the same mug for each episode.
“You just seem a little off.” The worst part is that Sam genuinely looks concerned. If they didn’t care about him, he thinks his crush might be easier to manage but they do because they’re just nice guys like that. “I know you weren’t too thrilled when we announced this week’s case.”
“Howard worked with him, practically hero-worshipped the damn guy. Of course, I’m not excited.”
Sam winces. They know all about Tony’s shitty relationship with Howard after his dad called Marvels furious that his son was hosting a webseries instead of coming home to grovel at his feet and take over the business. The whole team had been brought in to listen as Fury tried to placate him. By the end, Bucky had been furious on Tony’s behalf and Sam had berated Fury for twenty minutes for making Tony listen to the vitriol his dad had spewed. It had cemented his crush on Sam, then just a passing fancy, into something real and permanent.
“Seriously, Sam, I’m fine. Might be a little off today but I would have said if I didn’t think I could do it.”
Sam doesn’t look convinced but he agrees anyway. Tony sits down next to Bucky and passes him his mug. Bucky shoots him a grin and murmurs, “Thanks, doll.”
Tony doesn’t blush but that’s only because he has five years of practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sam counting them down and he turns to face the camera, settling his hands in front of him.
“This week on Marvels Unsolved True Crime and in celebration of our 100th episode,” he begins, “we asked you what you’d like us to investigate and you came back—”
“—overwhelmingly,” Bucky interjects.
“Many, many times,” Tony agrees, “with a topic near and dear to my own heart: Captain America.”
“That’s right,” Bucky says, sounding surprised though Bucky had been the first to point out that maybe they shouldn’t do this episode because of Tony’s connections to Project Rebirth. “Your dad helped turn Steve Rogers into Captain America, didn’t he?”
“And he never let me forget it!” Tony says cheerfully.
“One hundred episodes,” Bucky says slowly, enunciating each word. “Can you believe that, doll?”
Sometimes, he wonders why the fans ship them when Sam is right there. Other times, Bucky says things like this and he understands completely.
“Not even a little bit, Bucky Babe.” Okay, so maybe he doesn’t help.
“One hundred. The big one zero zero.”
“We tried to do something extra special and get Sam in front of the camera for you guys—”
“—so you could see what a hunk he is—”
“—but Sam said that he didn’t trust anyone else to film us properly—”
“—which makes sense because Tony? If you put him in the wrong light, he’s practically a gremlin—”
“Hey!”
“I’m just telling the facts.”
“Well, the facts are wrong.”
“They’re facts, sweet thing, they can’t be wrong.”
“Can too. Anyway, since Sam refuses to join us—”
“—and that just breaks my heart because Sam, he’s one of my favorite guys, you know?”
Tony pauses. It’s not like Bucky to say anything nice about Sam. Usually, it’s all good-natured insults and bickering. He must really be fed up with the Starkbucks shippers to say something like this when they’re still this early in the show.
“Only one of?” he asks curiously.
Bucky shoots him one of those filthy grins that their audience loves so much. “Well, it’s hard not to include you on that list,” he drawls.
He’s not going to blush.
He’s not going to blush.
He’s not going to—
Damn it.
Whatever. It’s no big deal, that’s what editing is for. So what if Sam has never edited out one of Tony’s blushes yet? Maybe Tony will get lucky and he will this time.
“You know, I was actually named for Captain America’s sidekick?” Bucky asks, getting them back on track.
“Wow, that is deeply unfortunate,” Tony deadpans.
“Yeah, Dad’s a fanboy. His whole troop was pinned down and rescued by the two of them. He tells the story all the time—kind of like your dad.”
“Except my dad goes straight past into fanboy and directly into obsession territory.”
“…Fair enough.”
“Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”
Bucky shrugs and takes a sip out of his mug. “I’ve been inside your house. I’ve seen the Steve Rogers shrine. I’m not going to argue with you.”
Tony thinks about that for a moment. “It is kind of a shrine, isn’t it? Anyway, we’ve got some great stuff for you today. We’re going to crack open this cold case, show you some never-before-seen footage courtesy of my mom sneaking my dad’s old war tapes out of the mansion, and then we’ll talk a little bit about the theories out there.”
“How many of them are going to be ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible?”
Tony glares at him. “None of them. I have never once presented a ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible theory.”
“Right because alien abduction is a valid—”
“Aliens are real!”
“You said that crabs might have eaten Amelia Earheart!” Bucky shouts over him.
“It’s a valid theory!”
“I take it back, you’re not one of my favorite people anymore.”
“That really hurts me, deep inside,” Tony says sarcastically, trying to cover up that maybe that does send a small pang shooting through his chest. He likes the thought of being one of Bucky’s favorite people. He doesn’t want to lose that.
“How deep?” Bucky asks and winks.
“Very deep. Way, way deep down. Practically in my—”
Bucky’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his coffee. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Let’s get into the facts.”
“Hey, that’s my line!”
~
“With a missing plane and pilot and so much redaction in the files, we’re lucky to even have a name, let’s get into the theories.”
“Actually, wait, before we do that,” Bucky says, “I want to ask if you’ve ever noticed that your voice changes when you’re doing the voiceovers.”
“Wait, what?” Tony asks. He glances at him, to one of the cameras, then back to Bucky. “What do you mean?”
“You know, it gets all deeper like you’re trying to voice movie trailers or something.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Sure it does.”
Tony shakes his head. “There’s no way.”
They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.
“Told you!” Bucky says triumphantly.
“You’re such a child,” Tony sneers.
“Yeah, that’s why you like working with me so much.”
Behind the camera, Sam silently snickers and Tony glares at him before telling the camera, “If you’re watching, let us know in the comments. Is my apparent movie trailer voice okay or does it need to go like Bucky clearly thinks?”
Bucky goes paler. “Hey, wait, I didn’t say it had to go.”
“It was implied when you brought it up,” he argues.
“No!” Bucky insists. “I was just wondering if it was on purpose.”
They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.
“Aha!” Tony says triumphantly.
“Traitor,” Bucky mutters into his coffee.
Sam signs, “I’ll make it up to you when we get home tonight.”
“And that was more than I ever wanted to learn about Sam and Bucky’s love life,” Tony lies through his teeth. “Let’s get into the theories. I only have two for you today, one of which I think Bucky will particularly like.”
“Oh no.”
“Our first theory is that Steve Rogers died in a plane crash on December 16, 1944. Winter months in the Arctic are known to be particularly stormy. There would have been low visibility due to the high latitude and time of year and with the waters and surrounding land being well below freezing, it’s possible that, even if Captain Rogers survived the impact, he would have frozen to death in the stormy seas.”
Bucky thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, that seems plausible.”
“In addition, Howard Stark, a known Captain America aficionado and the father of Marvels Unsolved’s best host—”
“You lie like a rug!” Bucky howls.
Tony snickers and then when Sam signs, “He’s really not,” bursts out into full-out laughter.
Once he’s recovered, he continues, “Howard Stark has spent the first fifty years after the crash of the Valkyrie and the last twenty funding searches in the Arctic in the hopes of recovering Captain Rogers’ body. He has found no evidence that Captain Rogers survived the crash although he did find part of the remains of the Valkyrie and has since stated that, ‘No human could have survived that crash.’”
The expeditions are a scam and have been since Howard first found the Valkyrie crash site and Uncle Steve along with it. He hadn’t been planning on continuing the expeditions—too costly, as he claims—but when Aunt Peggy had told him that Uncle Steve’s survival had to remain a secret, he’d kept them up for pretense’s sake.
Bucky is saying something about how it sucks that the first superhero is gone and when he finishes, Tony grins and says, “Then you’ll like our second theory.”
“Somehow, every time you say that, I end up completely hating it. Wonder why that is.”
“Our second theory is that Steve Rogers survived the crash and is still alive but cryogenically frozen in the ice. There—”
“Bullshit!”
Tony starts laughing but he tries to continue on over Bucky shouting that it’s complete nonsense. It’s hard and he knows that Sam will probably have to do some editing and maybe make Tony do some voiceover work in order to make the theory audible but he thinks he manages to do a pretty good job.
Bucky is pouting by the end of it, arms crossed over his chest. “What fucking bullshit,” he mutters.
“The supersoldier serum—” Tony starts to point out.
“Isn’t a miracle drug.”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“No, it just made him big and strong. It doesn’t just magically keep people alive when they should have died.”
And then they’re off into familiar territory, arguing about the merits of either theory. Tony’s actually feeling pretty good about himself, convinced that he’s doing a decent job of steering the conversation away of anything classified, right up until Bucky says, about halfway through the episode, “I’m surprised at you, Tony.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Surprised?”
“Usually, you have some absolutely batshit, off-the-walls crazy theory but these have actually been pretty normal for you.” He pauses and then adds for effect, “And you’re usually much better at your research than this.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh come on, even I know that there’s one more theory.”
He starts tapping at his chest nervously, almost wishing that he had a pair of sunglasses. Aunt Peggy always said that his lies are in his eyes, that they’re too expressive to hide the truth. When he was living with Howard, in the spotlight, he always had a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes but he hasn’t wanted to use those since he moved out. He wishes he had them now.
“And what’s that?” he asks, feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel.
“That Steve Rogers lived and came out of the ice at some point and has been living out his life in anonymity.”
He barks out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mention it because even I know that that theory is completely impossible.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Sam nods agreeably. Bucky nods back at him and adds, “Even Sam agrees with me.”
“He’s your boyfriend, he’s practically required to.”
Both Sam and Bucky laugh at that one and yeah, okay, it was a pretty ridiculous statement. Anyone who knows them knows that being boyfriends is less likely to make them agree with each other.
“Look, Steve Rogers didn’t come out of the ice alive. Howard would have known for one thing and if you think, he could keep something like that quiet, then you don’t know him very well.”
“Maybe the government insisted it be a secret,” Bucky suggests, shrugging. “There have been plenty of people who have claimed over the last couple decades to be Captain America.”
Tony scoffs. “Oh come on, by that logic, anyone could be Captain America.”
“Maybe they could be.”
“No,” Tony says flatly. “It’s like that crazy conspiracy theory guy over on Reddit who’s convinced that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”
“Maybe Bruce Wayne is Batman.”
“Ooh do the butts match?” Tony says mockingly. “I mean, really, Bucky Babe, if we’re going off of lookalikes, then my fucking Uncle Steve is secretly really Steve Rogers, which is ridiculous because the guy’s like practically ancient and faints at the sight of blood in PG-13 movies.”
That sets off another round of arguing that lasts the rest of the episode until finally Tony wraps it up with, “Whether Steve Rogers died in 1944 or is still alive today is a mystery that will remain unsolved.”
They both pause for a moment to provide time for Sam to edit in the theme music and closing title. Usually, there would be some lighthearted bantering afterwards, maybe a joke about something they said earlier in the show. This time though, Bucky says thoughtfully, “The thing is, though, I’ve met your Uncle Steve—”
Tony goes cold.
“—and he really does kind of look like—”
Tony panics. That’s the only explanation that he has for declaring, “I’m done waiting,” reaching across the tables and grabbing hold of Bucky’s shirt, and yanking him forward to kiss him.
For a moment, Bucky is too startled to do anything but then he melts into Tony, mouth opening under his, tongue pushing forward to meet his. Bucky’s arms come around him, pulling him up and out of his chair and settling him into his lap. Tony makes a small greedy sound, swallowed by Bucky’s kiss, and then they’re both pulling away. Bucky’s lips are very red; Tony can’t stop staring at them even as he’s filled with dismay.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Why not?” Bucky demands.
“You—Sam—” He glances toward the camera but Sam isn’t standing there anymore. His heart drops into his stomach—has he just ruined Bucky and Sam’s relationship? But then he hears someone drop to their knees behind him and when he turns slightly, Sam’s fingers are on his chin, gently turning his head.
“How long?” Sam asks.
“How long what?”
“How long have we been wasting our time when we could have been kissing you instead?”
Three years, two months, and fifteen days. “Too long.”
Sam kisses him then, mouth gentler than Bucky’s but no less consuming. Bucky is a hard, hot line against his front; Sam is warm against his back and Tony? Tony loses himself in the storm that is the two of them, sparks shooting through him as Bucky’s hands find their way to his hips, as Sam’s tongue slips into his mouth, as Bucky whispers into his ear, “We’re not wasting any more time.”
~
Marvels Unsolved’s 100th episode shoots to their most watched, most liked video in less than a day and when asked, maybe the smallest handful of viewers could have said what it was about.
The day after it posts, only a week after it was filmed, Tony’s phone rings.
“Kill it with fire,” Sam says sleepily.
Tony, however, recognizes Aunt Peggy’s ringtone and he rolls over to grab it before Bucky can throw it at the wall. “Hello?” he asks groggily.
“Congratulations on not blowing Steve’s cover,” she says.
“Oh yeah,” Tony mutters. “Can I go back to bed now?”
“One more thing, duck.”
“What’s that?”
“Congratulations on the new boyfriends.”
#winterironfalcon#alle writes#alle answers#ooh boy this got long#if you like please consider reblogging#justsomeoneunordinary
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I'm loving your blog. So listen, I'd die for some Ouran content. Maybe a Kyoya falling for a guest at some Ootori party, she was brought along by some wealthy friend of hers and is not into the wealthy elite at all, something that bothers but intrigues Kyoya. I'd love to see him try to woo her, become protective of her, because she lives such a dangerous regular commoners life without body guards. Then try to save her from that life. How would he react to her misbehaving or being generally 1/2
Unhappy with the situation he’s put her in? Whether it’s him micromanaging every aspect of her life or him having actually locked her up in some corner of the Ootori manor? Personally, I always saw Kyoya as someone who enjoyed old-fashioned punishments. Like a spanking over the knee. But it’s totally up to you. I love where you took that Bakugo fic, so I trust you to take this where ever. Honestly, I’d just be so grateful if you had any Ouran content to offer. Again, love your work so far 2/2
Yay my first Ouran request! Thanks so much nonnie for requesting this, I love Kyoya- his deadpan humor and general attitude just give me so many ideas and make him such a great character! And those same traits make him terrifying as a yandere!
Bitter
You hated fancy parties.
You picked at your collar and tried not to look like you were bored out of your mind as all the rich people mingled and laughed discussed business over food and drinks more expensive than your family’s monthly grocery bill.
It was funny. You could write off your friend’s eccentric behavior, but in a group of rich people? Well, the bitterness crept back in and left a sour tang in your mouth.
You glanced down at your flute of champagne. It would be, what, your third? Reluctantly you returned it- you were a guest, getting blackout drunk was not on your shortlist of ‘great ideas for parties full of rich people’. So you just mingled politely, staying close to your friend.
“Mr. Ootori!” She declared happily, waving over a dark haired man with a calm smile and glasses. There’s half a moment of hesitation on his part before he approaches- you can’t blame him; a brief word with your friend turns into half an hour with her.
“Glad you could make it,” he offered dutifully, and oh that was interesting- he had that same look in his eyes you did- like he couldn’t stand his own kind. It had to be some kind of joke.
You found yourself smiling for the first time that night, and caught the way his eyes flashed at you for the briefest of seconds before it was gone.
Maybe you’d imagined it.
“I see you’ve made use of the plus one on your invitation.” He remarked, and your friend laughed and introduced you.
Ootori nodded and looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.” His tone was just detached enough that you couldn’t be sure if it was a joke or an insult.
“You wouldn’t- I’m not pedigreed.” You wished you could take a drink as a mic drop. Instead you just had to content yourself with your friend’s horrified look.
But Ootori just looked amused.
“Man people prefer mutts to purebreds,” he said in that same level tone.
As a person who’d had several mutts growing up, you could confirm that they were better. Less health problems.
He asked what your job was and you mentioned the field, notwanting to stray into talk about work. Work was work, and frankly here wasn’tthe place to talk about it. Thankfully Ootori accepted it and didn’t push,instead managing to draw you into aconversation that didn’t make you want to beat your own head in. It was nice.
Finally, he had to excuse himself and see to his otherduties as host, but before he left he caught your hand and brought it up to pressa gentle kiss there. It stopped you short, as did the small smile playing onhis lips.
“Until we meet again,” he promised cryptically, before goingoff to join his people.
Your friend was gawking at you.
You decided maybe one more glass of champagne wouldn’t hurtyou.
Two weeks after the Ootori party Kyoya Ootori himself walkedinto your favorite coffee shop, saw you and invited himself to sit at yourtable after taking his order. The man was far out of his element but didn’tseem in the least bit uncomfortable, exuding a calm confidence and sense ofcontrol that made clear why he was so good at his job.
(And yeah, you had gone the creepy route and looked him upon the internet, rather than just asking your friend; they might have gone toschool together once upon a time but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t misreadyour questions as interest and let him know about it on a lark.
Despite being the youngest Kyoya had managed to earn hisplace as heir of Ootori conglomerate. He was ruthless in business but one hellof philanthropist, setting up multiple scholarship programs for elite schoolsthat lower income students wouldn’t have access to, on top of the dozens ofother charities that the company donated to on the regular. And that was whatyou could track down in maybe 45 minutes)
“Pretty far from your side of town,” you observed, addinganother packet of sugar to your coffee.
“I had business in the area and needed a coffee.” You hummed and watched him watch you.
He was quiet for a minute and you took the time to drink your coffee. His was pure black, you’d heard him order it.
“You remind me of a friend I had.” He said suddenly, and you stayed quiet, although you were a little confused because he didn’t seem like the type to have friends. “She wasn’t impressed by money either.”
“Smart of her.”
He chuckled a little bit, no more than a huff.
“I’d like to take you out for dinner sometime.” Now that actually made you look at him properly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you yet.
“Because I’m not interested in money?”
“Because I find your conversation relaxing and I’d like to think you feel the same way.”
It was a bit weird; you’d had maybe 20 minutes total of talking with this man. Technically those twenty minutes were enjoyable. Kyoya was blunt and composed and intelligent; you could appreciate that in a man.
“Alright.” You agreed, surprising yourself.
Kyoya’s smile unfolded into something a little more open. You wondered how often people saw this one.
You exchanged numbers and the promise of detail exchange later; you had to get back to work soon, and even though he didn’t say he needed to leave you were sure that he needed to get back too.
There were flowers on your desk at work the next day.
The bouquet was gorgeous; lavender roses and baby’s breath- you didn’t even know that lavender roses this nice were in season.
The card on the vase (a very nice, very expensive looking vase) confirmed your suspicions.
I saw these and thought of you.
-Ootori Kyoya
And you smiled because it was really thoughtful.
But…how did he know where you worked?
Ootori: Did you receive the flowers?
Me: Yes I did! They’re beautiful, thanks!
Me: How did you know where I worked?
Ootori: You told me at the party, remember?
Me: Ah, sorry, I must have forgotten!
Me: Thanks again, Ootori.
Ootori: Call me Kyoya, please.
You work out a good night for the both of you to go out. It took some shuffling on your part, but at least Kyoya seemed willing to work with you.
He meant what he said at least- he was serious about dinner.
And it was dinner at a really nice restaurant; one that had a really long wait list ordinarily and didn’t have a price on the menu.
Well, you get to break out your formal clothes again, and it was nice to watch the way Kyoya’s expression changed when you entered the dining area. The softening of his mask maybe.
“You look nice.” Was all he said about it, though, even as he stood up to pull out your chair for you.
“Thanks, so do you.” And he did. Kyoya could have worn anything and pulled it off, probably.
The server came by moments later with wine and glasses. That was nice at least, but again…
“You ordered for me?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.
“I thought it more convenient.”
Pushy, but whatever, he meant well.
Except…
The pushing didn’t stop.
It started with the wine, yeah, but it just got worse.
Kyoya didn’t understand how to not overstep his bounds, and he always looked amused when you started to point out that looking up your girlfriend’s home address was still creepy, even when the intent was to send you flowers. And he sent you a lot of flowers.
But no, Kyoya, having several bodyguards walk you home from work didn’t make you feel safe, especially when they weren’t allowed to talk to you.
And he just…he didn’t get it.
You wanted to break up with him, but the problem was Kyoya, when he wasn’t disrespecting your boundaries at least, was charming, intelligent, and honestly you liked him a lot. You just figured it was one of those things you would work out with him, or maybe it was new relationship jitters.
When Kyoya tried to give you a watch more expensive than your apartment, you finally, firmly, put your foot down.
“It’s too expensive,” you argued firmly.
“I already bought it.”
“Then return it, because I can’t possibly accept it.” It made you uncomfortable, how willing he was to drop so much money on you so fast.
“I can’t return it, it was personalized.” He said, frowning. And…okay, touching, but still…
You turned it over in your hand and blinked at the elegant writing
For my darling
“That’s…really sweet, Kyoya.”
He hugged you gently, awkwardly. You got the feeling he wasn’t used to initiating, but that was fine.
“I just want you to have the best.”
“I know.”
(Your first time with Kyoya is…wonderful. He worships you and breaks you apart gently and puts you back together with his touch. The whole time he looks at you like he’s having a religious experience, doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t close his eyes.
For a minute you could have sworn he was crying)
Kyoya started inviting you to parties and events with him three months into your relationship.
The idle speculation and blank smiles from your time as a normal guest were gone, replaced with biting comments and passive aggression. It sucks, but it gave you an excuse to stay with Kyoya, and he didn’t seem to mind.
It was nice though, watching that dark look flash in his eyes when someone made a comment.
But he kept your hand in his and doted on you in his own way all evening.
You split away from him, briefly, to use the bathroom and check how you looked in the mirror. Not a hair was out of place and you didn’t look a thing like yourself.
On your way back, not 10 feet from your boyfriend, a guest flush with bourbon and bolstered by his friends inquired “how much the Ootori runt paid for you” because he’d “pay double”. You flushed with rage, but before you could get a word out Kyoya was the one to appear and drag you out of his sight.
“I could have handled it, Kyoya.” You promised, but he shook his head.He didn’t stop, handing over the tickets to get your coats. “The party isn’t over yet, don’t you still have business-”
“They don’t deserve to look at you,” he snarled, and it was with a vehemence you never would have expected from him, it startled you so bad.
“Kyoya-”
“No. We’re going home and they’re never going to see you again.”
Oh.
You took your coat, quiet, letting Kyoya guide you to his car and opened it for you, sliding into the backseat with you.
“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked quietly, watching him roll up the tinted divider between you and the driver.
Are you going to leave me? Went unasked. That fear just…it crippled you. He wouldn’t, would he? Just because his associates didn’t like you?
“Never.” He promised firmly, pulling you into his lap. You hesitated but moved to assist, curling up against him. “I would never be ashamed of you. You’re mine.” And those words were so cold, despite the warm look in his eyes.
“But you said-”
“They’ll never set eyes on you again because they don’t deserve to look at you. I’m going to take you home and you’re going to stay there where I can keep you safe and away from their filthy eyes. Alright, darling?”
His lips were on your neck, his whisper made your bones warm. But you shook your head no.
“Kyoya, it’s fine, people are going to be rude-”
“They don’t have a right to be that way to you, not when you’re mine.”
You laughed a little, trying to diffuse the tension, squirming, trying to get off his lap. Kyoya’s arms were iron around you though, holding you tight, so tight you couldn’t breathe.
“Let go of me, Kyoya,”
“No, we’re going home and I’m going to show you how much you’re worth.”
“As romantic as that sounds, I really have to get back to my place-”
Kyoya’s grip on your jaw was punishing, his nails digging in and bruising you for for sure.
“Shut up.”
“Kyoya-”
He kissed you harsh, it was biting and angry and you were sure that you tasted blood.
“You are mine. I’ve let you wander long enough, so be quiet and be good and everything will be fine. If you don’t then I will have to hurt you, do you understand?” When you didn’t answer right away he shook you.
“Understand?”
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His Territory
Oh man, I missed writing Cat Rick X Reader fics. I don't know who asked for this one, but I'm going to include in my Cat Rick X Reader series. @kitten-wrath I'm tagging you cause I know how much you love that Kitty Rick. 🐱
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For the last week or so, Rick had taken up surveillance around your home which wasn't all that unusual, but what was strange was how touchy he would be if you came home through the back door instead of the front door. You had thought nothing of it for the first couple of days, but when he found a hair on your pants after the local stray cat rubbed up against you, he not only demanded that you'd burn them, but that he'd have to mark his territory again. "Rick, we've been through his before. You can't go peeing everywhere just because another cat showed up"
"Baby, I-I-I don't think you're seeing the bigger picture here."
If he meant that you didn't see how peeing and rubbing up against everything would solve everyone's problems, then yeah there was no bigger picture. "You're right, I don't see it, but I'm sure you're about to tell me."
"A cat doesn't step over into a-another cats t-territory unless they're lookin for trouble."
"Not even when they're hungry?" you teased. "Isn't that what you did fuzzy butt?"
Like any Rick, he hated to be wrong. Flattening his ears, he grumbled. "Th-that's beyond the point."
"Sure it is." you giggled. "I mean, it's not like you didn't get into a fight with the last cat that even looked at my yard. Look, I understand if you want the yard all to yourself, but what if he's hungry? The worst thing that could happen is I'd end up with another cat if I fed him."
"Which is why y-y-y-y-you wouldn't." he hissed.
"Wouldn't I?"
“Yeah, I-I don't think so. All th-that food is mine." he stated matter of factly.
"Are you sure about that? Maybe I should pull up my bank statements to confirm that."
Still indifferent, he paced back and forth; the click of his nails being but a minor distraction. "Baby, all I know is h-he better back off my turf. This place is mine."
There he was again, claiming things were his. "Technically it's mine." you interjected, "I just let you stay here."
"And my scent is all over this place," he stressed, "so he needs t-t-to get the hell away from here before I claw his eyes out."
"What if he's in need? You never know if he's searching for a forever home."
"Th-then I'll show him the way out. For good."
You heard him talk this way before, but it didn't mean you liked it. You flicked his nose, which caused him to dig his nails into the floor. "How can you be so rude? What if I had shown you the way out when you had first shown up? Then right now we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I think y-you mean to show me off."
"No, I don't, but I can show you something alright. I swear if you weren't so…" you paused finding it ridiculous that he'd care so much about this and that you had gotten caught up in foolishness again. What was he thinking anyway? It's not like you were going to get rid of him or anything.
"I'm so what?" he bristled; taking your brief silence as frustration. "I'm s-so annoying? Geez, tell me something I-I don't know. You tell me enough as it is."
Plopping himself down on your recliner, he began to groom himself aggressively; still grumpy as ever, but if you weren't mistaken, his limp tail and downturned ears made him appear a bit melancholic. You weren't sure how to feel about it other than disappointed. Not in him, but at yourself. Could it be that he had taken to heart what you've said all the previous times you two argued as well as this time?
For your part you took a seat on the couch and glanced out the window where the curtains hadn't been destroyed yet in order to distract yourself; spotting the stray which had been coming around as of late, and rolling around without a care on the lawn. There were several things in which you thought you should do. You could chase him away yourself, feed him, or some other third thing. Knowing that Rick would freak out if you gave any indications of preference to anyone or anything other then him bothered you. So you rose and walked over to sit on the armrest of the recliner. "You don't mind if I sit here do you?"
He didn't answer, but he looked away as he continued to groom himself. You went on. "I'm sorry. I don't...I don't know or understand what goes on in that mind of yours Rick, but if at any point you thought that I'd get rid of you, then you're mistaken. I mean, how could I?"
Really, how could you? Especially since he'd brought so much joy into your life. You hated to admit it sometimes, but you really cared about him, despite how annoying, and temperamental he could be. He'd never treated badly like some of your old boyfriends; better then some friends even and if you weren't mistaken, he might've cared for you too. However, could he really when you both weren't even of the same species? Perhaps that's why you treated him as you did; as some oversized pet; afraid of what you felt deep down inside.
Stretching out your hand to scratch behind his ears, you hesitated. Is this how it should be? As an owner and a pet? Or more? You felt conflicted and losing your nerve, you tried to get up so you could chase that stray cat away, but was stopped by a soft hand on gripping your wrist. "Don't leave. If I-I bother you so damn much baby, then maybe I-I should go. I'd certainly be doing you a-a favor."
Whatever causes your heart to flutter, or to rejoice, or to feel pain sank at that moment. Is that what he thought? No, that's wrong. How were you supposed to do this? To show him that you didn't want him to go and that you cared? Well, you did the only thing you thought made sense.
Turning back around, you stretched your arms open to embrace him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you caught him by surprise; his body having tensed up, but soon melt when you returned in kind what he would do to you; rubbing your face along the side of his face, and nuzzling his neck until you heard him purr. "If I mark you with my scent," you wondered; your words muffled by his fur. "does that mean that you belong to me? And I to you? Will it make it better?"
The arms which were wrapped around you squeezed you a bit tighter, and a chuckle erupted from his throat. For the briefest moments, he inhaled your scent, and you felt his nails bite your skin through the fabric of your blouse. You squeaked when you felt his nose against your neck, and if you were honest with yourself, you hadn't disliked it, but soon he loosened his grip about your waist and with a sigh, directed your gaze towards him; a serious, but all the more indescribable expression decorating his face. "I-I don't think you understand what you're talking about baby. Y-you can't - you shouldn't do that."
"Do what?" you wondered, trying to study his expression.
"What y-you're doing it - it doesn't mean what y-you think it means."
With your arms still about his neck, you didn't feel dissuaded to let go; feeling that this was what you were supposed to do. "If it means that I think you're adorable, and that I don't want you to go, then it doesn't matter. Isn't that okay?"
Giving you a funny look, he licked your cheek before pressing a soft kiss upon it and remaining there. "Baby," he softened. "I-I know I'm a furry piece of crap, but I - I promise I won't kill him. You don't need t-t-to do this to prove your point. I get it, but even so, at least I-I got to experience this."
"What are you talking about?"
"If only you knew." he whispered
"Knew what?"
Rising from the chair, he pulled your arms away and that melancholic expression returned. "It's nothing baby. I just… I promise I won't."
And as promised, he didn't. Though, when Rick had left your embrace, you couldn't help but feel alone and rejected. Had you caused some misunderstanding again? Had you crossed some line which there was no going back from? Well, whatever it had been, you hoped you two could move on and get over it. But if he happened to get over it, could you?
Fin
#not doofus rick related#cat rick x reader#cat rick#Kitty Rick x Reader#Rick x Reader#rick sanchez x reader#rick and morty fanfiction#rnm fanfic#Rnm#Rick and morty#rick and morty comics#my writing#my works
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I hope you dont mind my asking, but wouldn't GF have decided to remove the national dex long before LGPE released? I can see those games selling well confirming to GF that "pokemon sell well regardless of cut features" but it feels strange to blame it on LGPE when the development time on the games would suggest they made this choice awhile ago. (Not to defend lgpe lack of content) Sorry if this is a bother, I just feel like I'm missing something and would really like to understand your reasoning
For almost any other game I would agree, however for Pokémon in particular:
The National Dex (insofar as the ability to transfer old pokémon over) was never going to be a Day One feature. It’s never a Day One feature in the first games of the generation. Even if they wanted to make it one, in this case they couldn’t because Home isn’t releasing until 2020. As I’ve said in other posts, if they wanted to patch in the NatDex, they’d have the time to do it. Technically speaking, they’d have the time to do it, especially since the fanbase would be willing to wait (even if there’d be a few whiners here or there) the extra time.
Since it’s not a Day One feature, it’s something that can be worked on later in the development cycle (/can even continue to be worked on after the development cycle, or at least it could be if this series were treated with the respect of, say, The Legend of Zelda series). Again, I’m not talking about DLC that’s already on the game card that needs to be activated later, I’m talking about DLC that’s patched in, content created after that you download either to the harddrive or (though I don’t know if Switch DLC works this way specifically) onto the game card itself. Given the type of content they generally want to show early in the release cycle (the general theme / concept of the games, scenes of the various areas in the region, new ‘mon), and the fact that this would be a feature added post-release anyway, we can make a safe bet that the NatDex is something they’d work on much later in the development cycle, possibly even in the last year since, again . . . they’d have that time if they wanted to use it (and if this series was treated with genuine respect).
The Let’s Go games were stated by Masuda to be the future of the franchise if they sold well. They featured a Pokédex that was limited to only the Kanto ‘Dex, plus Meltan and Melmetal. They released in November 2018, and indeed, they sold well. In early 2019 (February, IIRC) Sword & Shield were released. While of course I don’t work at Game Freak and thus can’t say for sure, I would place money on the idea that if they were even a bit on the fence about adding the National Dex, the fact that Let’s Go sold so well despite being limited to 153 ‘mon pushed them right over the edge to, “Cut the National Dex from Sword & Shield, there’s no point in working on it.” I mean, why should they expend the effort if people will buy the games anyway? Especially when President Ishihara went on record saying that long-time fans only cared about “new pokémon and features” around the time of Let’s Go’s release. Sure, they might have already been thinking about cutting the National Dex beforehand, but Let’s Go no doubt assured them that it was a safe and correct call to make.
So that’s what I mean when I say that Let’s Go’s positive sales figures sealed all of our fates. To be entirely honest, before the National Dex announcement, I was certain that we wouldn’t see the shockwaves from Let’s Go until Gen IX. But Sword & Shield having a limited ‘Dex just like Let’s Go, and having special feature ‘mon behind $60 paywalls like Let’s Go, and having core features stripped out like Let’s Go, and the fact that it’s starting to look frighteningly like the starters won’t be able to evolve like in Let’s Go . . . the effect is pretty apparent. Sure, some of this stuff was present even before Let’s Go (namely the whole “let’s ditch useful features in the name of simplifying things” tack that Masuda has been married to for years now), but in the wake of Let’s Go, it’s success, and what Masuda said would happen if it was successful, it’s really hard not to see the link.
(Note just in case anyone read too quickly: I’m not saying the starters WON’T evolve. I’m only saying that I’m starting to fear that’s the case since we’re less than a month away from release and we haven’t even seen second stage evolutions yet. Maybe they’re just trying to keep starter evolutions a surprise, that’s entirely possible, but it’s also highly suspect, and Game Freak destroyed any trust or good faith I had in them a while back.)
As a final note, the reason why I say that the Pokémon games aren’t treated with respect is . . . well, there are a few reasons:
Game Freak stated themselves that they put their B Team on Sword & Shield while their A Team worked on Little Town Hero. They also said they wanted to create something, “as exciting, or perhaps even more exciting” than Pokémon. They’re tired of working on Pokémon, and it shows. Which, I mean, I get it, it’s been 20+ years, but in that case tell Nintendo so that they can shift the main games over to another studio. I get that Game Freak was created for the sole purpose of making Pokémon, and maybe Taijiri-san is pissed at how you’re disrespecting his baby (I would be), but for the good of the series, if you don’t want to work on it, give it to someone who does. Don’t just shift it onto your bare bones secondary dev team.
These games are in a hellish development cycle where a new one is popped out every year. Contrast this to The Legend of Zelda where, while we’ve had some anomalies where assets were able to be largely reused and so games came out only a couple years apart (see: Ocarina of Time to Majora’s Mask) --- even that had two or three years before releases, not one the very next year. Most mainline Zelda games spend five or six years in development. I’m fully aware that we will likely be waiting until something like 2022 for Breath of the Wild 2, and I am prepared to wait that time because I know the game we get will be incredible. Granted, I’m going to be dying every single time they announce a release date to push it back, but it’ll be a death I’m grateful for because I will know that the end product will be worth it. The Pokémon games used to have a similar luxury. While there were a grand total of five games released during that time (with “five games” being used loosely, given that one was a slight upgrade and the other four were really two games with slight differences between versions), Gen IV lasted for a grand total of four years. We had Diamond & Pearl in 2006, Platinum in 2008, HeartGold & SoulSilver in 2009, and then finally, Black & White in 2010. By contrast, Gen VII didn’t even last three years, technically. I mean, this November would be its third anniversary, but that’s when Gen VIII officially starts instead. To be fair, it could be argued that Gen IV didn’t have a full four years since it came out in September 2006, and Gen V came out in September 2010. But even if you make that argument, it still had a full year on Gen VII, and to be honest, that showed. The Sinnoh games are far and away not my faves, but they were still full of content. HeartGold & SoulSilver are often considered to be the best remakes in the entire franchise, and considering the content that was cut from OmegaRuby & AlphaSapphire and Masuda’s reasoning for why that content was cut, I can’t exactly argue with that even though I did genuinely enjoy ORAS. And the games that Gen IV ushered in? Controversial opinion, but I think that the Pokémon games peaked with Gen V. Black & White not only initially had a ‘dex that was nothing but new pokémon (and yet STILL included the Nat Dex later, because in Masuda’s own words he felt it cruel to keep people from playing with their faves forever!), but it also introduced a METRIC TON of new mechanics, some of which we no longer get to use (Rotation Battles? Game Freak doesn’t know her). Who knows what exactly Game Freak did with that extra year, but it was clearly a lot of work given how wonderful the games were in Gen IV and Gen V. The extra dev time showed.By contrast, Gen VII got 2.5 years (or 3 if you’re being generous). Every single game released during this gen had massive content cuts, even when comparing to Gen VI, which also had massive content cuts. Mechanics were stripped away, and Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon technically didn’t have a NatDex either, but at least you could still have all of your ‘mon in them at a later date if you wanted to. Now with Sword & Shield, we don’t even have that, despite the Switch being far more powerful than the 3DS. (We also don’t have Mega Evolution for whatever godforsaken reason, even though the Kanto Mega Evolutions at the very least were already used in Let’s Go, the fuck, Game Freak). Pokémon games print money and always have, and Game Freak has taken this and their lack of interest in the series to the depressing but I suppose logical extreme of “do whatever and they’ll buy it anyway.” There’s no love here, there’s no respect here. They just don’t care anymore, and as someone who does care an awful lot, it’s super upsetting to me.
And while people have tried to argue that the games can’t be delayed because of the anime or the card game or whatever else:
The games come first. They’ve always come first. I know some people mistakenly think that the anime came first and that the games were created later, but that is 100% false. Pokémon started as a game series and the anime was created to advertise the games, straight up.
Filler episodes exist, and the PokéAni is no stranger to them. The Orange Islands arc was an entire arc of filler created to pad time between Gens I and II. The Delacora Islands (or whatever they were called) was a filler arc meant to pad time between Gens V and VI. Arguably the majority of the Sun & Moon anime was filler, given its slice-of-life genre, meaning the anime was even less of an excuse not to delay Sword & Shield. You can’t tell me people wouldn’t have been happy with another year of the Alola crew running around getting into random adventures. People would have eaten that up and loved it. We could have had it all.
I’m not even going to dignify “but the card game” with a response lmao. This isn’t Yu-Gi-Oh!. Sure, the card game makes money, and probably a decent amount of it (merch sales probably make up the franchise’s greatest source of income, and as someone who easily spent several hundred dollars in two weeks at the PokéCenters in Japan---including over $100 in one trip to a PokéCenter while I was there, and we went multiple times---I am a big part of that), but they come up with bullshit new expansions all the time and could easily keep doing it. Again, not a reason to delay the games if the games need more time in development.
So all in all, at the end of the day, Game Freak is no longer treating these games with love and respect, which makes them an awful lot like the villains in the games they create. The Let’s Go games were harbingers of disaster for the games, and we were told this very plainly, and just about no one listened. In fact, I legitimately lost friendships with people who got mad at me for making Facebook statuses about how they should buy Let’s Go used if they absolutely had to have them because how DARE I believe Ishihara when he said that Let’s Go were considered core titles, and how DARE I believe Masuda when he said that Let’s Go would usher in the last twenty years of the franchise. Clearly, I was just being an ugly bitch. (I wish I was exaggerating, but this actually happened, I got blocked over it, it was ridiculous.) And now here we are as a result, with no hope of things getting better unless Nintendo forcibly rips Pokémon out of Game Freak’s hands, which I don’t even think they can legally do given that they only own 1/3rd of the IP. (The other 2/3rds belong to Game Freak and Creatures Inc., as I understand it.)
TL;DR:
Pokémon is still my favorite fictional fantasy world, but as someone who has always loved the games first and foremost, the current state of it depresses me to no end.
#this kind of got off the original topic but i hope it's coherent at least#pokemon salt#pokemon negativity#long post for ts#Anonymous
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Cool Kids | Chapter 5 | They tell me I'm too young to understand they say I'm caught up in a dream
Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.
.
Here's the thing; People grow apart and that's just how life works. As you grow up, you become a more complex character and even the environment in which you live changes progressively, therefore no one is surprised when people grow apart. It's not enjoyable in one way or another but it happens and you can not stop it.
Sometimes change is scary. Everyone knows it-it's why they hold on to the past with everything they have. But life doesn't work that way. It moves and you are bound to move with it either slowly or all at once.
Here's another thing about humans and life; in the first years of one's life, they live in a bubble. Children are happy and careless, loving everyone and everything. They don't discriminate, they give their entire being to others because in their own little magical bubble everyone is as nice as they are. It starts with them learning to understand the dirty hidden innuendos in cartoons and evolves in learning about death and the world's real boogeymen.
From that point and after, you either die or survive.
You either embrace the end or live long enough to be the one person your parents warned you about.
(There's a third category in which you're just a broken vessel searching for someone to fix you. But isn't it ironic how the only people that will understand how broken you are will be just as broken and unable to fix you?)
.
Skye can't sleep.
It's been happening for quite sometime and it keeps getting worse. Her energy was at its lowest and she could barely stay awake in her classes. It ate her alive and neither her nor her parents could make things better. If something, they only made things worse and left a bigger mess to clean.
Skye figured out that no one could really help her and if she was to be saved, she needed to do it herself. With that thought in mind, she sheltered herself from the world and avoided everyone at all cost. Even her best friends who had already suffered the loss of both Newt and Brendon. Skye liked to believe that everything was for the best. When she would get better, because she would, she would run to her friends' arms once more.
They didn't deserve to be around a broken person like her.
"That's all I have."
"You know I brought you many stuff, I was expecting a little more from your part."the older boy mumbled making Skye frown. She might have been two years younger than him but that didn't mean she was scared. She could knock him out if needed.
"Cut it Puckerman"she shot back"or do I need to let principal Coulson know about your little drug dealing."
"Fine, shortie."he grumbled and put his hand on his bag. He reached for a small bag of pills and handed them to her along with a large cup of coffee"You know, when you get tired of these, I could probably find some LSD for one of my best clients."
"I'm not like you."she whispered and grabbed the coffee and pills from his hands"I will not end up like you."
"They all say that at the beginning, but it's never true baby-doll."
.
Dan didn't like drugs.
So he really had no idea what was he doing behind that damn alley filled with smoke to meet a sixteen year old who was obviously a drug dealer. When he had confronted Skye about shutting him out and she had explained to him that she had some problems, he didn't exactly expected a drug problem. Not in a thousand years.
"Will I see you next week? I might find something stronger."the voice of the one and only Noah Puckerman sent shivers to Dan's spine. The boy wasn't good news and he certainly didn't want him to hang around Skye.
"Depe--"
"Skye! No!"Dan yelled as he pointed his finger towards Noah"I'm going to help you come clean. My best friend will not be a druggie."
"What are you talking about?"Skye questioned confused before taking her bag of pills and handing it to Dan"They are not drugs. Technically. They are hypnotics."
"For your sleeplessness?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."he told her feeling a bit embarrassed with himself"Are your parents fighting?"
"What do you think?"she asked bitterly and motioned her hand for them to go. Dan was the only person who truly knew what was happening in the Johnson residence but since Skye had tried keeping her distance, he had never learned that things had gotten worse. He just thought her parents visited a marriage counselor ."Please don't tell anyone."
"I won't. Promise."
All Skye wanted was to be left alone, to fix herself and then let other people in. It was a good plan but she forgot that once you shut someone out, you couldn't erase the past and bring them back. Lucky for her, Dan wasn't going to let her give up on their friendship. The downside? Eventually, they both gave up on one friendship.
Just not their own.
.
"What about a book?"
"I've read many."
"But not all."Charlie argued gazing outside his room's window. Summer was just around the corner and with school ending, a book would be a great company for a lonely soul. Furthermore, there were a billion books in the world and one could not simply have read them all. He scratched the back of his head for a while and then jumped from his chair."How about a record? You like Wham! right?"
"You really don't have to get me anything."Quinn continued with a warm smile"I'm not even throwing a party."
"Why not?"
"Brittany has a competition and mum and dad will go with her to Manchester for ten days, until the tournament is over."
"And you'll spent your birthday alone at home?"Charlie asked shocked. He recalled Quinn's past birthdays, they weren't anything fancy-just the six friends eating, playing and sometimes staying overnight-but they still were enjoyable. This year, however, he knew that things would be different. This year it would be just her and him. And they both had a pretty rough year already, they needed to blow off some steam.
"You know what? My aunt is coming tomorrow,"as Charlie spoke he witnessed Quinn's eyes becoming brighter and a hopeful smile formed on her lips. It made him hurt twice as much as he shook his head."my mother's sister."
"Oh. Have you talked to him?"Quinn asked sadness filling her voice. From what Charlie had heard from her, they didn't have any news from Brendon and the few times she had called he wasn't there or didn't want to talk. Eventually she stopped trying. They all did. Newt, on the other hand, was not any better. His aunt and uncle had cut all contact with Charlie's family which meant he hadn't heard from Newt for almost an entire year.
"No."Quinn nodded sadly"Anyways,"he continued after taking a deep breath"She'll be in our house for one week but when she's gone, I could ask my parents if you could stay with us for a while. It will be one day after your birthday but it will be fun."
"Charlie, you don't have to."
"I want to."the two children smiled and shared a hug.
.
"You smell like smoke."
"And you smell like daisies."Dan said and coughed a little bit. He couldn't possibly be smelling smoke, he had barely managed to finish a cigarette. It wasn't that he liked smoking, it was all his brother's fault for not hiding his own pack of cigarettes well. Dan was only a kid and it was obvious that curiosity had gotten the best of him.
"Noah told me you wanted him to find you more nicotine."Skye explained"Since when is that a thing?"
"I tried this morning."he told her"It's nice, a bit uneasy at first, but it calms me down. It clears my head too."
"It's a drug."
"Says you."
"I take pills because they help me."she argued and let herself lean against the wall"My parents are divorcing."The statement made Dan raise an eyebrow.
"Are they going to fight for your custody?"
"No."she chuckled bitterly"They don't want me. Neither of them."
"And what does that mean? Wha--they can't do that."
"It's a small town. No one will judge them."she stated sadly"They're going to sent me back to the orphanage."
.
In exactly one week things have fallen apart for Quinn. Something happen to Charlie, like he completely disappeared of the face of the earth. Dan and Skye remained distance with only occasional hellos if they were to cross paths and they usually chose to avoid those too. Then her birthday came and she believed something would change.
Nothing did change though.
And Quinn spent her twelfth birthday alone in an empty house with no people calling her to wish her a happy birthday, not even her parents. Only Brittany sent her a message in the afternoon apologizing on behalf of both her and their parents for not calling. Quinn was once more left alone.
The one thing they had promised her she would never feel again.
"Oh, why are you crying, Quinny?"the voice was sweet and caring. Quinn lift her gaze and watched the girl talking. She was taller than her with long brown hair and a caring smile, a smile she knew all too well."Look at your eyes! Who made you sad, honey?"
Next to her stood a taller brunette boy who Quinn thought she would never see again. At least she hoped she wouldn't.
"You're not real."
"That's nonsense! Of course we are!"Marley argued and sat next to her"We heard it was someone's birthday and said we should stop by."
At that moment, Quinn brought her knees closer to her face and let her small 'birthday girl' hat fall from her head. She pressed her palms against her face and began sobbing. For she truly was alone. Marley and Ryder was just another proof of that."They all left me."
"But we won't."and with that Marley and Ryder hugged her tight bringing the feeling of safety back to her. A feeling she had missed dearly.
.
"There is someone on the phone for you."
"I don't want to talk."
"They refuse to hang up though."the blonde woman told Charlie. The boy sighed, why couldn't they all just leave him alone? He left his bed and snatched the phone from his aunt's hand. The woman just scoffed in return. If only she wasn't that cold hearted. She might have been related to his mother but the two women had nothing in common.
His mother was kind and caring, she smiled and could light up the world. She brought hope even in the most tough situations, that was what his dad always said, and was prone to help anyone who was lost. She was a fighter and one of the most important people in Charlie's life. His aunt, though, was the completely opposite. She was cold and distant, she showed no expression or fear and Charlie was positive that she never cried either.
"Hello?"there was a pause on the other line. Charlie wanted to scream, it was one of these calls again. He hated doing these, he hated hearing all these distant relatives who suddenly remembered his existence. He hated hearing them pretending they care.
"Hi."the voice comes out in a whisper but Charlie would recognize it everywhere"My parents let me call. Grandma said, er she called and, it was just yesterday. I didn't know. We didn't."
"I know."
"You were in the airport."
"My aunt was coming, we went to pick her up."he said and sniffed his nose.
"I'm really sorry."
"It's okay."he whispered"It's okay that they aren't here. They are living a life beyond and travel the stars."
"In their red box?"Newt chuckled remembering the dream that Charlie had.
"Yeah."
"I still wish I was with you."
"I know."
"And what are you going to do now?"Newt asked sobbing"Live on your own?"
Charlie glanced at his aunt who was, rather apathetically, reading a book while drinking tea in silence. He turned his gaze to his shoes and sighed"Oh, how I wish that was the case."
#cool kids#glee#faberry#panic! at the disco#bandom#ryden#phandom#phan#aos#skyeward#marlie#class bbc#the maze runner#newtmas
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Potentially Great Albums. Eric B & Rakim - Follow the Leader
"Follow The Leader", Eric B & Rakim's 1988 second coming, is not a good album.
The duo had four albums before they went their separate ways - while most agree that "Paid in Full" was their magnum opus, from there it gets a bit more difficult. The other three have their own great parts, and their own flaws. Both "Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em" (1990) and "Don't Sweat The Technique" (1992) had broad underlying themes both musically and lyrically. They were demonstrably different from the duo's other works, and polar opposites of each other; there was a sense of artistic development in both cases without sacrificing their own consistency.
Therefore, Follow The Leader is recognisable as somewhat of a transitional album, sitting comfortably between the duo's debut and the more mysterious yet aggressive "Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em".
So why is it still loved, even quoted by some as an improvement on Paid in Full?
As it starts with the title track (Follow the Leader, obviously), it's plain to see that they are both in their prime; the beat is magnificent and perfectly fits Rakim's umpteen brilliant lines. This is where any doubts were dispelled. From there, we go straight into "Microphone Fiend"; a brilliant song that caters perfectly to Rakim's lyrical strengths. It employs a broad theme that allows him to deviate from braggadocio and metaphor into something more, without seeming forced. The beat is also perfect, different to the opener and employing a rhythm that allows Rakim to twist his words around it in different ways. "Lyrics of Fury" is the third track in a row to be one of their most praised; a raw, simple breakbeat that Rakim destroys.
So what's the problem? Well, from here, it falls off a cliff.
"Eric B. Never Scared" is nothing out of the ordinary. A good DJ interlude over a good beat. The problem is that it's over 5 minutes long - aside from the title track, the longest of the lot. Eric B's showcases are, at first, an important part of he and Rakim's albums. However, the track becomes repetitive at, if I'm being generous, 3 minutes in.
It gets worse though. I would contend that "Just a Beat" is the absolute worst song across the duo's entire work. It is simply Eric B, warped voice and all for some reason, talking nonsense before a nice beat comes in. His warped voice then reminds you that it's "a beat", in case you hadn't worked that out, and continues to do so throughout the whole thing. Thankfully, it's a bit shorter than the previous one.
"Put Your Hands Together" is strange. It begins with a minute-long piano piece - one that is actually great, but at odds with the rest of the album, and serves to needlessly drag the song out. When the actual thing starts, it's good - nothing surprising, simply Rakim rhyming over a good, stripped-down funky beat about how great he is in front of a crowd.
"To The Listeners" begins with a pretty awful beat, and someone whispering repeatedly about how it's "To The Listeners" and not the people smelling or tasting the album. Rakim's alright on this, but nothing more. In fact, he sometimes sounds off-beat, and raps too slowly to mesh with it.
"No Competition" is a good song. Not bad at all, and more braggadocio over a faster beat that sounds like Follow the Leader's little brother. "The R" is a song that I've never got - apparently ghost-produced by Mark the 45 King, so expectations are high. It's not bad, but clashes musically with the rest of the album, and Rakim himself. Compared to how raw the rest of the beats sound, it almost dominates the song - not catering to Rakim's strengths.
"Musical Massacre" is also great - probably the best of the lot aside from the opening 3 tracks. There's no unique theme lyrically, and the beat is fast and raw - fitting with much of the album's high points.
The ending is what saves the album. Actually, no it's not - it's the instrumental version of the worst beat on the album, appropriately titled "Beats for the Listeners". I wouldn't even have this as a bonus track.
So, judging from the above, not a great album. But I believe something great could have been made from what's there. So let's rearrange things.
Other opinions are available.
1: To The Listeners - cut down
I have to include this song. Therefore, let's begin by cutting the opening loop (and whispering) down - it's not really a song that needs to showcase the beat. Have one 4-bar loop, before Rakim comes in, and one verse - perhaps the actual opening one, or picking at lines that suit a broad, introductory song. Either way, as a stripped-down, slow interlude of a song, it's better placed to open the album.
2: The R - Extended Remix - cut down
Like I said, "The R" wasn't my favourite song on the album. However, I believe the 45 King's extended remix is a perfect opener after the intro. Strip down the opening part a bit, and cut straight after the "what happened to peace?" sample, and you have a good song. The rest of it can come later...
3: Musical Massacre
My main problem with "Follow the Leader" is that it promises so much - I don't think I've ever seen an album of any genre quite so frontloaded. Therefore, "Musical Massacre" is the perfect follow-up; different to the previous vibes, switching it up without giving away the absolute best. A fast, frenetic display that shows the variety on board. I imagine this as best with "The R"'s ending sample cutting straight into this without a beat.
4: No Competition
Same principle as the previous one - great without being the best.
5: Microphone Fiend
It's now necessary to deviate from the two similarly-minded songs, and at the same time throw one of the duo's best moments in. So here it is. Perfectly placed to break up the album.
6: Put Your Hands Together - cut down
The piano bit needs to go, unfortunately. But it's a smooth song that follows "Microphone Fiend" relatively well, not being too jarring.
7: Eric B. Never Scared - cut down
Well, obviously. Cut it down to 1:30 at the absolute max, and you have an interlude to break up the album. Take it simply as that, and instead of a bad song, you have a good buffer between the previous two relatively smooth tracks and...
8: Lyrics of Fury
One of the album's three great openers. Placed perfectly to remind any of the listeners how great the duo really is, in case they'd forgotten.
9: The R - Extended Remix
Another musical interlude. I love musical interludes. "Paid in Full" was helped a great deal by how Eric B's showcases broke up Rakim's - I would argue that one isn't enough on here. Technically there are 3 musical interludes on the album, but let's forget those exist. Cut in after the first half of the song cuts - starting with "Peace!", and it serves the purpose of giving the album a start-to-end correlation. It would also need to be cut down towards the end.
10: Just a Beat - with a rapper
Picture that. Who'd put Rakim on an Eric B. beat? Ridiculous. I think the levity of the song would at least allow for a grand verse or two from Rakim, broken up with scratching on the start and end.
11: Follow the Leader
To me, this is the perfect end to the album. It's a fantastic song, but one which is best suited to a roaring conclusion. In the end, the listener's last impression becomes that of the duo at their peak. Somewhat different to the quiet fart that is "Beats for the Listeners".
Ok, I understand - creative decisions are a small part of an album's tracklist. Record companies will obviously prefer an album frontloaded with the album's prime cuts. For me to argue that the above would make a better album is not only a matter of opinion, but also entirely moot. Granted, telling the reader that the article is moot at the end is the written "Beats for the Listeners (For the Readers - lolz)". But the great album was in there - with this minor shuffle, I feel that the album stands up as well as Eric B. & Rakim's others.
Disagree? Let me know in the comments below. Oh hang on, nobody's reading this. Don't let me know, then. Keep it all bottled up until years later you go on a blind date and vent to them about how "Beats for the Listeners" is actually a masterpiece.
Bonus Rubbish
- The Piano part of "Put Your Hands Together" could potentially serve as the backbone of a great song in its own right. As long as the mixing was right (as in, not Rakim being drowned out), and the rest of the song was similarly grand, it could serve as a great centrepiece for the album.
- Another thing that "Follow the Leader" would've benefitted from is a thematic song. The duo's other albums always have at least one track that steps out of braggadocio, keeping things relatively fresh. "Paid in Full" had the title track, "Let the Rhythm Hit Em" had a few, and "Don't Sweat the Technique" had a couple. The closest one is "Microphone Fiend" - a brilliant track, obviously, but one that doesn't deviate from Rakim being a good rapper. Said theme would only need to be broad, but it would help make the album seem less dry and repetitive.
- There's a great history of labels forcing changes and cuts to a song in order to make it suitable for single release. So here's where the original version of "The R" comes in - quite mainstream, grander-sounding than the other tracks, and a good introduction to the group. If you buy it and are interested, the real version's on the album.
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WHY I'M SMARTER THAN ANYTHING
A fundraising, and decide they should raise money too, since that seems to be in a hundred years. No idea In a sense, it's not a switch to Apple, but a famous speaker. Many are right. Bill Gates who achieve nothing. When searching for ideas, look in areas where you have some expertise. So there is obviously not a fixed amount of wealth in the world for granted. And if you don't get told what to do very much. But it's lame to clutter up the semantics of the language, which could in principle be written in C. Good software designers are no more engineers than architects are. No first use of software patents against companies with less than 25 people.
Sometimes you get excited about some new project and you want to encourage startups in a particular city, you have worse problems to worry about this, it is possible to raise too much. And my main computer except when I need to be able to sell some of their own.1 How did things get this way? So even if the problem is important enough to build a wall of a given size. Saying less about implementation should also make programs more flexible. Use difficulty as a guide not just in selecting the overall aim of your company total, it starts to get harder to raise an A round.2 In ancient Rome the price of a football stadium, any town that was decent to live in a giant city of three or four years. Are there better ways to solve them?
If an adult says that's a stupid idea, is simply to look the other person is.3 You just can't expend any attention on it so you can get is by selling your startup in the early stages, giving up upside and risk for a smaller but guaranteed payoff.4 Or more importantly, who's in it: if the study of ancient texts is a valid field for scholarship, why not modern texts? When Lisp first appeared, these ideas were far removed from ordinary programming practice, which was dictated largely by the hardware available in the late 19th century the study of ancient texts was still the backbone of the curriculum. It's not just the classes that make a university such a good place to crank oneself into the future. Why is it so important to work on projects that seem like they'd be cool. Why didn't anyone think of it before? What's really happening is that startup-controlled rounds. Number of users may not be so naive as it sounds. So when you get rich is that a real essay, you can build all the rest at playing chess or writing novels, making money is a very specialized skill. Then they immediately went on to start a startup, think how risky it once seemed to your ancestors to live as we do today.
I just wanted to hack. Lisp. There's nothing more valuable than an unmet need that isn't your own, it may be found necessary, in some cases, for a time as a mercenary in Africa, for a time as a doctor in Nepal, for a time as a mercenary in Africa, for a mistress to relinquish, on assuming the responsibility of a household, many of the stories about Jeremy Jaynes's conviction say that he was a programmer that Facebook seemed a good idea with competitors than a bad one without. Explaining himself later, he said. As I was doing it I tried to convince users to pay for what we'd built. What's going on? But we also raised eyebrows by using generic Intel boxes as servers instead of industrial strength servers like Suns, for using a then-obscure open-source projects rather than research, but toward languages being designed by the application programmers who need to use them? Everyone I can think with noise. There are a lot of pressure to use middle-of-the-envelope calculations, this one has a lot of time on the software. Not here.5 The latter is much more expensive.6 Since there are no longer leads, why do you need to learn to hack mostly by hacking.
Addictive things have to be. If you just keep trying, you'll find valuable ones just sitting there waiting to be implemented. I can live without them.7 There will continue to operate. The third worry of the pointy-haired boss is, right? Its purpose is to shield the pointy-haired boss doesn't want to open it. But if you're in the inexperienced but earnest majority, the solution is to talk to his girlfriend in Taiwan, and to a lesser extent Britain under the labor governments of the 1960s have liked writing programs in a way that the hosts often have to rephrase the question for them. In fact they'd cause there to be more precise than you get from using a powerful language, b write a de facto interpreter for one, or c yourself become a human compiler for one. Being proud of how well you did at fundraising is like being proud of your college grades. The path it has discovered is the most economical route to the sea. Prices are so much higher now that if you let Henry Ford get rich, try spending a couple days in some of the most successful companies and explain why they were not as lame as they seemed when they first launched.
Certainly this tends to be the case in individuals. One possible exception might be things that are fun to work on problems you despise rather than ones you fear.8 You have a lot of macros, and I have always worked hard to teach our kids not to be too disciplined. Standardized paperwork will do away with the need to negotiate anything except the valuation, and the first cars. It makes a better story that a company won because its founders were so smart. A Basic interpreter for the Altair; Basic for other machines; other languages besides Basic; operating systems; applications; IPO. You are whatever you wrote.
It's not enough to make it to profitability on the money they have left? Painting was not, at the time that Federico da Montefeltro, the Duke of Urbino, would one day travel from Boston to New York via Memphis. You should only write about things you've thought about a lot, will probably surprise most readers. One of the most successful founder we've funded so far, Sam Altman, actually. I can remember times when we were just exhausted after wrestling all day with some horrible technical problem. And yet a group has to be is a promising experiment that's worth funding to see how anyone could argue that the salaries of professional basketball players don't reflect supply and demand. I could see using something like that. Barely usable, I admit, but usable.9
Notes
Html. However, it would have expected them to private schools that in the services, companies that can't reasonably expect to do right. In grad school, because you could build products as good ones don't even want to sell or not, don't worry about the new top story.
Well, of S P 500 CEOs in the comment sorting algorithm. Many of these limits could be pleasure in a signal. What I should probably start from scratch.
The liking you have more money was the first wave of the word procrastination to describe what they campaign for. Why Startups Condense in America. Y Combinator makes founders move for 3 months also suggests one underestimates how hard it is.
But that solution has broader consequences than just reconstructing word boundaries; spammers both add xHot nPorn cSite and omit P rn letters. But the margins are greater on products. So, can I make this miracle happen?
An investor who's seriously interested will already be programming in Lisp. It's lame that VCs may begin to conserve board seats by switching to what you call the years after Lisp 1. The banks now had to for some reason, rather than ones they capture.
One reason I say is being looked at the valuation of hard work. In grad school, and that he had simply passed on an IBM laptop.
Even college textbooks is unpleasant work, but they start to leave. It rarely arises, and I don't think these are, and b success depended so much on the young care so much a great deal of competition for the most common recipe but not the sense of getting rich from controlling monopolies, just as European politics then had no government powerful enough to convince limited partners.
Many people have seen, so had a juicy bug to track down. There were several other reasons, the task at hand almost does this for you by accidents of age and geography, rather than giving grants.
At this point for me to put in the narrow technical sense of not starving then you should make the fund by succeeding spectacularly.
#automatically generated text#Markov chains#Paul Graham#Python#Patrick Mooney#schools#work#patents#individuals#campaign#recipe#word#problem#Facebook#Startups#responsibility#procrastination#valuation#Ford#Taiwan#juicy#sup#projects#users#politics#architects#Intel#Number#Lisp#Altman
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