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#I've always wondered what Bill's reaction would be to seeing the love of his life dead
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Green Dress - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader
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Summary: Easy Company hits the town for a much needed night of fun and relaxation in Paris. Reader, who's always in regular military wear and very tomboy, decides to dress up for the night and receives varying reactions from the boys.
Warnings: 18+ content, cursing, oral (f receiving), 1st person female POV (no use of y/n), I think that's it.
A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.
A/N pt2: This is my first time writing any type of explicit sexual scene, let me know what y'all think. As usual likes, comments, and reblogs give me love. Enjoy!!
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I look at myself in the mirror and can't decide if I like what I see or should call the whole night off and stay in bed. I've styled my hair in a simple design, flowy but still away from my face. Light make-up highlights my eyes, cheeks and lips; just enough to make everything pop without being over the top. My hands run down my dress, picking away invisible lint. It's a deep, gorgeous green that almost shimmers in the light, falling just above my knee in a way that would cause outrage back home but is just this side of acceptable in Paris.
Ah, screw it. Let's have some fun. With a final twirl, I flash myself a smile and excite my hotel room to meet the guys downstairs. I stop briefly at the top of the stairs and look at the group waiting for me. We've been through a lot together; Toccoa, Sobel, jumping (literally) into Normandy, countless battles won and lost, losing fellow brother's, etc. Never once did they make me feel alienated or less than, each providing different facets of friendship and overall making a family.
In a weird way I was nervous to have them see me so feminine and semi dolled up. I've never wore anything other than the standard OD uniforms and was always down for "boy activities" in the down times. I was constantly referred to as "one of the boys" and never really cared until this moment. I was worried my effort would be turned into a joke. Just once I'd like them to see me as an actual woman. Well, at least one of them to anyways.
Just as I started my decent towards them, Luz catches sight of me and gives a loud whistle before beginning to clap. This catches the others attention and pretty soon the lobby is filled with whistles and claps until I reach the bottom of the stairs. I give them all an embarrassed smile, fully aware that my face is burning a deep red and I'm fighting the urge to run back upstairs and hide.
"Lookin' good kid!" Toye comes up and gives me a small kiss on my cheek, smiling as he motions for me to twirl around. I do a small spin, setting off the whistles and claps again.
"Oh, stop you hound dogs." I laugh lightly, waving my hands at them to quiet down.
"You knew a lady was underneath all those clothes and dirt." Luz shoots me a cheeky smile, grabbing my hand and giving it a kiss. I flip him off once he releases my hand, making him laugh. "There she is!"
"Alright let's get out of here, I'm dying for a drink." I start to make my way through the group to the exit. This causes a small, playful scuffle to erupt as some of the guys move towards me to grab my hand and be my escort. In the end Liebgott wins, shooting everyone a smile and me a wink. As we all spill out into the streets in search of the bar, my eyes briefly connect with Bill and I'm left wondering what's caused the frown on his face.
Two hours later, I'm on my fourth beer and loving the buzz I'm feeling. I've just finished another turn around the dance floor, being passed between Tab, Luz, Bull, and even Martin joined for a few beats. Needing to catch my breathe, I settle on a barstool and wait for my water to arrive. Before my water can get there, a few shadows come up to my side. Expecting it to be some of my group, I spin around with a wide smile and am met with three strangers faces.
"Oh, sorry. I thought you were part of my Company." I give a small laugh, slightly embarrassed. The one closest to me just smiles and shakes his head slightly.
"No need to apologize ma'dam, if you'll have us we'd like to keep you company though." His English was nearly perfect, made sweeter by his French accent. What's the harm in a little flirting?
With a soft smile, I extend my hand out to them and give my name. They each take turns telling me theirs and giving my hand a kiss afterwards. While definitely being more flirty than I imagined they'd be, they were pleasant enough to talk to and even made me laugh a few times. When a new song started to play Pierre, the first one to speak to me, asks if I'd like to dance and I agree.
We are halfway through the song, having a really good time, when someone taps Pierre's shoulder. To my shock and confusion, there was Bill. He looks like he is holding himself back from killing Pierre, for what reason I have no clue.
"Mind if I cut in." It was a statement, flat out. No room for but's or giving a raincheck. I see Pierre is ready to go toe to toe with Bill, but that is a fight he'd never win and I don't want the night to turn sour.
I pat Pierre's shoulder and tell him it was alright and I've had a lovely time. He looks skeptical at Bill, but gave me a perfect smile mirroring my sentiments and gave my hand a final kiss as he walks back to his friends. Without wasting anytime, Bill grabs the hand that was just kissed and tugs me flush against him.
It takes a few seconds to get into a comfortable rhythm after that awkward start, whatever the hell that was, but we manage and are soon swaying between the other dancing partners. I was torn between reveling in the feeling of the heat of his hand on my waist and the skin to skin contact of our hands, and how confused and frustrated I am with how he acted.
"I don't know why you did that. Pierre was a nice guy." I speak low enough so the words stay just between us and can't float out to the Easy boys that seem to be watching us with barely concealed interest. They must have witnessed the exchange too.
Bill scoffs and his hand squeezes my waist for a half second. "Pierre. What kinda name is that for a man. Fucking French." I shoot him a small glare.
"Don't be rude. He was a gentleman." Bill rolls his eyes at me then spins me out then back in.
"Gentleman my ass. He was only interested in getting to know you because you're looking like a lady."
His words turn my body into stone and I frown up at him. "Looking like... Fuck you." I rip my hand out his and push him slightly, it doesn't do more than make him shuffle his feet but it's definitely got his attention.
"What the hell is your problem?" His jaw is set and his eyes are burning daggers at me.
"My problem? I don't have a problem. What's your problem? I'm not some dumb little girl that doesn't know what men are like. I know he was flirting with me, hoping for me to go off with him. He wasn't going to get anything, but guess what...I liked the attention! I liked having someone notice that I'm a woman and reminding me that I can be desirable. I'm not just looking like a lady, I am a damn lady you asshole." With a final shove, I turn on my heel and leave the bar before him or anyone else can try and stop me.
I'm halfway down the street, heading to the hotel, when I hear someone jogging behind me. I decide to ignore them and pray it's someone wanting to get someplace fast and not actually coming to talk to me or convince me to come back. Sadly, my prayers are not answered as a hand grabs hold of my elbow spins me around. I'm once again face to face with Bill.
"I don't want to talk to you anymore." I growl out, trying to yank my arm back to no avail.
"You don't gotta talk, just listen. I need to set some things straight." He's using his stern, Sergeant voice, and normally that'd have me blushing but I'm too angry for it to have it's usual effect on me right now.
"No thanks, I've heard enough for the evening." I make another attempt to pull my arm out, but he just pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me arms and waist, pining me against him. All I can do is glare.
Bill scans the sidewalk and road quickly, slightly nodding to himself as he makes some internal decision and lifts me off the ground, walking us a little ways into an alley to our right. We are far enough in that no one can stumble upon us easily but we can still get some of the street light so it's not pitch black.
"What the hell Bill? Have you become a psycho killer?" I push a little away from him, but that only presses me against the alley wall. He uses this to his advantage by taking a step forward, caging me between him and the wall. My brain short circuits a little at being so close to him.
"You're wrong." When he doesn't immediately continue, I raise an eyebrow hoping to encourage him to elaborate. After a few more seconds he continues. "We know you're a lady. The whole damn battalion knows you're a lady. Wearing OD's doesn't hide the shape of your ass when you bend over to help with the car engines or the outline of your breasts when you take your jacket off to cool down. All you have to do is glance around and you'll see the boys drooling all over themselves staring at you." His hand lands on my hip and squeezes. Hard.
I have to take a few deep breathes to steady myself before formulating a response. "If that's true, then what was the big deal about those guys flirting with me tonight?"
"Because they don't know what everyone in the battalion knows. You're my girl. It's one thing to have the boys dance with you or give you compliments, they'd never cross that line or I'd kill 'em. Those French twats wanted to cross that line." I barely registered anything after his declaration: my girl. His girl.
"You're girl?" My words come out in a whisper. Bill's face finally starts to soften and an easy smile starts to spread across his face.
"You really are oblivious. It's the worst kept secret in Easy Company. You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Gorgeous, funny, sweet, and just the right mixture of feminine and tomboy. Everything I've ever dreamed of. And you're wrapped up like a damn present in this dress and I've been dying to get it open all night." By the time he's done speaking his mouth is a hairs breathe away from mine, eyes searching mine for any sign of rejection.
All words have left me so I decide to respond with action and close the distance between us. What starts out as gentle and timid, quickly transforms to rough and frenzied. Bill gives my bottom lip a bite, causing me to gasp and allowing him access into my mouth. I don't bother putting up a fight, I'm putty in his arms and give him full dominance. The hand not squeezing my hip so hard I know there will be some type of bruise, grasps the back of my neck and angles my head to the side to give him better access.
My hands have made their way up his chest, to his shoulders, and finally still with one in his hair and the other at the back of his neck. When the need for air becomes to much for me, I turn my head slightly to the side and break the kiss. Bill's breathing just as heavily as I am, but doesn't stop his assault. He moves my head again and starts trailing kisses up and down my neck, alternating between nips and licks based on my reactions. When he hits a particular sweet spot, I can feel him grin before biting there again hard enough to leave a mark.
"Fuck." I moan out, scratching the back of his neck. "That's gonna be hard to hide." With a final kiss on the new mark, Bill lifts his head to meet my eyes. His eyes are dark with lust and he can't stop smiling.
"That's the point, sweetheart." I roll my eyes at him, but smile back.
"If you get to mark me, I think it's only fair I get to mark you."
"Baby, you can do whatever you want to me. I'm yours." His voice is so deep, it makes my legs shake and I'm instantly happy I have that wall to hold me.
"I think you owe me an apology for what you said to me at the bar before I decide what I wanna do you with you." I mean more as a joke, but he seems to really be thinking about. Before I can reassure him that I'm not upset anymore, he gives me a kiss that has me seeing stars.
Before it leads to another make-out session, Bill breaks away from my mouth, trails kisses down the other side of my neck and then suddenly drops to his knees in front of me.
"What are you doing?" The situation wasn't bad enough to do this.
"I'm apologizing." Bill's eyes are so dark they could pass for solid black and his voice is deep and sensual. My response is cut short as I feel his hands run up my legs, going under my dress and grasp my thighs. With a smirk, he slowly finishes his trek to my underwear and starts pulling them down.
"Bill." I don't know if I say his name to make him stop or because I'm praising him. Either way, I have nothing to follow it up with. He keeps his eyes on me as I shift my feet helping him get my underwear completely off, noticing that he stuffs them in his pocket.
"Just lean back and enjoy baby. Be a good girl and hold this for me." He pushes my dress up to my waist, waiting for me to take hold of it. Good girl, Jesus.
"Sir, yes, sir." I take note of the tightening of his jaw and how his eyes somehow become even darker. There's something to explore later.
Bill grabs hold of my thigh and drapes it over his shoulder, trailing soft kisses on the inside. As he gets closer to my center, he bites and sucks a mark just for us to know about. A small moan escapes and my unoccupied hand lands in his hair. Before the sting has completely faded from his bite, I'm taken over by the sensation of his tongue gliding through my folds.
The only sounds to be heard is our combined groans, my heavy breathing, and his tongue working me like a man starved. His hand not holding my thigh in a death grip, maneuvers around to spread me more open for him and I nearly pass out when he sucks on my clit. I yank on his hair which only seems to spur him on as he starts starts alternating between licking and sucking.
The only words I seem to be able to say is his name and fuck. As my approach to my orgasm comes closer, I'm able to mumble out that I'm close. Bill tabs my thigh to make me look down at him and I nearly cum at the sight.
"Let go, sweetheart. That's an order. Cum. Now." His words, combined with the determined look on his face and a final hard suck on my clit has me falling over the edge chanting his name over and over again.
Bill doesn't let up as my orgasm washes over me, licking and drinking up my release until I start to whimper at the overstimulation. Slowly he places my thigh back on the ground, gently stroking my legs, and tugs my dress back down to cover me again. My hands grip his shoulders as he stands back up and I take in the sight of him. Hair completely wrecked from my fingers, face red from his efforts, breathing heavy and looking like he might drop to knee's to do it all over again.
I grab his jacket and pull him flush against me, kissing him with all the strength I have. He returns the kiss with as much force and pulls my thigh up around his hip, making our hips meet. I moan into the kiss at the feeling of his erection so close to my center and roll my hips to grind against him.
"If you don't stop that, we won't make it back to the hotel." Bill growls between kisses.
"Then you better get us there quickly." I give his lip a quick bite, before a laugh slips out at how fast he starts pulling by the hand back to the sidewalk and towards the hotel.
I think I'll wear this dress more often.
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Their reactions to seeing them shipped (Bungo Stray Dog addition)
Ft: Soukoku, Shin Soukoku (afternotes: there was a mistake in the age calculations due to stupidity so just uhh ignore), FyoLai, FyoZai, RanPoe, SigZai Tw: A bit of swearing and mentions of sex but otherwise, none
Soukoku
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"The slug??? The slug????" Dazai caught his head with his hand, shamefully covering the upper part of his head. He looks to Chuuyas direction, clearly disgausted. "Out of all the options available, y'all chose him??"
"Don't yap around like you're any better." The ginger scoffs. "I should be the one cursing the lord for being portrayed as even remotely interested in your ass."
"What do people even see in us? Clearly I deserve someone who can at least hold their liquor within at least the first 5 minutes." he fans the air.
"Don't give me that shit. A 7 year partnership with somebody isn't gonna turn into gay love, and that's not even considering the fact that I've repeatedly mentioned how badly I want to strangle this bandage fuck-"
"Actually" Dazai inturrupts with a finger raised. "It does occasionally end in gay sex. Just sayin'"
Chuuyas brows flutter. "PICK A SIDE WOULDYA??"
"I'm JUST stating out the truth"
"You mother-"
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FyoLai
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"Did I just hear that correctly??" the clown gasps dramatically, holding onto the shoulder of the man beside him with a gigantic smile. "People think we have a romantic relationship, Dos!!! How adorbs is that??"
Dostoevsky seems to not pay his deepest attention to the matter. "Oh. That so. How fantastic"
Gogol turns to the side with a finger by his chin. "I wonder what they say about us?? And all the fake stories they write of our relationship! How exciting, how exciting! This has just made my day, no, my month!!" he giggles.
Dostoevsky looks up. "Oh, good for you."
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FyoZai
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"Ohhhhhhhhh god. Nevermind what I said about Chuuya" Dazai shook his head in dismay. "Do I look like I'm remotely interested in a showerless-rat??"
"How foolish." the 'showerless-rat' in question replies. "I suppose I've heard worse in my life. But to come to such conclusion is utterly ridiculous and mindless."
Dazai is still shaking his head, unable to keep eye contact with Dostoevsky. "Couldn't these people pick a more tasteful person? I mean I wouldn't mind if I were to be paired at Kunikida at least."
(Dostoevsky has left the chat)
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RanPoe
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"It's... flattering?..." the novelist mutters. "It's weird but... I don't mind it I guess?" The uncertainty in his voice was clear.
He looks to Ranpo, who doesn't seem to be paying attention. "Ranpo? Are you gonna say anything or..."
"Huh? Oh" He looks up to the man. "I like it."
"Y-you do?"
"Well yeah. You're always providing me with the most free snacks out of all the people in the Agency. Hey by the way" He cocks his head. "Why don't you show me that novel you were talking about? It has something to do with powdered donuts right?"
"Well... I didn't write it but... since that person gave it to me... you can read it... I haven't read it yet so..."
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SigZai
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"Romantic...? With....Dazai?"
"Well isn't that an upgrade." Dazai tosses his head.
"Pardon?"
"Well, when I say a tasteful person, I suppose Sigma would certainly fit the bill."
"Uhm, no, no, no????" The manager denies. "I do not... wish to be a part of this?? Who is the one that makes this statement??"
"It's not a someone. It's the internet, a community of a kind, something that I reccomend you to stay away from"
"I am aware of what the internet is" Sigma says. "I just don't get it?? What romance is there between us? Had I just not noticed?"
"Oh believe me, you don't need that in order to have people create a ship for us"
Sigma raises an eyebrow. "A ship? They built a ship for us?" he questions, thinking of the boat kind of ship. "Why does that have anything to do with all this??"
"Oh Sigma."
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thatonegayship · 3 years
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And then he did
Inspired by this post @tswwwit 
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WICKED GAME - by @wonderbatwayne & @not-so-mundane-after-all-97
Fandom: DC Titans
Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson/Kory Anders, Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth, Kory Anders & Rachel Roth, Rachel Roth & Garfield Logan, Graysonfam
Chapter: 16/16
Rating: Mature
Summary:
Everybody plays a game. Every move counts, anyone, can be a player. Some play dirty, some play nice, everybody's got eyes on the main prize.
In a world of deception, money, and power, where women are forced to dance with the devil in the name of survival, where men need to break their oaths to do the right thing, Dick Grayson is on a mission to win. A man with a plan, with a goal and a target. Trigon Azarath needs to be eliminated by any means necessary. He's been playing a very long and calculated game, and it has to stop now.
But what happens when a little ballerina with raven hair and a guarded heart, a girl who shouldn't even exist for all he knows, spins the table on him like the pirouettes she does on stage? When a woman with green eyes and a bloody past sets his world ablaze instead of being just a step on the road to victory? Will sticking to the rules be worth the outcome?
It's a wicked game to play, indeed.
Rhi:
And with that we draw final curtains on Wicked Game. I'm still in awe we created this, we brought it to life and you all supported us by devouring every crumb and screaming about every plot twist. You are truly amazing. Wicked Game isn't just mine and Mundi's... It belongs to everyone who loves these characters and these relationships as much as we do. Thank you for the incredible ride you've given us, all the love week to week. We couldn't ask for better friends and readers!
But there is one very special person I want to thank. My writing partner in crime. The person who breathes the heart of this story. The wonderful, the brilliant, the insanely talented Mundi. This story wouldn't exist without her. I wouldn't be half the writer I am without her. Thank you bestie, for making this collab such a dream, for always encouraging me to push beyond my limits and always cheering me on.
We've played a Wicked Game with you all these past 16 weeks but now the game is over! I guess we all won!
Mundi:
Well, game's over. It's honestly mind blowing this thing actually exist, I still to this day look at his fic, at all the ramblings and brainstorming and I can't believe we did this. But what's more important is that we did this for YOU. This amazing, wonderful fandom that deserves the whole world, our friends from far away who were right here with us on this special journey. Your reaction to this story, the way it was received, it exceeded our hopes and expectations by miles!!! Every laugh, every cry, all the screaming and all the therapy bills thrown at us, we'll cherish that forever. My heart is in shambles right now because the ride is ending, but I'm also so so so thankful to all of you for joining us on this roller coaster. The best friends we've ever had, the best audience we could have hoped for. THANK YOU.
And of course I have to take off the crown and bow down low to my partner in crime. Rhi, my darling, if it wasn't for you, that little scene of Dick seeing his baby girl as a ballerina in a different universe would still be stuck in the back drawer of my brain. You breathed life into it and helped me nurture it and grow it into this magnificent thing. It was an expierence of a lifetime and I will never forget it, I'll be in my 80s still remember every little detail of this adventure. You are incredible. I've learned so much from you, I've grown as a creator, as a writer and as a person because of you. To find a person who clicks with you so easily, who rides on the same frequency as you and loves the art they make and the show they make it for just as much as you do is sometimes a miracle, but it happened to me and I will never be able to fully express how much that means to me. Here's to you, to you brilliant, unbelievable talent and to this friendship that will last as long as Tumblr and ao3 are breathing and LONG AFTER THAT.
And that's a curtain call on Wicked Game. Roll the credits, check the scores. And then... Play it all over again.
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@undertheknightwing @legendsofentity @mejacinta @meetmeunderthestarrynight @escapism-through-imagination @lady-stirling @grocerylines @xburningbluex @ambelle @ffiamgoku @greatthingssmallworld @garsfavouritejacket @redhairgreeneyes1 @halliwellextra @happilyshanghaied @jerriandtheirfanfics @koryvndr
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kingsuckjin · 3 years
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Season of the Witch- TEASER
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☾ Pairing: love triangle Taehyung x jimin x reader
☾ Genre: yandere, smut, horror, thriller
☾ Rating: 18+
☾ Warnings: STALKER SHIT, Tae is insane and has really dark and obsessive thoughts about Jimin, there’s some sexy stuff in here too, hints towards make oral sex and just sex, violent themes I guess and hits of murder.
☾ Summary: all Taehyung ever wanted was Jimin, and he had always done whatever it took to stop whatever or whoever got in his way, you were going to be no different. Surely Jimin didn’t love you as much as Taehyung loved him… right?
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"So," Jimin sucked in a deep breath from across the table of the diner and nervously adjusted in his seat before looking across the table at his best friend. He wondered why he was so nervous, why he was dragging this out, why he thought Taehyung wouldn't understand.
"So, you brought me here to talk about something?" Taehyung cleared his voice, doing his best to try to hide his own nervousness and butterflies mixing in his stomach as he played with a little pink packet of sugar on the table.
"Since you're my best friend and I want you to know what's going on in my life..." Jimin's eyes flickered to his melting vanilla milkshake he no longer cared about. He felt like he needed to look at anything but Taehyung, just in case he had the same reaction as last time, although that was years ago when… Jimin refused to let his mind go back to it.
Taehyung bit at his lip and put down the sugar packet he had been playing with upon hearing Jimin's words. He looked down at the little chipped places in the diner table, chipped at by time itself. He knew now what was coming, and it wasn’t what he had wanted to hear… it wasn't going to be anything close to "I love you". He braced himself for the impact, heart ready to shatter into his ribcage and start sobbing in front of Jimin.
"I've- I've met this girl…" Jimin floundered at first, but the rest just slipped out of his mouth naturally as if he had been born to say these words "she's the one, Tae."
Jimin's sentence had come out in slow motion for Taehyung, as if the world wanted to drag this out just to hurt him more. Although Taehyung knew it had been coming seeing as Jimin had been quite distant recently, just like before, it still left Taehyung swallowing down the pain. A sad whimper too high and soft to be his own partially escaped his throat before Taehyung caught it, cut it off, and drowned it out by clearing his throat. He could feel how wide his eyes were, he felt his pulse quicken and blood heat to an uncomfortable level under his skin. He wanted to crawl out of his own outter flesh and slink away unnoticed by the man sitting across from him. He didn't know what to do, but he had to say something, so said the only thing he could think to say.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." Jimin confirmed with a nod "you- you aren't going to say what you said last time?" Jimin furrowed his brows with worry.
Taehyung had been through so much with Jimin last time he had uttered these words to him. Jimin should've known better than to go and do this again, Taehyung shouldn't have to warn him again, Jimin should be scared, he should be too scarred to do this to Taehyung again. But would Taehyung say all of this to his friend? No. Warning him of the future heartbreak didn't work last time, it only made Jimin push Tae away and he wasn't about to make that mistake again… he didn't have to, this time around he was prepared, it would be easier now.
"Of course not." Taehyung sat up straighter in the diner booth and watched Jimin's surprised reaction. "It was wrong of me to say all of that last time, especially after what happened."
Jimin's face fell into a pout for a moment as he remembered but pushed it out of his mind. It still hurt him, but now at least he had you.
"You deserve to be happy and you deserve someone." Taehyung forced the best smile he could as he wished that someone was him. He had always wished that someone was him, ever since the both of them had been in high school. Taehyung said a silent prayer every night that one day Jimin would just come to his senses. Taehyung's mind drifted away to the time where he thought Jimin was almost his, the night it was so close he could taste it, he did taste it, he could still taste Jimin's sticky smooth peach schnapps flavored lips and tongue on his.
"-she's such a good dancer too. I can't wait for you to meet her." Taehyung had only caught the tail end of Jimin's rambling. Jimin's smile and enthusiasm when talking about someone that wasn’t him made that warmth in his veins turn into a fire in his stomach, Taehyung was angry. The muscles in hands clenched to try to hold himself together. His hands had felt so tight that they ripped the packet of sugar he had open that he hadn’t realized he had picked back up off the table.
Taehyung looked down at the little pile of sparkling sugar on the table that Jimin ignored as he went for a drink of his milkshake. He watched as his friend's lips wrap around the straw and thought about how perfect they would look and feel if they were wrapped around his-
Taehyung let his eyes fall back to the sugar on the table but that was no help either. He now thought about Jimin's lips coated in the tiny crystals, kissing him, tasting sweeter than the night they almost- Taehyung was sure he'd have a breakdown right here in this diner if he didn’t stop thinking about that night.
"How's the art stuff coming along?" Jimin decided to ask, he hadn't heard Taehyung talk about painting in a while now. He knew it had been Tae's favorite hobby since they were teenagaers, and he was good at it too.
Art stuff. Taehyung knew he didn't care about it, he didn’t even pretend to. Jimin didn't come to the first and last art show his paintings had been featured in. It was a disappointing blow to Taehyung, so disappointing that he gave it up.
"Yeah, I've been exploring other hobbies lately and haven't had time for it. Work and stuff too has been keeping me busy." It wasn't a lie, it was the truth, however Tae wasn't about to start naming his new "hobbies" Thankfully he didn't have too, Jimin's phone went off.
"Oh! Oh man, It doesn't feel like we were here that long does it? I've got to be at the dance studio in fifteen minutes." Jimin couldn’t help but smile as he said it, anytime he mentioned or thought of the dance studio at all now he couldn’t help but smile.
Jimin quickly held his hand up to flag down a waitress but Taehyung stopped him.
"I've got it, you're in a rush." Taehyung urged.
"Are you sure?" Jimin questioned "I'm the only one who ordered anyt-"
"It was just a milkshake. Just head out." Taehyung urged once again, forcing a boxy smile.
Jimin thanked his best friend with a cheerful crescent moon eyed smile that Taehyung would die to see everyday.
Once Jimin had left Taehyung grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder and in the blink of an eye, had stolen the straw from Jimin's half finished milkshake. Under the table, he wiped the excess milkshake from the straw, careful not to touch the end Jimin had put his lips on, and tucked it into his small bag he had brought along with him before flagging down a waitress and paying the bill.
Once Taehyung had gotten out to his car, what Jimin had told him began to catch up with him and really sink in past his bones and into his soul.
Jimin now had a girlfriend.
"Fuck." Taehyung muttered to himself and let his head fall onto the steering wheel. Was this it? Was it all too late? Taehyung should’ve been faster about making Jimin love him.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He let out as he slammed his head against the wheel a couple of times, anger and disappointment radiated through his body.
This wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to be like this ever again. Taehyung thought he had taught Jimin a lesson, that lesson being he shouldn't love anyone but him.
Taehyung was protecting Jimin. He was protecting him from his own self, not just from the heartbreak. He knew Jimin's heart was filled with warmth and love that he wanted to share, but why couldn't he just share it with Taehyung? Taehyung, the best friend who was always there for him. Taehyung, the man who strived to be everything Jimin wanted. Taehyung, who would, has and will kill for the man he loves.
Taehyung didn't know what you looked like yet, but he imagined the satisfaction of taking you down just like the girl before you.
He felt a smile grow and spread across his face.
He knew shouldn't be worried, it would be easier this time now that he's getting the hang of this black magic thing. It could be as easy as stomping an ant.
A laugh sounded throughout the quiet car and only grew louder and heavier the more he thought about your death.
Taehyung knew that in the end all you were would be another lesson, another reason for Jimin to never get close to anyone ever again, only him. It would always only be Taehyung, and he figured Jimin would have to learn that eventually.
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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years
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Ok so I've been coming back here to reread all of your work and I never get tired of it (the NSFW alphabet one is low-key my favorite one 👀) and let me tell you that you're one of my favorite writers and love all of your work.
You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but do you have hc of how Billy Russo would react/ be when he finds out that he's going to be a father? Based on your NSFW alphabet you did for him, you described him as a (extremely) sweet and caring person and I couldn't help to think about how he would be if he ever had a kid of his own.
(Once again, feel free to ignore this if you want to or feel uncomfortable doing it. It's a thought that hass been in my head for a while and wanted to get it out of my system lmao 😂)
First off, thank you! I really appreciate that 🥺🖤🖤🖤
Also, I love talking about headcanons, never worry about asking me about them lmao
So I just wanna say since I did write a multi chapter series about how Billy walked away when he found out that like, the idea for that happened because the first part, his letter to you, is what came to my head. And I wanted to write something sad and angsty. I feel like he's much more likely to stick around in all honesty but the boys got so many issues who even knows loool
But I just wanted to point that out because this will be different and I don't want people to be like; 'But Thalia... you did a whole thing where he left...' 😂
So yeah lmao
Remember, this is my Billy. AU, still bros with Frank Billy 👀😂🖤
I've split this into a few scenarios because I feel like there would be small differences depending on the context.
One night stand:
You had a one night stand with Billy. An amazing, ruin you for other men, kind of one night stand. But then you found out you were pregnant and went to Anvil to tell him. Of course when you turn up there he has no idea the bomb you're about to drop on him. Instead, he gives you a filthy smirk as you enter his office.
"Couldn't stay away?"
When you tell Billy you're pregnant, there's a long moment where he just blinks at you and you're pretty sure you might have broke him.
He cycles through a million and one emotions before it settles on a mix of sheer terror, shock and happiness.
He tries not to get offended when you blurt out that you'd understand if he didn't want to be part of his baby's life. He didn't want his kid to grow up feeling like he didn't love them. He's not his mother.
You're not offended when the first words to leave his lips are asking if the baby is definitely his. Its a valid question since you'd slept with him just hours after meeting him in a bar.
He tells you he wants to be there and of course he takes care of all medical bills and even tries to convince you to let him buy you a better place to live. Somewhere closer to him so you and the baby will be close by.
It wasn't planned or expected by any means but he wants to be there.
Casual sex/friends with benefits:
Billy comes over expecting to get some great sex and instead has you thrusting a pregnancy test in his hands. You're scared and upset and have no idea how he'll react. You've been sleeping together for a while but been friends for longer than that. His commitment issues are exactly why you're worried.
He sits down and stares at it, letting his brain try to absorb the fact he's going to be a dad. He feels the shot of anxiety run through him, wondering if he can do it. What kind of dad could he be? His own mother never loved him, would he be capable of loving a child?
But he knows the answer is yes. Because despite not even being in a relationship with you and this coming out of the blue, he feels excitement welling inside of him and he doesn't even realise he's smiling at the test in his hands.
When he looks back at you, sees how scared you are, he feels a pang of something in his chest that feels an awful lot like panic. He asks what you want to do, scared of the answer you'll give him. But of course you scoff and tell him you're keeping the baby.
Relief and happiness flood his body then as he gets up, hugging you tightly and stroking your hair.
"You don't gotta worry. I'll take care of you both, I promise."
And he means it. Once again he pays all the medical bills and he shockingly tells you he'd like to make a real go out of what you two have.
He buys a house for you and the baby but doesn't pressure you about him living there too. He let's you set the pace for what's happening between you.
Relationship/marriage:
He cries. Like a lot. Planned or not, the news has him weeping like a little girl. You're living together so he notices when you're feeling unwell. Notices that you haven't had your period since he normally gets you ice-cream and also gets you pads and things if you need them. He doesn't say anything though until you do.
So he gets the test for you. The pair of you sit on the bed after you did what you needed, a timer on his phone. The test is on the dresser across the room. Both of you are silent. Overwhelmed by what might happen. He really wants it to be positive. (If this wasn't planned then when you told him you might be, he started to really think about it and found he wanted a baby with you).
When the timer goes off you both jump up comically but hesitate near the dresser. Billy ends up being the one brave enough to look. You watch his reaction for a moment and you're startled when his eyes water, the way he looks at you with a beaming smile as the tears fall without him even noticing.
"We're havin' a baby!" He grins like a mad man, picking you up and twirling you around.
He's so excited that the second your feet hit the ground, he's on the phone to Frank telling him the news. Still crying, mind you.
Once he's made his phone calls, he tells you the penthouse is being left behind. He's buying a house near the Castle's for your new little family.
Both he and Frank fix it up and decorate it.
No matter which scenario it happens:
Billy goes to every appointment with you, every ultrasound. The first time he sees his baby, he cries. When he finds out if its a boy or girl, he cries. When he first feels the baby kick, he cries. When the baby's born, he's a mess. He attends every class with you and reads all the books he can get his hands on. And of course he asks Frank for advice about anything and everything.
He frequently talks to your bump, regalling the baby with tales of his life or reading from a book. He takes good care of you, anything you need, he gets you. You want pickles and a donut at 4am? Don't worry, Billy's got you. You need crazy good sex because the hormones are driving you up the wall? Billy's got you. You're sobbing because you feel like a beached whale and none of your clothes, even the pregnancy ones fit you? Billy's there. Telling you that you're absolutely beautiful. Radiant even. He gets one of his guys to buy you a bunch of clothes that fit and he cuddles you until you feel better. He dotes on you constantly, always calls and texts if he's not with you to make sure you're okay.
When you go into labour, he's there holding your hand and cheering you on the whole time. And the second the babys there, he's sobbing and smiling like an idiot. When he first holds his baby, it's a feeling he's never felt before. He feels complete in every way. So full of love he just might burst from it. And while a tiny part of him grieves for the baby version of himself that didn't seem to ever have that, he's overwhelmed by the pure happiness and love as he gazes down at his little ones face.
"Shit... you're so perfect."
He vows to be the best damn father he can be and the baby will never feel unloved for even a second.
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who-am-i-no-one · 3 years
Text
Emma. (2020)
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I watched this movie in late January. After multiple viewings and re-reading the book, I have a lot of thoughts about this adaptation.
It seems rather strange, given that Emma is part of my holy trinity of Austen novels, that I didn't watched the most recent adaptation earlier. I think it was mostly due to my initial impression that Anya Taylor-Joy's otherworldly looks didn't quite match what I had in mind for the titular character. I decided to give this version a try after watching Queen's Gambit. Not sure that Anya's looks will ever grow on me, but she did impress me as a young actress who seemed to have a maturity beyond her years.
Long story short: really wished I had seen this movie earlier! It is absurd and heartfelt at the same time, imo, the version that best imbues Austen's humor. It is now my favorite adaption, with the possible exception of Clueless, and I'm not quite sure how much of that is just nostalgia.
From the casting to the direction to the script to the costumes to the set to the soundtrack, I could tell the creative team really put a lot of love into this project. It's always a joy to watch something that's made with love and made well.
Direction
Autumn de Wilde's directing is quite good. I would never have thought this was her first feature. She certainly has a unique and colorful style, which is probably to be expected for such a famous photographer.
Funnily, while watching the movie I kept thinking it reminded me of early Hollywood romantic comedies like Bringing Up Baby (incidentally one of my favorites) or The Philadelphia Story, and then reading interviews and seeing that she had tried to bring in some of that style of humor made me feel rather validated. Also the servants' reactions were awesome!
Absolutely loved the fact that they decided to show that Knightley and Emma were in love with each other very early on in the story, with Knightley more aware of it. I've read some people complaining about the surprise of Emma's being in love being ruined. But come on, did anyone reading two chapters into the book think it wasn't going to be the two of them together in the end?
Loved how much of Knightley's point of view we got in this movie. This is one repressed pinning man. I can totally see this Knightley riding ventre a terre from London in the rain because he thought Emma was heartbroken.
The only gripe I had was the lack of Frank and Jane's subplot. As it seems they shot some scenes for that, I assume it was the director's discretion to take them out. I remember thinking while watching the movie that they must have expected the audience to be familiar with the story because some things just didn't really get explained or extrapolated on a lot. If you hadn't read the book it'd be 30 minutes or more into the movie before you put two and two together and figured out why Mr. Knightley is always at Hartfield.
Script
The script takes most of the dialogue directly from the book, which is awesome. I love Austen's writing because there is a certain musicality to it and retaining that in large part for the movie really made it better for me. The deftness with which Eleanor Catton moved dialogue from one scene in the book to a totally different one in the movie was quite brilliant. Everything flowed so well.
The scenes that differed from the book were also excellent - namely, I really loved the Jane/Knightley duet, the infamous nosebleed and first kiss scenes. 💖 I thought the screenwriter used those changes to quickly establish plot points and character arcs well.
Costume/Hair
Not a Recency expert so can't say much about the costumes and hair as far as period correctness but from reading other reviews it seemed like they were very true to the period. Obviously appreciated them taking the time to show the audience how men got dressed in that time (purely for research purposes obviously 😜).
Emma's dresses were all quite beautiful. I especially loved the black evening dress, the pink one with the roses and the proposal dress. Also loved the little pop of red shoes that went with the proposal dress. As someone who wore red shoes with her wedding gown I heartily approve.
Absolutely loved how Emma's curls unwound as her life unravels. Similarly think they must have done the same for Knightley to a lesser extent. His hair during the card playing scene at the Westons was quite terrible.
Set
I! Loved! Hartfield! It looked just like a doll house. Really most of the sets looked good enough to eat. So much pastel. Reminded me of French macarons.
I liked how everything in Donwell Abbey was shrouded in Holland covers. Makes a good point that Knightley barely lives there at all, that his home has been with the Woodhouses for quite a while now. Which, of course, makes his sacrifice at the end just a little bit less of a sacrifice?
Soundtrack
Isabella Waller-Bridge's music really meshed well with the tone of the entire film. The male and female opera singers, sometimes sounding as if they are bickering with each other and other times seeming to be in duet, was a brilliant touch. The folk music was a little jarring at first but really grew on me.
Johnny Flynn's end credits song "Queen Bee" is amazing. I love that we get Knightley's perspective at the end with a song written and sung by Knightley. It's a lovely coda to the movie. And now, if the next Austen hero doesn't write one for his SO I'm going to think him a very poor sort of lover.
Cast
Anya's Emma was really great. I'm glad they allowed Emma to be her bitchy self. Lol. I haven't watched the 1996 and 2009 versions in a while but I distinctly remember them making Emma too nice. I recall writing after watching the Garai version that Emma was actually mean and they should have let her be mean! If she's not a brat in the beginning, how will we see her change for the better later on? I love what a snob and how manipulative this Emma was and so assured of her place in her little society but still had the vulnerability of almost an imposter's syndrome which I feel most people can relate to.
Her chemistry with Johnny Flynn's Knightley was off the charts. Pretty much every scene they had together I half expected them to reenact the library scene from Atonement lol.
Mia Goth was a wonderful Harriet. She really captured Harriet's inexperience, naivete and diffidence. The orgasmic sounds she was making during the gypsies attack scene were awesome. Although, I could probably have forgone a few of Harriet's scenes for more Frank and Jane.
Not sure why they made Mia go brunette since the book specifically mentioned Harriet was fair? Perhaps having all three leads as blondes was just a bit too much. I'm also not sure if I liked Harriet's ending as I really don't think Emma, even in her most contrite mood, would invite further friendship from a tradesman's daughter and soon-to-be her husband's tenant farmer's wife. This seems a piece of modern day wishful thinking on the part of the creative team.
Bill Nighy was so good as Mr. Woodhouse. He made it so believable why everyone would do everything in their power to accommodate his whims. The gag with the screens was too funny. He was able to sketch out a lonely quirky old man who is afraid to lose those close to him in very limited screen time. Absolutely loved the scene where Emma was heaping blame on herself and he just sat with her in sympathetic silence.
Miranda Hart's Miss Bates was excellent as well. She has long been one of my favorite British comedic actresses but she can also do drama well. Her reaction to Emma's teasing on Box Hill and her forgiveness of Emma later brought me to tears.
Josh O'Connor's Mr. Elton was deliciously creepy. The carriage proposal scene was at once a little scary and hilarious. I actually liked the portrait scenes a little less because I found the acting there slightly affected and veering into 1995 Mr. Collins territory. But as Austen described Elton as having "a sort of parade in his speeches", this was much more forgivable. Really loved Mr. Elton's determination to eat cake during the Eltons' visit to Hartfield.
Tanya Reynolds was an excellent Mrs. Elton and in very little screen time was able to bring to life this meddlesome nouveau riche. Adored her little shimmy during the ball.
Amber Anderson's Jane really looked as if she were in a decline. Callum Turner did a good job as a slightly restless, mischievous and immature Frank Churchill. I did feel his looks were a bit too modern but that's just my personal view.
Given how many scenes they had I thought they used the time they had pretty well with furtive glances and sly smiles at each other to establish the relationship.
Connor Swindells was such a love sick puppy as Robert Martin. Did this role ever get cast in other adaptations? I don't seem to recall at all.
Special shoutout to Oliver Chris's John Knightley. Absolutely had me in stitches.
And last but never the least, Johnny Flynn's Mr. Knightley:
To preface, I will never not fall for Mr. Knightley in any version that I watch. And really, get yourself a good looking enough actor with good enough chemistry with Emma and good enough acting chops and you should have a fairly successful Knightley.
I judge all my Knightleys by the Box Hill scene. And up to that point in the movie, I really liked Johnny Flynn's Knightley. He was playful and sexy and jealous and slightly bitchy as well. The duet scene was lovely because I always appreciate a man who can play instruments and sing well. The sexiness and chemistry of the dance scene was off the charts. That's all well and good. And like I said before, given any well cast actor, I probably would have liked them in those scenes as well, just as I've liked Northam's and Miller's Knightleys.
But, the Box Hill scene absolutely blew me away. To make sure I was not just biased towards the last Knightley I saw on screen, I did go back and compare each version's Box Hill scene and I am, actually, even more blown away. Some of it is a credit to the directing and script, but a large part of it is Johnny Flynn's acting in that scene.
As far a script and directing, the set up to the fight scene was fantastic. Loved Anya's expression changes after she makes the joke. Loved Miranda Hart's Miss Bates as she realizes what Emma meant. The silence that followed. Knightley's shocked face and how sympathetic he was to Miss Bates. Can probably write a whole thing just about this scene alone.
I loved the fact that Knightley had an internal struggle as to whether or not to approach Emma and reproach her for her behavior. I know the book has him tell Emma about his struggle but that just doesn't work as well for me on screen.
During the scene you can just tell how frustrated and disappointed in her he is even though he tries to keep his voice low. But the way he reprimands her does not at all feel lecture-y and I feel like part of it is because it seems like he starts to lose control a little bit as well. His voice starts to crescendo as she stubbornly refuses to admit she was in the wrong and culminates in "badly done, indeed!" with actual fingerpointing. Yikes.
Then he losses steam and looked regretful, almost devastatingly so, at his own outburst and perhaps felt that he was losing her by giving this speech and looked as if he would have said something more - an apology or some words of comfort to soften the blow? - but didn't.
This remorse and the struggle at the beginning really bookended the scene for me.
Absolutely loved his Knightley, and, really, him as an actor after that.
The proposal scene as well was very good. His delivery was just really good. The way he said "If I loved you less then I might be able to talk about it more." with some regret and then closing his eyes as if he can't believe what he just said. Soooo good. Also, he cries very pretty, lol.
The delivery of the three "yes" during the kiss scene as Emma asked for confirmation that he really was ok with giving up his house to come live with them was also brilliant. It just kept getting softer and softer but he never breaks eye contact. Absolute chef's kiss. His closed eyed little smile of content after Emma kisses him just made me melt into a puddle.
Yup, overall I'd say I rather liked his interpretation of Mr. George Knightley. 😜
I did wish they hadn't giving him such sideburns but after watching some Emma interviews I can totally understand. If he didn't have the sideburns there'd be more complaints about how young this Knightley was. He's got such a baby face.
...I seemed to have written an entire essay on this movie...yeah, I just have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this version...
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csykora · 4 years
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hey i was reading your post about evgeny kusnetsov and alexander semin (the friendship necklace one) and i got into hockey somewhat recently but i've heard/read some things about sasha and i was wondering if you could give me a rundown/what your perspective is? you mentioned cultural assimilation, but also social class, ethnic identity, ability, neurodiversity, and trauma and i was really curious what exactly you were talking about??
First, that’s cool you’re getting into hockey! How’s that going? I hope you’re having fun. Second…thanks for making me reread my old writing as we come up on the New Year ;)
That was one of my very first posts, and I think it reads like it—I definitely wasn’t much of a sports writer back then, and (I don’t think) I tell stories quite the same way now.
I don’t think some of those words I used mean much, except that I was angry. So I’d like to spell out what made, makes, me angry. The first half of this is stuff I’ve said before, more organized, with jokes. The second half is not fun, but it’s also something I think NHL fans have a duty to think about. So I want to try to talk about Lokomotiv.
Sasha Semin is the star and captain of a quite good, more fun KHL team. Today he was named to the All-Star team, actually. KHL All-Stars is a magical place where the players sing acoustic covers and routinely set things on fire, so hopefully they’ll let him bring his sword.
(I love the KHL)
Before that, he was the cool big brother of a generation of Russian stars. In the early 2000s the first post-Soviet young players were coming of age and working out what post-Soviet, now-Russian style hockey was going to be. In that moment we got two spectacular players: Sasha from Siberia, and Sasha from Moscow.
The Soviet style of play was supposed to be egalitarian—players skated the opposition sick and pass-pass-passed, always giving it to a teammate instead of taking chances, until whoever happened to have it had a sure shot. The Alexanders grew up in that style, and they grew up fuck-off strong. They started feeding off all their teammates’ passes and beginning to gun down goalies with one of two shots: Alex Ovechkin had the one-timer, and Alex Semin had the best wristshot in the game.
Did you watch Vegas’ magic season? Pull some clips of Wild Bill Karlsson. Imagine if he had upper body strength but was just as light on his feet. That’s how inexplicably electric young Semin was.
His and then Ovi’s performances at World Juniors were so explosive they convinced American businesses to risk money on something new. Semin was oldest, and the Capitals kind of sucked, so they got him first. Then a few years later they still sucked, so they got Ovi too. Then the two of them got Nicklas Backstrom and matching line promise necklaces and played really good hockey together for a number of years.
(If anyone would like 3,000 more nicer words about the above subjects, @ me)
A couple things shaped what happened after that:
▪ Semin’s unique wrister, twisted to be almost as hard as a slapper, is like spending every night downing jägerbombs with a shot of carpal tunnel. He seems to have chronic wrist and hand problems from inflammation, with apparent flare-ups that sometimes got rest and sometimes didn’t. So that’s a factor—not the only, but a—in why he had periods of poor shooting.
▪ Either because he never really went to school or just because he’s wired that way, Semin seems to suck at math.
▪ Ovi’s hot stick and the Sid Incident (Sidcident?): 
In their first interview together, Ovi described him and Sid as “partners”, and Sid asked for Ovi’s shirt. But over the first few years the League swung from branding them as buddies to making money off a rivalry, and Don Cherry started a string of bitter conflicts with Ovi.
Local journalists who knew him wrote about seeing Ovi flinch in interviews. They described him starting to hesitate, pale, tired, doubling back over answers to make sure they were watertight. We now know from Tatyana Ovechina that he was spending a lot of nights on the phone back home with her, asking if he was letting everybody down.
Sasha, who’s basically that guy on twitter who found kittens in his sock drawer and adopted them all, but with little brothers, got protective. He told Russian media that he thought Sid was a good player, but not his favorite, and said that the way the League was pushing media attention could make someone a ‘star’ even if they weren’t that good. The phrase he used means “dead wood”, or boring, useless person. The grammar he used means something like “even if he were (ie, he isn’t)”.
I think this was objectively very funny. And I still hold that anyone saying the level of exposure Sid endured was good for him or anyone sounds like the stage parents on Toddlers & Tiaras.)
But people get protective of their person, and most won’t stop for a grammar lesson before deciding what they think something meant. There was a media blitz, mostly accusing Sasha of wanting the attention Sid got, which made sense, if you didn’t know Russian or two things about him—that he’s best friends with Alex Ovechkin, and that he’d only just started to practice English with local reporters after several years. If he were an egomaniac, he was bad at it.
From his reaction it seems like he hadn’t thought his comment was that wild, and wasn’t prepared for the backlash. Next time he talked to local reporters, he brought the translator back. Asked routine questions he’d been getting for a couple years, he flinched and turned to them to rehearse every word of his answer. Asked what was up with the translator, he said “I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Although teammates like Mike Knuble, Jeff Schultz, Backstrom and Ovechkin kept talking about his personable, joking side, and we’d see it plenty in practice, he started insisting to reporters that he didn’t know English and that he was boring anyway, claiming “I’m just an ordinary person, just like everybody else. The only difference is I’m out there on the ice and that’s it. I’d just rather talk about hockey.”
–> Without math or English, Semin’s career depended on his agent, Mark Gandler.
Try not to depend on Mark Gandler.
As the Globe and Mail put it, “to many Canadian hockey fans, Mark Gandler is nothing less than the Prince of Darkness.”
Mark Gandler’s business was based on presenting himself as a friendly face to young Russian athletes, and pissing of NHL franchises. I’m pro-pissing off the NHL in general; my problem with Gandler is that if he was sincerely trying to get the best deal for him clients, he was bad at it..
When anyone talks about something Semin decided, they’re talking about what Gandler decided for him. Semin was honest with the media that he had no fucking clue what Gandler was asking for in negotiations. The Caps and Gandler couldn’t agree on anything, so while Ovechkin was locked down for life, Semin was only ever signed to one and two year bridge contracts, constantly up, his performance a constant subject of discussion and every wobble obvious.
Note: the following is the bit where I got angry and A. asked why the hell I was looking at photos of this and told me to go lie on the floor and do my butterfly exercises for a while.
One year Semin’s game really sucked. It didn’t help that Ovechkin was sucking too—they both got benched, Coach got fired, and still the Capitals just kind of sucked. Around the league, Russian stars were mostly fizzling. That was the 2011-2012 season. 
On September 7, 2011, the airplane carrying the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl team, coaching staff, and four youth players had overrun the runway, struck a signal tower, crashed, and caught fire moments after takeoff. Every member of the team onboard was killed.
I can’t understand, so certainly can’t explain, how that day changed the community. I’m not trying to speculate too much on anyone’s personal situation, but to point out how much more profound it was than just some other league’s trivia.
I don’t think there’s a mainstream North American parallel for the hockey community in Eastern Europe. Players are raised in a small number of hockey schools, often at that time in dormitories like the one where Semin lived in Chelyabinsk. While young North Americans are quite strictly separated by age, the Russians are growing up with older and younger kids from the same school all around them. Older teens are encouraged to mentor younger ones—Kuznetsov’s attachment to Semin is endearing, but not really so weird. Stanislav Yarushin is several years older than Sasha, and he befriended him, and then down to Kuz. In a community like that, any one person is intimately connected to the others.
From the coaches to the rookies, someone from three generations across nine nations was killed in the disaster. Each of them was connected not only to their peers, but to players older and younger than them, and to the city that raised them. Every Russian, Czech, and Slovak in the NHL lost at least one person they knew deeply.
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Just that spring, Kuznetsov won gold at World Juniors with a little clique of friends. Vladimir Tarasenko, Artemi Panarin, and Dmitry Orlov are stars now, and two of the others are dead.
Kuznetsov is the one draped in the flag. #14, with the awesome hair, smiling, is Danylo Sobchenko. #12, reaching up towards the cup, is Yuri Urychev. Urychev had been injured, and supposed to stay home the day of the disaster, but he asked to be allowed to fly with them, so he could cheer for his friends.
Tarasenko himself was born in Yaroslavl, and his father played for Lokomotiv; he knew even more of the team, and if he’d taken a hometown offer instead of signing with Sibir, he would have died that day too.
The thing about a loss like this is that it keeps budding with new losses. It hadn’t been a problem with the plane, or a freak accident. Over the following month a miserable investigation revealed that the airline had fudged documents, and the pilots just didn’t know what they were doing. So as well as losing friends, the younger players lost any trust that people in authority were going to keep them safe in the future.
After the disaster, Ovechkin, Semin, and Malkin had to hold their phones waiting while Alexander Galimov (a friend from nationals) was found with burns over 80% of his body, stabilized, transported, placed in a medically-induced coma and ventilated. He finally died five days later. The day he died Tarasenko and Kuznetsov and all the others got back on their own planes and kept playing, so the NHLers just had to keeping waiting up for them, too. Now Tarasenko and Kuznetsov have little brothers on those planes. They’re better fucking planes now, because the disaster changed Russian law, but they’re still not great.
In a grim way, Semin and Ovechkin were lucky, because they had each other. At the time almost no NHL team had as many Eastern Europeans as the Caps, meaning almost all the others were alone.
Of course it just wasn’t possible for the North American public to grieve with them the way that Europe did, but how quickly it was boxed away and forgotten as a factor in players’ lives just…sucks.
You don’t just grieve somebody when you lose them; people who aren’t sure what to say will say it fades with time, but what it really does is rise and fall in waves. You grieve them when you lose them, and again when you’re as old as they were and realize how insufficient it really was, and again, when you’re older than they’ll ever be, when you’re old enough to see children their age. Like injuring your wrist, you can get back to work, but never back to exactly what you were before. 
Five years later, when Tarasenko scored his 100th goal, he dedicated it to Sobchenko and Urychev. 
Most of a decade later, Alex Ovechkin wears the Lokomotiv crest on his chest protector, over his heart.
So if we know all that, we can start to imagine why they sucked at hockey.
Actually, after a slow start to the season, Sasha sucked the least of all the Capitals. Always a stronger possession player than Ovechkin, Sasha actually recovered after the Caps brought in Dale Hunter, who ripped up the Goals First, Goals Always game plan and tried to make Ovi play defense. Sasha ended the season with the best possession metrics on the team (yes, including Nicke Backstrom). 
His goal-scoring didn’t recover, but that was because Coach Dale was basically treating him like Ovi’s security blanket, putting him on the second line with Mojo so Ovi couldn’t cuddle him until Ovi backchecked. Mojo (this is a Science fact) is not Nicke Backstrom.
The reason the Capitals traded Semin is they desperately needed to trade someone to make up for the team’s collective failures that year, he could be traded due to his shitty contracts, and he was worth trading. 
I’m not actually angry the Caps traded Semin. It made sense. I am mad the Habs did, because it was one of many decisions made by Marc Bergevin coughing up a heavily-gelled hairball on a depth chart, but hey.
Sports is hard. I don’t mean that teams should keep players who aren’t playing the way that team needs them to out of sympathy. I mean that it’s possible to say that Semin or Ovechkin sometimes play badly without saying they don’t care. It’s possible to name a practical problem without making it a moral one.
Because when we see someone not doing what we want, and we make it moral, we say, “well gosh, I can’t imagine a reason why they aren’t jazzed to do what I want right now, so there can’t be a reason, they just suck,” we’re always wrong, because we miss shit!
In 2011, the common complaint that Russian players “don’t seem to care” went from boring to breathtakingly cruel. 
It’s a collective failure of empathy, where a lot of us didn’t even know that empathy’s needed. How many NHL fans don’t know Lokomotiv existed? If we don’t even know what weight another person’s carrying, we can’t possibly judge them rightly! 
The athletes we’re watching aren’t just cartoon characters for American consumption, who always act and react in easily-readable ways. They’re people with beliefs, behaviors, and problems which might be meaningfully different from what we’re personally familiar with and really hard to sympathize with.  
But when we see someone struggling to do what we want them to, we have to wonder why, and look around to learn more about moments like this, and then offer empathy. I believe that if we have information, most people use it to be kind. So we really fucking need historical information.
I’m back on the floor and don’t have a closer, so here’s a picture of a cat with big mitts like Sasha. His name is Peppers.
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bbrandy2002 · 4 years
Text
The Fall of Cordonia
Chapter Seven (Final)
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A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this one chapter finished. I have had several things in my personal life that have been quite stressful, I can't even begin to explain what I've been dealing with and I won't bore you with details. I do want to thank @kingliam2019 for asking about this fic several times, it gave me the little boost I needed and for pre-reading chapters for me. Also @burnsoslow for pre-reading snippets and giving me advice. And @sirbeepsalot who has advised me throughout and is just truly a wonderful person.
C/N: I was told I shouldn't end it this way and didnt plan to, however I had a change of heart. I hope its not too disappointing.
Warnings: DARK!! Gun violence, murder, mental illness, major character deaths, suicide, its brutal....but...its not (you will see what I mean).
Word count: 2909
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"Hello Son, I've been expecting you."
Liam and Drake stopped dead in their tracks, slack-jawed as the woman who stood before them became clearer. The once image of virtuous beauty and kindness, now an aged souless boor. Her blonde hair now silver, and her flawless ivory skin had heavily creased and worn.
Her voice cut Liam like a knife as it was a sound he had not heard in twenty five years. There was no love or nurturing in her flat blue eyes, just a haggard woman caught up in her own destructive nature.
Liam fought the temptation and overwhelming urge to run for Eleanor. He needed to feel her long awaited gentle arms wrapped around him again -- to soothe his hurts and wipe away his tears. Like any child would covet from his mother, he wanted her to want to do those things. It soon became clear she was neither interested in entertaining his boyish fantasy nor rekindling their bond.
Cradled in her arms was Liam's infant son-- his own flesh-- and a child he was prepared to give life and limb for if need be.
He stepped forward to approach them. As both of his arms reached out in desperation for Nikolas, Eleanor pointed her gun at him.
Liam fell to his knees in surrender, weakened by the sight of a weapon aimed at his only child. He begged earnestly for her not to hurt his son.
Drake cocked his gun and was ready to enact his own vengance if she hurt the baby.
"You always were soft, my boy," she said wryly as she lowered the gun to her side and shifted a crying Nikolas in her arms.
Liam gave her a pleading look with an arm outstretched towards her. "Mother, I'll do anything if you give him to me. I"m begging you...just give him to me please."
Eleanor rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance. "Stop your groveling Liam, you sound like your father -- may he roast in flames for eternity." She signed the cross from her forehead to her chest and both shoulders with a dry smile, still clutching onto her pistol.
He eased to his feet cautiously, his mind wracked with confusing thoughts of who he was now dealing with. "Okay." He nodded. "What do you want?"
Eleanor crossed the small sitting room and laid Nikolas in a bassinet. She then placed a pacifier in his mouth to sooth him. She stood, hovering over the baby before flashing an icy glare back to Liam. "I want what I set out for thirty three years ago -- Cordonia."
Like a tidal wave mounting in intensity and wrath, Liam's emotions began to build in ferosity. "You fucking had Cordonia, Eleanor!" He snapped angrily, pounding his fisted hand on the table before tossing a lamp off of it.
"Did you forget that? You were the queen, goddamn you! You had everything a person could ever dream of!" He trailed off and shook his head into the palms of his hands. With his breaths labored, he looked back up with tears in his eyes, "Was any of it real?"
Eleanor ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and stepped away from the bassinet to approach Liam. She stopped just short him and looked up at her towering son, her hands clasped together at her stomach. "I was never supposed to fall in love with your father, you were never supposed to be anything more than a spare to tie me to that kingdom. I had a part to play ... and I do believe, my boy..." She patted Liam's cheek with a cold smirk. "I played it magnificently."
Liam looked down at the petite figure standing before him, a shell of the woman he once knew -- or thought he did at least.
She had the pistol still glistening in her ragged, cold fingers, aimed straight at his heart. Eleanor could pull the trigger right then and nothing would make him feel any worse than the words she just spoke.
Liam swallowed the bile that burned his throat, his eyes dancing upwards, shocked by her admission. His whole entire childhood was a lie and that was a bitter pill to swallow. "I see," he muttered softly with a nod.
"Oh Liam, don't look so glum, it was just politics. I planted all the right people in your brothers life to ensure he would turn into the low life piece of shit he became. I needed to make sure MY heir would sit on the throne. All you had to do was accept the alliance offered to you. You, your sister and I could have conquered the world."
"You are one sick, twisted bitch," Drake spoke coldly through the tension.
She smiled back at him amused. "Why, thank you, Drake...I could say the same of your precious little momma."
"Leave my mother out of this," he growled defensively, playing her words off.
A look of pure delight beckoned Eleanor whose eyes began to glisten as she cast her focus on Drake, "Oh, I could never leave Bianca out of this, she was quite helpful to me at one point. Its amazing the lengths one would go to when blackmailed.", she laughs with a cackle, "Your father never saw it coming from her". She feigns shock before acting like she was shot in the chest.
"Drake, she's a liar, don't listen to her". Liam tried to reason with him before Eleanor got completely under his skin. He didn't know if what she was saying was true, but, he knew he had to plant a seed of doubt before she could plant the seed of revenge.
Drake could only stare at her with teeth clenched and eyes squinted, "What does she mean Liam...what the fuck is she talking about?"
"Bianca was a whore.....", Eleanor continued, with a slight grin.
"Shut up Eleanor", Liam interrupted her.
"......she fucked everyone at court..."
"Shut up!!", Liam raised his voice over hers.
"....I caught her on her knees with Constantine..."
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!", Liam continued.
"She killed your daddy for me Drake, she thought she could be one of us....such a dumbass, that common trash bitch. She was an easy quick lay according to the men at court. Your daddy stuck around for you and your sister, unlike Bianca, who left after her worn out pussy couldn't pay the bills any longer. That was your momma....that is your momma", she emphasized.
The gun shook in Drake's hand as his finger coiled the trigger backwards. His fathers death and his mothers absence growing up was always a sore spot for him. He could feel his blood boil and an intense heat burn though his body.
Liam shook his head at Drake with an empathetic look, attempting to halt any impulsive reactions. One wrong move from either one of them could be deadly and he couldn't take a chance on Nikolas's life.
"Go ahead Drake", Eleanor continued her taunts, "pull the trigger...like mother, like son...avenge your fathers death and your sisters too...I hear she died nice and slow, exactly as Bianca sucked dick".
"Drake, NO!"
The blast of a gun was inevitable.
--------------------------------
Riley was sitting up on her bed with a blank stare, her back resting against a pillow propped up on the headboard. Bertrand was seated in a bergere across the room, holding a sleeping Bartie.
Liam had texted him earlier about checking on Riley, citing her psychiatrist was a part of Amalas' cronies. When Bertrand arrived to her quarters, it was eerily quiet, passing only a nurse exiting with a full tray of food, Riley hadn't eaten.
As her eyes remained fixed forward, not having moved in the hour he had been there, he felt her gaze shift onto him. Bertrand looked up from Bartie and watched his Queen shed one lonely tear. The look of nothingness, sent a chill down his spine; what was she thinking, did she even have thoughts? What could cause such distress that it would break her daze enough to spare a tear.
Bertrand sat up with the resting Bartie cradled in his arms and laid him in the chair, gently swiping loose hairs to the side of his head. He walked slowly towards Riley, pausing briefly, dumbfounded that her eyes continued to follow him. "Riley?", his voice low and tepid.
He inched closer until he was standing at her bedside, easing himself down to sit next to her on the bed.
Her lush, brown hair now dull and lifeless, clung to her face and pillow; golden skin now ashen and pale. Bertrand thought of her as a sister and it pained him greatly to see such a beacon of personality and life, lay waste. He gazed at his reflection in her eyes intently, searching for a pathway into her mind. "Riley, its Bertrand, talk to me", he whispered, inching closer.
Bartie began to moan and whimper in his sleep and caught everyone's attention. Bertrand's reflection immediately disappeared from Riley's, now covered by a sinister glare. She gritted her teeth and gripped tightly to the sheets covering her frail frame.
Bertrand turned away from her to look at his son who had resumed his peaceful slumber.
"BRADSHAW!!!", Riley screamed so loudly it would curdle rushing blood, swinging a large, golden, candle holder brutally until it met resistance from the scalp of Bertrand. He slid limply from the bed, crashing to the cold, marbled floor below.
Riley watched the blood drip from the candle holder onto her perfectly white sheets, trembling at the realization of what she had just done. Her eyes rolled back as she tossed the weapon across the room, grabbing both sides of her head, rocking back and forth in a state of delirium. Chaos and noise ripping into her weakened mind, driving her further into insanity.
Her anxiety level peak, sweat pouring from her forehead, she now covered her ears to block the sounds that only she could hear.
"Liam is dead, Riley....he.is.dead", Bradshaw spoke with a sardonic laugh.
"No....no....Liam....don't leave me", she spoke through labored breaths and sobs, her dainty nails clawing at her face, leaving deep, jagged marks. She gasped deeply in anguish and pain, and muttered, "Liam....not my Liam".
__________________________
Drake flung backwards, his feet tangled in knots of imbalance, tripping over themselves from the momentum of the blast. He had a soul crushing wound, the one meant for Liam, straight to his heart. He rested after a hardened thud against the wall and slammed face down to the floor.
"Drake!"
Liam lunged forward, grabbing the still, hot barrell of Eleanor's pistol, her finger still tightly woven around its trigger.
Nikolas's startled cries echoed out with the blast, as Liam slung his mothers arm to and fro. For all her fragility, she clung to her gun as if her life depended on it....and it did.
He bent the gun so that it was pointing back at her and wrapped his finger over hers, the one that gripped the trigger so profoundly, and pulled it himself.
Eleanor fell to her knees, clutching her lower stomach, a look of anger and shock, mixed with defeat staring upward at the son she betrayed in every way, "You son of a bitch".
Liam scoffed at the irony of her words, "You're right, I am... a son of a bitch".
She slunk to the ground, lifeless with a pained scowl. A pool of crimson collecting around her like a dam bursting wide open.
He hurried himself to the son he had not seen in weeks, who was still letting out frantic cries as large tears burst from his reddened eyes. Liam wiping his own tears at the sight of his infant child, safe and unharmed. "Its okay Little Love...daddy's here now". As reached in to pick up Nikolas, he felt a seering sting in his back, causing him to let go of his baby before he could even lift him into his comforting arms.
Liam's hands instictively flung to the pain he was experiencing, feeling the warm shred in his shirt and the liquid that seeped through his fingers. It hurt to breath, to even move, but, he turned to see his mother on the floor, pointing the smoking gun up at him.
He inhaled what little air he could, closed his eyes, and spoke silently one last time to himself, "I love you Riley and Nikolas, I always will".
The next sound was the kill shot.
_____________________________
Riley jolted from the bed, tossing the sheet aside, her physical pain mired by the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.
She felt Liam slip away, a deep loneliness sweeping across her heart. She plundered further into her despondant state, knowing she could never live without him, his love, his touch, his arms wrapped around her.
Lost and battered, she found herself alone in the room they shared all their best memories, with a man she thought of as her brother, murdered, accidently, by her own actions.
She slipped to the floor on all fours, weeping softly to herself as she began the long, painstaking trek to the balcony. She crawled over Bertrand, squeezing her eyes tightly closed so that she wouldn't have to see the evil sin she had commited.
She lifted herself up at the balcony railing to a standing position, her knees wobbly from the distant crawl. With the moonlight glowing brighter than she had ever witnessed, Riley admired the stars twinkling and the sounds of crickets singing harmoniously. Her thoughts took her back to her first night in Cordonia, a race in the maze leading to a kiss with a prince. A night very similar to this one.
She peeked over the railing of their fourth floor balcony. The sweet, fragrant aroma of the rose bush below, giving her a sense of calm and ease.
Riley wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her ams for warmth from the cold night air before closing her eyes. She spoke softly to herself, "I'm coming to you Liam and Nikolas", feeling happiness for the first time since The Fall of Cordonia.
Her tiny body leaned over the railing and she let herself go. Peace and relief would soon overcome her as she flew through the air. The impact was quick and welcomed.
__________________________________
A bright light flickered as chilly hands poked and prodded at her face, fingers forcing an eye open. She squinted and winced as the light was too much on her unadjusted pupils.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty, I'm Dr. Layton. Do you know what happened to you?".
Riley's eyes flickered as she continued to adjust to the lights of the room and the image of the voice who had spoken with her came into focus.
"Queen Riley, can you hear me....do you know why you're in the hospital?"
Riley swallowed hard, realizing how dry her lips were. She tried to moistened them, yet, her tongue was bare, as well. A hand tilted her head forward and a straw was offered to her. Confused, she drew in the cool water that soothed her palate before resting her head back against a pillow. "I...I...died".
"Not exactly", the doctor spoke again while checking her vitals on the monitor, "..you were brought in after the earthquake, a piece of the ceiling fell at the restaurant you were eating in and you took a nasty hit to the head.....you've been out for a few hours".
Riley reached up, tugging the IV cord in her hand, to feel a bandage clinging to the top portion of her forehead.
An older nurse checking on Riley's bandage, asked if she wanted visitors, to which she nodded affirmatively. Not completely sure of what had happened or what was going on, she watched with anticipation as the nurse finished up and walked to the door of her room.
Riley burst into tears moments later when she saw Liam, holding a bright eyed, Nikolas, rushing into her room and racing to her side. They shared a long awaited kiss and exchanges of love, before Liam placed Nikolas in her needing arms. A flurry of emotions passing through her, knowing they both were safe and with her.
Over the next several hours, she learned that several people had been injured in Valtoria from the earthquake, but, no deaths were recorded. Her friends visited or called her one by one and she wept with joy with each person...Mara, Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, Drake, Leo, Olivia, Madeleine, Regina and Bastien.
During the quiet still of the night as she laid restless in her hospital room, with Liam and Nikolas laying at her side, she hesitantly shared her dream.
Liam kissed her temple reassuringly, "My love, it was only a dream...I'm here, we are all three here together, our friends and our country are safe....it was just a very bad dream".
"I know", she uttered, "it just felt so damn real...like it was a warning or something".
He wrapped his free arm around her back as she shifted to her side into his embrace, trailing her thumb gently across Nikolas's cheek. "I promise you we are more than prepared for anything that comes our way, we always come out on top, love".
"I hope so....I love you, Liam".
"I love you too darling".
-----------------------------------
"Amalas!", Bradshaw stands from his desk to greet her, "what brings you all the way to Auvernal this late".
She grins slyly with a gleen in her eyes, as he kisses both of her cheeks, "I have an offer I don't think you can refuse.....shall we discuss, Cordonia".
Bradshaw's lips curl with intrique and desire as he offers her a seat, "It's like you read my mind".
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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years
Text
I'VE BEEN PONDERING SUMMER
In Lisp, all variables are effectively pointers. Why go work as an ordinary employee for a big company, or have they abandoned the center for the suburbs?1 Especially if it meant independence for my native land, hacking.2 It's hard to engage an audience it's better to start with what goes wrong and try to trace it back to the root causes. A lot of the new startups would create new technology that further accelerated variation in productivity is far from the only source of economic inequality, the former because founders own more stock, and the rate at which it changes is itself speeding up.3 When we first started Y Combinator we have some kind of secret weapon—that he was harming his future—that hacking was cold, precise, and methodical, and that was more than enough technical skill. There is a name now for what we were: an Application Service Provider, or ASP. How little money it can take to start a company of any size to get software written.
I needed to remember, if I could give an example of a powerful macro, and say there!4 Design means making things for humans. Wrong. Big companies also don't pay people the right way to get an accurate drawing is not to make the poor richer. This sort of thing was the rule, not better off, as more than a plan A. In some ways, this assumption makes life a lot easier for the users and for us as well. Why did desktop computers take over?5 Programmers have to worry about infrastructure. For the first week or so we intended to make this point diplomatically, but in many ways pushes you in the opposite direction.6 Similarly, good new problems are not to be had for the asking. Don't be too legalistic about the conditions under which they're allowed to leave.
Now, when someone asks me what I do, I look them straight in the eye and say I'm designing a new dialect of Lisp;-Though useful to present-day union organizers rather than an attack on early ones. I think mathematicians also believe this. In the middle you have people who are poor or rich and figure out why. We were just able to develop stuff in house, and that if grad students could start startups, they'll start startups. Eric Raymond here. Which seems to me one of the most interesting differences between research and design. In fact, it may be slightly faster. We were terrified of starting a startup, there are even worse tradeoffs than these. I think about why I voted for Clinton over the first George Bush, it wasn't because I was shifting to the left or right in their morning-after analyses are like the financial reporters stuck writing stories day after day about the random fluctuations of the stock market.
This metaphor doesn't stretch that far. Maybe it will also be your cell phone. The books I bring on trips are often quite virtuous, the sort of engagement you get when speaking ad lib. It doesn't necessarily mean being self-sacrificing. For the first week or so we intended to make this an ordinary desktop application. You can't trust authorities.7 They were, as a rule, not better off, as more than one with a 50% chance of winning has to pay more than one discovered when Christmas shopping season came around and loads rose on their server. I'm letting you in on the secret early. But since then the west coast has just pulled further ahead.8 It is not the way it's portrayed on TV. And if you're writing a program that attacked the servers themselves should find them very well defended.
Sometimes I can think with noise.9 Our only expenses in that phase were food and rent. It's hard to imagine now, but when they do get paged at 4:00 AM, they don't think of themselves that way. When you switch to this new model, you realize how much software development is affected by the reactions of those around them, and c they're individually inconsistent. If you want, but not totally unlike your other friends. And that might be a great thing. As long as our hypothetical Blub programmer wouldn't use either of them.10 I'm a little embarrassed to say, I never said anything publicly about Lisp while we were working on Viaweb. As usual, by Demo Day about half the startups were doing something significantly different than they planned. So there you have it.
Notice I said what they need, not what a piece of code. Fortunately, there were few obstacles except technical ones. And more to the point of view. And creating wealth, as a rule, not better off, as more than a plan A. You never had to worry about those. If you work this way too.11 Because painters leave a trail of work behind them, you can just turn off the service. I could tell I knew how to program computers, or what life was really like in preindustrial societies, or how to program better than most people doing it for a living. I think few realize the huge spread in the value of 20 year olds.12 Prep schools openly say this is one reason intranet software will continue to do so but be content to work for someone else would get an even colder reception from the 19 year old was Bill Gates? Programs.13 The way to get in the software as soon as they got their first round of outside investors 36x.
It allows you to give an example of this rule; if you could count on investors being interested even if you're not certain, you should get summer jobs at places you'd like to work. You have the users' data right there on your disk.14 And you don't have to be poked with a stick to get them to stay is to give them enough that they don't dress up. Only 13 of these were in product development. No one will look that closely at it. You have the users' data right there on your disk.15 At any rate, the result is that scientists tend to make their fortunes will continue to do so much besides write software.16 So startup culture may not merely be different in the way of having the next. Though we were comparatively old, we weren't tied down by jobs they don't want to, but they didn't actually drop out of college and it tanks, you'll end up at 23 broke and a lot who get rich by taking money from the rich. If you write the laws very carefully, that is a good idea—but we've decided now that the party line should be to discover surprising things. This was done entirely for PR purposes. What you're afraid of competition.
Notes
Management consulting.
If you're expected to do work you love, or boards, or even being Genghis Khan is probably a losing bet for a couple hundred years or so and we ran into Yuri Sagalov. Most of the reason the founders. In fact the decade preceding the war had been a waste of time on is a new version from which they don't know. 6% of the products I grew up with much greater inconveniences than that.
Even in English, our sense of a startup enough to invest in a safe environment, and then a block or so and we did not become romantically involved till afterward. They seem to be hard on the grounds that a startup is rare. Companies often wonder what to do whatever gets you there sooner.
9999 and.
Globally the trend has been around as long as the web have sucked—A Spam Classification Organization Program. The point where things start with consumer electronics.
People and The Old Way. But if you tell them what to do video on-demand, because you can't even claim, like the bizarre consequences of this essay talks about programmers, the other cheek skirts the issue; the point where it was briefly in Britain in the Ancient World, Economic History Review, 2:9 1956,185-199, reprinted in Finley, M.
Inside their heads a giant house of cards is tottering. In fact the less powerful language in it.
The only people who might be 20 or 30 times as much income. Selina Tobaccowala stopped to think about, like arithmetic drills, instead of editors, and astronomy. Incidentally, the police treat people more equitably. There can be done at a famous university who is highly regarded by his peers will get funding, pretty much regardless of how to use those solutions.
For example, because it doesn't cost anything. What will go away. In a startup in a deal to move from London to Silicon Valley like the increase in trade you always see when restrictive laws are removed. Come work for us now to appreciate how important it is certainly part of a safe environment, but mediocre programmers is the discrepancy between government receipts as a technology startup takes some amount of damage to the size of a startup, as on a map.
Success here is that they've already decided what they're going to need to run an online service, this would work.
But no planes crash if your school, secretly write your dissertation in the right sort of wealth, not like soccer; you don't know of no Jews moving there, only Jews would move there, and power were concentrated in the imprecise half.
The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, many of the art itself gets more random, the increasing complacency of managements.
For example, the laser, it's this internal process in their target market the shoplifters are also startlingly popular on Delicious, but since it was 10 years ago.
In a project like a core going critical.
How could these people make the right not to stuff them with comments. The state of technology, companies that an investor, than a product of number of discrepancies currently blamed on various forbidden isms.
If you did that in practice that doesn't lose our data. Anything that got built this way is basically a replacement mall for mallrats.
Thanks to Mike Arrington, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Patrick Collison, and Paul Buchheit for sharing their expertise on this topic.
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fromheroestodust · 5 years
Text
Be Alright
Summary: Stanley goes through the mind breaking experience of someone he loves dying at the hands of his worst fear.
Warnings: cussing (duh), dead body?, Much sadness
Word count: 1,471
Pairing: Stanley Uris x reader
A/N: this is based off of the song Be Alright by Dean Lewis! This is also my first It fic! (Sorry if it's shit, I didn't edit) also this is the first fic I've posted in a while, I have a lot but I haven't really been motivated to post them. I promise I'll be posting more soon ! (Also I know that this isn't really what the song is about but I wanted to change it a lil)
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I look up from the ground
To see your sad and teary eyes
You look away from me
And I see there's something you're trying to hide
And I reach for your hand but it's cold
You pull away again
And I wonder what's on your mind
"Y/n? What's wrong?" I ask, concern quickly spreading to my voice. She never acted like this.
And then you say to me you made a dumb mistake
You start to tremble and your voice begins to break
"I made a dumb mistake, Stanny." Y/n mumbles, her voice cracking with her words. The blood drains from my face as I see her suddenly turn around, her eyes void of life as tears stream from them.
I bolt upright in my bed, my chest heaving for breath and my skin covered in cold sweat. The memories of everything that'd been going on the past few weeks suddenly washes over me, nearly pulling me under the waves as a hybrid of a sob and a cry escapes my throat and I bury my face in my hands.
So I still look back at all the messages you'd sent
And I know it wasn't right, but it was fucking with my head
I stand after ten minutes of sobbing and rubbing my eyes raw and walk towards my desk. I open one drawer that was flooded with notes and letters and remove one, a sad smile grazing my face as I read the messy hand writing.
Dear Stanny,
I'm coming back in a week! I'll be sure to bring you plenty of shells from the beach. I love you, more letters soon!
Lovingly, Y/n
The others keep telling me I shouldn't keep rereading the letters because every time I did I would end up crying again but I couldn't stop myself. It was one of the only things I had left of her.
I gently place the letter back down in the drawer before moving on to the things on top of the desk. A few dead flowers and a jar filled with seashells sits in the corner. I gingerly pick up one of the flowers with dry purple petals before setting it down again.
My mind starts running to the week before the incident no matter how much I beg it not too.
But it's not the fact that you kissed him yesterday
It's the feeling of betrayal, that I just can't seem to shake
"Y/n, truth or dare?" Richie asks, a mischievous shine in his eyes. I look to Y/n who sits next to me, a grin grazing her face.
"Dare."
"I dare you too... Kiss Bill." Richie states.
My face falls as does hers but she crawls across the circle, quickly pecks the corner of Bill's mouth, flicks off Richie, and returns to my side. Though everyone else stares in shock I start seeing red.
"I think I'm going to go home." I say through gritted teeth before standing and walking towards the basement door.
I hear footsteps behind mine up the stairs but ignore them until someone pulls my shoulder and forces me to turn around.
"Stan? What's wrong?" Y/n asks, concern and curiosity displayed in her eyes. A humourless laugh escapes my mouth.
"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you kissed Bill, Y/n." I respond with bitterness I never even imagined I could use towards her.
"It was a dare. There's nothing else than that." She says, clearly confused to my reaction.
Betrayal pangs in my heart as I stare down at her. "Just because it was a dare doesn't mean that it's okay! You kissed someone else in front of me! We're dating not you and Bill!"
"Stan, I'm sorry I didn't think-"
"No, you're not sorry. You don't care because I'm just always supposed to forgive you." I quip, no emotion but anger and betrayal quickly rising in my voice. "I need to take a break from you all."
"Wait, Stanny!" I hear Y/n call out as I walk towards the door. I ignore her calls and walk outside, steam practically pouring out of my ears as I walk down the sidewalk.
I shake my head and push away the memory, sniffing before getting dressed. I pull on a marroon dress shirt and black suit pants. I trudge down the stairs, saying a quick bye to my parents before walking outside.
Another fifteen minutes later I stand outside a gloomy building and reluctantly pull open the door. I walk down the dimly lit hall and into a small room, my feet stopping in their tracks. In the front of the room there she lays. Y/n lays in a casket that seems way too small to be remotely okay to have been made - how could someone so small be gone? She looks so peaceful. Her eyes are gently lidded and her hands rest on her stomach as if she's sleeping. I walk towards her until I'm right in front of her. My hand reaches up to cup her cheek, a tear falling over my cheek when I no longer feel the warmth I'm used to; just cold skin.
I think it was an hour before the other Losers arrived. They all gathered around me and Y/n, giving sorrowful glances to us both. Everyone's cheeks are stained with tears.
And everything I know tells me that I should walk away
But I just want to stay
I know standing here was not helping me. I know standing there was ripping down everything I'd rebuilt after her death and more but I couldn't will myself to walk away, I just wanted to keep seeing her.
And my friend said
"I know you love her, but it's over, mate
It doesn't matter, put the phone away
It's never easy to walk away, let her go
It'll be okay
It's gonna hurt for a bit of time
"Stan, how long have you been up here?" Mike asks gently.
"I don't know. An hour at the least." I answer barely above a whisper with my voice cracking.
"We should maybe go sit down." Eddie says.
I shake my head, not bothering to pull away the hair that fell in my eyes.
"I know you love her but we need to let other people see her." Beverly adds, biting her lip to hold back tears.
"I can't. She needs me." I croak, taking her still hand in mine.
"I-I know it's not e-e-easy but yuh-you need to let go." Bill says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Reluctantly I let them lead me to the front row of seats. Almost as soon as they all sit down in a small circle of chairs I let out a sob and hold up my head with my hands.
"It'll be okay Stan." Richie whispers, giving me a look of concern. I can hear his own crack in his voice.
"Bill?" I call out, looking up. "D-does it ever get better?"
"I-i-its gonna hurt f-for a while b-b-but yeah. It w-w-will eventually." He answers.
We spend the rest of the day at Y/ns funeral, tears never leaving the scene as we share our happiest memories of her. It hurts. It hurts so much to know we were all so, so close to escaping this whole mess alive but the fucking clown had to kill her in the last week. It hurt so much to have her lying right there but to not hear her laugh and not see her smile and not hear her call me by her nickname Stanny. Everything hurt; literally and figuratively. I think back to every moment I could've made better but didn't and regret it. But, with the others there everything was slightly more bearable. It was slightly easier to breathe - to exist in a world without the girl I loved so much.
The funeral comes to an end and I walk back to the casket after asking for some time alone. I dig into my pocket and pull out a letter, a seashell, and a flower along with one of the many shirts of mine that she loved to wear. I gently set them all down around her before leaning down and placing a feathery kiss to her almost blue lips. A pang of hurt hits my heart when hers don't move in response but I ignore it, give her one last look of longing love, and walk back towards the others. It definitely hurt to know that was the last time I'd see her in person. Every thing that slightly mentioned her did. But, I had no choice but to pull through it. I had to.
It's never easy to walk away, let her go
It'll be okay
It'll be alright
It'll be alright
It'll be alright
It'll be alright
It'll be alright
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lilithsworldd · 5 years
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A Date with Fangs Fogarty
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A bit of backstory: it's like 2 am and I have been wanting to type this out for literal ages but havent had the motivation until now. Essentially, Y/N [your name for those who dont know] reveals to their boyfriend Fangs that they want to go to the aquarium for their birthday and Fangs plans it out and makes it a special day. I hope you all enjoy I loved writing this. The moodboard was made by @southsidersweetpea a lovely human being.
It had been the one time you and Fangs were able to agree on a date. Normally things were wild and unpredictable, what would start off as a date to Pops would turn in to playing laser tag or curling up and casually watching a movie, but this time you had been firm. One day the two of you were curled up on your bed cuddling after a long day, your head was on his chest while you resisted the urge to sleep from the warmth Fangs' body gave off and that's when you just began to ramble, "Do you know what I want for my birthday?"
Fangs had been in his own state of comfort; as he laid in the bed his head was tipped back and his eyes closed as his fingers lazily danced across your arm tracing patterns on your skin. Too comfortable to speak, he responded to your question with a simple, "Hm?" as his eyes opened slightly to stare at the ceiling.
"I want to go to an aquarium; I went to one when I was little but I havent been able to go since. It would just be a nice trip I think" Y/N said in a sleepy tone, but this had captured Fangs attention and no sooner than you had fallen asleep he was planning things out in his head from ways to earn the money to scheduling and activities to do beforehand.
Now it was a month later, the day of your birthday and you found it suspicious that your parents hadnt made a cake for you, "Mom we always do a little get together with the family. You have always made that a priority" you pointed out suspiciously taking in the way the corner of her lips pulled up in to a smile, "Well it's Saturday sweetheart I'm sure you would rather spend your birthday with your friends this year and not kick back at home all miserable with your parents. We can open your presents and eat cake tonight" she said and almost as if a bell went off, Fangs walked in to the house with your favorite flowers. Immediately a smile came to your lips as you took them, "Fangs this is so sweet" you said as your mom took the flowers to put them in a vase
"That isnt even the best part of the day." Fangs said with a cheeky grin, "Go get your jacket we are going on a ride, no questions it's a surprise" he said and kissed your forehead. Still in a state of confusion, you reluctantly went up to your room and grabbed your jacket before waving to your mom and going out to Fangs' motorcycle and putting on the helmet he had specifically for you. As Fangs walked out to the bike he pulled his helmet on, "one other thing; we are stopping before our final location for breakfast and then you have to spend the rest of the trip in a blinfold" .
The ride felt like it took forever, the two of you had sat down at a small cozy restaurant and had a nice breakfast and Fangs stayed true to the promise of handing over a blindfold once the bill was payed, "Fangs is this really necessary? How are you even getting the money to do this babe?" You asked him as he placed the blindfold over your eyes.
"I've been saving up but dont worry, you are going to love it" Fangs promised as he guided you to his bike. The aquarium was only 10 minutes away from the restaurant and by the time you got there he could feel the anxiety coming off of you as he guided you inside, motioning for the lady at the cash register to be quiet. Once she noticed the blindfold and excited but pleading expression of Fangs she nodded and motioned to the prices as he pulled out his wallet and handed the money over mouthing ,'Thank you' before guiding you to the main entrance and finally the first specimen of fish, "alright, here is the main surprise of the day babe." Fangs stated before allowing you to take off the blindfold, there was wonder and amazement in your eyes and that is all that he could have dreamt of and he quickly snapped a picture on his phone of your reaction, "are you alright Y/N? You seem speechless" he said in an amused voice
You finally managed to get the words out, "Fangs you crazy bastard, I cant believe you did this!"
"Well you said it was what you wanted and honestly I thought it would be fun for me too. So here we are on your special day" Fangs said and wrapped his arm around her looking at the school of fish swimming in front of them, "so where do you want to start? We have pretty much all day. I cleared it with your mom and dad. But we do have to get home tonight" he said with a chuckle.
Most of your day with each other had been spent staring in awe at the large and impressive fish which lurked beneath the waters and then came the shark exhibit. "Oh my gosh Fangs look at the size of that hammerhead! Its massive!" you exclaimed practically bouncing in excitement
Fangs couldnt help but to mirror that same attitude as he looked at it, he licked his lips with a soft chuckle as he looked at you taking pictures on your phone, "You do love sharks. I should have guessed you would be able to immediately name one and comment on the size"
"Well a hammerhead is easy to identify, I more think that its impressive they have a couple bull sharks mixed in there and I do think that I see a nursing shark there at the bottom but I can't really tell because its hidden" Y/N rambled on as Fangs came up behind you and draped his arms around her shoulder setting his chin on top of her head watching the creatures swim around, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until you turned and wrapped your arms around his middle, "this day has been magical Fangs. Its everything I dreamed it would be, actually it's even better. Thank you so much for the best birthday present I have ever received in my life" you said before kissing him gently, that's when you felt his arms move to gently take your left hand in his, panic filled you as he started looking for something in his jacket which was replaced with relief when you saw a long box, "Fangs havent you done-" you started to protest when he pulled the bracelet out of the box
Fangs gently unclasped the bracelet and slid it around Y/N's wrist not saying a word as she tried to protest then he smiled looking at her. The bracelet had been a snake which coiled around her wrist perfectly, the body had been black with blue eyes, "I wanted to go all out, but I saw you staring at it in the store. I promise this is my last gift of the day." He promised. You looked at the bracelet with tears welling, you pulled him in to a kiss and pulled away, "Fangs Fogarty I am so lucky to have you in my life. You're the best boyfriend ever"
I hope you all enjoyed reading it, I look forward for your reactions and I'm sorry if it felt inconsistent I just needed to spread this sweetness to the world Cx
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