#its a hard color scheme why did i do this to myself.

[chatonyant]

Action

[louloulover]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ℌ𝔬𝔤𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔇ℜ★

I have changed some things for my own enjoyment, the history is made up. I haven't changed the original story of harry potter. I simply added my own things. ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★〘ℌ𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣〙

☘Family Magic - Rune's father has been on the earth for more than a thousand years, back in history Vikings were users of a ancient magic. The real magic of the world, They danced, sang and used magic one with themselves. The magic could only be passed on through blood. But as the Vikings fought and the people slowly decreased in the world. So did their true blood. Leaving Rune's father to be the last true blood user. The magic can be passed on, but memories will be passed on. Memories come from ancestors. The magic used in todays world isn't the same, nothing as powerful.

☘Parents - His father was one of the Heads of the people, he went into hiding once they were all gone. Rune's mother is a Russian hairdresser. They were brought back to Scandinavia so Rune could be with his people and learn magic from his father. But once his father gave Rune all of his power he was gone. Rune and his mother moved back to Russia. His mother is knowing for being the best hairdresser for muggles and wizards. His mother possesses regular magic.

☘Runes magic - Although Rune isn't full blood his father transferred all his magic and being. So Rune is the strongest being, who can shape nature and anything he chooses. He doesn't use a wand, he can but he doesn't have to. He uses his body.

»»───※ ·ℜ𝔲𝔫𝔢·ℌ𝔢/ℌ𝔦𝔪· ※───►

Rune has knowledge of all his ancestors, the magical runes that cover his every inch of his body shows how powerful he is. ₊˚⊹☾

★Important - He can take away his tattoos simply, but the rune his father put on his back stays. It shows the magic has been passed down.

★Features - Rune possess dark black hair, green like the earth eyes. Eyebrows like his father, big bushy and angled down. When he smiles it is a smirk, sharp canines show from his mouth. A piercing on his left ear, a hoop stays there.

★Body - 6'2''. He is fit, and very tall. Not as tall as the twins. He gives off confidence and pride. (Harry Potter Tyler Durden lmaoo)

★Animal - Rune owns a Crow, connected with his ancestors it is his messenger 'owl'. He also owns a dog at school, (my dog from here) instead of other pets.

★Outfits - He wears colors, often crazy color schemes but somehow works? he walks in a robe or just underwear in his shared room. You will never catch him only wearing black.

its hard to find images of crazy guy outfits, so imagine them with weird color combos ���⭒˚｡⋆

➶ ｡˚ °》𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈?《✧ ˚ 　· 　　

＞Honestly, i just want to have fun. That's why I gave myself such power. I don't want to deal with classes or sticking to a schedule. I want to go here for fun with friends, flying and of course the creatures. I want to see them all, fly with them, feel them.

✦ » 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑹𝒖𝒏𝒆? « ✦

＞He was asked by Dumbledore (6th movie) to come protect his school, he knew something was going to come up this year. He has been trying to find Rune but it toke him years, and having to talk to the Merlin to even get to me.

(yes Merlin's going to be the Merlin from the show Merlin.)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

＞He agreed if he has freedom to do what he pleases, so really he is just to hang around the school. Allowed to enter wherever and whenever. You may see him on top of the highest part of Hogwarts watching the stars, napping on furniture in the halls, playing with his dog in the fields, and throwing items at quidditch players while they practice. || He is still keeping the school protected as he does so ||

Oh and of course hanging out with his brother Casimir..

˚୨୧⋆｡This post toke so long omg, I would love to hear of other people's dr's or even link your scripts in the comments if you want! C:

I'm going to make a post of the other characters in Hogwarts, as I've added some characters. The link will be posted below this once its made!

[untoldsoup]

Just wanted to say that I love your Human Bowser comic! I specifically loved the colors chosen for pages 42-47! They’re so nice and satisfying it’s kinda hard to describe! What’s your thought process when choosing the colors for a particular scene if you don’t mind me asking?

I'm not sure if you want the emotional answer or technical so I'll just go with how I know how to answer art questions:

First I have a set color scheme for the flat colors. This doesn't change, but the coloring i do on top of that does. For example: human Bowser has set flat colors that have not changed since page one. But as I learned new techniques I changed the effects/mapping i add on top of it.

I learned a lot of different coloring techniques between pages one and the current pages. At first i was nervous to change how I colored the comic and I had a LOT of new things I wanted to try and was worried people would be upset at the drastic coloring change. But thankfully all the feedback has been positive.

After I do flat colors I then will choose various color gradient overlays that I feel suit the mood of the page/panel. I like to use a lot of dark-to-soft-light overlays to add depth to the base colors. I also sometimes add gradient mapping, which is a art technique where a set gradient is added on top that drastically changes the tones. I usually put this layer at a super low opacity so its just a hint of change.

For lighting I currently love added bursts of light where i can, and then softening the colors of the line layer to make it look like the light bleeds over. Some softer glowing effects also help with this.

A big change i also did since the beginning of the comic is I now soften the line layer and color layers to give it that 'dreamy' look.

For the emotional side of things, when I pick colors my attempt is to think of what color pallet fits the mood/environment. I'm still learning when it comes to coloring (it's a weak point of mine for sure) but everytime i think i learn something new that will help with a scene I'm doing I try it out now.

One of the biggest things I'm doing right now is watching a lot of youtube videos on comic storytelling/layout/coloring to really try my best to get better.

I have a obsessive disorder/condition so I often need to be doing something with my hands. Either gaming, cleaning, or drawing. So I currently draw 3-4 hours a day after work (while listening to music or youtube) to keep myself occupied or I get antsy. It's why I tend to look like i work 'fast'. I'm not really fast at drawing, but I draw every day, and certain scenes/characters are second nature now when drawing.

I still make a lot of mistakes and have a ton of weaknesses but I'm loving drawing this comic a lot so I'm doing my best to fill in my knowledge gaps as I go. Clip Studio also has a ton of amazing assets/tutorials that really help and I highly recommend the program, especially if you struggle with perspective.

I hope this answers your question and wasn't too long winded 😭

[chernobog13]

I watched the first episode of Ultraman Blazar last night.

It was an unusual first episode for an Ultra series, but overall I liked it. Very happy that it is not another "New Generation" series, especially since the last two were re-treads of Tiga and Dyna.

Very much got a Nexus vibe off this episode, but not as dark and gritty as that series. Part of that might be Blazar's mostly grey and silver color scheme, which is evocative of Nexus, who also had red and blue costumes.

You can tell that the production team was also trying to emulate the style of Shin Ultraman (2022) and Shin Kamen Rider (2023), albeit on a much smaller scale.

I like the fact that Blazar's human counterpart, Captain Hiruma Gento, is actually in charge of the kaiju attack squad. That changes things up a bit, as he will have to work extra hard to mask his absences when joining with Blazar from the rest of his crew.

Gento is also an older, more mature protagonist than is usual for an Ultra series, which is a nice call back to the original Showa series. I know this a franchise aimed at kids, but I am sooooooooooo tired of the whiney kids with no idea about personal grooming that we've had a near-steady parade of as stars of the shows.

As for Blazar himself, he's a bit...different than previous Ultras.

For one thing, he WILL. NOT. STOP. GRUNTING! It is non-freakin'-stop. And it's not regular grunting that you hear from other Ultras as they fight kaiju; it's as if the actor is speaking some crazy, made-up language.

This was seriously distracting during the fight with Bazanga, the space kaiju du jour. I certainly hope that it doesn't continue for the rest of the season.

Something even more disconcerting were Blazar's antics during the battle. At one point he was doing rapid high-knee jumps like he was a little kid having a tantrum. That was disconcerting, to say the least.

I do like Blazar's main attack weapon, which is a spear made of energy that he summons. It was a little silly that he tossed it a Bazanga (I have to stop myself from typing Ba-Zinga), but it worked so I guess that's all that matters.

I tried to stay away from most promotional material before watching the episode, as I don't want to know everything about the characters and premise before hand. If the show does its job properly, that information will be conveyed through the story. A show/film shouldn't rely on supplemental material in other media for the audience to understand what's going on.

That said, I did read some articles and posts today that gave me some supplemental info.

On this Earth, humanity has been battling kaiju since 1966, which I think is a nice touch. Apparently, they've succeeded at doing so without the assistance of an Ultraman; at least until now.

Ultraman Blazar is not from M78. He is, instead, from M421, a blazar (Wikipedia: "an active galactic nucleus (AGN) with a relativistic jet (a jet composed of ionized matter traveling at nearly the speed of light) directed very nearly towards an observer. ") far, far away.

And, Blazar is reportedly a "more primitive" type of Ultraman, whatever that means. It might serve to explain his wild antics and why he was grunting/babbling the whole time. I haven't investigated this further because I want to see how this is explained in the show.

So now I guess I'll just wait until next Friday night to see how things progress.

[raw-law]

In response to the other anon asking if you guys look for our identities, frankly i couldnt care less if you know who i am, its fairly easy to figure out. i just like reasons to relate myself to Deer. I did a self portrait once as a deer mount pouring blood. it was quite...something. definitely got a lot of responses to that one.

as for art being subjective vs objective:

i can see where each of you in coming from in that sense. some things ARE blatantly what they are and it would be kind of wild to say otherwise. like who am i to tell Da Vinci that the Mona Lisa is actually an space cat alien, not a woman. but i do still think its possible to get multiple interpretations out of her.

i will also be the first to say im not a fan of the genre of what is technically in the art world called a "ready-made". basically like what you said, taking an object that already exists, fastening it to something, setting up lighting for it, etc. ya know, MINOR changes and calling it art. im not a big fan. its lazy and unoriginal in my blunt opinion. it doesnt create new ideas and thoughts in my brain unless i BS them. like if i see an apple on a pedestal, im taking it at face value, because its simply an apple on a pedestal. it being placed on something doesnt make it any less or more to me. its just an apple. and according to your definition, it would not be art since it does not cause or create new ideas or conversation to flow. it furthers nothing.

unfortunately, in the art community, its hard to have this debate because the widely used definition is the "everything is art" one and some people cannot take criticism to save their life. if you tell suzy sue that her michael jackson x barack obama fanart is not visually compelling and offer her advice, she might cancel you on twitter. we all need to stop being wusses and also stop being rude in the art world. its important to give your fellow artists helpful and meaningful critique and feedback without being harsh or condescending. and it is of equal importance to learn to accept that feedback and use it to better yourself as an artist.

i think another big thing for me and whether something is actually art is the design itself. does it have an interesting composition? does it use an impactful color scheme? does it have a focal point? etc, etc. if these points can be argued for a piece, im more willing to call it art.

realism is also a point of contention because some will ask "whats the point if it just looks like a photo?" the skill, the effort, the time. the unique touch of human hands that gives it a slight charm even in the most hyper realistic pieces. that is the point.

have another piece as a treat. a drawing i did from life for class last semester, its a plant. about as opposite as you can get from the other piece i shared:

https://imgur.com/a/hkcqYKK

-🦌

Light:

Ooh, that's interesting. Why the choice of deer, though, so specifically? Is it for some reason, or just an instinctive decision?

And I agree with your point on what you've referred to as "ready-made". I guess, for art to be meaningful, it has to mean something in the first place, and an apple sure as hell doesn't mean anything to people. Honestly, it seems like lazy artwork to me, even though I'm not an artist. But I'd like to ask you: what exactly would you define as 'ready-made'? Would that mean, then, that photographers' work are technically also 'ready-made', as all they're doing is taking picture of something preexisting and hence not creating, in that sense? What's the boundaries between something that's art, and something that's 'ready-made'? Is it something that you can define at all?

There's this branch of art called 'Dadaism', and there are some works inside that may be considered 'ready-made' in a way. For example, Marcel Duchamp's Fountain and Bicycle Wheel are famous examples of that art movement. And Dadaism was actually made up of artists who wanted to use this nonsensical, crazy form of art to express horror and disgust of the bloodshed that occurred during World War 1. It was commonly known as the 'anti-art' movement, and its main purpose was to create art that would confuse, shock or even aggravate the public.

This ties in to what you'll see Ryuzaki discuss below. Perhaps the occurrences of this 'ready-made' art isn't really the art itself, but it's the thoughts and emotions the artist wanted to express when making the art. And, if this 'ready-made' art exists because of a true effect the artist intended to create on the general public, then it's arguable that it could be considered as art, because isn't art used to express your feelings in the first place? Even though I still don't really consider 'ready-made' pieces as art...it's still interesting food for thought.

And your piece is wonderfully drawn. I love how you rendered the leaves; it looks really beautiful. Kind of reminds me of Chinese bamboo paintings...I'd love to see more of your work, if you'd like to share!

Lastly, thanks for your ask. I love having these kinds of discussions, even though I unfortunately took a long time to get back to you..

L:

wow.. the plant piece is beautiful.. all of the strokes come out so nicely and eloquent. it really makes me want to see this deer self portrait now. that sounds even more intriguing. no pressure though, of course. i just think it's a really fascinating idea.

and as much as i despise "ready-made" pieces too, i honestly have a slight respect for them. i would still consider them art, because i do think it evokes a conversation, but specifically the kind of conversation that makes you question it's existence, if that makes sense.

for example, that duct-taped banana i mentioned in the last ask, that's actually what made me question the whole idea of art in the first place. if something so insignificant can be considered so valuable to people, then who am i to tell them that it's not really art? maybe it is. or maybe the questioning of what it is was the whole point. maybe, the conversation it was actually sparking was more-so like.. a rebellion. a taunt. almost as if it were saying: "you want art? i'll give you art. and you'll be forced to take it." if i remember correctly, there was actually another artist who did that exact thing. his name was richard mutt and he submitted a urinal with a signature of his name as an art piece. it was stupid, and absurd, and that was the point. he submitted it to prove that if he signed his name on it and paid the application fee, the group he submitted it to would've accepted it no matter how thoughtless. he made an art piece that was meant to depict what stupid art looks like, and it worked. so as much as i despise the pieces, i do still think they're art, at least to an extent.

it's things that are made with the intent of gaining either popularity, money, or whatever else there is that i don't consider art. i'd go into more detail about it, but there's already a video out there that depicts it really well, so i'll just link it here. it's by cj the x and he's known for being very chaotic, so it might be a difficult to listen to at first, but i personally really like it. their points always wrap together really nicely as the video continues and the humor is my style, so i swear it's worth a watch, hah.

anyways. i'll stop myself there so i don't annoy you too much, but i do also agree with your points on the design, process, and overall thought that gets put into art pieces. i really like this discussion overall, actually. i apologize if i sounded rude at all, i have no intention to. i enjoy being able to converse about these topics, haha. so thank you for letting me, truly.

[albatross-the-pen-chewer]

Tell us more about your weird dreams plz, they have good inspiration for writers....... like me

Also have a great day/bught/timezone

You are very cool 😎 👌

Well, since you asked 😎

I think one of my favorite weird dreams is probably one I had several years ago, where I was periodically flipping between two different realities with different color schemes.

The Blue reality was peaceful and mundane, while the Orange reality was hellish and torturous.

I remember starting the dream in the Orange, where I was at some form of compound in the desert with a large group of other people. I think I was a prisoner. At some point I try to make my escape with a small group of other people, but we're quickly discovered and shot at. I take a bullet to the leg, and fall into a small body of water.

I wake up in the Blue, rattled but unharmed. It's not unusual for me to have somewhat violent dreams, so I brush it off. I do tell my mom about it though, and my day proceeds as normal until--

I wake up in the Orange, having dragged myself out of the water. I don't see any people around, so I make a break for it. I don't have time to think about the Blue reality as I flee. Occasionally I'll see what appears to be my pursuers, but I keep going, somehow outrunning them. I--

I wake up in the Blue. Apparently I was zoning out. This is getting weird. I tell people, concerned, about what I just experienced, but they wave me off as just being tired. Did I get enough sleep last night? Maybe I need to lie down. I decide to--

I wake up in the Orange. I made it to a city, but something is wrong with me. Or, is it that something is right? My leg healed a while ago. I'm faster than I should be. I'm stronger than I should be. Almost seamlessly, I make my home in the city. It's easy to keep a job when you don't get tired. But, it doesn't seem like I'm the only anomaly here. What was--

I wake up in the Blue. When did I get to the park? I'm starting to freak out, now. Why do I keep losing time? Why do I keep bouncing? I struggle more and more to tell which world is the real one, and no one takes me seriously when I tell them about my dilemma. Of course, why would they? I'm finding it hard to keep--

I wake up in the Orange. There's some kind of monster running around, with five legs and a mouth that spans all the way around its body. It was invulnerable to most weapons, but it had to constantly eat, so the only way to kill it was to starve it. It took hours to seal its mouth shut.

The part I played in defeating the monster earned me a fair bit of reputation amidst the denizens of the city, and I find myself battling far more creatures as time passes. It seems as though years go by in fast forward, and I start to think that I've finally stopped bouncing between realities. For once, I'm comfortable.

I wake up in the Blue.

[megamindsecretlair]

heyy pretty gal 😩💞 been a min! can I plz have ur advice??

So i recently had sex for the first time. p.s. ate that shii DOWN 🏆👀 But it’s embarrassing cuz that mf got me sick .. Iykyk. 😐

I’m so heart broke ONLY cuz it felt so good & I’ve wanted that for so long.... Just for it to negatively affect me emotionally/physically. 💔 And intimacy is so addicting* (especially with childhood traumas.)

So it’s kinda like I played myself. Or did myself a disservice. By giving in, being intimate, & giving chances to someone who didnt deserve it. Damn i feel like a statistic.

But still, why are Black men so.. hurtful.. to Black women?? Should I have kept my promise & waited longer? How do you recoup after experiencing sex? especially after a person/situation like that.

I want to move on.. but idk when I’ll feel that closeness again. And as a Black woman? Im tired of using work/responsibilites as a “healthy” distraction. I just want an emotional break 💔 these niggas piss me off .

~ ik its a lot, but this a safe space right? <3

Hey girl. I am by no means a sex expert or mental health expert, take what resonates, leave what doesn't, but this is indeed a safe space and I'm absolutely honored you trusted me with this.

Having sex is a deeply personal decision, but you should never feel like you did yourself a disservice. FUCK THAT MF 👏🏽👏🏽 HE AINT DESERVE YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Unfortunately, theres no way to know that for certain when these mfs are scheming from jump. Black men are conditioned to be coddled. Family, especially Black moms, will cater to and coddle the hell out of their sons. Fix their plates, wash their clothes, etc. So when they get out into the streets, they're looking for that in their partners. Conversely, Black daughters are conditioned to overchieve to the point of perfectionism. They have to be cooks, doctors, therapists, maids, etc and outclass their counterparts in every way possible. So if a man don't get what he thinks he deserves, he feels no qualms about dogging someone out.

I'm sorry your first time sucked. Im so, so, sorry that it wasn't full of love and safety. Do not beat yourself up about this. Sex should be enjoyed safely with consenting partners. You WILL get there. One day, you will be screaming glory to the ceiling. I know this will happen for you 👏🏽

This is only one bad experience. But it cannot color your future experiences. My best advice is to listen to your gut. When you are in tune with the right person, you may not feel butterflies or anxiousness or feel that die hard passion that TV likes to lie about. The right person? Will make you feel safe. You will feel calm around this person. Your worries will melt away because his/her/their priority is to put you at ease. They will listen to you. They will communicate with you. They will never pressure you into something you're not ready for.

They will wait 10 years to have sex with you if you're not ready. And will gladly wait those 10 years to make sure you're safe in their arms. I cannot stress this enough. Communication is your best friend 👏🏽 if you can't open your mouth and communicate your needs with someone you're willing to hop in bed with, why are you hopping in bed with them 🤔

Sex is a journey. A long, complicated, stressful, wonderful journey. The intimacy will come, the love will come. You gon get there, I promise 😚 even if its casual sex and youre not in love with the person, fight that instinct to retreat. Fight that instinct to close yourself off.

You dont need distractions right now, you gotta sit with this feeling. You gotta live with it. You gotta identify what it is youre searching for. And never compromise on that.

Black girls are never afforded opportunities to be soft. To be vulnerable.

Fight it!!! And keep fighting it!!!

[visumper]

Endline snippets but its Kaemory and im crying also Pretty Face by PUBLIC is literally the kaemory song ever,,, UE UE UE… also kae pov

I’m holding her hand. Oh. That’s kind of embarrassing. I can feel my face start to heat up when I realize and try to pull my hand away. It’s weird, because I can’t feel anything. My limbs— they’re all numb. When I try to move my hand, I can’t tell if it even moves or not. I try looking around, but all I see is a bunch of stupidly bright red and Em’s pretty face. Ugh. Why can’t I open them more? It feels like my eyes are only half open. Maybe they are. My vision’s blurry too, but I can still see her clearly. She’s the only clear thing I see, as if she’s the only person my eyes focus on.

She’s crying. There’s other people too, I think. I can’t hear them well since my hearing feels all muffled too. I can’t tell who they are, since they’re nothing but colored blobs. Haha. This kind of feels like I got Sporis bombed by Mari. This is a little different though. Ah… I don’t think this is just a mushroom this time.

Where’s Aza? I feel like I’m drunk and high at the same time. I hate Aza’s stupid medicines because they taste like shit like Mari’s cooking, but they work pretty damn well. I force myself to focus, because Em’s definitely crying. I should probably comfort her, right? That’s what girls like, right? In the end I end up asking about Aza. Were he and Rowan still dealing with Aid? I still need to beat Rowan at table tennis. I still need to beat Aza at darts.

It’s hard not to be jealous of those two. Haha. They’re so talented. They remind me a lot of my siblings…

“Wh…” I manage to get out. Em’s grasp on my hand gets tighter. My hand is the only thing I can feel on my body. It’s almost like my brain shut off everything else. Kinda like “hey, make sure to only focus on Em totally holding your hand! You love-drunk hot hunk!”

… why am I thinking about this, anyways? I’m not hot nor a hunk.

“Aza?” I gasp out. Why is it so hard to talk? This is bad. This reminds me of when I couldn’t speak at all. Couldn’t defend myself from being accused of that stupid fucking…

Em starts sobbing even harder. Did I do that? It’s like the cries get louder and louder, as if the other unknown blobby people are crying to. Why? What happened? Did something happen to Aza? Where is he? If the blob people are crying, then they must be from Score, too, right? Rowan maybe… Mari? Lucius? No. Lucius is missing, probably dead. Verdict got to him… Rowan or Mari, then? Are they all here? Where’s Aza?

Em is wailing still, and I don’t know why. Somehow I get my fingers to clasp onto hers a little more. I can’t tell if I’m in pain or not. Everything’s numb and I can’t feel anything, but this situation’s just way too weird. Why can I barely move? Why can’t I talk? I have so many questions. My eyes involuntary start to close even more, and I yell at them in my head because I want to look at Em longer. I want my hand to move, to cup her cheek and my mouth to comfort her. But my body won’t move at all. It’s like my legs are nonexistent, too.

And then I start to think.

Am I dying?

“Em?” I croak. My voice sounds all wrong. It’s all broken up and quiet. Lucius would’ve made fun of me for it. You know, he was a scheming slimy bastard, but I do kind of miss him. Just kind of. Only kind of.

“Lo…ve… you,” I say, without thinking at all. Because what if I really am dying? I don’t even realize I’ve just confessed to the absolute love of my life. This could just be some weird circumstance, right? A minor injury I’m being overdramatic about, right? Even still, everything about this feels wrong.

I’d rather die a hundred Verdict executions before I die before confessing to her. Any execution but the Wall, of course. Because then Em and Mari and Rowan and Aza and Lucius would die too. Also Lucius is probably dead. So maybe he doesn’t count.

When I was accused, I couldn’t speak at all. After that, I became afraid of being quiet. But then I found Mari and Score. And through Score I found Em and the others. So to hell with the accusations, to hell with the rumors. To fucking hell with the life I had before, because this is better.

I like this. I like these people.

I like you. A lot. I love you.

Her pretty eyes widen at around the same time I realize what I’ve said. I laugh like a goofy man, the laugh coming out sounding like a dying run-over hedgehog on drugs and steroids with mega bass boost.

Weird simile, Mari would probably say.

Rowan taught me that one, I’d like to reply.

And then she smiles. Her eyes are still sad and teary, but she’s smiling and her hand is so warm.

I don’t know what’s happening at all, but I really do hope I wake up again. I hope I’m not dying, because I still need to beat the twins at their respective games. I hope I’m not dying, because I mainly want to be able to hug Em and confess again and again.

I can’t see her anymore, but I can hear her.

“I love you, Kae.”

That’s enough for me.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT DESIGNS

A good flatterer doesn't lie, but tells his victim selective truths what a nice color your eyes are. Maybe it would be the one at the beginning of Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs. Maybe successful hedge fund managers are mean; I don't know.1 So to write good software you have to understand what they need. They may even be the majority. Palo Alto has a lot of intelligence to get rich, try spending a couple days in some of the fancier bits of New York or LA. For example, our PR firm often pitched stories about how the Web let small merchants compete with big ones.

One answer is the default This leads us to the last and probably most powerful reason people get regular jobs: it's the one time that hacking is the applied version of what theoretical computer science is the theory of.2 It's not a coincidence. The easiest program to change is one that's very short.3 Or, to put it more nicely, overworked. Not Leonardo. Why? We're not hearing about Perl and Python. For example, our PR firm often pitched stories about how the Web let small merchants compete with big ones. There are exceptions of course, is selection bias. At its best, it's creating the spec—though it turns out the best way to get in a design war, just as it's hard to engage a big company, it doesn't seem there's anything to see.

For the first 100 years or so of its existence, it was a college town out in the world for a year or two make better founders than people straight from college to cubicle, and stay there.4 Anything funny or gripping was ipso facto suspect, unless it was old enough to start a startup and failed over someone who'd spent the same time working at a big company in a design war, just as writers and painters and architects do. Back when I was running YC and did more office hours with startups, I would often help them find new names. And so hackers, like painters, and regularly start over from scratch, instead of being impressed that you're half way through? There your job is largely a matter of spanning a given distance with the least material. Realizing this has real implications for software design. In the average Y Combinator startup, I'd guess the most successful founder we've funded so far, Sam Altman, actually. Sometimes you get excited about some new project and you want to work on your own projects.5

The argument for designing languages for bad programmers is that there are more of them. That's why I love working on Y Combinator so much. I admit that hacking doesn't seem as cool in its glory days as it does now. Which is particularly painful to someone who cares how their brain is used: your brain goes fast but you get nowhere, like a nuclear chain reaction. All makers face this problem. There's no concept of office hours in most startups.6 Whereas hackers, from the example of the startups we've funded told us later that they only decided to apply at the last moment.7

Bundling all these different types of work together in one department may be convenient administratively, but it's there. For the same reason that scholastic aptitude gets measured by simple-minded standardized tests, or the productivity of programmers gets measured in lines of code. Not ready for commitment This was my reason for not starting a startup just doesn't require that much intelligence.8 Unfortunately, most companies won't let hackers do what they guess it will, because they're affected by how you react to them.9 At Viaweb I considered myself lucky if I got to hack a quarter of a million dollars. And while having the best people to work for him unless he is super convincing. I'm not going to say you shouldn't listen to them.10 I'm told there's a lot of work implementing process scheduling within Scheme 48. Unfortunately, beautiful things tend to get discarded.

And if you don't have any immediate use for it, you probably never will. In two cases the founders just went on to start a startup. You know what a programming language is, they'll say something like Oh, a high-level language? I know write programs. For example, I know that when it comes to empathy are practically solipsists.11 I care about startups.12 It's enormously spread out, and feels surprisingly empty much of the reason Silicon Valley grew up around this university and not some other one.13 All the time I was in high school I spent a lot of people look at the ever-increasing number of startups and think this can't continue.14 Relentlessness wins because, in the case of Gilded Age financiers contending with one another to assemble railroad monopolies.15 Really this just codifies what we do already. The secret to finding other press hits from a given pitch is to realize that they all started from the same document back at the PR firm.16 Which means if you want to make money from it.17

Another from that batch was Loopt, which is one of the 10 worst spammers.18 If you want, so if someone does design a language that can show them what parts of their own at age thirteen. Nothing owns you like fragile stuff. Stuff used to be rare and valuable. Your program is supposed to do x.19 One of our goals with Y Combinator was to discover the lower bound on the age of startup founders. I would often help them find new names. The ones driven by money take the big acquisition offer that nearly every successful startup gets en route. So I think we should be prepared for whatever PR mutates into to compensate. In a good startup, you probably never will. And we weren't the only ones who've noticed the change.20 Everyone knows that committees tend to yield lumpy, inconsistent designs.

Notes

Median may be one of the word content and tried for a group of people mad, essentially by macroexpanding them. If you weren't around then it's hard to answer your question.

Which is why we can't figure out the words won't be trivial. Users judge a site not as a collection of qualities helps people make the people working for me to do as a consulting company is Weebly, which a few stellar exceptions the textbooks are similarly misleading.

Many people have seen, when Subject foo degenerates to just foo, what you learn in college. When a lot of successful startups get started in 1975, said the things they've tried on the Daddy Model may be the next time you raise them.

If you're the sort of pious crap you were doing Viaweb again, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Incidentally, the best case.

Believe me, rejection still rankles but I've come to writing essays is to do it. As Jeremy Siegel points out that successful founders is by calibrating their ambitions, because you spent your summers. In 1800 an empty room, you may have been the first couple times I bailed because I can't refer a startup to succeed at all is a way to tell computers how to execute them. The VCs recapitalize the company is always 15 weeks behind the doors that say authorized personnel only.

Or you make, which allowed banks and savings and loans to buy corporate bonds to market faster; the idea of happiness from many older societies. I've never heard of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we had, we'd be interested to hear from them. We didn't know ourselves which VC firms regularly cold email. There are a small proportion of spam, but I know randomly generated DNA would not be incorporated, but viewed from the creation of the businesses they work for Gillette, but it is to say about these: I remember about the subterfuges they had to resort to expedients like selling autographed copies, or because they could not have raised money on Demo Day pitch, the employee gets the stock up front, and both used their position to amass fortunes among the bear gardens and whorehouses.

It will require more than one who shouldn't? But because I think it's roughly correct for startups that has a sharp drop in utility.

Investors are professional negotiators, and eventually markets learn how to achieve wisdom is that they got to targeting when I switch in the bouillon cube s, cover, and—. If I were doing more than clumsy efforts to manipulate them. Our rule is that the web.

Some are merely ugly ducklings in the category of people.

Letter to Ottoline Morrell, December 1912. I mean forum in the body or header lines other than salaries that you can stick even more clearly. I don't like the Segway and Google Wave.

Credit card debt stupidest of all tend to become one of them. Big technology companies between them generate a lot of investors want to be able to invest in a signal. But it's useful to consider how low this number is a case of heirs, rather than risk their community's disapproval.

P 500 CEOs in 2002 was 3.

He, like movie stars' birthdays, or invent relativity.

What you're looking for something they get for free. It shouldn't be too quick to reject candidates with skeletons in their hearts that if you repair a machine that's broken because a great deal of competition for the talk to, but that we wouldn't have had a broader meaning. Even if you want to be a special recipient of favour, being offered large bribes by the investors.

If you walk into a form that would have met 30 people he meets at parties he's a real partner. Probably more dangerous to Microsoft than Netscape was. The aim of such high taxes during the Ming Dynasty, when Subject foo not to need to import is broader, ranging from designers to programmers to electrical engineers.

You have to give them up is the kind that evolves into Facebook isn't merely a complicated but pointless collection of qualities helps people make up the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time and get data via the Internet was as a cause them to act through subordinates. Even Samuel Johnson seems to have done all they could probably improve filter performance by incorporating prior probabilities. Chop onions and other vegetables and fry in oil, over fairly low heat, till onions are glassy. The optimal way to make money for other kinds of menial work early in the country turned its back on industrialization at the same town, unless the person who understands how to appeal to space aliens, but to a 2002 report by the normal people they're usually surrounded with.

What lures founders into this sort of community. Just use the local area, and unleashed a swarm of cheap component suppliers on Apple hardware.

Internally most companies are run like Communist states. I know it's a bad imitation of a safe environment, and thereby earn the respect of their origins in their heads, which have evolved the way up.

8%, Linux 11. If early abstract paintings seem more powerful than ever.

Com/spam. 32. You have to deliver the lines meant for a really long time in your country controlled by the high-fiber diet is to ignore competitors.

[tepperz]

sorry it took me a bit to reply, this weekend went by so fast!

So in a way you already do have references organized and at hand! You must remember where certain significant scenes are in a series so you can flip there and find it quickly :3c  It’d be very cool to see an examination of comics from an art perspective since most reviews focus on the story and characters… Ah but yeah, it’s a looot of work making videos! @@

You know, thats true!! 8U

Haha that’s fair, especially regarding Sugisaki’s writing. Plus it drives me up a wall how inconsistent her locations and left/right hand placements are from panel-to-panel! Right beside each other!!! Even so, reading the pages does feel so… smooth. It all flows impressively well. I don’t even know how one begins capturing that. I’ll have to look now and see how infrequently she draws feet and shoes because I do have trouble thinking of more than a couple moments loool

Very true. I've analyzed her panels and she just has such a grasp on page flow that makes things feel so natural and fun to read. A lot of varied panels and artwork that points to the next spot to read. She's also very good at page cliffhangers, which is a thing where there is the question at the end of the page that makes you want to turn it to get an answer. It can be a dialogue stated question or an unsaid question that raises a mystery or intrigue. She might not answer a lot of questions but she sure asks them a lot in her story! But yeah feet and backgrounds are not her favorite thigs. If she can replace her backgrounds with screentones or effects then she will xD Still, it does take a certain mastery in order to put so many screentones and still have them fit so well. She does randomly place characters wherever and mixes up the left and right a lot from panel to panel, but I'd also say that's usually intentional to help with her flow. I wonder who she studied under? Hmmmm. Sorry if this rambeling doesn't make sense, i have a bit of brain fog!

Ey if others’ artworks have unique value then yours do as well~

Pikachu face. I guess thats true, but its hard to see it for yourself!

agree that sharing processes are interesting too~ The “history” adds more depth in a way! (And I’m curious how other artists make their stuff~)

That's true, I'd love to see other processes too. I watch speeddraws and stuff but that's not really the same as knowing about their decision making process!

I wish I had more processes to share. I’ll try to take a screenshot of my references all together while I’m working on my next pieces!

I'd like that! :D Its cool to see inside your brain ooooh 👻

I swear the strong winds are a coincidence in this case because I drew the lines long before I had a color scheme in mind…! They look extra similar though, can’t deny. xD

How interesting!! I wonder if part of the reason you subliminally chose the reference picture is because of that vibrant wind feeling?

It’s pretty hard to get the right colors yeah, so a lot of my pieces turn out lighter than I wanted.

Ohhhh that makes sense. Yeah, that's the rough thing with watercolors... do you ever color correct on the computer after? I end up sometimes make my digital pieces lighter then I intend and end up color correcting myself. I think this is a good example

The left is the before and the right is the after darkening it a bit. It's a subtle thing but it adds something. Luckily I've been getting better at picking what color I want the first time but I'm still happy that I can turn to color corrections if I need to.

Like you showed in your blue gouache below, when I try to do darker washes, there’s a huuuge risk of it looking streaky too (and that’s why I ended up covering one of my paintings in gouache because the dark watercolors just did not work out orz)  But I’ve been trying to incorporate them more anyway. Paper quality definitely affects watercolor’s forgiveness ;;;;  BUT I’ve been going wild with dark pieces digitally and it’s so much fun!

I think that's great! It's cool to hear about the struggles of the medium from someone so experienced with watercolors. Dark colored pieces can be so satisfying, right? Man, paper quality... yeah. What sort of paper do you like to use? Lately Ive just been using canson mixed media sketchbooks because I like that they can take a beating. My third eye opened recently because I realized that I could probably paint the top of my sketchbook if I wanted. Ive never done anything like that before :0

Right right, I feel the same about his videos! It’s like I need to just digest or put that one lesson into practice before I can even think about what he’s going to cover next. I love his passion for the subject. He drew yugioh cards?? Good taste, OP. :3c I honestly didn’t know anything about his career so it’s cool to learn he has all this experience! He’s brilliant anyway but still~

Yes! I wish I could put him on in the background as I draw more but since he speaks japanese I have to really pay attention and watch the subtitles when I enjoy his videos. Did you see his channel take-down a while ago? I feel so bad for him, having to start up his channel all over again. All that lost knowledge, too. ): But I'm so glad he still had a few essential videos of his ready for reupload! And he's still going strong too with creating for his new channel. What a determined guy! And he still tries to be so cheerful for his audience. I look up to him.

Yes, thank you!! I can always use more color theory tutorials. I need to read things worded several different ways before it sticks, apparently orz  Oh dang too bad about the creator… But yeah, that doesn’t change whether the lesson itself is helpful. So that’s what’s in the psd file! I’ll have to open that up ASAP. Kwacy has a gorgeous style so I’ll love seeing it broken down. Phew, I’m glad I added the book after all. And I hope the rest can be useful somehow too! Thanks for sharing even your  paywall materials. ;v; I feel the same about artists lifting each other up. I have Fowkes’ “How to Paint Landscapes Quickly and Beautifully in Watercolor and Gouache” and “Artists’ Master Series: Color and Light”. The first has process shots on his paintings and how he works from and alters his references/plein air views. It’s also a pretty artbook lol. The second was a collaboration with several other artists and is basically a textbook. A heavy, colorful textbook that has lots of light science in it~ I like to flip through it when I feel like I’m missing something but not sure what.

I have gratefully downloaded all of your tutorial files! Thank you so much again for sending them my way, there is SO much good information, and I haven't seen the bulk of it anywhere before! Really great for references. Ohhh those books you have sound amazing. I will have to look into trying to get those myself. An artbook that is also sort of a textbook sounds SUPER useful. And yeah np if i run into any other cool tutorial stuff i will send them my way, let me know if anything was especially useful to you and Ill see if I can find anything similar.

As much as I fight with gouache sometimes I also adore it. Love those flat, solid colors so much. I think the hardest part is getting used to the long “ugly stage” my gouache pieces have because watercolor doesn’t really do that (not that it can’t look ugly too, but it’s so transparent that the plot is never lost along the way, I guess?) Right, I feel you there. And once water’s added to gouache, it can look like it’s going down smooth but when it dries… betrayal. It’s a delicate balance of wet vs. dry orz Ooh your gouache pieces are nice with it watered down like that! Ye, a a single color can look quite different from one end of the gradient to the other. (Love the dancing cat things btw. They have so much personality~)

Yeah, no, i get you with that. Even if watercolor goes down messily or there is a mistake, the texture of watercolor still tends to make something look beautiful, I think. Plus a few dabs of water and you're a lot further on correcting it! Do you always seal your paintings ad sketches when you're done? I don't really do that as much as I should. I think out of all my sketchbooks I've only properly sealed maybe one. Apparently good hairspray can do sealing well too. (!?)

Grandmas have all these hidden talents that they just whip out of nowhere like “okay quick before you go let me just impart 60 years of rug-making secrets onto you”~ But yeah, I enjoyed learning from her. And exactly! Oil’s drying time, the solvents, the smell, the CLEANUP– I absolutely get the appeal because mixing them is something special but I’ll leave that to someone with more patience~ An oil painting of Kirby sounds so fancy! Good use of the medium =v=

Haha so true! The wisdom! The good vibes!! Oh yeah, oils are not only messy, but the cleanup.... oi vey. Yeah. Not to mention getting oils out of brushes just feel like such a chore... I like just being able to run my brush under water and being done!! gap! You like mixing them???? I absolutely do not like that part at all xDDD I feel like it's never mixed properly!! But I love seeing people mix oils, because it can be satisfying to watch. But yeah they take SOOOO long to dry. I will share my kirby once it's dry!!!! In a million years xD Pus not only are oils stink though, and messy, but if you have animals it's a disaster. I have to hide away kirby inside a ice cooler in order for my cats not to walk on him!

Uh oh talking watercolors could make this long message actually endless~ I use a bunch of different brands nowadays but I started out with Sakura Koi and White Nights.

thats ok i really like hearing about your experiences. Oh, I have some sakura koi! I have not tried them yet though. I haven't heard of white nights! ohhh but they look so pretty on amazon.

Still have a lot left from the latter though if I need a new color I usually get M. Graham (honey-based so it’s gentle on my brushes but also messy) and Holbein (super smooth, not much granulation).

HONEY BASED??????? Omg i want some that sounds awesome. (looking them up) They look so VIBRANT. Ohh and ive seen holbein around but i wasn't sure about them! Good to know they have your approval. I know whats going on my christmas wish list xD

Tubes aren’t cheap, very true… they last forever at least!! I pour mine into little pans and let them dry so they’re portable.

that. is. adorable. Handy! Makes sense! But so cute. You can just whip it out!!! Makes sense!

OH one more: from May to August I only used my Meiliang watercolors… They’re a student grade of the Paul Rubens brand so they’re cheap yet very good quality.

ohhhhhhh.... tbh those look exactly up my ally. I don't know what it is about student grade high quality watercolors that makes me wag my tail, but those look great. I will for sure try those once I get a chance. What do you find is the difference between student grade and professional grade when it comes to application, for you?

Do you like Winsor and Newton even if you prefer the ovals? I only have a couple colors from them but they seem like a solid brand. (And props to you for having the patience for the super super cheap paints because they’re another challenge altogether!)

Okay so I was wrong! Apparently what I've been using recently IS the koi! But I also used a bit of winsor newton too. And, you know... I have no idea if what I'm about to say is controversial or not (because my experience with talking to watercolor enthusiasts are limited) but so far the professional grade watercolors seem... lighter? I don't know if its because the little half pans I use for the professional grade, I use less paint because I'm scared of using them up, or....? You know, now that im thinking about it, maybe its because I don't use the tubes? I buy pans and half pans and maybe that has something to do with it. Regardless my prang ovals really do it for me for some reason. Heres what i mean

These are some sketches from the zoo of a monkey. I did tree different watercolors at the bottom, and the bottom is the prang. Reusing them again made me really remember how much i love them. I put about the same amount of time into all of the colors. So weird xD I wonder how you'd find the derpy prang paints!

How did you learn to draw so well? Like was it from classes or a book on fundamentals or just trial and error?

//// thanks for the kind question!

I guarantee you I would have improved faster if I’d taken a class, but I hope some of the materials I’ve used over the years can be of use to you too:

Andrew Loomis’ books - I never made it past the first chapters, but those had some great advice.

Youtube - Proko’s bean method. Figure drawing references will greatly improve anatomy and “drawing what you see”. It’s boring imo, so doing just 5-10 minutes a day can keep one from burning out while still seeing improvement. Speed painting videos are a nice way to relax and study.

Will Terrell’s People Drawing series - He’s a humble man with personal advice for artists. I watch his videos when I feel discouraged or lost.

Art, art, art - Whenever I see an artwork that I like, I figure out exactly what pleases me: line thickness, nose shape, finger positions, composition, the way the hair bends in the wind, etc. Then I try to incorporate that specific characteristic into my own art.

I have growing folders of (I’m a bit embarrassed) almost 8,000 pictures, organized by characteristics, for the sole purpose of studying their prettiness. Sometimes we don’t need a tutorial to spell everything out, just an example can help us envision our own works’ potential. Also, staring at pictures is a relaxing way to study too!

And of course, trial and error~ I don’t post my sad, failed paintings or all the weird sketches I make, but they exist and teach a lot!

[strawhatsoraya]

Hello, thank you for your writing! Could I request a fluff Law fic with AU December/Winter Love with July prompt Deadlines? Thank you!

Hello! It's been idk 1.5 weeks lmao since you asked for this. I am so sorry for the long wait. I am also sorry to myself because idk why I can't focus more. Such is my life. You asked for a Winter Love Fluffy thing with Deadlines prompt and it made me want to write like an Office Job AU type thing. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for stopping by to request.

Marigold

LAW X READER | SFW Word Count: 1.2k CONTENT WARNING: none, unless you hate fluff SUMMARY: Y/N has had a crush on Law for as long as she can remember, but he is difficult to approach, Law has a distinct memory of Y/N he refuses to acknowledge or address.

It was snowing on the first day he met you.

A dark cloudy gray sky was above you, as you stood wrapped up in your coat, marigold yellow scarf around your neck. Tender tufts of snow melted into your hair, and kissed your cheeks and nose until they were red; a color similar to a Fuji apple, and probably just as sweet.

You were too preoccupied with the stray cat to notice him, as you debated while on your haunches whether to leave your scarf behind or not. He didn’t see you make your decision as he walked away into the building. Later that same Winter, he saw you several times in front of the office building but never with the same scarf.

A year had gone by, and you rarely crossed his mind. He was diligent, almost to a fault, constantly agreeing to overtime. You had wanted to approach him, coming up with schemes as to take up his time. Should you thank him for his hard work and bring him coffee? Should you ask him to review your report and look for mistakes? All of them fell to the side when you looked at him. He’d look back with a steely expression in his eyes, a thin line drawn between his lips; the line you couldn’t cross.

A year had gone by, and you rarely crossed his mind, but he’d see you look at him every now and then. 

A year had gone by, but sometimes he’d wonder about you, the cat and the scarf.

The line you couldn’t cross seemed to grow thinner, flimsier, sometime at the beginning of December. Your department’s manager had tasked you both to team up for a project on Christmas cakes. You saw it as a win-win situation. You could indulge in cakes, and somehow try to get closer to Trafalgar Law. It was a golden opportunity slipped on your desk inside a manila folder. 

You grasped it with sweaty eager hands. This was your chance to cross the uncrossable line. You just had to do it. You had to.

You met on and off for the next three days, taking over any empty meeting room available to discuss on how to approach the research. You each brought a list of places to visit for tasting. A schedule had been decided as well as a budget. It went as expected. He was strictly business, and you struggled to keep your head from floating above the clouds. In the instances he’d stare at you, and ask you to repeat what he last said, you'd grasp your cup of coffee, its warmth grounding you. It didn’t provide you with the answer to his question. Something he didn’t let you forget, every time, for the remainder of the meeting.

Every day you met, you clocked out of work feeling dejected, shoulders so low it pulled you down to the ground, steps struggling to lift the weight of your regrets. You’d shower, eat mechanically, and go to sleep but you always felt refreshed the next morning.

This was a golden opportunity, after all, you couldn’t just give up.

The day had come for the field expedition. The forecast had predicted snow, so you did your best to dress warmly which was frustrating. You were looking forward to showing your cute side to Law, in hopes of catching his attention long enough outside the subject of work. After forty five minutes of tossing clothes on your bed, to the floor, and only stopping to have a good cry for five minutes, you were ready to meet him outside the office building. 

You ran from the station to the front of the building, keeping an eye on the watch on your wrist. The cold made it harder to run, your knees feeling stiff and frigid. Your breaths came in icy, leaving a sharp ache inside your chest. 

He sees you running towards him, the bangs of your hair splitting to reveal your forehead. He blinks away a snowflake clinging to his dark lashes. As you approach, the lower half of your face is buried behind a marigold yellow muffler. He can’t stop himself from reaching out. He slips an inked finger, between your cheek and scarf to pull it down.

“I thought you gave this away,” he says, forgetting his manners. You are surprised. He usually greeted you very stiffly, very formally, always careful to keep the line drawn between you. Now you had felt the warmth of his finger against your cheek. He was folding your muffler down as you struggled to regulate your breathing. Your breath was warm against his knuckles as he finished one more roll of your muffler. He felt the tips of his ears heating.

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, confusion evident in how your brows knitted together. You tilt your head, trying to see if there was an opening in his head you could slip into. He mirrors you, head tilting as well. 

“The cat, last year,” he said very simply, his frown now matching yours. “I thought you gave it to the cat.”

You have no idea what he is talking about and it is killing you. You desperately want to remember. Here was a moment to have a conversation that did not involve your current project or small chit chat about having slept well or not, and you couldn’t understand what he was talking about. 

“Ohhh, that!” you say, feigning acknowledgement. You had no idea, still, but maybe you could play along. “No, I didn’t.” It was the closest to the truth you could get without truly remembering what he meant. “You remember me from last year?” you ask, with a small smirk, finally gathering your bearings to understand the implications of his question.

He blushes, and you watch him try to sink into his shoulders and his black and white scarf. “Not really,” he mumbled, averting his eyes to the passing salary workers. “I just never saw you wear it again so I assumed.”

You humm, mischief dancing in your eyes. He watched with apprehension, wishing he could take back the words. He shoves his hands deep inside the pockets of his coat. 

“It’s so nice of you to remember all this time!” you chirp, slipping an arm around his. He freezes in his spot. You feel his body stiffen and bite down on your lower lip to keep from laughing.

“I didn’t! I said that already,” he says resolutely, a scowl twisting his mouth. You ignore it, and start dragging him along, snowflakes covering the path you walk on. You change the subject, suddenly very preoccupied with reaching the first bakery. He grunts as a response, letting you continue, as he watches fluffy snowflake after snowflake land on the crown of your head, on your nose and eyelashes, on that marigold yellow muffler.

A year had gone by, and he still wasn’t sure about you, the cat and the marigold yellow muffler.

But maybe, if he didn’t mess up, he could find out more about you soon.

[thefanficmonster]

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

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[ayamturd]

yourself│awesamdude

summary: love is precious, love is pure; how insecure thoughts and concerns trouble a scared lover, and how to convince one they are deserving of said love

warnings: descriptive insecure + self-deprecating thoughts, slight angst to fluff

pairing: in-game c!awesamdude

a/n: couldn’t stop thinking of this concept, i wouldn’t physically sleep till i wrote it all out lol

pls know you are loved, that you matter and are important. even if it doesn’t feel like, i’ll say now that i do, i love you. i don’t need to know you to know you deserve love, you deserve to know you are amazing for being yourself and for simply trying your best by existing for what it is <3

wc: (2.1k) - m.list

“Why do you love me?”

It was late. Very late. 

The sky was pitch black and the forest held nothing but a ringing silence to screen, the brief sounds of woodland creatures along with lurking monsters occasionally breaking through. While the night was alive by the stir of the wind, the world above was obscured beneath the depths of the newly discovered mineshaft.

You were tired, your body aching and sore from the continuous grind along side your lover for the past few hours now. Unbeknownst to you, the early morn had been replaced with the midnight sky, the twists of the cave’s darkness becoming so lost to your sensitive eyes. 

While you were resting on a large boulder, Sam’s stamina was relentless as he worked to mine into the next cave tunnel. He was beautiful, to say the least. 

The ever so flicker of nearby torches illuminated only the best of his features, his usual mask hanging low around his neck due to the cramped and tight spaces underground. His brows were furrowed, the gentle concentration that pulled onto his face strangely handsome to observe. 

His hair, the dark yet notable green shade, was seemingly drenched with sweat. In spite of how dreadful the thought could come across, it only did him wonders when weighing his locks down to frame his face. It curled around his eyes, the sage emerald-color contrasting his light skin tone while emphasizing the dark glisten of his squinted eyes. 

Through his intent and determined grunts with every swing of his blade against the course stone, his stance was firm and strong, each strike crumbling beneath him from pure strength and integrity. 

Moments like these were random, but reoccurring. Moments where you could stop to stare at him for hours on end, appreciate him for what he was and all that he did, yet question on why he was still here.

Why someone so talented and earnest in his work could even consider you as someone special, someone worth his attention and love to be with. 

You spoke before you could stop to process your words and what possible answer he could imagine. Your curiosity got the better of you, and your insecurity blinded your perception. It didn’t seem like he heard you initially, and as you began to take it as a sign to forget the question entirely, his diligent swings stopped and his heavy panting filled the air. 

He carelessly rested the large tool on top of his shoulders, twisting only his head in your direction while wiping the salty sting of raining sweat from his eyes. 

“Huh?”

“Why do you love me?” you asked again. 

Pushing yourself up, you glanced down while fiddling with your pickaxe, the old wrap around its handle fraying ever so lightly despite its lack of consistent use. You’d need to replace it soon. 

“I just- it’s hard sometimes, you know? To think why you’ve stayed with me for so long or why you even want to stay with me altogether.”

You suddenly lost all courage, and couldn’t dare look him straight in the eye from your admittance. There was an unfounded trust your relationship, no doubt, but trust can only go far when comparing yourself to others. This was a question of worth, of importance when believing one has nothing special to give to someone who deserves the world. 

“Love…”

Shaking your head, you turned away from him to face the arching gem wall, driving your pickaxe into the thick, shimmering stone with a slam before wrapping your arms around yourself. You bit the inner side of your check, loose and anxious thoughts raging wild to come through in the vulnerable space.

Your hands shook in unpredictable expectations, fingers twitching against your pounding chest.

“I know you’re going to dismiss it as some kind of nonsense, ‘insecurity’ thing and honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. But I can’t help it when you’re you and I’m me.”

The pause that followed was unbearable. Steady breathes pervaded the tense air, and after what felt to be an entirety in harsh, prolonged silence, you heard the shuffles of his feet when cautiously approaching you from behind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was serious, yet his voice soft. Like he was cornering a scared and injured animal, he seemed mindful of his volume for your own concern. Another quality to consider: he was too kind than for what you rightfully earned.

There was so much to say, yet so little at the same time. You were at a loss for words on how to explain something so broad and conceptually troubling to see through. How does one explain how little they matter? How meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things to someone that only tries to see the best of them.

Someone that would refuse a truth for the sake of your troubled mentality.

“Well- you know…”

He stood directly behind you now, his radiating warmth encompassing your entire being, leaving you to shudder from the sharp contrast in the freezing underground. Hands hovering your rigid shoulders, he contemplated touching you but decided against it. He dropped his arms to his side with a sigh. 

“No, I don’t. What possible reasoning could you have for me not to love you?”

His pleading whisper was left unanswered, your body frozen to the guilt that consumed you from worrying him over your own problematic assumptions. As if he could read you, he began a different approach to break through to you. 

“Why do you love me?”

His unexpected question immediately caused you to go in defense. Spinning around, you glared up at him with resistant eyes, the response to trade your unsure gaze with ones that screamed in flipped concern for his own good. 

“Don’t do that.”

Sam’s own eyes remained just as hard, the unnatural line from his neutral expression pulling further to create an evident frown. He was just as serious as you.

“I’m serious here. What reasoning do you have to love me? A screw up, that does nothing but hurt others no matter how much I try in opposition to protect.”

Admittedly shaking your head, you unconsciously reached to grab the front of his chest plate, the enchanted armor glowing beneath your bare hands as you forcefully pushed him in disagreement. 

You knew what he was referencing to, and how hard the events became for him. No matter if Tommy would never forgive him, he had yet to forgive himself in any reasonable sense. 

“You know that’s not true. Mistakes are mistakes that can’t always be avoided or your fault.”

Tilting his head, Sam’s nose scrunched aggressively to your argument with a scowl.

“Can’t it?” 

While your face dropped from his jarring snap, he only sighed before bowing his head away, rubbing the back of his head with a tired exhale and dropped shoulders. It was his turn to struggle with his own words as you stared intensely for his explanation. 

His voice were soft again, and wavered slightly in the near beginning. 

“I’m not perfect, far from it actually. No matter how many times you try and reassure me of the fact, I’ll never truly believe anything there is good to say about me. I only see the worst of myself,” he murmured. Although a majority of his speech could have easily been missed from his airy quiet, your ears were strained and focused solely on him. 

As you tried to step closer to comfort him in some way or another, he finished his final thought then, causing you to freeze once more. 

“And when that negatively becomes too much, I look to you as my light.”

Sam sheepishly faced you, his bashful grin completely deviating from the conversation at hand.  An unexpected heat rushed to your face, causing you fall apart by the mere power behind his words. 

He gave an airy chuckle, closing his eyes with a gentle smile and opening to reveal such fragility in all he had to tell, eyes watering from the sight of you. 

“You give me more hope than I think I could ever deserve. From your shining smile to the smallest forms of affection, you give me a love irreplaceable by others and unconceivable to consider.” 

Biting your lip, your eyes also began to tear from the overly tender conceptions. He knew better than to let your thoughts run wild and interrupt him, so he continued before you could open your mouth in protest.

“I love you, for everything you’ve sacrificed and lost. You are my strength that pulls me through, inspires me to continue even on the hardest of days. You teach me to forgive myself and work through my hardships for a greater objective at play.” 

Steadily nearing your emotional state, Sam carefully pulled your hands into his own and caressed your knuckles with his callous thumbs. He squeezed them tightly once, before reaching a singular hand against your cheek, catching the fallen tears that escaped your adoring eyes.

“Even if you unintentionally did, you became that objective to pull me through it all.”

A sob escaped you, and Sam was quick to pull you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head earnestly while resuming to whisper his declaration against your hair.  

“I love you and all that you do. Everything that I said now, everything that I know how to express, it does nothing to how much you truly impact by merely existing as yourself.”

“Sam-” you had tried to interject, stop him from tearing you to complete bits as an over sentimental puddle, but he chose to speak over you instead. 

“I don’t love you simply because you’ve given so much to me, that you’ve went through notions with my sake as priority. I don’t care for any of that in all honesty. I love you, because you do all that you do as yourself.”

Shudder breathes caused you to shake beneath his firm hold, his only response to pull you inhumanely closer if possible. 

“It doesn’t matter why or what pushes you to do what you do, it’s the fact that you exist as yourself, that that beautiful heart of yours goes beyond any and all expectations anyone can conceive of you and never fails to the most of any situation to come.”

“You amaze me, y/n,” he hummed. Pulling you back, he raised a single finger below your chin to lift your face to his. He leaned a near breathes away, with an indescribable admiration that caused more tears to spill. 

“Why do I love you?” he re-asked.

His own tears coursed down his dirt stained skin, and you habitually moved to cup both of his cheeks. 

“Because you’re able to love me, and not even know the adverse effects you cause to those around you.”

Bringing your forehead to his, he kissed your scrunched nose as he released a small whimper, for he had nothing left to express through words. 

“If ever you question yourself again, ask yourself how are you able to love someone like me, and know that that same confounding thought shakes my very core and beats my love-stricken heart for you.”

Bonus:

Pathetic giggles bounced around the gem filled enclosure, the high of work finally wearing you both down into a helpless mess of two exhausted, yet stubborn lovers. 

You leaned heavily into Sam’s hold, his own stance faltering from the unexpected weight you gave in as he groaned from the fast movement. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready for some rest, wouldn’t you say?” 

Giving out incomprehensible whines smothered into the crook of his arm, you raised a lazy hand to give a subtle thumbs up. Sam laughed loudly, and took your silent gesture as an answer. 

“You ready to climb back to the surface then?”

Mellow wails spoke for themselves, and he shook his head in joking disbelief to how drained you easily became. 

With you still in his arms, he maneuvered around you to grab both of your pickaxes and gathered resources, them too heavy to physically carry for his next course of action. He pulled out his Enderchest and swiftly packed everything away. 

Once everything else was settled, he worked on the actual situation in hand; literally, it being you basically asleep on your feet against his balanced arms. 

“Here,” he spoke. Lifting from your waist, he placed you on top of an overgrown gem stone and steadied your footing before quickly turning. He gripped your thighs, and even in your tired state, you instinctively jumped onto his back. 

He sighed when adjusting you, before making the trek back up the stair incline.

“To think I choose to love you.” 

You yawned loudly, and to his surprise, comprehended his words enough to respond.

“Mmmm, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” Head propped between his neck, he glanced down at you with a smirk. 

“Maybe, but a problem I welcome nonetheless.”

[fandomscombine]

It's the Lease I Can Do

Platonic! Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: The Weasley twins are so close to having their joke shop become a reality. They had found the perfect location but they had hit a minor problem that could cause them everything. You want to help, but how can you when they, the birthday boys themselves had given up?

a/n: I had this idea for a almst a year now and waited til ther twins bday to write it. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 2111

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred and George causing a ruckus in the common room is a daily occurrence that everyone is accustomed to. However ever since the start of Year 7, the amount of commotion these two had caused can be counted in one hand.

At first glance, it could be attributed to NEWTS or in this year's case-to a pink toad acting as High Inquisitor. Still, more and more nights the twins had claimed the back corner of the common room.

~

The last remaining batch of students were making their way through Filch's checkpoint (an added security protection which also serves for Umbridge having a list of names on who comes in and out of Hogwarts). You glanced down at your watch- 2:27pm, they’re late. Weird, the twins never pass a chance to go to Hogsmeade.

You hear the castle door open behind you. Thank Merlin, you thought but instead you were greeted with a disheveled Angelina. “I’m coming! Wait!”

“Have you seen Fred and George?” You called as she ran past you.

“I think I saw them in the common room!” Angelina shouted back.

The common room? “What are they up to now?” You sighed. Stomping heavily up the stairs. “Ditching me….”

~

“Oi Weaslebees! I know you’re in here!” You rounded the corner of their secret spot. “AHa!”

You caught them red handed, midway into shoving papers into their “Weasley & Weasley'' Trunk. Though what they were hiding, you weren't exactly sure.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, grabbing onto your shoulders, effectively covering George and the table. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “Really?” Hands on hips you blatantly say “2:15 am, courtyard?? Ring any bells?” Fred shook his head.

Meanwhile George’s head shot up. “Oh shit, y/n we’re so sorry!”

Fred turned to his brother, still clueless on what the heck George was talking about.

Abandoning the trunk, George gave his twin a classic smack on the head. “Hogsmeade, you idiot! We were supposed to all go together.”

“OHHHH FU--” Fred knew he was screwed. “I’M SO SORRY! WE’RE SORRY.” Seizing the messy trunk, he strategized. “Right, here’s the plan: I’m gonna quickly drop this off back in the dorm while you two make your way to the gate. If you run, I guess you can make it. I’ll catch up with you two then.”

“Fred….. We’re not gonna make it” you argued.

“Not if we don’t try.”

“It’s almost 3, Filch would be closing the gates by now.” You sat down on Fred’s empty seat. “Besides we can go to Hogsmeade next time, we could just hang out here. I miss having my best lads around.”

“Awww…we’ve been upgraded from annoying pricks to best lads!” Gushed George, pulling you into a side hug.

“Yea, I could help in whatever it was you guys were doing before I came. I don’t mind.”

At that, you could feel George tense up, his arm around you dropping. “Uhhh…” He looked to the older twin, silently conversing.

You gaze between the boys, sometimes they get so caught up in their scheming that they don’t notice that to others, especially those who had known them for years that their non verbal communication is not so sly.

In the end, Fred gave his brother a subtle shake. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just put this back and we could play gobstones or something, anything you like.”

As Fred headed up to his dorm room, you noticed a piece of paper under the table. Picking it up, the header caught your eye. RE: Lease Agreement. Were the twins looking for a new home after graduation? You didn’t mean to pry. You were close friends, they would tell you if they were moving right? This is big news….you decided to brush it off until another line caught your attention. The shop premise located at Number 93 Diagon Alley. Shop? They are trying to set up shop? That’s brilliant! The twins would get to showcase their inventions to the world! You could feel your pride swell. Leasing Agreements would not proceed if tenants, Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley, are unable to provide an endorser by the date of 31st of March.

“Where’d you get that?” George standing across from you, gobstones on one hand and another pointing at the document. There’s no backing out now.

“It was under the table.” You explained. “I didn’t know you were this far along with the shop.”

“Yea, well it’s not happening now is it?”

“What?”

“Cmon y/n. I know you read it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. We aren’t getting the place anyway.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“No endorsers.” George stated matter of factly but you sense the pain in his voice.

“How about your parents surely-”

George laughed. “As if mum would suddenly have a change of heart. You knew how she disapproves of our inventions, calling it a waste.”

“Arthur then.”

“Mum won’t let him.”

“Anyone then?” George huffed in defeat. “How about me! I could back you up.”

“You have to be an adult with a proven financial stability.” He stated, effectively shutting you down. “Forget it y/n. The hold ends in 3 days. We’ve tried everything. Just don’t let Fred know that you know. He’s devastated. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And no pity, sad eyes!” He added as footsteps are heard descending the staircase.

“But I suck at poker faces!”

“Then let’s hope that Freddie is distracted even to not notice.”

~

It’s been 4 days since you had sent the letter to your father.

“Dear papa,

I know that this is a huge favour to ask but I believe it would be worth your while.

So remember back in the summer when you caught Fred Weasley, George Weasley and me snooping around with the Extendable Ears but let us go because you were so enamored?

Well turns out the twins and trying to get a shop up and running! How amazing is that?

The only problem is that they need an endorser to back them up in order to proceed with the lease agreements. The are currently on hold for the Shop Number 93 in Diagon Alley until the 31st.

This is where the huge favour comes in. Could you please be their backer? You did say that you’d love to help in some part in their invention, be an investor of sorts. Please papa. I would love to do it myself but I have to wait a couple more months to qualify. Plus it’s their 18th birthday on April 1st. Imagine their surprise if it were to come through.

I’d love to hear from you soon, regardless of your choice.

Your favourite child

y/n.”

The twin’s 18th birthday was spent with absolute love and madness.

Lee had unloaded his stash of butterbeer and firewhiskey, Fred had slipped Angelina with one of their new prank inventions- which changes the person into a sickly color of vomit green, a perfect way to ditch class or events.

Upon learning that the color would last for a few days and would only fade with the ingestion of an antidote, antidote that George said they still had yet to create. Angelina (understandably) threw cake at them. The Gryffindor chaser with perfect aim, hits its mark. However, Fred using his beater skills, instinctively blocks the incoming cake.

Resulting in a wide splat zone. Fred’s arm was covered in frosting, having sprayed everyone around him in whipped cream during the impact. George wasn’t safe too, despite being across from Fred, the rebounce of the cake had made him the new target.

You had just changed into your pajamas when a tapping sound came from your window.

Your family owl, Lanny, was outside carrying a large yellow envelope.

Quickly letting him in, you gave Lanny a gentle pat and brought out some owl treats for the tired bird.

Unscrolling the note tied to his leg, you begin to read.

“My dearest y/n,

My sincere apologies for the late reply, it’s been quite hectic at work.

In regards to your favour, you need not worry. Everything is taken care of. I had met with the landlord of Number 93 Diagon Alley and had all the documents settled. I had also gone and checked to make sure the two lads aren’t being ripped off. Fred and George had picked a nice prime location.

Greet them a happy birthday for me alright? And tell them that I look forward to witnessing them succeed in their endeavors.

They would undoubtedly be bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times. The people would be thankful for them.

I also had Lanny bring the twins’ copy of the Lease Agreement.

I can’t wait to see you all soon.

Much love,

Papa.”

~

Fred was grateful that their friends had retired into the night, leaving him and George to sulk into the dreadful reality.

“We were this close Georgie, this close!” Fred winced, pinching his fingers close without touching.

“I know but there was nothing else we could have done.” consoled George but even he himself was having a hard time. Number 93 was the perfect location for their joke shop. But now it’s gone.They are back to square one, scouting for locations.

“Fred! George! There you are! I have great news!” You yelled, not caring if you could wake up the other students.

“Oi Y/N! Be careful!.” Even in a bad mood, Fred Weasley couldn’t help being protective.

You banged the envelope on the table. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! From papa and I.”

“Another gift?” wondered George.

“So you don’t want it then?” You challenged, crossing your arms. You tried to look intimidating but the pajamas weren’t doing any good. “Cause I bet a hundred galleons that you’d shit your pants if you were to reject it.”

“That confident eh?” Smirked Fred, taking the contents of the envelope out. “ What do you think is so grand that Georgie and I would---BLOODY HELL! Y/N!” Fred kept looking down at the paper and up to you, unbelieving.

“What is it Freddie?” asked George leaning over to read whatever it was that left his brother speechless.

Re: Lease Agreement

Mr. y/l/n has submitted his endorsement to Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley.

The turnover of the leasing property of Shop Number 93 Diagon Alley would begin on April 1st …..

“Oh My- Y/n? Is this real?” George whispered, afraid that if he were any louder this dream would end.

“Yes, absolutely, 100%.” You affirmed. “The shop is yours! Opff-”

George embraced you tight, catching you off guard. You could feel your right shoulder getting wet. “Heyya big guy, don’t cry.” Running a hand up and down his back.

“But how?” Fred with brows creased was still stuck in a trance, you could see the paper shake in his grasp.

“You left the agreement noticed a couple of days ago. I might have accidentally read it. George said to not let you know cause you might get angry-”

“YOu KNEW?!?”

“George only knew I saw the paper. Nothing else.” You defended. “I thought i might try and help, so I called in a favour with papa. You knew how much he was impressed with the Extendable Ear, so I mentioned if he wanted to back you up. I only got his reply just now, said he’d love to and got onto ironing out the paperwork and viola!” Pointing at the document. “Oh and he also said Happy 18th Birthday, looking forward to your success and the people would be thankful for bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times.”

“Thanks Y/n but this is a lot we can’t possibly-”

You cut Fred off before he could say more. “Oh please, you have done countless things for me. And I know what you’re gonna say- but see you would do the same for me. Besides think of this as your first investors. We want to help. We see your potential, we know you two, Fred, George, are gifted with bringing laughter and joy to people with your inventions."

"Thank you, truly y/n and to your dad too." Fred admitted, opening himself up. "No one's really backed us up with our inventions before, we've been always told off for being childish. It really means a lot."

“Hey, it’s the lease I could do.” You replied, causing the twins to chuckle immediately lightening up the mood.

It's great to see them relax again after weeks of stressing over the shop. Times might be changing but at least tonight, you got your best lads back.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[gnocchighoul]

Operation Hot Potato

Summary: 

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

(You bring home a kitten and try to hide her from Lucifer. Unfortunately for you, nothing gets past the House of Lamentation’s resident pet-hater.)

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Portal

You found a kitten.

Well—kind of. It’s debatable.

You think it’s a kitten. She certainly looks like one—fluffy little thing with snow-white fur, blue eyes, a poofy little triangular head, and the most perfectly pink toe beans you’ve ever had the pleasure of squishing. 

The reason why you’re so hesitant to call her a kitten? 

She breathes fire. Hiccups fireballs. Sneezes flaming hot streams of… well, flames.

You learned that firsthand ten minutes ago, when you nearly got your eyebrows singed off by a particularly dangerous sneeze. All you wanted to do was give her a smooch on her wittle pink nose, you weren’t expecting to get blasted in the face with an orangey-red inferno.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter if she’s a little strange. You’ve sworn your everlasting love to your newfound daughter—your secret daughter that the demon brothers can absolutely not know about under any circumstances whatsoever, because you just know that Lucifer will make you put her back in the wild where you found her.

Your fire-sneezing, bouncing baby girl wouldn’t last another day out in the harsh wilderness (aka the dumpster that you retrieved her from). In the forty-seven minutes that you’ve had her, she’s grown accustomed to belly scratches, sleeping in your bed, and gnawing on only the finest tortilla chips in the Devildom. 

Her name is Tater Tot.

She sticks out like a sore white thumb among your colorful assortment of pillows. Not that she cares. She’s living it up in the lap of luxury. Tater Tot stretches—turns around with every paw in the air, proudly showing off her rotund little baby belly, and mrrps at you.

Its the cutest thing you've ever fucking seen. You just wanna SQUEEZE her. Ugh, who would've guessed that a little trash fire baby would steal your heart so quickly?

And it’s not like you broke the rules and brought home a pet on purpose. Tater Tot had chosen you. By choosing to rummage around in that specific dumpster that you just so happened to walk past on your way home from RAD, Tater Tot had effectively decided that you were to be her new caretaker. 

It’s fate. Kismet. You’ve wanted a pet for so long—dog, cat, dragon, gremlin, doesn’t matter. You’ve spent hours upon hours bitching and moaning to anyone that’ll listen about how badly you’ve wanted a pet to smother with your love. Nobody has been able to escape your woe. Everyone—the brothers, the angels, Solomon, and even your good buddy Diavolo (somehow, Barbatos has managed to evade you) have all been forced to listen to your lamenting about the pet-shaped hole in your heart. 

But finally—finally—your prayers have been answered.

With a fire breathing kitten. 

Oh yeah. Kismet.

You’re fairly certain that Tater Tot has never lived in a house. She had been perfectly content to snuggle up in your school uniform like some kind of tiny, pouch dwelling, heat seeking creature, until you had snuck into your bedroom and closed the door behind you. 

The second you set her on the floor, it was like a switch flipped. Tater Tot had shown off her unnatural strength by flinging her little puffball body around the room like a possessed tumbleweed, spastically crashing around the room and knocking over furniture and keepsakes alike.

You had finally cornered her under your bed and sat peacefully nearby, humming quietly to calm her. It didn’t take long for you to coax her out with snacks—she liked the chips, but passionately disliked the gummy worms—and within twenty minutes you had Tater Tot lounging with you on the bed, rubbing her soft little cheeks into your palm for rubs and scritches. 

You need to come up with a plan to hide your beloved child ASAP. It’s only a matter of time until either Lucifer hauls you off to his room or one of the brothers decides to camp out in yours for the night, and if word gets back to Lucifer that you’re harboring a fugitive animal… Well, favoritism or not, it won’t end pretty.

Though perhaps there is one person who can help you with this little secret.

Satan. The cat-loving fourth brother. 

Man oh man, he’s going to be thrilled with sweet little Tater Tot. You have to be careful though—you reckon that there is a 96% chance that he’ll try to steal her away from you. Trying to juggle custody battles and harboring your secret daughter from Lucifer all at the same time sounds like such a pain.

But… That would still be better than having to put Tater Tot back on the streets.

With the threat of big-meanie-Lucifer looming over you like a particularly gothic and pet-hating phantom, you come to a final decision. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and accept the soul crushing truth of the situation.

Satan is your only hope. 

But how are you going to sneak your daughter all the way over to his room?

You look around your own room for something, anything that can hide your beloved dumpster pet and—ohohoho.

 ~

“Darling?” 

You freeze midstep.

Busted.

“What’s up, Lucifer?” You try so hard to keep your voice calm and normal. So hard. 

Judging by the way Lucifer looks at you, you’ve failed. And you were so close. Satan’s bedroom is literally right there! Only a few yards away! If only you’d just had ten more seconds to yourself in the dark hallway... Alas, the warden your beloved Lucifer aka the resident pet hater stands between you and the dusty salvation that is Satan’s library of a bedroom.

You shuffle your feet a bit nervously. Readjust your grip on the cardboard box. A bit warily, Lucifer eyes it.

“What’s in the box?”

You panic. “What box?” 

Fuck.

Lucifer cracks a smile, though it doesn’t meet his gaze. He gestures to the cardboard box that you are currently holding near to your chest like some sort of ugly, cubic liferaft. 

“Oh!” You laugh. It’s too high pitched. Suspicious. “This box? It’s just some books for Satan, it’s nothing—”

The box sneezes.

Your mouth snaps shut and you thank all the fucking stars in heaven that this sneeze didn’t flambé you.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow accusingly. Tone icy and sharp, he says, “Books? Is that so?” 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

You wilt a bit under the intensity of his gaze. “They’re… cursed books? Yeah, so cursed and dangerous and only Satan knows how to nullify the evilness of these books so I’m gonna just slip past you—”

Lucifer takes a step to the left, planting himself firmly in your path and effectively thwarting your desperate grand escape. A single blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains and slices through the shadows, Lucifer now caught in the spotlight and—oh that fucker did that on purpose. Ugh, what a drama queen.

Red eyes practically glowing in the dark, he nods menacingly at the box. “Go on then. Open it.” 

“I dunno, I really shouldn’t because of the curses and—”

Clearly not in the mood to entertain your scheming-slash-rambling, Lucifer takes matters into his own hands. Before you can twist away, one of his hands darts out to knock the lid off of the box and—

Books. It’s filled with books.

He frowns. Lifts one up and—nope, there’s just more books underneath. “...What?” 

“Happy? Now if you don’t mind I really should get—”

“Let me help you with that.”

Your reflexes aren't fast enough. Before you can leap back or Sparta kick him away, Lucifer plucks the box right out of your arms… and reveals a squirming lump beneath your sweater, right inbetween your breasts. The box hits the floor. Lucifer stares at your newly acquired mass with a very particular sort of horror that you’ve never seen before. 

You panic. Again.

“...I grew a new boob. I think the Devildom air is toxic or something, but it’s okay! The more the merrier, right? We can still—gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY TIDDIES—”

Lucifer presses one hand to your lower back, trapping you, and yanks down your zipper, revealing the purrito that is wrapped kind-of-securely to your chest with a scarf. He recoils backwards, looking equal parts horrified and peeved off.

Time for Plan B.

93% sure that you can still recover from this situation that is rapidly soaring downhill, you stuff your hands into your pockets and then throw them outwards, flinging fistfuls of rainbow confetti into the air. “Surpriiiise! You’re a daddy! Say hello to our daughter.”

“No.”

“Her name is Tater Tot. Personally, I think she takes after you.”

The Tater in question shimmies out of her silky prison and tumbles nose first into your palms. You hold her right up to Lucifer’s face, grinning like a goddamn sociopath when he takes an alarmed step backwards. Little puffball paws desperately try to swipe at his nose. Lucifer looks downright offended by the assault of pink toe beans.

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the noodle-limp kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

“As fun as that sounds, we have a perfectly good one right here!” 

“That thing is not a baby. Where did you find it?” 

There’s a concerned little scrunch in his brow that you wanna smooth over with your thumb, but when you try to close the distance between you two, he moves further out of reach. Frowning, you hug Tater Tot to your chest. She snuggles her face into the crook of your neck and purrs like the smallest biodiesel engine in all of the realms.

“I found her in a dumpster!” you say, perhaps a bit too proudly. 

Lucifer’s eyes widen. “In the city?”

“Why is that so shocking? Does the Devildom not have stray cats?” 

“That’s not a cat.” 

“Well yeah I kinda figured, what with the whole fire breathing thing and all, but—”

“It’s a chimera.” 

You stare at Lucifer. Try to gauge how serious he’s being. Tater Tot nibbles on your thumb with little needle-like teeth. 

Surely he’s joking. 

“...Like the lion-goat-lizard thing? That chimera?” 

Lucifer nods. 

Like you’re in some twisted version of the Lion King, you hold Tater Tot up in the beam of moonlight that Mr. Doom and Gloom had previously been occupying. Examine her totally normal kitten-features. The distinct lack of goat hooves. Miss Tater licks her nose. A Chimera? Her?

Surely he’s fucking with you.

But… it would explain the whole fire-breathing thing. Kind of. You’re not fully convinced he’s lying, but the truth doesn’t make much more sense.

But if she is a chimera… that’s so badass.

If Lucifer thinks for one second that Tater Tot being a nightmarish Hell creature is going to scare you into giving her up, then he is sorely mistaken. (You did choose to date him, after all. You're an expert at loving on Hellish beings.) At the end of the day, whether Tater is a chimera or a cat or whatever the hell else, you’ve already bonded with each other. She’s your baby and you are not going to let him get rid of her. 

If he gets Cerberus, then you get your funky little Tater Tot, dammit.

Lucifer watches this journey of emotions play out on your face. His eyes narrow. He says your name slowly, strained—a thinly veiled warning in his voice.

The grin that overtakes your face can only be described as evil. 

“We’re keeping her.”

“Absolutely not.” 

 ~

“You can’t be serious.” 

From the depths of your blanket fort, your hand emerges to flip Lucifer off. He scowls. 

“This blanket fort is only for Tater Tot and me.”

“Then perhaps you should relocate to your bed.” Lucifer growls.

You snuggle further into the black sheets cocooning you. With impressive speed, you had raced back to Lucifer’s room and stripped every piece of fabric from his bed in record time. From there, it was simply a matter of combining the dark sheets with a bunch of pillows and voila. You had created your very own anti-Lucifer fortress, right in the middle of his bed. 

Tater Tot army-crawls across your thigh and worms her way into the sheets, vanishing like a ninja.

"What?" You peek at Lucifer through a small opening in the fabric. “But then you would just ignore me and Tater Tot.” 

“Yes, exactly. I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

“No! We’re not on the same page at all,” you scowl. “I’m not moving until you bond with her.” 

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

“Maybe I will!”

You can’t see him right now, but you know in the depths of your heart that Lucifer is rolling his eyes at you. 

Which, y’know. Fair. You are being a little bit ridiculous. But what choice do you have? The confetti didn't work and Lucifer needs to form an everlasting bond with Tater Tot. He needs to experience how lovely and precious and wonderful your little baby is, so that he won’t make you put her back in the dumpster where you found her.

You have one last tactic. It is by far the absolute worst. 

Talking to him. Like some kind of functioning, responsible adult, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do in a healthy relationship. Blegh. 

While you agonize over stooping to this final resort, Lucifer climbs into the bed without a word and settles himself in like he owns the place. Which he does. But that’s beside the point. 

One of your arms emerges from the blanket shield to poke at his pajama clad thigh. He doesn’t react. So naturally, you poke him again. And again. And again, until finally he sighs, “What?”

You squirm your way out of the stuffy blankets, gulping down air once you're free—sweet baby Jesus, fresh air has never felt so good—and Tater Tot flies out after you, rocketing across the mattress at the speed of light and tumbling around like a little white pom pom. While she does her own thing, you worm your way into Lucifer’s side so that you’re halfway on top of his chest. He huffs and lays there like a board, refusing to hug you, so you grab his arm and wrap it around your shoulders yourself.

Here goes nothing. 

“Why are you so against having a pet?” you ask, dancing the pads of your fingers over his chest.

Lucifer cracks one eye open. “The first and last time I allowed pets in the house, Satan brought home 48 cats. In one hour.” 

...You really should have seen that one coming.

“Oh. Well, I mean… Is that reallyyy a bad thing—ow! You jerk, I was just kidding.” You pout. “You didn’t have to pinch my butt that hard.” 

Lucifer snickers and pats your butt consolingly. “Mmm, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Briefly, you consider headbutting him right in the chin. But alas, that wouldn’t solve anything, so you settle for pressing a kiss to his collarbone, then reach a hand up to play with his hair, just how he likes. It’s not very ~vengeful~ buuut it’s bound to put him in a better mood. 

You trace cutesy little heart shapes on his right pec. “You know what I want?”

Lucifer closes his eyes—lets his head fall back onto the mattress. “We’re not keeping her.” 

You snuggle into his chest with a happy little hum. “Yes we are.”

“...Just for the night. Tomorrow you're putting her back where you found her."

 ~

You wake up in agony. 

It feels like you’ve had a lung ripped out and replaced with serrated knives. Or shark teeth. Each breath drags oh so painfully at your—just kidding. 

You wake up well rested and tangled in the bedsheets, your head hanging off the side of the mattress. You’re a little hazy-brained and your skull feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but that’s probably because of all the blood rushing to your head. When you roll over and haul yourself back up onto the bed, a noise escapes you that is definitely not fit for polite company.

The murky depths of slumber threaten to take you again, so you pat around the bed with your hand, looking for your favorite demon-slash-body pillow. You pat. And keep patting. Where the hell is Lucifer?

You crack one bleary eye open, trying to find Lucifer and—

Where the hell is Tater Tot?

Your heart jolts in your chest as you realize a few things all at once.

One: Lucifer is missing. 

Two: Tater Tot is missing.

Three: You slept through breakfast, but that’s less important. 

You’re off like a shot, wrestling yourself out of the sheets and flinging them to the floor, then stumbling across the room to get to the door before your brain can even fully wake up. It’s fine, you don’t need 100% brainpower, you just need to find your baby. 

You’ve barely taken four steps into the hallway when you slam nose first into Mammon. He catches you, saving your face from becoming acquainted with the floor, and you grab him by the leathery lapels of his jacket. 

“Where’s Lucifer?!” you hiss.

Mammon desperately tries to squirm out of your feral grip. You shake him like a polaroid picture.

“Geez, knock it off would ya?! He’s in his office, what the hell is up with you? Wh—HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKIN’ TO YA!”

Whatever the Weenie has to say to you is less important than finding your child, so as soon as you acquire Lucifer’s location, you haul ass to Lucifer’s study.

 ~

In a raging fury that could rival Satan’s existence, you fling open the door, ready to tear Lucifer a new one for not even letting you say goodbye to your beloved kitten and—

And your heart melts into a warm, gooey puddle. 

Lucifer is sitting at his desk. Tater Tot is draped across his shoulders.

Lucifer glares at you, but there's no real bite in his gaze. “Keep it down, Phobos is sleeping.”

You blink stupidly, your brain racing at a thousand miles an hour to catch up with whatever the hell you’re currently feeling that has you all mushy and moon-eyed. “Phobos? What the hell? That’s not her name at all.” 

“My love, we are not naming our daughter after potatoes. Her name is now Phobos. She and I came to a mutual agreement that it is far more fitting of a name for a creature of her pedigree.”

...You’re so torn. On one hand, you want to argue that Tater Tot is a lovely name for your dumpster kitten-chimera-thing, but on the other hand… he called her ‘our daughter’. As in your guys’s daughter. This can only mean one thing, and you clutch at your heart when you realize what’s happening.

They bonded.

It damn well might bring a tear to your eyes.

You make your way over to Lucifer, shove aside the papers on his desk, and perch your happy ass right on the hardwood.

With a bone deep sigh, Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Why do you always do that? My lap is available, you know.”

Tater Tot wakes up and lifts her heavy little sleep-addled head to meep at you.

You grin—hook your ankles around the armrests of his chair and pull him closer. “So… does this mean we’re keeping Tater Tot?” 

“... Yes, we’re keeping Phobos. But that’s it, no more pets.”

“Okay, wait. Hear me out. What about a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucifer plucks another white hair from his RAD uniform and holds it up to the moonlight, scowling at the offensive thing. Why in all the realms did you have to find a white cat? The damned thing has only lived with you lot for two days and yet somehow its hair has already gotten over every article of black clothing in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating.

His gaze wanders across the courtyard to where you’re sitting pretty on Beel’s shoulders, clawing at his face with your fingertips and screaming in terror at how high up you are. He grins. 

He can put up with the shedding fur, so long as he gets to see how your eyes shine like the stars when you see Phobos.

Still though. Why couldn’t you find a black kitten? 

“Lucifer! There you are!” 

Lucifer flicks the cat hair—lets the breeze catch it and float it away. Before he can even get a proper greeting in, Diavolo is pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“You’re here a bit later than usual. How’s life with the new kitten treating you?” Diavolo asks.

Lucifer steps out of the hug and eyes Diavolo warily. “Just fine, thank yo—wait. How do you know about the cat?”

Diavolo blinks innocently. “Surely you told me about her, didn’t you?” 

No, he definitely did not—oh no. 

Lucifer stares, slack jawed and horrified, because in that moment, he realizes something that he refuses to accept.

No.

No. It can’t be.

Diavolo would never do that to him. He would ne—oh fuck, he absolutely did.

Diavolo planted the cat. He knew that you would find her in that dumpster and take her home.

Lucifer has never known a betrayal quite like this. Diavolo says something about heading off to his office, but he doesn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Diavolo.” 

The demon prince in question pauses in his escape to look back at Lucifer. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“Why did you have to pick a white cat?”

And oh, Diavolo laughs. A full belly laugh that quite honestly kills Lucifer. Just a little bit.

[zenith-impact]

Riptide - Part Twelve

Read on AO3 here!

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11]

Thank you all for the patience! We’re nearing the end of this story as we speak, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Childe hadn’t always been a master of subterfuge. Some might argue that he still wasn’t. He was at least better than he used to be years ago when he hadn’t even put the word in his dictionary. There were just ways of doing it that other people hadn’t thought of. Ways in which he could hide himself in plain sight, despite his wild hair color, tall stature, and general demeanor. Maybe it was the fact that people wanted to ignore him. If they pretended he didn’t exist, then maybe he’d go away. 

But Childe never went away. Not when he had a mission to complete. And tracking down Shing when you were in danger was his utmost priority. 

As Childe sat on the rooftop looking back over his favorite harbor, he contemplated things he hadn’t really thought of before. His mind trailed back to you, hoping your little mission to find your father had gone well. With Zhongli by your side, Childe was certain that you could have escaped from any kind of trap. The former Archon may not have his gnosis, but he still had powers that Childe could only begin to fathom. He hadn’t had his chance to fight Zhongli yet, as he had actively dismissed any of Childe’s attempts to do so, but he was confident that Zhongli was more than capable of protecting you. If he hadn’t been, he would never have sent him out with you in the first place. 

Then there was you. You had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit, and he wasn’t even certain he had done the same to you. Did you think about him too in the quiet moments? Or were you as oblivious to his feelings as ever, blind to the fact that he was slowly falling in love with you. 

Love. What a strange word. That was also one he’d never thought would wiggle its way into his head, constantly reminding him that there was someone else present in his life. Someone he would always fight for if given the chance. Someone he loved to fight with in very specific situations. Someone who could put up a fight even when he was at his best. Someone who wasn’t afraid of him. 

He almost laughed at himself. How close you’d gotten to his heart without him even realizing it. But now, it was already too late. Childe knew he was done for. Nobody would ever catch his eye the way you did. Deep down, he knew he wanted to - no, he had to - protect you no matter the cost. 

That’s why he was so determined to finish this mission of his as fast as possible; so he could return home to you. Maybe someday, with enough time and affection, you’d feel the same way he did. Maybe you’d understand just how much you meant to him.

Childe shook his head. These sappy thoughts had gone on too long. He had a job to do. 

Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately - it seemed that the job had come straight to him. 

“Harbinger!” Shing yelled from the docks below. Childe had noticed his arrival, but he hadn’t really thought about it. The other delusion holders looked startled as Shing laughed, looking up at Childe with sheepish or horrified expressions. They hadn’t noticed his arrival, but Shing had. Childe wondered how long the man had been standing there, waiting as Childe parsed through his own thoughts. It was embarrassing really, being caught in such a state. But there was something about the direct challenge that made Childe’s heart race. He grinned from his perch, resting an arm on his leg as the other dangled over the side. He made no move to jump down. There wasn’t any rush.

“The man himself has finally arrived!” Childe yelled back. “You still owe me money you know.”

Shing laughed again and Childe’s lips twitched as he forced himself to hold his smile. “Oh come off it,” The man said. “We both know that isn’t why you're here.”

Childe raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why else would I be?” 

Shing beckoned to the side. Two delusion holders dragged out an old man Childe didn't recognize, but he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who he was. "Go on," Shing said, gesturing toward Childe. "Tell him."

The man hesitated and immediately Childe knew whatever he was about to say was going to be a lie. Still, he crossed his arms and waited as it was the only way to figure out Shing's plan. Finally, the man spoke. "They have her." 

Childe's blood ran cold. "Who?" He said as nonchalantly as possible. But he already knew the answer as your face seemed to appear in front of him. 

"My daughter," The man said.  

"Your girl, Harbinger," Shing chimed in with a gleeful look on his face. Lie. Lie. Lie. All lies. Childe's mind screamed the word over and over, but he hesitated. What if it wasn't? Was he willing to gamble with your life over a hunch? It was a pretty strong hunch, but a guess nonetheless. And if he was wrong…

“Please,” The man whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. Childe wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking. If he knew he was lying, he might want Childe to fight back. It wouldn’t be hard. There were only five delusion holders on the docks, and he was certain that not all of them would be willing to transform whether Shing commanded them to or not. Shing might be more of a problem, but Childe didn’t think he’d risk his life either. And if this wasn’t a ploy, then that man - your father - was currently begging for your life. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” Childe said. “But nobody will come for me.” The Tsaritsa was once a gentle soul, yes, but she wouldn’t send help for a Harbinger. Even if she did, nobody would make it in time, this was all on him. He thought maybe admitting that would be enough to make Shing back down. But the man just laughed and held his hand out.  

“Vision and Delusion, or your girl will die.”

“Why would I risk my life for an obvious lie?”

“Because you can never be certain.” Shing tilted his head. “Who knew a Harbinger would let himself become so weak.”

Childe snorted. “I’m weak now, am I?.”

“Physically, you may not be,” Shing said. “But emotionally… You’re far too young. Too naive. Too

… soft.” 

Childe’s eyes narrowed. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you care too much,” Shing said, beckoning with his hand. “And the idea of letting her down… of knowing she died because of you… well that’s just too much, isn’t it, Harbinger?”

Grimacing, Childe unclipped his vision and reluctantly handed it over. Shing detached it from the delusion and Childe didn’t fight back as two scared looking men grabbed him. “Good choice,” Shing said as he dropped the vision and crushed it under his heel. 

------------

You were exhausted when you got back to the funeral parlor, and only vaguely aware that Childe had yet to return. You thought that was a little odd. You figured his mission to track down Shing would be far quicker than yours, as Childe at least had an idea where Shing likely was and you had had to walk across all of Liyue to get to your father. But you didn’t let that worry you, as Childe was clearly capable of taking care of himself. But Zhongli, under no uncertain terms, wouldn’t let you go home without Childe. Not when you saw multiple delusion holders prowling the streets on your way back to the funeral parlor, and not when you saw the few hanging outside as Hu Tao ushered you in for a surprisingly tame cup of tea. 

“So?” She said as she plopped down beside you. “How did it go?”

You detailed everything you could. You tried to swallow your tears when you talked about your father, more than certain that he was long gone. Hu Tao put a hand on your back, encouraging you as you forced the words out. Zhongli corrected you once - a small detail you hadn’t noticed in the chaos - but otherwise listened as you told your story. “And that’s why we’re here,” You finished, looking down into the depths of your black tea. “I can’t go home. My father’s probably dead. Childe is missing, and Shing wants to be immortal.”

“I wonder if that’s possible,” Hu Tao said thoughtfully. 

“Those with visions are capable of ascending to Celestia,” Zhongli said. “They likely assume that someone with enough control over a delusion could do the same.” He calmly sipped at his tea. “ The line of reasoning is sound.”

“But surely whoever is up in Celestia would realize its fake,” You said. 

“He need not ascend in a literal sense,” Zhongli said. “Vision holders all control some level of celestial energy. If he were able to gather enough of that power, then he would transcend the laws of the mortal realm.”

“But why would he want my delusion to do it?”

“It sounds like he’s collecting them,” Hu Tao said. “Maybe to figure out which is best?”

“Or trying to use multiple at once to increase his odds,” Zhongli said. 

“But these delusions are killing people!” You said. 

“The fake ones,” Hu Tao said.

“But even the real ones are dangerous!” You pointed to your own. “Surely he knows this.”

“He probably hasn’t tried anything yet,” Hu Tao said. “But he might be getting close. Maybe he’s learning something from all these deaths. We just don’t know what it is yet.”

“Maybe he’s learning not to risk it,” You said. 

 “I doubt that,” Zhongli said. “He seems determined to complete this scheme of his.” 

“We have to talk to Childe,” You said. “He’s probably learned something by now.” But as you said it, you felt your nerves gnaw on your insides. Something felt wrong, but you weren’t sure what it was. 

“You need to get some rest,” Hu Tao said. 

“But…”

“Nope,” She said. “We have an extra bed for you to use.”

“It better not be one you put the bodies on.”

“I clean those up very well.”

Zhongli sighed at your horrified expression. “There are a few beds here in case Hu Tao or myself need to spend the night. They were installed very recently.”

“Because you kept spending the night!” Hu Tao huffed. 

“You need not trouble yourself over my sleep schedule.”

“You are my employee,” She said. “Everything is my concern.”

You couldn’t quite read the look Zhongli gave her, but it was gone in an instant. “We will awaken you when Childe returns if that will ease your concerns.”

It did, but only somewhat. “Fine,” You relented. “I’ll get some sleep.” 

But even as you sunk into what was arguably one of the more comfortable beds you’d ever slept in, you found that sleep eluded you, and all you could do was listen to the murmurs of your friends well into the night. 

-------------

A knock at the door is what pulled you out of your restless half-sleep, and you knew immediately that something was wrong. Nerves swelled within you as you slipped out of bed. But when you reached for the door, Hu Tao slammed it in your face. “Wait,” She said far more cheerfully than you thought the mood called for. Still, you didn’t try to force your way out, but did push your ear up to the door to try and hear what was going on. 

“... see her,” A familiar voice said, panic present in his tone. 

“And if I say she isn’t here?”

“I know she is,” The man said. “Please, it's important.”

You could imagine Zhongli crossing his arms, contemplating. He wouldn’t lie to the man, but what would he tell him? “Why do you need her?”

“That Harbinger is in danger.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was Hu Tao that spoke. “What do you mean danger?”

“Shing tricked him,” The man said. “Told him she was in trouble. And, technically, she was, though I don’t think any of us could have gotten by you two. But now he’s demanding that she come to the warehouse and exchange her delusion for his life.”

You pushed on the door, but Hu Tao kept it closed. “And how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

There was a long pause before Hu Tao finally let you open the door. In the front door was Anemo man holding a broken Hydro vision. It could have been fake, but you somehow knew it wasn’t. And if Childe didn’t have his vision… 

“Take me to him,” You said. 

“Childe will be very upset.” Zhongli said.

“I’m not letting him kill himself for me,” You said. “Take me to him.”

“Guess we're going together,” Hu Tao said. 

“He’ll want her to come alone,” Anemo man said. 

“Well he’ll just have to deal with it, won’t he?”

“What is your name?” Zhongli said. 

“Akira,” The man whispered as if he was scared to share it. 

“Well, Akira,” Zhongli said. “It seems you’re about to make your employer a very happy man.”