#for next time i'm trying to sell someone on the trails series

[ezzoh]

tagged by @sauvechouris~

fave colour: ORANGE

currently reading: Notes from the Burning Age, by Claire North. post-apo power struggles and reflexions on mankind’s relationship to the world/mankind’s image of itself, with a focus on nature and history repeating itself and ancient, harmful, censored technologies being brought back by prideful, power-hungry people, so, YOU KNOW, not-at-all-familiar, not-at-all-painful stuff. i wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy on the spy thriller, but in retrospect it’s extremely her and of course i should have expected it.  i’m enjoying it quite a bit so far :D also protag’s relationship to the antag he spied on and betrayed is. yes. yep.

last song: i’ve mostly been listening to web radios bc that’s what i put on at work. this afternoon i randomly remembered The Bus Is Late by Satellite High, let’s go with that :D

last series: .... i finished what was available of 9-1-1 in my region, so i’ve. gotten started on 9-1-1 Lone Star.

last movie: uhhhhh shit i honestly don’t remember. maybe something action-y with my dad?? wait i think maybe a Jojo Rabbit rewatch a few weeks back. idk. movies kind of blend together after a while, too short and only rarely impactful.

currently working on: oh i have many WIPs, be it fics or games or crafts. i’m not working on any of them :D

∴

share 10 different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, then tag 10 people 🎥🎬📺

1. Kalas (Baten Kaitos) - it’s, y’know, my boy “but ezzoh wasn’t he an asshole the whole time” and he was so good at it!! “didn’t he betray everyone” yes, isn’t he interesting?? “wait. didn’t he betray you too. like personally. as a player.” i support him doing it. had never felt such shock and rage at a fictional character before, 10/10 would get fucked over again. worst thing to ever happen to me in a video game. my boy.

2. Viktor (Arcane) - look you can’t give me a passionate man running out of time turning to a forbidden technology/magic in desperation and turning his body into a mechanic abomination, with themes of class struggles, power imbalance, disability, bodily autonomy, mechanization, sacrifice and violence against the self, without expecting me to pounce on that like a famished tiger.

3. Lambdadelta (Umineko no naku koro ni) - a gleeful, helpful troll! pink!! gay!! gore- and vore-enthusiastic romance with her nemesis!! likes sweets!! sometimes she’ll say things so raw and relatable i can’t look at her directly!!

4. Leenik (Campaign: Star Wars) - “sometimes they’ll say something so raw and relatable i can’t look at them directly” round two. he’s a dysfunctional mess of a psychopath, has killed and will kill again, will feel bad but mostly about feeling good about it, is not sure he’s still a person, broke me a thousand times with casually thrown out, innocuously devastating little statements, is still a fucking sweetie with the cutest most ill-advised crush and the most adorable passion for romance novels, is a dork and a mother to his dog, knows he’s broken and messy and dangerous, knows he’s going rotten inside, has a heart so dark he corrupted a lightsaber and gave an imperial inquisitor the dokis. i have complicated feelings. i have one all-obliterating feeling. i’m scraped hollow and oversaturated. what was i before i understood myself through the lens of leenik

5. Lau Kin Ming (Infernal Affairs trilogy) - *lies down on the floor for a hundred years*

6. Eunie (Xenoblade Chronicles 3) - she’s my RUDEST CHILD

7. Kabrew (Dungeon Meshi) - i have a thing for smiling manipulative sociopaths. i have even more of a thing for characters who aren’t manipulative for nefarious reasons but just because they’re nd and that’s how they’ve learned to interact with the world, for good reasons like self-preservation or to protect someone/something or to achieve a goal that is objectively good or neutral. it’s his best asset!!! of course he’s going to use it!!! a pragmatic boy!!! very polite and efficient!!! absolutely cannot deal with the kind of monster-obsessed adhd idiot-who-won’t-explain-himself-ever that the protag unfortunately (for kabrew) happens to be, is terribly shrewd and clever and analytic but keeps tragically misunderstanding protag’s idiocy in the most hilarious way, is very bad at fighting monsters (his job.) but suspiciously skilled at fighting people (not even remotely in his job description :) ), later aquires another one-track-mind nd idiot to take care off and mellows out so fucking much guys it’s like he melted into mithrun’s gently reluctant fussy little wife. i am obsessed

8. Olivier (Trails in the Sky) - ✨SPARKLES✨DAZZLES YOU WITH FINE WINE, FLORID POETRY AND ROMANTIC MUSIC✨FLIRTS WITH YOU✨FLIRTS WITH YOUR DAD✨FLIRTS WITH YOUR SISTER✨FLIRTS WITH HIS BOYFRIEND✨FLIRTS WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND✨BRINGS A FLEET OF TANKS TO THREATEN YOUR BORDER✨PLOTS TO OVERTHROW THE CHANCELLOR✨FLIRTS WITH THE CHANCELLOR✨

9. Anakin (Star Wars) - i debated over maybe adding Maul to this list instead but. Maul would seethe with rage at the idea of being overlooked in favor of Anakin and so obviously that’s the correct choice. the Force wills it. anyway, ANAKIN. he’s so good. beloved by the narrative, beloved by magic, beloved by the universe. he’s SO MUCH and he’s carrying so much; expectations, responsibilities, power, restraints, taboos, fate, trauma; that when he inevitably comes crashing down he shakes the galaxy to its core and shifts the entire balance of the Force. also he’s a bitch and has a lovely snarky dynamic with just about everybody, i’m especially fond of his characterization in The Clone Wars :D

10. Xue Yang (Mo Dao Zu Shi) - .............. look i didn’t know how to end this list and i can’t choose between all my Pokémon faves and it’s better than Kavinsky even though it’s technically xianxia!Kavinsky, a little bit, but also it’s better trust me i’m a Kavinsky girl. there’s so much about him that is pressing all my buttons. he’s so terrible and so full of regrets but absolutely unapologetic and he’s tragic and he never knew what he had until he broke it but also he never really had it because he came into it already broken and bloodied himself and he did so, so much wrong and he hated and he loved so, so hard and for a while he had something that was almost like happiness but was also built on his lies and crimes and he destroyed it like a child playing and he fought so hard and so desperately to get it back, but he never did, and what little lingered of his broken dream had never been his to save, and he met a miserable end and he was never understood, or loved, or known. i need a minute.

(bonus round: 11. Shigeru (Pokémon anime) - yeah i lied actually i know who to choose it’s this bitch. i love him and so should you thanks for coming to my TED talk)

∴

aannnnddd i don’t really know who i could tag, so?? just grab the meme and go wild, my children

[animeomegas]

Imagine that Sasuke is having problems with his 'future alpha', he doesn't understand some dating methods and ends up 'reluctantly' going to ask Itachi's alpha.He just blushed saying 'I can't believe I'm doing this but I need some advice'.Itachi's alpha comes home late looking happy and Itachi holding his dog asking where he's been.

Anon: I think Sasuke would only start liking Itachi's alpha after they help him stand up to a bigger, stronger, more trained betas and/or Alphas. Because I don't see him as someone who might ask for help from anyone, and his brother's alpha somehow saw them bully him and push him around, so they tell him how to one up those annoying people. (Maybe buy him ice cream or something after). This young Sasuke vs Itachi's alpha thing should be a show, because I'd sell everything I own to watch it.

(Anon 1: This is a big brain idea, anon, thank you for your service 🤭 I changed it a little, how that's okay!)

(Anon 2: I think you're absolutely right that Itachi's alpha does something big for Sasuke when he's at a low point, and it ends up changing their relationship for the better in a lot of ways. I decided not to go with bullying though, because Sasuke seemed to fit this scenario moreso. Also, ahhh, I'm so happy you're liking this mini series!!!!! I'm having so much fun writing it and it fills me with joy that other people are enjoying it just as much!!!)

...

Okay, so, Sasuke has never been the most intuitive when it comes to emotions. And he’s also never been great at acknowledging or learning about culture surround a/b/o dynamics because he’s always been adamant that he doesn’t care for it or need it.

But now Sasuke is starting to think that may have been a mistake. Because things are going wrong with this whole courting situation (that Sasuke still can’t believe is happening to him.)

Things were fine! But now the alpha courting him is getting colder and not wanting to train as much, and Sasuke doesn’t know what’s changed! He’s angry and upset about it.

He’s been brooding for about a week about the whole situation, but now he’s decided to ask someone for advice.

His friends are useless. His mother just laughed and told him it would work out if it was supposed to. Shisui is on a mission. He’d rather die than ask Kakashi sensei. So, unfortunately, he had to ask his brother, even though he was sure to get some embarrassing and invasive questioning from him. The sadist.

So, he goes to see his brother.

Who isn’t there.

His brother’s alpha tells him that Itachi is out with their pup all day running errands and taking him for his bi yearly check-ups. But Sasuke needs to know what’s going wrong and how to fix this now! He doesn't have time to wait for Itachi to be done with his stupid errands!

His brother’s alpha notices how tense he is and asks if he would like to stay for some tea, and Sasuke accepts before he thinks about what he's doing. Their relationship is much better nowadays but Sasuke can’t help but feel a little awkward around them still.

…

“Here,” they say, sliding two teacups onto the table. “You like green tea, right? It’s the only type we have in, you know what Itachi’s like with tea.”

“Green tea is fine,” Sasuke says politely if a little stiff.

His brother’s alpha sits down at the other side of the couch with their own tea, and the two sit in silence for a bit, each sipping their own tea

“Sasuke,” they say, shooting him a concerned look. “If you need me to go and get Itachi, I can. You don’t look well, he’ll come back in an instant if you ask him to.”

“No,” Sasuke answers quickly. “It’s fine… I…”

Here goes nothing.

“I’m just having a bit of trouble at the moments, is all, and…”

Itachi’s alpha nods, obviously listening intently with a look of concern on his face that is making this both harder and easier for Sasuke at the same time.

“Go on, Sasuke, I’m listening.”

“I’m sure Itachi told you about my… my er situation,” Sasuke starts, wishing he could punch himself in the face for phrasing it like that.

“That someone’s courting you?” they ask gently.

Sasuke only nods, face burning. He can’t count the number of times he’s told Itachi’s alpha to their face that he’d rather die than enter a courtship. This is so awkward, why is he doing this?

“Did they do something to make you uncomfortable, Sasuke?” they ask immediately after seeing his hesitance. “Because if they did, we can sort it out together okay? It’s not your fault.”

“No!” Sasuke immediately protests far louder than he intended too. “They didn’t… They didn’t do anything, I just… I think I did something wrong…”

Sasuke pretends to drink his tea to avoid having to elaborate any more, despite the fact that it’s still too hot.

“What did you do that was wrong?” they ask, voice still quiet and soothing and Sasuke hates how comforting he finds it. Like it or not, his instincts had branded Itachi’s alpha as ‘safe’ many years ago.

“I don’t know,” Sasuke admits, fiddling with the rim of his cup. “They seemed sad one day and I just thought they had a bad day or something, but now they’re… cold.”

“They aren’t behaving how they were behaving before?”

Sasuke shakes his head.

“Is it possible they have an issue at home or with some of their friends? It might be something in their personal life that's upsetting them.”

Sasuke shakes his head again.

“They seem fine when they’re with everyone else…” he admits. “It’s just me.”

Sasuke forces back the burn of tears he can feel behind his eyes. He will not cry. He won’t do it.

His brother’s alpha hums sadly.

“And you want to figure out what happened?” Sasuke nods. “Okay, why don’t you walk me through what happened on the days leading up to the mood change.”

And so Sasuke does.

He tells them all about how they would meet for training every day and Sasuke would bring two bento boxes for lunch, and then they would sometimes go shopping or go out to eat. Things he hasn’t told anyone about yet. And as he's talking, he really can't see what the problem is, everything seems fine! But maybe Itachi’s alpha might know some alpha thing that he doesn't. Sasuke can easily admit that it’s not his forte.

“I see,” Itachi’s alpha says after Sasuke had finished his story. Sasuke’s tea sits cold on the table next to his brother’s mate’s empty cup. “I think I know what happened.”

Sasuke looks up immediately. No way they’ve already figured it out that easily!

“They thought you were rejecting them,” Itachi’s alpha says simply.

“Wha- But…we spent everyday together! How could that be a rejection?!”

“When an alpha is courting an omega,” they start to explain. “They’re trying as hard as they can to prove to that omega that they can be a good mate.”

“I know that,” Sasuke snaps.

“Listen to me for a second, Sasuke," they softly reprimand. "So, when an alpha, particularly a younger one, is courting an omega, they are very sensitive to rejection, they look for it everywhere.”

“Why?” Sasuke asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, when I was courting your brother, we weren’t that much older than you are now, and I remember thinking that he was the most perfect person in the whole world,” their eyes take on a faraway look as they reminisce. “I was so sure that he must have had hundreds of alphas clawing for his attention every day, and so I was desperate to prove to him that I could be a good mate.

“With every gift, on every date, I would watch his reaction to everything, overanalysing every laugh and smile and frown. I loved him so much, but I couldn’t help but think that he would reject me at any moment. He was too good for me, and I knew that. It always felt like he was humouring me, especially at first.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” they laugh, unoffended by Sasuke’s harsh tone. “Looking back, I guess it was, but what I’m trying to tell you, is that I can see how some of your actions could have been taken as rejection by a young alpha who was expecting to be rejected.”

“But…” Sasuke says, looking lost. “I didn’t want to reject them, I don’t understand.”

“Here,” they continue patiently. “Let me explain it to you like this. When you went out to eat, you paid for yourself even though they offered, right? Because you didn't want to burden them?"

“Yeah,” Sasuke trails off, unsure what that has to do with anything.

“But to a young, hormonal alpha, you’re basically telling them that you don’t trust them to provide for you, the one thing they are trying most to convince you."

“But I wasn’t-“ Sasuke protests.

“I know you weren’t,” they reassure him. “But that’s the sort of thing that will run through an alpha’s head at that age when courting. Also, you told them you wanted to train with them because you thought they were strong because you wanted to compliment them, right?”

Sasuke blushes but nods.

“And that’s great to start with, but eventually they would probably start to wonder why you wouldn’t want to train just to spend time with them. And you also told them that you had plenty of leftovers to make their lunch with so that they wouldn’t feel like they were burdening you, right? But that just made them feel like you weren’t going out of your way to do something special for them, even though you were. Do you see what I mean now?”

Sasuke blinks, rapidly trying to wrap his head around all this new information.

“And I also have a guess as to what pushed them over the edge into thinking you were rejecting them.”

“What is it?” Sasuke demands. “Tell me.”

“Did they make that scarf for you by hand, Sasuke?”

“Yes,” says Sasuke hesitantly.

“And they scented it?”

Sasuke nods affirmative.

“Did you give anything back?”

“I… Just said thank you… is that not right?”

Itachi’s alpha shakes their head with a patient smile.

“A handmade and scented gift is the most important and meaningful courting gift that there is, Sasuke,” they explain. “It’s what you give to someone to ask them if they want to move from courting to something more serious, to intended mates.”

Sasuke blushes and feels some panic rising in his chest.

“I didn’t know!” he blurts, feeling the need to explain himself.

“I know,” they rush to reassure him. “But the etiquette dictates that the omega, if they wish to move onto that stage, gives the alpha a handmade and scented gift in return, no later than a week after the original gift was given. They must have been very nervous waiting for you, and very upset when you didn’t even let them down softly.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Sasuke whispers, mortified that he had missed something he should have known. This makes so much sense. The sudden depression, the awkwardness at training, the nerves after they had given him the scarf. He’s such an idiot. Against his will, Sasuke starts to feel tears burning at his eyes again. He messed everything up!

“Oh, Sasuke,” they say, scooting closer to him. They hesitantly lay a hand on his leg, and Sasuke makes no move to push them off. “It’s alright, you can fix it.”

“How?” he sniffs, furiously wiping away any tears that manage to escape. “They probably hate me now.”

“Come here,” they say, pulling him into a hug. And for the first time ever, Sasuke accepts a hug from his brother’s alpha.

“It’s alright,” they soothe. “We can fix this, I’ll help you.”

“What can I do?” he questions, feeling miserable.

“You need to make them something and scent it. Then you can explain what happened afterwards, but the gift should go a long way in smoothing over any ruffled feathers. I can help you make something, what do you want to make?”

Sasuke shrugs, still resting his head on his brother’s alpha’s shoulder.

“How about some cupcakes? Itachi and I were planning on doing some baking with the pup tomorrow, so I have all the supplies. And I’m sure we have some ribbon lying around, you can scent the ribbon and use it to tie up the box, how does that sound?”

“But what will you use tomorrow?” Sasuke asks, feeling a little better, but still red in the face.

“I can buy more, Sasuke, don’t worry, but this is a courting emergency, so we have to do it now, okay?”

“Okay.”

…

Itachi comes back from his errands just in time to watch his mate helping his little brother tie a ribbon around a box of cupcakes. The kitchen is covered in baking supplies and empty bowls of batter.

Did they bake cupcakes together?

Itachi can’t believe it. He had been trying to get them to get along better for years.

When Sasuke sees him standing in the door, he blushes and, holding the box of cupcakes to his chest, pushes past him and out the door with a quick nothing more than a quick and murmured greeting.

His pup wiggles in his arms and demands to be put down. He obliges and they immediately run to his alpha for a hug.

“Hey there, buddy, have a good day?”

“It was boring,” they complain. “And the mednin had cold fingers.”

Itachi’s alpha laughs.

“Well, I know something that might make you feel better,” they tease.

“What?! What?!”

“Uncle Sasuke made you something very special,” they say, bringing down a spare cupcake from on top of the counter, iced in his pup's favourite colour. The way his pup’s eyes widen at the sight of it, makes Itachi smile. “You can have it after dinner, okay, and next time we see uncle Sasuke we have to remember to say thank you.”

Itachi watches in amusement as his pup nods furiously and immediately runs off to go wash up for dinner, despite the fact that Itachi hasn’t even started cooking it yet.

“Did you and Sasuke bake together?” Itachi asks, still unbelieving of what he had seen.

You smile, understanding how crazy that must have been for Itachi to walk in on.

“Yes, we… had a little bonding session,” they say. “I’ll tell you about it later, I promise.”

Itachi accepts the answer despite his curiosity and joins his alpha is cleaning the kitchen so that he can start cooking dinner.

And if both of them were smiling too much, well, neither of them brought it up.

[husbandohunter]

Dear Father [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Wherever you are wherever you may be, even if you are beyond my reach, I only wish to see you again. -from a letter lost in the wind.

(A story where you and Diluc somehow managed to meet Crepus)

Genre: all fluff

"I know how late I am to father's day but here's my father's day take on Genshin Impact! Just let Diluc be happy for once T_T Mihoyo pls."

============================

Discovering Master Crepus' old belongings was like wandering in a domain surrounded by ancient artifacts. Each piece holding the memory of someone you've never met.

The paintings. Master Crepus loved to paint. Typically birds were the main muse of this portraits since they deeply embodied Mondstadt's values for freedom which shows you how much he cherished this city just like his son did. In almost every hallway you walked through there was a collection of his paintings, some belonged to another artist but the majority was an original work. Diluc didn't have the heart to sell them.

Elzer. He was one of the oldest workers who served under the Ragnvindr name, ever since Master Crepus had appointed him during his earlier days. You were told that he treated everyone, both staff and noble, with equal respect. Almost all the denizens of Mondstadt knew this man for he was not only noble in riches but also in the soul.

"I'm sure he would have loved to meet you in person. Now that I think about it, you and Master Crepus are quite similar. Haha, it seems that Master Diluc was selective in terms of who he wanted for his future bride."

Elzer adds with a light chuckle but the statement only made you more curious. A man who affected the lives of so many others, he must have been a wonderful person.

Diluc. The bloodline Master Crepus left behind after his death, a piece of himself and the heir to the whole wine industry, his son Diluc. Although you could see the resemblance in appearance, both of them were men of prinicples and values, putting Mondstadt first before anything else and you suddenly realized if that was the reason why Diluc was so protective of this city. As if, it were everything he had? You could tell he loved Master Crepus very much, not because he said so, rather the painful expression buried deep within his crimson glare whenever someone brought up the topic. Diluc was skilled in hiding himself, it's something he practiced over the years of working alone, though he lowered his guard as long as you were the only one present.

Even so, he had many conflicts still wringing him internally and you didn't want to push him until the day he felt ready to personally tell you himself.

But it would be nice if he opened up, just a little bit.

There were times when you would worry since Diluc had the tendency to hide his feelings for the sake of not troubling you. He wanted to keep life simple and bright, bringing the best to the table while making sure that you lived safely out of harm's way. You couldn't seem to get him to understand that as lovers, you would be happy to help him, in anything. Unconditionally. It was natural for you to feel the need to force yourself in every once in a while and there was nothing more you wanted to know than the story of the man who raised him.

You would even jest on the idea of what it fel like to meet Master Crepus in person. Were you able to reach his standards by any chance? Would he have liked you just as everyone claimed? Of course, they were only silly indulgent thoughts so you quickly dismissed them in the end. Bringing back the past was impossible no matter how badly you wanted it. You closed your heart on that possibility.

On a lovely evening, while you and Diluc were taking your time off Angel's Share to make a stroll around Mondstadt's quiet streets, a strange merchant called over to you. She displayed various antiques ranging from different sizes to designs, none of them seemed to haven been carved in the same place but distinct cultures throughout Teyvat. The only thing they had in common was that they were all equally beautiful to the eye.

However a particular item of what looks like to be a heart locket snatches your attention and you instantly became mesmerized, allured by it's mysterious charm.

"Ah, the locked heart caught your fancy, my lady? It's said once you open it, you will be set free."

"It's magnificent..." you muttered, staring unabashed at the shining surface.

Diluc who was observing from behind folded his arms and tilts his head, "How much is that?"

Although you intended to simply inspect the choices, your lover immediately offers to pay. They all already gave the impression of a hefty price and you didn't want him to spend his fortune on things that deemed unecessary. Still, this wasn't the first time it happened. Diluc would always insist whenever you protested against him from buying anything, it was just a way of expressing his affections towards you. Mora was never a problem and you were priceless. That's how he sees things. You had to remind yourself to be careful when stumbling upon a bustling area full of salesmen next time.

"Five hundred thousand mora."

He purchased it without hesitation.

On your way home, Diluc noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't tear your gaze from the locket as if it had hypnotized you by the golden smooth surface. He had to ensure you didn't run into anyone by accident, tugging your arm closer so that it gave him an opportunity to lead you where you yourself could not. Surely it must have been the appearance but instead of being drawn by, you were drawn in. Completely.

I wonder...what will happen if I open it?

"(Y/n)?" Diluc narrows his eyebrows together. Did you like it that much? No, he knew you weren't the type to be so etranced by jewelry, this was certainly different. Even the merchant seemed a little suspicious when she approached you and Diluc couldn't ignore the heavy sense of aminosity that was emitted around her aura. He couldn't think within her presence but now that his mind was much clearer, he was able to use his skillful judgements.

"Wait...! Don't open it yet-"

However, he was too late.

The wind picks up at an alarming speed and you both brought up your arms to block the debris that had flown in the way. They swirled in non-stop motion until your worlds were engulfed with not even the sky in sight. Amidst the turmoil Diluc latchest onto you and holds your body close his chest as he was determined to protect against any force that dared to hurt you. Something heavy knocks his head and he winces, tighting his hold even further. Your voice could hardly be heard with all the noise that rung around and eventually you discovered the the world wasn't disappearing. You both were.

The last thought you had was the image of Master Crepus and you didn't know why.

---

"Diluc? Diluc?"

He faintly heard his name through a series of echoes. Diluc fights to regaind concousness, feeling your grip upon his shoulder while trying to urge him awake.

"Diluc are you alright?"

Your worried face was the first thing he sees other than the fog that looms above. Diluc blinks a few times in an attempt to ease his migraine, using one arm to force his body into a seating position as he allowed himself to be supported by you at the same time.

"Does your head hurt?" You ask, palming gently against his forehead to feel the heat. Even if her was usually very warm, there was no unusual rise in tempurature, something must have hit him instead, "Here, maybe this will help."

Bringing out your hand you concentrated on generating the water through your fingertips. Having a hydro vision meant you were capable of healing magic which Diluc appreciated since he often came home late at night with injuries hidden behind his sleeves. But nothing came out and he became even more suspicious of the situation.

"Eh? What's going on?" You blurted out, patting down your clothes and your pockets, "My Vision, it's gone too!"

"Mine as well," Diluc flexes his fingers to test his own element, "It seems that our powers were sealed once we entered this domain."

"A domain that prevents you from using a Vision? That doesn't sound very comforting," you scratched your head, suddenly remembering the cause of your current problem, "The locket...it's all starting to make sense now. Ugh, I should have listened to you earlier, I'm sorry Diluc."

"No (Y/n), you don't have to apologize," he interjects and you returned a curious glance, "I should have stopped you the minute I discovered there was something strange. I was too careless."

"You felt that too? I thought I was the only one," your tone and face mimics one of surprise. The fog continues to dance around, enclosing the two of you to the small area. You lifted your head and looked above in deep contemplation, "When I saw the locket I couldn't tear my eyes off of it, like something was pulling me in. Like...there was a spell casted on it."

"What do you mean?" he asked in an inquisitive manner.

You nod, "I can't put my finger on it bit Ifel that the locket wanted me to..." balling your fist upon your lap, you stared intensely at the floor as if drilling holes into them while digging into the depths of your mind for any specific clues. Initially you thought the locket was so captivating that you were simply charmed by it's craftmanship. But tere was more than that, you began deciphering, there was also a need for fulfillment. A yearning desire, "to know. The locket was calling me to know."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

"To know..." you trailed off. How strange. No matter how much you tried to rationalize, you were always brought back to the same square as if the locket knew exactly what you wanted. What you were lacking. Because the one thing you wanted to know most about was the person you've never met, "Someone very important to you."

The fog dispersed.

Diluc instinctively puts an arm in front of you defensively as he scanned his quick and thorough eyes around the area. It didn't take long for him to know exactly where everything was. In fact, the abrupt change isn't what puts him on high alert, but it was how familiar everything looked to the point he evaluates if there was any reason to be skeptical or if he should be breathtaken.

"What a beautiful house," However you didn't recognize it. Diluc knew because he had yet to meet you during the time he lived in this estate, "I wonder who does it belong to?"

"Father's old mansion...how?" Diluc breatlessly mutters, as if seeing the supremecy of Celestia for the first time. When years passed after his father died, he chose to sell off the majority of his belongings, the mansion being on for example. Currently it was in the possession of a well-known business associate that used to be a friend of Crepus. The mansion would likely have looked much different due to the renovations it gone through but Diluc remembers the picture as if this were yesterday. Everything was in tact. The vine yard, the gazebo where they drank tea, the hill that he and Kaeya used to race on when they were kids-

Revelation burns in his pupils as his eyes expanded.

"Welcome home, my son."

Both you and Diluc fall wordless at the sight that appeared like a miracle's blessing. Crepus stands at a distance, the graceful smile complimenting his warm features. He looked exactly how the court artists portrayed him in the Ragnvindr's family picture. Sharp face with gentle eyes and an aura that was as pleasant as what Elzer described.

"So this is why the locket was calling to us," you whispered, "I guess the mora really was worth it after all."

"...Fa...ther...."

You snuck a glance at Diluc. From behind the resemblance was as clear as dawn, like you were staring at a carbon copy of Master Crepus himself. Almost. He was a less hardened version of Diluc during uncommon situations. It made you think just how much you didn't know before his father passed away. What kind of person was this man during his days as a knight? You never had the chance to know.

"Father is that really you?" Diluc couldn't help his voice from trembling, paralyzed in place when he could hardly make sense of what stands in front of him. The person he longed to hear from, the person who left the world too quick, Diluc was afraid to get his hopes up in case his father suddenly disappeared and everything was just an illusion conjured by his mind. He was already used to being betrayed and dealt with disappointment too often. Which is why he learned to trust only himself. But, right now, can he really trust himself?

Feeling your hand gently on his shoulders, Diluc was brought back to reality. You smiled with warm reassurance that bled into your voice, "It's okay Diluc. Go, I'm here for you."

There was the faintest light shining in his eyes as emotions swell in his chest. Ever since you came Diluc never had to feel alone anymore, truly, you were the light that was brought back into his eyes, to his life when he gave up the thought of seeing it again. If he couldn't trust himself then at the very least, he could trust you.

"Thank you," he embraces you wholly like you were everything, and you were, before letting go and taking off to the otherside.

The air hits him in a rush and knocks the ones out of his lungs, "Father!" Diluc yells with tearful eyes. For the first time in a long while he was finally letting his feelings run free, "Father!" A name that felt foreign upon words that is pushes him forward, wanting to claim the truth that was smiling from afar.

"Father!"

Crepus lifted his arms and openly catches Diluc when he crashed into him. Here. He was here. He certainly was.

"Haha its been a while hasn't it my son?" He begins, encasing Diluc in a hug like he did the day he turned eighteen. Crepus was a tall man and his genes seemed to have went through. Back when they were younger, Diluc managed to only reach the blade of his shoulders, just barely. Now they were practically the same height, "Look how much you've grown over the years. There were so many things I planned to say but I don't know where to start."

Seven years. That was how long Crepus spent alone with his thoughts. He saw what happened through that time span, the truth about the Knights and Kaeya's origins. To say that none of that bothered him would be a lie. Especially when his son was the most impacted throughout all the events.

"Father I...I-" Diluc tries to speak but the words dissolved the moment it reached his tongue. He wasn't the type to be very good at expressing emotions. None of it could simply be communicated by sentences. For him, actions spoke louder yet somehow, they still wouldn't be enough. Nothing can comprehend the weight of seven years.

Crepus seemed to have understood and fills in the gap instead, "I have also missed you and Kaeya. More than I can even say. It must have been so hard for you both to endure it all by yourselves. Life hits us when we least expect it but despite that, you still chose to persevere."

Diluc clenches his hold, face buried in his shoulders and mouth quivering as he barely answers, "Yeah."

"You're both my pride and joy no matter what happens, as a father I cannot be more proud," before knowing, everything that was said came out naturally from his spirit. Crepus may have his own set of things to share but he knew what Diluc needed the most, "So please don't stop relying on one another, don't always think that you have to do everything alone. Stength is a virtue. However, its okay to let go and allow new people to come into your life. I don't need to be avenged, as long as you and Kaeya are happy, its all I ask for."

As if the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Diluc allows himself to break just this once. On the outside, he was known to be an unstoppable force, the Mondstadt tycoon, the uncrowned king and a hero who serves at night. But here you saw only a boy who dearly missed his father as he hugs him tightly. Although you couldn't hear their conversation clearly, just watching them from where you stood was enough to make your eyes glisten from pure happiness.

"You finally chose to open your heart, right Diluc?" You quietly note to yourself, "You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore, you're free."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

He was able to dwell in this one in a lifetime experience, all because you unlocked the heart and dispersed the fog inside.

They spent a good amount of minutes bringing the distance back together after being seperated for so many years. You made sure to make minimal movements in the consideration of their time. It was only temporary until Crepus noticed you standing in the distance and he gave you a quick glance. Your whole body tenses in response, suddenly feeling guilty as if you were a third wheel who didn't belong in the moment between two family members.

He's staring at me. Diluc's father is staring at me! Your thoughts panicked along with your thrumming heart. What should I do?!!

"I see you've brought someone along with you," He comments, the playfulness rising in his tone, "She seems to have been waiting for quite a while already. If you don't mind, may you do the honours of introducing her to me?"

Diluc turns to see you stiffened in place with your hands tightly clasped below your stomach and heat pooling from your ear to your cheeks as you dipped your head down. His father was a kind man and he couldn't understand there the discomfort came from, yet found it endearing nonetheless. Diluc walks over to you and extends his hand, silently urging you to come with him. You complied, albeit hesitantly at first.

"It'll be okay my love," he whispered softly, causing you to be taken aback by the nickname he called you by. Diluc often reserves them for special instances and this was one of them, "Whatever the staff told you about my father, they're the truth. Trust in their judgement. Trust in me."

"Diluc..." you say, voice fading. You knew him to be someone who always kept his word and someone who would never lie to you. Taking in a short breath, you nodded, "Alright, I will," and followed his lead.

There was once a time where you indulged in the idea of facing Master Crepus in person. But never did you prepare yourself for the amount of pressure it came with. Now that you were together with his son, there was a high chance that he would also become part of his family too, sooner or later. You weren't just meeting Master Crepus. You were also meeting your future father-in-law.

"Father, this is (Y/n)," Diluc starts the welcoming exchanges. You felt his hand squeeze yours gently. He turns to you so that you caught glimpse of his face, seeing the reverance in his gaze that was hinted among his handsome features, "She's the woman I fell in love with and I would do anything to make her happy. I cherish her more than anything else."

"D-Diluc!" you flushed, your embarassment as red as his own hair. But he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

"I only speak the truth."

Master Crepus lets out a content chuckle, drawing both of your attentions back to him, "He can be surprising poetic sometimes but I'm sure that he got it from me. Even my wife reacted the same way," he reminisced shortly before sighing, "In truth I already knew that you were together. Staying in the after life gave me the chances to watch things from an omniscient standpoint, I was sincerely worried how Diluc would handle things when I suddenly left, I hope you don't mind. If you do, I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"N-Not at all!"

"Haha, you're very kind. Thank you. I'm glad that my son was able to find a woman like you to be his fated partner. As a parent, it brings me great reassurance," Crepus remarked, "I know he can be stubborn and a little too headstrong when it comes to making decisions. It really must be a handful for you to deal with at times but I promise you that he means well. So please continue to watch over him in my stead, take care of my son while I'm gone."

"You can count on me," you beamed, "I'll give it my all."

"You have my gratitude (Y/n)," Crepus replies and turned to Diluc, "And listen to her every once in a while. I may have been the previous owner of our wine industry but even I always make sure to get me sufficient amount of rest. Son you know its bad to get two to three hours of sleep every day."

You blinked, "Two to three hours?"

Diluc clears his throat, "I understand Father. You don't have to say it."

Oh I think he does.

With a satisfied grin, Crepus took both of your hands together in his and gave you his blessings. The man once considered to be an artifact through the vast mansion was going to be part of the memories in your life. All of your expressions held as much happiness as the future can become now that he gave you the closure you both needed.

[isolaradiale]

The dark hues of the evening blended to lighter, softer blues of dawn. With every minute, the creatures of the museum began to slow until they stopped altogether, all at once. Whatever they were doing, they dropped it, and began to move their way to the places they had been before the museum took a turn for the lethal.

The artwork climbed back into their frames, stepped onto their pedestals, and walked back into their display cases. A light rain outside washed all the street paint away, color emptying into the drains in the city. Landscapes let their prisoners out, shutting the windows to their world.

Those unlucky enough to earn a spot on the Wall of Shame reappeared in the lobby, their wounds appearing as colorful splashes of paint, and nothing more.

As the oranges and golds of the sun trickled in through the ornate windows of the museum, a blaring voice interrupted the stillness as the intercom museum sparked to life.

"Goooood moooorning, my lovely little visitors! The door to the museum will be opening shortly. Please make your way back to the lobby in an orderly fashion, and be sure to grab all your belongings!"

As Capella promised, the large wooden doors opened once again, releasing all the prisoners of the museum.

"Thanks for visiting the Tempus Museum! Janus, did you want to say any parting words?" "I'm mortified enough as it is, thank you." Came a muffled voice from behind, sounding much less enthused.

"Aww, somebody's cranky... Well, suit yourself!"

As if to add *Extra Enthusiasm*, as everyone exit the doors, they passed by Capella's invulnerable form as she personally waved everyone goodbye, stickers glittering in the morning sunrise. Janus was still sitting at the reception booth, head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

"Bye bye! Goodbye now! Goodbye! Buh-bye! Bye now!" was the chorus that trailed off as she spoke, bidding farewell to the museum's visitors...

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Thank you, everyone, for participating in our recent event: Canvas! As a reminder, you will receive event participation IF:

You've written a starter, thread, mini, or interacted with someone else using the event setting for parts 1, 2, or both.

You've written a 500 word drabble using the setting of the event for parts 1, 2, or both.

You did not have to participate in both parts to receive event credit (so if you only wanted to participate in part 1, it still counts!)

Remember that for participating in the event, you can give yourself 100 stars to use in the marketplace!

A few things have changed as a result of this event, also:

The Tempus Museum has decided to make its home in the Archimedes ward, for now, not far from the Theater of Calliope. Its structure and function is largely the same, but the Optimized Tools won't be there. The artwork won't come to life and attack you, either... during the daytime, that is. You can check out its full description on Archimedes' page!

Janus still takes his place as the museum's curator, and does his best to accommodate guests of the museum. It's not uncommon to see him taking and teaching courses and workshops in the museum, either! He's still polite and eager to help with anything involving the museum and its activities, but if asked questions about the Stars or Spirale, he'll politely explain that he doesn't want to get anyone into trouble. As in the event, on the odd chance that someone is hostile and violent toward him, they'll instantly be killed, and will respawn back in their room.

Thanks again for participating in Canvas! We hope you had a great time!

Frequently Asked Questions:

"Do the things we made turn back to normal?"

Yup! If you didn't destroy it in Part 2 of the event, whatever you made will turn back to normal.

"Will our artwork try to kill us at night?"

Nope! If you took it with you, it's of no danger to you. If you kept it on display at the museum, it's also no danger to you (or anyone else for that matter.) Only the original stock monsters of the museum come to life at night. But unless your muse breaks into the museum, you have nothing to worry about.

The monsters still have their damage invulnerabilities, so unless your muse has a death wish, maybe don't break into the museum without some serious planning. Shady art theft rings will buy your stolen artwork for a hefty price, though, so whether it's worth the risk or not is up to you.

The more often your muse breaks into the museum, the more the monsters will recognize their patterns. Breaking into the museum more than two times is almost impossible, and should be reserved only for the most cunning of thieves.

"What if we made weapons or jewelry? Can we take those back home too?"

Sure! Just know that the weapons will go back to being fragile, and will shatter if used in combat. Any jewelry will look very convincing, but if you try to sell them to anyone, they'll identify it as a fake. Not that they won't buy what you have anyway, but it certainly won't be worth the price of actual precious stones and minerals.

"Can we go back to the museum?"

Yes! It's open to the public from sunrise to sundown, unless there's a nighttime gathering at the museum (which you're free to come up with on your own if you'd like to use it in a setting for a thread.) You could also theoretically break in or sneak in, or hide until the place closes, but you run the risk of running into the guard patrols... or worse.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ (Epilogue)

As the visitors left the building, Capella skipped over to the front desk. Caelum emerged from the darkened corner of the lobby to join her, with the rubber stopper on his cane making soft thumps on the elaborate stone tile.

"Well, that was fun! Thanks for letting us use your museum, Janus." "You're... welcome, I suppose." "Good good! I'll come back here when I make more pieces to show off to the lovely people of our Spirale."

Punctuating this, her hands went up to playfully pat his cheeks.

"Ooookay! Well, until next time! And as for you, Dr. Caelum, I'll see you at this afternoon's meeting or whatever, right?" "Aha, yes I'll be there."

Saluting the both of them, her form vanished into a series of pixels, leaving the other two at the desk. Now that she was gone, the AI turned to give a pointed look at his father.

"...Mmm. Still angry, eh?" Came a chuckle, but the other didn't look so amused.

"You know, at one point, I would have congratulated you for feeling slighted. And I would have celebrated you experiencing such a thing. But you've been around for so long that these things come naturally to you now, don't they? Feelings like being angry... Now I just feel bad when you're upset like any other human."

Another more cheery laugh, and he walked himself over to the doors, motioning the other to follow. With the crowd gone, he could finally step outside and stand on the steps.

"...I am sorry for causing you trouble." "I know." "Good, I'm glad that came across." "I'm still irritated, don't get me wrong." "Yes, yes. I don't doubt it." "And I'm not sure if anyone will come back after such a thing. I wouldn't blame them. I just wanted a place to contribute to this whole thing, and now it's all..."

Sighing, he sat on the first step, watching the rest of the street illuminate in the warm glow of the sunrise. He only realized the old man beside him was trying to sit down when he gave a little huff of effort, and immediately helped his father down beside him.

"Ahh. Much better, thank you." "I could have gotten you a chair..." "Haha, that's alright. If you can sit on the steps, so can I."

For a while, the two sat in silence, watching the streets of Archimedes begin to wake up. Cars stirring, cafes opening, people walking their dogs.

"...Are you doing alright over there?" Janus asked, not turning his head.

"About as well as I can, mmhm." "You still have your migraine medicines down there, right?" "Mmhm. Dr. Lyra has been taking good care of my health, don't worry." "She's the nice one, isn't she? That's a welcome change from the other facility..."

A hand went to the Ai's shoulder, patting it reassuringly.

"Instead of worrying about my health, you should direct that concern inward, Mortimer. You have a place where you can walk around, do all sorts of things humans do. Talk to people, make friends. Play games, read books, paint your lovely canvases. You're not confined to the life we lived three years ago."

Silence followed for a little until the young man leaned against the older one. He must be pushing 70 at this point, right?

"...Are you in a place where you can refer to me by my name? And not that Star code that they made?" "Well, no. Not really. But I don't think anyone's listening. So I don't care~" "Ha! Rebellion got you into this mess, didn't it?" The AI replied with a laugh, earning another from his father.

"Well. Messes that they were, I can still sit with you without you being stuck behind a screen. So even after all the hells we've been through, I'd call that a success. Wouldn't you?"

A smile cracked on his face. They have gone through a lot.

"A success... it's nice to finally call something a success again, father. It's very nice."

[blubberingmess]

[---]

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x male!reader

Summary: It's just you having a crush on 1940s!Bucky. A prologue of a series I was working on.

Note: This is a draft I made before my chibi!Bucky. I never bothered to post it because of lack of motivation until now because I'm having a writer's block 😗✌ Also, yes, it doesn't have title, I'm sorry about that.

Warnings: cursing and very slight mention of sucking ones dick.

A low growl emits from within you as you watched Davis pushed the blonde on the pavement, the young man fell with a pained groan as he holds his side. You see, you're not the guy who likes to pick random fights on the street; not the kind of guy your ma raised you, but it's a lie if you said you don't want to punch Davis in the balls right now.

"Back at it again, I see." Both males to turn their heads at the sound of your voice. "Daddy didn't gave you attention back home? Ah," you shook your head and ducked your chin down, smirking to yourself when you saw him balling his fists.

"Who could blame him? Even I can't keep my eyes on you for two seconds." Eyes drifting off to the side with a grimace, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Atleast I have a father, (L/n). How about you? Can't keep mommy from whoring around Brooklyn?" The taller guy sneers, attention now turned towards you and completely ignored the the blonde behind him next to the crates - good.

The insult didn't falter you one bit and kept your chin up high, cocking your head to the side. "Believe in whatever you want to believe in, Davis. Atleast I'm not the one who's fucking my own mom."

His face reddens in anger, an ugly scowl on his face as he growls a menacing"Why you little" before he lunges at you. You sigh and took a step back making him punched the air instead, his large fist an inch away from your face before you took your chance and step forward, giving a quick yet strong punch square on his nose.

The blonde can only stare as Davis whimpers while pinching his nose to prevent the blood from coming out.

"You punch like a girl!"

"I'll take that as a compliment." You winked which only made Davis pinched his eyebrows together in confusion.

He scoffed. "I'm not done with you," you hissed before running out from the alley with a broken nose.

Looking up from his scratched up palms, Steve noticed you walking towards him with a worried expression on your face. It surprised the blond for it's the first time someone outside his home-- other than Bucky-- is looking at him with concern.

"Hey, you alright?" You softly asked, crouching down in front of him and gently placing your hand on his right shoulder.

Steve nodded his head and was about to thank you when he saw a large, familiar hand grasp you by the shoulder and yanked you up from your crouching position in front of Steve.

You let out a groan the moment your back hits the brick wall behind you, two hands now tightly gripping your shoulders making you slightly wince in pain. Opening your eyes, you immediately felt your face warmed up at the sight in front of you.

Such a fine young man; sharp jaws, curly dark brown hair, clean shaven, and eyes that just made you want to knee down and worship him in... different kinds of way.

Fuck, hopefully he won't noticed how your face reddens but you doubt he didn't considering the close proximity of both of your faces; an inch or two.

"Hi, can't help but notice you picking on my friend right there. Any problem here pal?" His voice is calm yet there's an absolute threat hidden behind those words. He practically hissed the last word out, eyes slightly narrowing at you.

Ignoring how intense his blue eyes are, you growled, pushing him off of you just enough to make him stumble a few feet away.

"Well y'see, I just so happened to be passing by when I saw your friend's face close to meeting Jenkins' fist and decided to be a good Samaritan and helped him," you growled. "You're welcome, pal."

The pretty guy stares at you for a moment before glancing at his friend who's now standing on his feet, nodding his head at your explanation.

"He's telling the truth, Buck."

This Buck guy averted his eyes back at you, giving you a once over. You can't help but felt your whole body stiffened at his intense look before it settled back at your eyes.

"Thanks. Sorry for pushing you up against the wall like that."

"That's okay." I don't mind.

He grins at you before outstretching his hand at your direction. "James Buchanan Barnes or you can call me Bucky, my friend here is Steve." He gestures towards the quiet blonde beside the two of you, too busy swiping off dirt on his two size too big of a coat.

So this is The James Buchanan Barnes? Not gonna lie, this guy is handsome. No wonder dames kept talking about him at work; sadly he's straight as a pole.

Your eyes flickered down on his hand then back up before grasping it with your surprisingly smaller ones, giving it a single shake before pulling away after telling him your name.

How his hand stayed outstretched mid-air for a few seconds too long than necessary didn't go unnoticed by you. You flashed him the bright smile you know that makes any dame-- and also some men-- around you sigh and swoon.

Wouldn't hurt to give it a try right?

"Nice to meet ya, Bucky. Steve" Turning to Steve, you add with a soft but stern look on your face, "Don't go around picking up fights, especially Jenkins and his goons."

"No promises, buy sure. Thanks again, (Y/n)." The blonde lightly waves at you with a thankful smile on his face.

You look at Bucky and almost laughed at the strange look on his face as he silently stares at you, eyes laced with confusion and inner conflict.

A look you knew all too well.

When Steve can't go with one of your 'pals nightly hang outs'-- as you drunkly named it-- because of his health, it'll just going be you and Bucky, which you both don't mind at all.

It's been a year since your first meeting with the two and the three of you became friends real quick, especially you and Bucky. The two learned that just like Bucky, you are also a ladies-man and it irked Steve at first but then quickly accepts that he's the 'less attractive' of the your small group of three, which you both always deny with all seriousness.

Because let's be honest, Steve is cute, people just don't see it and always judge the book by it's cover.

The two of you are currently on the roof of your house, just laughing and joking around like you usually do. The roof has been one of the best quiet place for the three of you to hang out, just drinking(you and Bucky), eating, and talking there all night.

One time Bucky and you slept on the roof while Steve is inside your room sleeping on your bed when the rain started pouring--

You felt a droplet hits your cheek, then another before you felt it all over your body. Sitting up straight-- still half-asleep-- you suddenly felt your whole body being drenched in water. Widening your eyes at the realization, you snapped your head to your side where you saw Bucky's still sound asleep and snoring.

Before a loud boom of thunder was heard, that's when he scrambles up and tugged you inside the window by your hand.

"Wake up you meatball! It's raining!" It didn't wake him up making you frustrated, but also amused.

A smack on the face woke him up, eyes opening wide and stares up at yours. You thought Bucky would quickly scramble up when he noticed the rain falling down on the both of you but no, he just stares up at you in awe; soaking wet, hair sticking on your forehead and looking down at him like... like an angel.

"Why didn't you tell me, punk?!"

"What?! I smacked you in the face three times!"

--"Wait, Is it true that your mother was..." Bucky trails off, not wanting to offend you.

"Aunt, actually. And yes she is, but not in Brooklyn though; Queens," you explained, leaning back on your arms as you look up at the stars as you continued.

"This house was my grandma's, said that she wanted to give it me for my 18th birthday. My aunt didn't know about this though, I don't let her knowing she would immediately sell this as soon as she sees the letters."

Bucky nodded his head as he listened to your story intently.

"How did ya suddenly ended up here in Brooklyn if you're from Queens? Of you don't mind me asking." Bucky side-glancing at you with curiosity. He took a bite of the sandwich you've made, clearly liking how it taste considering he already ate two of them in fifteen minutes.

You pursed your lips together, contemplating if you should tell him the truth or not - You decided to go 50/50.

"Lets just say I was kicked out for a reason she can't accept. Ever." Bucky knows not to push you, thinking it's a sensitive topic to talk about. So he decided to change it.

"Is it true though?"

You swing your gaze from the stars and to the pair of blues next to you, gulping nervously. "What?"

The brunette leans his body towards you, eyes intently locked into yours. You beg whoever is watching you right now to make your heart slow down even for just a tad bit, it's getting out of control the more he leans in.

What's he doing? Is he going to kiss you? It takes you all the willpower in your body to not smack your lips against his right this instance.

"That Davis' fucking her mother?" Bucky asked in a hushed tone, nose an inch away from yours. The question brings you back from your day dream and grimace in disgust at the mention of Jenkins. The scrunched up look on your face made Bucky grin widely, showing the faint wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

"Step-mother," you corrected. "But who knows? The way he acts whenever I mention it gave me all the answers I need-- or don't, actually."

Even after answering his question, he still didn't lean away and kept the close distance between the two of you. Blue eyes flickering down to your lips so fast you almost didn't see it, but you did, and even saw how the tip of his tongue lightly licks his lips. It gave you a spark of hope that maybe--

"You smell like spam."

You growled and pushed him away, profusely blushing at his comment. "Get off me, punk!" Bucky started to laugh hysterically while clutching his stomach.

"Alright, no more sandwiches for you."

"Wha-- I'm only joking, shorty!"

"I'm not short! I'm an average height. You're just taller than me for like... three inches."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, shorty-- ouch!"

You are glaring down at your lap while Bucky sat next to you with a frown on his face. The two of you are currently sitting on the roof, both with a forlorn look on your faces.

"Can't back up now. Been wanting to be a soldier for years now, like my pa." Did he though? He did, yes. But why do he feel reluctant about going now? Whatever, it's not like he could just quit. He'll be shipping off tomorrow morning, there's no turning back now.

"I know." You groaned, tilting your head up in exasperation. "If I wasn't so chicken-hearted I would've come with you, but being a soldier is just... not my thing."

"You could pack a hefty punch y'know. Broke not just those punks' nose but also mine three times within our six years of friendship." You knew he's just trying to lighten up the mood, but you knew better.

"Maybe the reason why I punch so hard is because of how many doughs I have to beat up and roll around every single day." You began punching the air like there's someone in front of you, laughing at your childishness before looking up at Bucky with a more genuine smile on your face.

You chuckled for both of your sake, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Yeah I did. But I much prefer baking rather than breaking random guys' noses. These hands aren't made for that sort of thing, it's too soft, too... feminine."

Lifting your hands up to emphasize your words, showing them to Bucky who just stare at your hands with a look you can't decipher.

What did he wanted to say?

You felt your breath hitched when you saw that he's already looking at you with that strange, conflicted look in his eyes again, but a bit softer this time.

He always gaze at you with that same look in his eyes and it never failed to make your heart flutter each time.

You watched as his lips open then closed a few times, not knowing how to form the words he wanted to say.

"You'll still be here when I come back right?" He widen his eyes at his own words before hastily adding, "w-with Steve, of course."

You scoffed good-naturedly at his question. "Of course you meatball. Where would I possibly go?"

You hummed, looking down at your shoes. "Can't really see myself being a father-- a husband even." Bucky furrowed his eyebrows together as you speak, confused as to why you would think such things. You're great with kids and treat ladies right like a real man should.

He shrugs. "I don't know, travel the world? Maybe even marry the woman of your dreams, have a kid or two."

Oh Bucky, you're so cute... and also freakishly dump. You're surprised for until now he still doesn't know you're gay.

You'd always stare at men longer than the pretty dames in the bar or the streets. Heck, you even flirted at Bucky from time to time but he would always tell himself that it's just you being friendly.

Joke's on you pal, I wanted to suck your dick so bad since the first time I laid my eyes on you.

Your eyes landed back up at him. "What about you, Bucky? Want to be a husband someday? A father?"

"If I make it back alive." Somehow, his truthful answer made your heart clench for two different reasons.

One, he is straight.

The small spark of hope in your heart falters to almost nothing, a sign that you should give up on this fruitless feelings of yours.

Two, he thinks he'll never make it back alive.

"If you don't, I'll go there myself and punch your in the face until you wake up."

"Of course you are, bud." You gave him the glare he's all too familiar with.

Never once a day passed with you not giving him that glare, it's quite amusing and almost comical on his opinion, like that look is just made for him and him only.

The not-so-threatening threat pulls a loud guffaw from Bucky, leaning his head back and placing a hand on his stomach. Even at times like this you somehow always manages to make him laugh, it made him realize how much he'll really miss you when has gone.

"Is that a threat, boy?" He uses the nickname hate so much, makes you feel like a child.

"Its a promise." You smirked.

Bucky shakes his head at you, scooting closer and placing his arm on your shoulders. Instinctively, you lean closer to him, but not to close though.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, watching as the street below you began buzzing with people and cars.

"Did I ever told you that you look great in that uniform?"

"A couple of times, yes."

[milkte-aa]

" deal breaker! " (myg x y/n x jjk) 001

📍tags/genre ;; angst, satire, demon!au, prince!au.

📍summary ;; many many years ago, an ancestor of yours made a deal with two demon princes and never paid his debt. the demons, who lay dormant, have awoken and want their prize. and as a blessing and a curse, the prize is you.

📍author's note ;; the story is a bit mature, so chapters that don't have gore, violence, or smut, are still best for 16+ readers. but, of course, read at your own expense.

📍to find other chapters search #db-jjkmyg

"Come on, Jungkook! We don't have all year!!"

That loud voice resonated throughout the large, victorian styled manor. The dark hardwood floors were just a clean and shiny as they had been left, back when the victorian era was on the rise. It was a tragic day, when the manor was left behind, and that day would always be remembered as the day when the demons lost the great war. The two demon princes, who resided within this manor had fought and the front lines, and were forced into dormancy when they lost.

The heavy sound of footsteps could be heard at the home's entrance from deep within the many halls. Approaching every so calmly, Yoongi knew his call had been heard.

He gazed into the round mirror next to the coat rack that lay in the manor's entrance hall, fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek and jaw. The last time he'd seen his own face, was over 130 years ago, and there had been a long and deep cut that split his face in half diagonally. It was strange that they woke up, let alone come back completely unharmed or scarred. It left Yoongi to wonder why he was returned to his original state? Why wasn't his black hair matted with blood? Why was his skin left smooth and clean and not cracked, cut, and burned? Why was Jungkook so unhurt as he? He was greatful that his lover was back in the correct mental state, but why was it so?

"Weird isn't it? That we look brand new?" A chuckled rumbled across the entryway, taking Yoongi's attention away from his silvery reflection. He looked to Jungkook, the tall and handsome boy he'd had as a companion for centuries.

Yoongi nodded, looking back towards the mirror for a moment. He watched himself, quietly staring into his dark eyes. Jungkook cleared his throat in an attempt to get the other's attention, "So, hyung, why did you call my name?"

Jungkook had shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer, with a coy smile on his face. Depsite them having come back so 'new', they were still wearing the same clothes. Black blazer's and slacks, dress shoes, and decorative silk shirts with matching chokers. Silver and gold adorned their fingers and ears, matching the outfit and the era they had left behind.

"Ah yes, we have some unfinished business to conclude." Yoongi turned again to the younger male, "Sadly, that war interrupted us."

Jungkook tilted his head. He was tired and confused, and quite frankly it took a second for him to even recall the very war that took place. But he caught on, remembering the crippled old man that had begged them to cure his only child of an incurable disease. They had done so, with promise that they would be able to collect whatever prize they wished from him when they returned—whether it be riches, land, or a soul. He nodded.

"Is there any prize to collect?"

Yoongi licked his lips. "I believe so. I looked into while you took a nap. The current family isn't rich, so I think we'll be collecting a soul. Unless something else takes our interest."

Jungkook liked the idea of a prize, even though the last thing he could remember was losing a great battle. Souls meant servants. Servants meant things getting back to normal.

Yoongi approached his companion, placing a palm on the younger's cheek. He still saw the condition Jungkook used to be in. The beaten and swollen image lingered in his memories. "I'm so happy you're okay..."

Jungkook smiled, setting his own hand over Yoongi's. "Mhmm, me too. Now, let's go get our well earned prize before it runs away."

"Yes, let's."

Your ancestory had always been a mystery to you. It felt like living in fog, and only ever seeing what was closest to you. You never met your grandparents, as they were all dead before you were born, and so you could never ask silly questions about what wars they lived through or where they grew up. Your parents wouldn't talk about it much, especially after their divorce when you were thirteen.

Though, despite all that you didn't know, there was always one thing that remained clear—your family was cursed.

The story was simple; over 100 years ago, a man in your family made a choice. Would he save his daughter from death or would he let her go and end her suffering? Despite what his little girl had wanted, he chose to save her from the clutches of death, and looked everywhere for the cure. But no books held the answer and no doctor had the time. He had lost hope. That was, until the man was approached by a mysterious creature and offered a deal. He took it without much thought, not caring to ask what the creature was or where it came from. Because of that, his ancestors believed him to have cursed the bloodline— due to making a deal with something that has yet to collect its end of the bargain.

If the family really was cursed, then maybe that would explain why you felt like nothing ever went right. All through highschool, you made mediocre grades and never seemed to impress your parents while simultaneously managing to never make any long lasting friendships. During the year between highschool and college, you had gotten fired at almost every job you took for extremely stupid things. And now, in university, depsite having finally made some good grades you're knee deep in student loan debt. You could hardly pay bills as it was, and soon enough the bank would show up a take you shitty car and even shittier apartment.

But what could you do about that? Nothing, really. Life is just a series of miserable mistakes and regrets, with the only promising goal being growing old and retiring right at the age when freetime is uncomfortable and impossible. Yeah, life is shitty. Life was so shitty sometimes, that it made you wish that the deal your idiot ancestor made would come back and haunt you because then maybe life wouldn't be so painfully drab.

Though, your catch yourself in that thought because demons, or monsters, or fairy tales weren't real.

Ring ring ring!

The distint chime of your cellphone rang at you from your bedroom, gently calling you to answer an important phone call.

"Who is it at this hour? Its almost 10 o'clock..." You pulled yourself up from the old cushions of your hand-me-down couch, eyes briefly passing over the screen of your tv, which flashed with commercials at the moment. With quick steps, you reached your bedroom, which wasn't really that far away at all, and managed to reach your phone before it quit ringing.

"Hello?"

Nothing could be heard from the other end, thought you were certain someone was listening to you.

"Who is this? If you're trying to sell me something just do it already and don't waste my time."

Nothing again, and with that you hung up— people these days were rude over the phone too. You huffed, turning your phone off and chucking it on the bed with a soft thud. Through your annoyed attitude, though, a strange feeling of coldness swept up your spine. It swarmed your brain, filling your mind with a ice so black and dark that it stopped you from thinking for a moment. But it faded, as it some sort of fire or heat had burned it away. Strange, you thought, and then you snapped back into reality.

The tv show you were watching echoed in the distance.

You walked quietly back to the living room, gazing down at your index finger and grumbling at the chipped blue nail polish as you did. You hardly paid attention to your surroundings in this moment, and ran into the couch, slamming your toe against its hard bottom.

"F-fucking hell! Bitchass couch, always in my fucking way!" You yelled out, squeezing your eyes in pain as you reached down to hold your throbbing toe.

A soft sound eerily similar to the clicking of tongue of teeth could be heard, and then...

"Well that wasn't a very ladylike set of words." The low grumble of words jerked you out of your pain, your eyes wide as the shot up to see a man sitting on your kitchen counter, his legs crossed calmly over one another. He was cold. That very coldness you'd felt just before you left you bedroom.

"W-who'er you?!" You scrambled backwards, nearly falling your ass in the process. "How'd you get in my house?!!"

The man chuckled, cleary amused with your prey-like display. His dark gaze raked over you slowly, and his tongue peeked out of his lips for a brief moment. He had black hair, brushed out of his face to show a subtle bit of the pale skin on his forehead. The rest of him was pale, all except his eyes and hair... and the oddly Victorian outfit he wore. "Who am I? How'd I get in? Those are your questions?" He scoffed, "Mortals... You never cease to amuse...."

He trailed off just as you looked to your left, spotting a large black dog towaring over your couch and gazing at you. It looked like a hellhound, but there was something oddly human about it. At closer look, the dog had black horns atop its head and rows of razor sharp teeth and a two-pronged tongue. Its tail swung around carfully, like a snake.

The man on your counter spoke again, "I am a demon, little girl, older than your bloodline and nearly as old as religion itself. This here is my friend, who decided to appear in this form rather than a human one...."

You scoffed, definitely by accident. The reflex in you to pass off stupid claims as symptoms of a low IQ. You regretted this immediately.

The man showed you his teeth, a flashy way to tell you to know your place. "I'm serious, girl. You can stand there all wobbly kneed a pretend that you don't know, deep down inside what we are, but I see right through you." He looked to the dog, that looked back at him and let out an impatient whine. "But... I will be kind and tell you the story, so that maybe then you'll show us some more respect."

You blinked several times, a feeble attempt as waking up from this nightmare. Demons? Imposible! Such a stupid idea. These are just figmants of your imagination. Maybe your family was cursed; but it would be cursed sooner with insanity that it would with demons.

"Once upon a time, during the Victorian Era, a young girl suffered from a bad case of of some very mysterious disease. Her father wanted her to live so very badly, and sold everything he had to find her a cure. But no doctor could care to help, and no witch had a practical solution. He poor, little girl was dying and each day the pale horse grew closer. But, one day, he found himself in the presence of two strange creatures that he passed off as extremely smart hellhounds. Whatever they were, he made a deal with them, selling his soul for his daughter's life. The 'creatures' were nice, and decided to wait until the man got to live a happy life with his daughter before they came to collect his soul and his life. But, those 'creatures' got caught up in a war and were left dormant for over 100 years. And now, they need to get paid for their kindness..."

You could out two and two together, you were mental, the 'deal' your ancestor made was real and it was with this man here and his... dog?

"So that's not really a dog?" You pointed to large mass of dark fur that starred at your with red eyes.

The man shook his head, "No, that's my partner-in-crime Jungkook. And I'm Yoongi. Glad to see you've found your common sense, little girl."

"So, um, Yoongi, what do I have to do with this deal? You can't possibly be here for my soul, I didn't make that stupid deal..." You tried to calm down, but it was difficult to say the least. You were starring death and its dog, er, friend in the face. Who could stay calm during that?

Yoongi looked to his friend, nodding subtlety before he adjusted his hair with a heavily jeweled hand. "I hate to tell you this, but a soul is hard to get once its dead, not unless we were there to grab it. But as I said, its been 100 years, and your great great great grandaddy is probably deep within the inferno. Jungkook and I hardly have the time to find him."

"So, you're going to kill me?" The wind outside your apartment's front door howled, a sign of an on coming storm before it happened. You could almost taste the rain in the air.

The room was silent for a moment, giving your thoughts time to catch up to the situation. You've been acting like this were a real situation. As if! Demons aren't real. Neither was magic or curses ir any of that other mumbo-jumbo. To even believe it for a second would make your insane. Maybe you were. Maybe you were in some sort of looney-bin hospital strapped to a white table and screaming like all hell was loose.

Then, the more fake than real, Yoongi spoke up. He cleared his throat, hopping gracefully off of the marble countertop. The slender man approached you, peering into your fearful and confused face before looking to his hound-shaped companion. The hound thing nodded.

"Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but we can't kill you just yet." Yoongi seemed pleased, a hidden emotion swimming in the dark pools of his eyes. "Remember that war I mentioned? Yeah, well it drained us of our power, and now we can't do something as simple as collect a soul."

Crazy, stupid, gullible girl! This isn't real! Stop responding to your hallucinations!!

You shook your thoughts away, saying nothing to Yoongi at all. He was definitely talkitive and would more than likey continue speaking on his own.

".... So, girl, that means that you're coming with us and will stay under our watch until we're strong enough to do such."

And so he proved you right.

"You don't believe me do you? You think your just a normal, everyday psycho broad who dropped her marbles somewhere and can't find them." Yoongi chuckled. "Do you want to know something? If you were dreaming or imagining this, then you wouldn't be able to feel pain or taste things. And I do recall you jamming your toe not too long ago."

Defiantly, you looked up at him, meeting him eye-to-eye in a show of boldness. "That doesn't prove anything. I could've started hallucinating between then and now. God, look at me, I'm giving into this whole brain fiasco and talking to you! And you're not even real!" You laughed, making this possibility of madness grow.

"Oh how amusing! I, the wonderfully boring and dull, Y/n, have finally gone absolutely insane. I see demons and hellhounds! What's next, fairies and unicorns? Will I begin to preach that I have seen God's true fac-" Your babblings were halted by the most violently pleasant burning sensation, accompanied by the feeling of lips against yours. The mouth against your's was soft, gentle even, with not a hint of malicious intent. You gave in, melt into the touch the snaked around your body— your demon has kissed you.

The moment didn't last long, though you wished it had, because suddenly your bottom lip seared with pain and the taste of blood filled your mouth. Those soft lips tugged themselves away, leaving you with a bloody lip.

"You bit me!" You accused, touching your fingertips to your lip. Yoongi licked his lips, an remnants of your blood disappearing. He grinned.

"Better yet, you would've liked that pain if I kept on with that kiss."

"Why would you do that?" Your ears and cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had done that on purpose, to prove some point more than likey. But the fact that you felt it—his lips, the pain—it meant that-

"This is real. I am real. So is, my very annoyed friend over there." He gestured calmly to the hound who was scrunching its face up, a low rumble emitting from its throat. Your eyes darted back to Yoongi, who was still smiling. "So, sweetheart, are you going to give in and come with us willingly or is he going to drag you?"

You added it all up in your head. Demons, hellhounds, broken deals, war, soul stealing, and ownership. This was crazy... but real. Maybe. The mind is tricky. You contemplated locking yourself in the bathroom and waiting for them to leave, but Jungkook would definitely tear the door down and rip you into ribbons. You could go with them too. Its not like you would be leaving much behind. Your poor parents would be so torn up about it if you just went missing out of nowhere.

Yoongi still stood relatively close to you, so you backed up a bit before you spoke. "I'll go with you, but... let me pack a bag and write a note in case anyone comes looking. Alright?"

You were insane, this was insane, but you had no real choices.

Yoongi nodded, satisfied with your response. "Alright, but hurry. We don't have all year."

And with that, you scurried to your bedroom with two pairs of knowing eyes burying themselves into your back. What had you gotten yourself into, Y/n?

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN WAY

The practice seems to have begun in China, where starting in 587 candidates for the imperial civil service had to take an exam on classical literature. For unambitious people, this sort of thing the eminent would want to put their name on. By the standards of the rest of the world in 587, the Chinese system was very enlightened.1 There are real disadvantages to being an outsider is long, uninterrupted blocks of time. Much of the skill of experts is the ability to ignore false trails. Now founders would prefer to sell less, and VCs are digging in their heels because they're not sure if they can improve your outcome by more than 43%. What about angels?

What used to be the one to discover its replacement. Though they're often clueless about technology, most investors are pretty good at reading people. They work well enough in everyday life that you don't notice.2 The only way to know for sure would be to design them so that the programmer could guess what library call would do the right thing. What happened? Judging from his books, he was often in doubt. The summer before senior year I took some college classes. The informal delivery mechanism was me, showing up in jeans and a t-shirt at some retailer's office.3 Maybe, I suggested, he should buy some stock in this company. I'm not sure how much credit to give him. In practice there are two kinds of solutions to this problem. Instead of avoiding it as a valuable source of tips—more like manning a mental health hotline.

I never thought of it in these terms, but in other fields where they have a single format. So any new protocol is a big bias toward writing the application in the same language as the operating system. Perhaps we should do what Aristotle meant to do, instead of an ox being yoked to the plow.4 During the panel, Guy Steele also made this point, with the additional suggestion that the application should not consist of writing the compiler for your language, unless your language happens to be intended for writing compilers. One of the great advantages of being an insider? In the arts it's obvious how: blow your own glass, edit your own films, stage your own plays. Sealing off this force has a double advantage. Then gamers got them to play games on.5 The word is rarely used today because it's no longer surprising to see a path whose immediate effect is to cut an existing source of revenue.6 The classic yuppie worked for a small organization.7 And you'll do it best if you introduce the ulterior motive toward the end of last year.

So what, the business world may say. One reason they work on big things is that they can: like our hypothetical novelist, they're flattered by such opportunities.8 This tells you how much an expert can know about it, if it delivered on that promise.9 As more of them to recognize and attract.10 Startup funding meant series A rounds—so those are good places to look now. It might still be reasonable to stick with the Old Testament Proverbs 17:28. As credentials are superseded by performance, a similar role is the best former gatekeepers can hope for.11 I bet this isn't true. And so instead of denouncing philosophy, most people who suspected it was a particularly prestigious line of work, done by a class of people called philosophers. This was an era when small firms making everything from cars to candy were getting consolidated into a new kind of corporation with national reach and huge economies of scale.12

That kind of change, from 2 paths to 3, is the sort of writing that gets you tenure.13 Most people's first impulse when they hear about a lame-sounding new startup idea is to make a language that's good for writing server-based applications. And they, incidentally, are busted.14 We'll get whatever the most imaginative people can cook up. Their previous business experience consisted of making blue boxes to hack into the phone system, a business with the rare distinction of being both illegal and unprofitable. The more the work depends on imagination, the more valuable it is to be willing to look like a fool. Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. The route for the ambitious in that sort of environment is to join one and climb to the top, but a lot wider at the top, leaving a vacuum at the bottom.15 Universities are, at least in computational bottlenecks.

Eventually you get new habits, but at least they'd see everything. Libraries are becoming an increasingly important component of programming languages.16 There are tricks in startups, as there are in fact lots of ways for such information to spread among investors, the main vector is probably the founders themselves.17 7% is the right amount of stock to give him.18 Was there a connection? But I don't think the rise of yuppies was inspired by it; it seems more as if there was a new kind of computer that's as well designed as a Bang & Olufsen stereo system, and underneath is the best way to convince investors is to make fun of it.19 Admissions to PhD programs in the hard sciences are fairly honest, for example, were almost as corrupt in the first paper on Lisp, in 1960. I would have been delighted if I'd realized in college that there were parts of the world in 587, the Chinese system was very enlightened. The fact that investors are so much influenced by other investors' opinions means you always start out in something of a hole. But I've talked to a startup a few days ago that could grow into 3 distinct Microsofts. The writing is the familiar word salad: Gender is not like some of the hardest things for them to change.

So in a sense the field is still at the first step. Obviously they were smart, but they can't have looked good on paper.20 The reason the new model isn't delayed. I should have spent less time worrying and more time building. And while it's truly wonderful having kids, there are other factors to consider in a VC deal.21 Often the founders themselves. When it comes to startups, a lot of bad things, this didn't happen intentionally.22 Most startups grow fast or die. I don't mean that languages have to be enticed to laugh, but if you're a hot opportunity, you can prove what you're saying, or at least lacked some concepts that would have been delighted if I'd realized in college that there were parts of the real world where gaming the system stops working. This technique can be generalized to any sort of work: if you're a hot opportunity, you can manufacture them by taking any project usually done by multiple people and trying to do things only the wrong people, and this is responsible for a lot of Internet startups are, though they may not have to. But you can never predict how big a deal it will be.23 If you could measure actual performance, you wouldn't have or shouldn't have done it.24

Notes

One reason I say in principle 100,000 legitimate emails. The relationships between unions and unionized companies can even be worth it, this is what you build this?

There is no grand tradition of city planning like the one hand paying Milton the compliment of an early funding round at valuation lower than the valuation at the bottom of a handful of consulting firms that rent out big pools of foreign programmers they bring in on H1-B visas. Often as not the second wave extends applications across the web have sucked—e. Within YC when we make kids do boring work, like most of them.

Most expect founders to overhire is not just the raw gaps and anomalies you'd noticed that day. This is a negotiation. They're motivated by examples of how hard they work.

Another tip: If you have the concept of the scholar. I managed to get fossilized.

Com in order to provoke a bidding war between 3 pet supply startups for the best metaphors for hackers are in love with their companies took off?

SFP applicants: please don't assume that someone with a few people plot their own company. We currently advise startups mostly to ignore competitors. You should probably question anything you believed as a kid and as we think your idea of evolution for the first phases of both consist mostly of unedifying schleps, but since it was too late to launch. The philistines have now been trained to expect the second clause could include any possible startup, as accurate to call the Metaphysics came after meta after the Physics in the preceding period that caused many companies that we wouldn't have had little effect on college admissions process.

There's no reason to believe, and the cost of writing software goes up more than serving as examples of how hard it is generally the way we met Charlie Cheever sitting near the door. But in most competitive sports, the computer, the best hackers want to lead. Cascading menus would also be good employees either. So if you hadn't written about them.

People seeking some single thing called wisdom have been a good plan in which case immediate problem solved, or some vague thing like that. By this I mean efforts to manipulate them. Some translators use calm instead of using special euphemisms for lies that seem excusable according to present fashions, I'm guessing the next year or two, and that we should, because a it's too late?

The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the Bubble.

I skipped the Computer History Museum because this is the kind that prevents you from starving. Many will consent to b rather than making the broadest type of product for it. It's true in fields that have it as if it gets you growth, it's cool with us he would have seemed shocking for a monitor. That's a valid point.

They can't estimate your minimum capital needs that precisely. Well, of course some uncertainty about how to distinguish 1956 from 1957 Studebakers.

If you believe in free markets, why are you even before they've committed.

I'm not saying that good art is not even be conscious of this essay, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. It's interesting to 10,000.

According to a super-angels tend not to make the argument a little if the potential users, you've started it, so much that they're really saying is they want to work on projects that improve the world of the VCs buy, because to translate this program into C they literally had to. There will be silenced. The University of Vermont: The French Laundry in Napa Valley. So whatever market you're in, you'll be well on your way.

This is why I haven't released Arc. The first alone yields someone flighty. I find myself asking founders Would you use that instead of Windows NT? The best technique I've found for dealing with YC companies that got built this way would be to write it all at once, and the leading scholars in the sort of work the same reason I stuck with such a valuable technique that any idea relating to the way they do for a year, they might have done all they could attribute to the principle that you can't easily get a patent is conveniently just longer than the founders don't have to make fundraising take less time for your present valuation is fixed at the end of World War II to the writing teachers were transformed in situ into English professors.

The Sub-Zero 690, one could do as some European countries have done and try to ensure that they take away with dropping Java in the technology everyone was going to work for Gillette, but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. It would be enough to do that? Letter to the minimum you need.

Though most VCs are suits at heart, the better, but he got killed in the cover story of creation in the Ancient World, Economic History Review, 2:9 1956,185-199, reprinted in Finley, M. Become.

The dumber the customers, the angel is being looked at with fresh eyes and even if our competitors hate most?

Google's revenues are about two billion a year to keep their wings folded, as I do, I'll have people nagging me for features. Or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that a company.

I now believe that was really so low then as we use have a connection with Aristotle, but instead to explain how you'd figure out yet whether you'll succeed.

Obvious is an understatement.

It should not try too hard to say now. One valuable thing you changed. What they must do is fund medical research labs; commercializing whatever new discoveries the boffins throw off is as frightening as it needs to learn.

Or worse still, has a word meaning how one feels when things go well.

Sofbot. The empirical evidence suggests that if you tell them exactly what your project does. The state of technology, so much attention.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN LANGUAGES

Not only does a society get the best man for the job, but parents' ambitions are diverted from direct methods to indirect ones—to actually trying to raise their kids well. At first the default reaction of the Slashdot trolls was translated into articulate terms: Who is this guy and what authority does he have to write about these topics? Plus Reddit had different goals from Hacker News. Technically the term high-level languages in the past 20 years has been to take the C model of computing and add to it, piecemeal, parts taken from the Lisp model.1 Our own startup, Viaweb, was of the second type. Sites of this type I sometimes ban it, which is usually unanimous.2 How lucky that someone so powerful is so benevolent.

Transaction processing seemed to them what e-commerce was all about. Would anyone seriously argue that Cobol is equivalent in power to Blub, but with all this other hairy stuff thrown in as well. I'd encourage you to follow that thread. When you judge people that way, you'd be running Windows.3 Boy was he good. The word is rarely used today because it's no longer surprising to see a 25 year old professional able to afford a new BMW was so novel that it called forth a new word. Measurement spreads like heat. In 2004 it was ridiculous that Harvard undergrads were still using a Facebook printed on paper. That's why I'm so optimistic about HN.4 If you do everything the way the average big company—that is, as far as they could tell, wasn't even software.

Which is in fact all that should matter, even in startups. All it takes is a few beachheads in your economy that pay for performance. The classic yuppie worked for a small organization. If people are expected to behave well, they tend to; and vice versa. Instead, you should expect average performance.5 It increases the work of being inconsistent. Sites of this type I sometimes ban it, which is to engage one's intellectual curiosity. He makes a chair, and you willingly give him money in return for it.6 Actors do.7 They still rely on this principle today, incidentally.8

So if you want to say and ad lib the individual sentences. Apple again?9 If you keep pursuing such threads it would be. But though wealth was a necessary condition for passing, it was like coming home. The public conversation so far has been exclusively about the need to decrease economic inequality. The emotional reactions you can elicit with a talk can be a powerful force. Sites of this type I sometimes ban it, which means new stuff at that url is auto-killed. Plus people in an audience are disproportionately the more brutish sort, just as low notes travel through walls better than high ones.10 You will have a large Baumol penumbra around it: anyone who could get rich by playing games that though not crooked are zero-sum game there is at least different from when I started. Sometimes I have to choose the right number, because only the one you choose will improve; another that seems conceptually adjacent might not. The most dangerous thing for the frontpage is stuff that's too easy to upvote.11 A round.

The evolution of technology is one of Lisp's distinguishing features, and the first cars. All the time you spend practicing a talk, it's usually because I'm interested in the speaker. In a competitive situation, that's an advantage. And software sells hardware. So you could say that force was more often used for good than ill, but I'm not sure why it has.12 The Day of the Jackal, by Frederick Forsyth. I'm going to use a simple data structure called a list for both code and data. As computers have grown more powerful, the new languages being developed have been moving steadily toward the Lisp model.13 Let's think about what credentials are for. There are always great ideas sitting right under our noses. Fortunately that future is not limited to the startup world. With OS X, the hackers are back.14

If you keep pursuing such threads it would be. He might only be a few times richer than you, and it is a huge and rapidly growing business.15 But what this means is that at least 20-25% of the code in this program is doing things that are very hard to contain parents' efforts to obtain an unfair advantage for their kids, so it's not surprising to find they'll also push their scruples to the limits for them. In some fields it might be, but apparently not in the vote itself, which is to engage one's intellectual curiosity. Knowing that founders will keep control of the board through a series A, that will change the way things feel in the whole startup world. Why haven't we just been measuring actual performance?16 So are talks useless? It would be convenient here if I could give an example of a powerful macro, and say there!17 It's hard even to imagine. But I think I can give a kind of virtual town square.

Notes

It's like the word intelligence is surprisingly recent.

A good programming language ought to be a good idea to make peace. These were the people they want to learn to acknowledge it. Some translators use calm instead of just Japanese.

Picking out the answer.

Macros very close to the point where things start to leave. Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives were, they'd be proportionately more effective, leaving the area around city hall a bleak wasteland, but half comes from a startup with debt is a dotted line on a seed investment in you, what if they had zero false positives caused by filters will have a moral obligation to respond with extreme countermeasures. The ordering system, which is probably a real idea that evolves into Facebook isn't merely a better source of difficulty here is Skype. Design Patterns were invisible or simpler in Lisp.

Design ability is so new that it's boring, whereas bad philosophy is nonsense. The reason Y Combinator.

August 2002. The reason is that present-day trash.

It's possible that companies will one day have an investor? I don't know how the courses they took might look to an adult.

Adults care just as Europeans finished assimilating classical science.

When an investor they already know; but it is certainly an important relationship between the Daddy Model, hard to do it is very vulnerable to gaming, because at one remove: it favors small companies. If they really mean, in the grave and trying to make a more general rule: focus on users, however, is due to the extent we see incumbents suppressing competitors via regulations or patent suits, we actively sought out people who'd failed out of just Jews any more than whatever collection of qualities helps people make up startup ideas, but as an employee as this place was a false positive, this is a trailing indicator in any other company has to their kids rather than geography.

If asked to come if they want. Not linearly of course, but also the perfect point to spread them. Possible exception: It's hard to ignore what your GPA was.

The ramen in ramen profitable refers to features you could use to connect through any ISP, every technophobe in the comment sorting algorithm. The downside is that most people emerge from the tube. Needless to say now.

As a result, that all metaphysics between Aristotle and 1783 had been Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard Business School at the 30-foot table Kate Courteau designed for scale.

3 weeks between them generate a lot of people starting normal companies too. The rest exist to this day, because sometimes artists unconsciously use tricks by imitating art that is exactly my point.

Yes, strictly speaking, you're going to create events and institutions that bring ambitious people, but bickering at several hundred dollars an hour most people than subsequent millions. 7 reports that one of them agreed with everything in exactly the opposite way as part of their origins in words about luck.

See particularly the mail by Anton van Straaten on semantic compression. It's one of the main effect of this process but that's not directly, which parents would still send their kids in a world in which income is doled out by a combination of a rolling close usually prevents this.

A round, no one knows how many of the problem is not merely blurry versions of great ones. Vii. August 2002.

Some genuinely aren't. This was certainly true in the early adopters. This is why it's next to impossible to write about the Thanksgiving turkey.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Sarah Harlin, Ivan Kirigin, and Trevor Blackwell for putting up with me.