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keferon · 1 month ago

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I just want this fic to be here too👍 Part 1? Eh

_____________

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

_____________

Blurr/Swerve, Superhero au, fic under the cut⤵️ Heavily inspired/based on this post

Blurr doesn't think life and death is something he can control.

He's about 99.99999% sure.

The remaining microscopic fraction of that idiotic statistic is held in place by one small but important factor that Blurr can't explain and isn't sure he even wants to explain. It's like the dream logic. The moment you realize exactly how things work is also the moment you wake up to realize it.

The very nuance understanding which destroys all magic or reveals the fact that magic never existed.

That nuance?

Blurr can't die.

And it's certainly not because he's not trying hard enough.

That last one sounds a little radical. But he has a history. His team has a history.

“Wreckers is a pretty peculiar collection of superheroes. It's easy to get into and even easier to get out of (usually feet first and in a bag). No other hero organization loses so many people so often. No other hero organization can also handle the level of threats that the Wreckers eliminate.

Their fans affectionately refer to them as the Suicide Squad. There is...a lot of black humor among the Wreckers fanbase and Blurr doesn't condemn it. Not after having to memorize new names and faces of teammates every six months.

The thing is.

He probably should have been dead a long time ago. A lot. A lot of “that was close” ago.

Just two days after joining the Wreckers, he found himself in the middle of an absolutely monstrous fire and miraculously escaped death by getting away just moments before the entire building collapsed on his head.

Only a week after that, he gets shot. Fifteen times.

And. Look.

Blurr is fast! Being fast is kind of his main thing as a speedster. He did the only logical thing and made an honest effort to dodge, but three of those fifteen bullets still ended up inside him and only miraculously didn't hit anything that couldn't be repaired.

Half a year later, a car falls on him.

Another month - some freaking supervillain decides to infect an entire country with a homemade super lethal virus and guess who becomes the only victim.

At least once a month, various psychopaths try to break his legs.

At least once every half a year he ends up being the one who “heroically saved all the hostages but didn't have time to save himself”.

It's like an endless stream of negative karma.

It's really amazing how such a small piece of civilization like Iacon can contain so many disasters. Even more amazing perhaps is how people manage to survive through all this neat smoothie of misery and violence.

Earthquakes, villains, villains, more villains, terrorists, natural disasters, monsters from outer space, and it all comes out of nowhere and it all takes a hundred percent effort to pack Blurr in a coffin.

Blurr... doesn't know why he's still alive.

He honestly has no idea how he's doing it. He may get into life-and-death situations more often than he does haircuts but every time things come within an inch of killing him. It's impossible luck. Statistically improbable chance. One-in-a-thousand odds. A fucking lightning caught in a bottle, but it happens so often it's like someone somewhere in heaven decided to open a bottled lightning factory and then reward Blurr with the title of their honorary loyal customer.

Blurr doesn't think he has power over life and death.

But here's the thing.

On some particularly violent nights, he wonders that maybe...

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

Sometimes Swerve thinks being a dedicated fan should be on the list of “unhealthy” high-paying jobs. One of those where they give you extra cash for the fact that you even bother to show up and then give you insurance and paid vacations.

Okay, that last one might be a bit of an overkill, but it would be nice if he at least had an endless supply of sedatives.

At least some chamomile. Preferably not from the sidewalk. He's not picky.

See, their world decided to change the rules of existence not too long ago and turned such a trivial thing as “trust” into a new in-game currency.

Simply put. If enough people believe something, it becomes true.

What has society chosen to do with that? Of course create an absolutely insane cult of celebrity worship, essentially giving a bunch of already rich and beautiful people superpowers as well.

As if they weren't already living luxuriously enough!

Swerve is not jealous. Certainly not. His first thought when he found out about the new “rules” was definitely not to tell everyone he knows that he won a million dollars and wait for the power of belief to make it true.

He surely wasn't trying to do that. Anyone who claims otherwise is either a liar or their name starts with a T and ends with Gate.

Speaking of.....

Tailgate scratches the back of his head puzzled.

“So you didn't actually win a million dollars?”

They are sitting in a small cafe, the name of which Swerve has honestly forgotten. Or rather he never memorized it, because the local owner of the place prefers to hang huge posters with superheroes right above the name. Swerve is a rather controllable customer.....

Rewind, sitting at the same cheap plastic table as them, hums.

“And here I was trying to figure out if your holey slippers were a cry for help or one of those crazy expensive 'fancy' designs.”

“Ha. ha.” says Swerve slowly and deliberately unhappily “If I get rich one day, I won't tell any of you.”

He slowly takes a sip of some obscure looking substance that Rewind ordered for them all as an experiment and turns to Tailgate.

“Look, it's a pretty fun system. Things that people believe in strongly enough - become real. So if uh, if uh, if we as a whole country believe that our government is honest - that will, in theory, make it honest. Or if a hundred thousand people genuinely believe you can fly, you will be able to fly. That's how it works now.”

Tailgate stares at him. With very large, puzzled eyes.

Swerve tries not to laugh too hard. Poor Tailgate had once gone off to explore the caves and somehow, by some incredible means, managed to get lost and stuck in them for two whole months. Then he crawled out and discovered that magic had appeared in the world while he was gone. Swerve thinks that if he were Tailgate, he'd look very stupid too, trying to realize the absurdity of the situation.

Tailgate is toying with his curled straw.

“So is the government honest now?”

Rewind makes a loud “snrk” noise into his cup.

Swerve chuckles. Not as “funny” haha but more like “we fucked it all up” haha.

It shouldn't be possible to fit all the sense of doom from the world's level of damnation into one expression, but he confidently goes for it.

“GOD NO, did you ever believe that government could be honest?”

“Well...now that's just sad...” decides Tailgate ‘Something good was supposed to come out of this, right?”

Rewind raises a finger victoriously.

“Oh! There are no more incurable diseases! The placebo effect is the new big thing now that a bunch of people have gotten the ability to cure any illness at the snap of their fingers.”

Swerve nods, dangling his drink in his hands.

“There was a guy who claimed he had magic hands that cured everything and gathered a crowd of fanatical admirers around him. So...now his hands are really magic because his followers believe it. Crazy stuff...”

Tailgate puts his elbows on the table, propping his head up with his hands.

“So if I tell everyone I won a million dollars.....”

“I recommend--” Rewind waves his cup “...first make sure you're not wearing holey slippers.”

“Аh”

“That, and you'll need at least about a million people loving and supporting you wholeheartedly if you want this to work.”

“That's...a lot of people,” Tailgate groans.

Swerve shrugs

“That's why all the really cool stuff only goes to celebrities.”

_____

Tailgate cranes his neck curiously.

“Hey Swerve, while you went to place your order your phone started buzzing.”

Swerve falls back into his seat as fast as if he'd just decided the entire floor was lava and starts scrolling through notifications, cursing at spam and useless newsletters.

“When??”

“Just a couple minutes ago” shrugs Tailgate ”Are you expecting someone?”

“I'M...OH NO NO I'M JUST. Shit, wait a minute.”

Rewind leans over to Tailgate and smiles deviously, not even trying to pretend to whisper.

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“' Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

Swerve slides down the back of his chair slightly and tilts the phone toward Tailgate

“No, it's not him. He's the one in the blue suit on the left. And no, he's not dying. That bastard is impossible to kill.”

Tailgate lets out an understanding “ooh.”

“Although,” Swerve admits, “ Following him was a lot easier when he was driving cars instead of saving the world.”

He's been a Blurr fan for so long that it can probably be put on his resume already. He remembers watching the Iacon 5000 race with friends with Rewind starting to joke about how they should all bet on someone brand new this year. To fuel the fun, they sat down to pick candidates to bet on based solely on the color of their cars.

Swerve then poked his finger at a random bright blue car and said he'd bet on it because “blue is a fast color.”

Later, his friends would joke more than once that Swerve had the gift of prophecy that day. Because blue wasn't just fast. Oh, God. No. Blue turned out to be the absolute leader, dominating the race track from start to finish.

Swerve remembers vividly the first time he looked at a racer getting out of that car and thought “who the hell is that” and then immediately “how do I find his socials”.

The answer to the second question came quickly. The answer to the first...well. The guy, Blurr, soon turned out to be a faceless celebrity. Shining at numerous races, but never showing his face. Swerve highly doubts it's due to shyness, given...some character traits. (Swerve has a running theory, which is that ...Blurr has no shame. Even as a concept.) Probably just to keep his life anonymous and quiet, he believes.

It's understandable.

He's not judging. But he has to admit that a billion fanarts on what a face under a racing helmet could look like in theory...really...fuels his fantasy.

He's a very normal and sane fan. He tries very hard to be a normal fan and he's doing a great job at it. Maybe except for those moments when Blurr gets into another car accident. Lots of them. Lots and lots of bloody accidents actually and Swerve at first catches a micro heart attack every time he sees the news, but eventually he gets used to it. Blurr is incredibly resilient. And just as rich as well.

Swerve is used to hearing updates about another incident and then seeing Blurr back in the race a couple months later. Just as energetic, carefree, and frankly . Really handsome. As if nothing had happened. As if any danger would just bounce off him without leaving a dent.

It was familiar. It was habitual.

Until, of course, the universe started handing out faith magic to people. Until Blurr walked up to this imaginary box of lottery numbers and pulled out a ball that said “congratulations you're lucky now go and fucking die.”

Blurr is a racer. A damn good racer. Incredibly popular too. Of course his many fans who adore him beyond measure gave him a superpower.

Of course that power was speed.

Of course.

Blue is the color of speed. What else.

As a racer, Blurr is undefeatable.

As a superhero, ..

Swerve still thinks this guy is impossible to kill, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get worried every time he sees the news headlines and live feeds.

“You're alive” Springer states ”Literally how are you still alive?”

Blurr tilts his head because it's the only part of his body he can still move while trapped under ten tons of mangled steel from a Decepticon flying base falling out of the sky.

“Hello to you, too.”

Springer tentatively pulls the nearest sheet of metal and hums in satisfaction when he feels the structure is stable enough.

“Bleeding? Fractures?”

“I think my hair's ruined.”

“No one can even see your hair.”

“Doesn't mean I shouldn't care about it,” snorts Blurr

Springer tosses aside another piece of metal and reaches for his earpiece

“Smoke...? Nah...no really.....REALLY. ....No, you're not going to believe this. ......Aha, digging him out.” he looks away from the earpiece and leans over Blurr ‘Smokescreen wanted me to tell you that he's impressed and,... I quote ’personally saw that damn wagon fall right on your head'. He also wants to know if he needs to shoo away the paparazzi.”

Blurr tries to shrug but remembers in time that it's best not to fidget too much.

“Tell him I'll need a new suit. Let him keep everyone, I'm fine.”

“Literally...like...” barely audibly mutters Springer. “Like.h ow..”

Blurr smiles “My guardian angel is working overtime.”

Swerve takes a deep, nervous exhale, unhooking his fingers from the phone on which he's watching the live feed. Ah shit. Okay. Okay. Alive. Fine.

Rewind looks over his shoulder.

“Looking out for your pookie?”

“HE'S NOT MY

__________

Smokescreen stops right in the middle of an inspired argument with the advertisement agent when his side vision registers a flash of blue to the right of the entirely destroyed street.

“Blurr??”

“Oh, hey!” waves Blurr, “'Sup Smoke?”

The crumbled asphalt beneath his feet crunches softly. Just a few minutes ago, this street was a complete mayhem....

Smokescreen waves the clipboard in his direction

“I thought you had your head ripped off, you suicidal son of a bitch! Do you know how hard it was to calm your hysterical fans down??”

Blurr knows no one can see his face but rolls his eyes anyway. Almost immediately his brain tells him that this was a bad idea, sending a whole bunch of black spots in front of his eyes.

“Hey, you're getting paid for th...ugh...this.”

Blurr doesn't elaborate on the fact that he was sure he was going to be left headless today as well. One of the Overlord's freaking monster minions grabbed him and for a split second Blurr could swear he heard his own neck crunch.

He tries not to think about it.

The more he thinks about it, the less sense it will make.

The more he analyzes, the louder becomes the voice in the far corner of his head saying he should have been dead a long time ago.

A week ago when an entire air base fell on him. Three weeks ago during the battle with Menasor that practically broke his spine. Even earlier, when he was so busy evacuating hospital staff that he ended up being the only one present when that hospital exploded.

He's afraid that if he starts looking into the causes, this magical effect..this life-saving placebo will disappear.

He's convinced it's a placebo. It's the way this world works.

Someone out there must be doing some complex mental magic, keeping him more or less alive and whole and...Blurr is probably going a little crazy. Probably.

Maybe one of those many blows got him harder than he thought. Maybe it's his own self-confidence manifesting miracles of salvation one after another.

(It actually...doesn't sound that unbelievable. Blurr has a lot of belief in himself. Many people would say even too much. The question is whether it counts.)

(He prefers to think it counts.)

__________

Swerve sees red. Lots of it. LOTS of red.

More than he ever wanted to see in his life.

Uh-oh. That's not good.

His vision is blurring. His head buzzes with a nasty sharp static and his left shoulder hurts like a BITCH.

Above him is the flickering, faltering light of the bulb and below him is a growing puddle of his blood. His hair is wet and sticking to his face, making it hard to focus his already shaky gaze.

He makes an attempt to shift, but all it brings him is an explosion of pain.

Ugh.

Sirens are blaring outside, warning the public to evacuate. He's not really sure he can make out exactly what the sound is announcing. He has memorized all kinds of emergency alerts, but the thought escapes him.

What was it

Oh, yeah.

He's been shot.

He's been shot and he's probably going to die because everyone he knows is either too far away or busy evacuating. He vaguely hopes they'll remember about him.

Maybe only after getting to a safe place, but he'll take even that.

The red around him is getting bigger.

He tries to reach for his phone to...where is his phone? Did he leave it in the kitchen? He probably did. Swerve seemed to have no time to grab it when the entire building shook and ugly semi-mechanical monsters fell from the sky.

One of these monsters noticed Swerve just moments later and activated something resembling a cannon mounted in his hands. Swerve then looked at the glowing muzzle and thought that firing this thing would probably send his atoms so far away that his dna would be found on the moon. He could stick his hand down that gun barrel. And his hands are far from the smallest and most delicate hands you can find.

Why did this have to happen on a Saturday? Why not a day later or earlier? If it were any other day, Swerve would be at work right now. In a different place, with other people and probably with a much better chance of not being killed like a loser.

Not sure he wouldn't have been shot, but at least someone would have seen this and picked him up off the floor, put him in their pocket and taken him to the rescue.

Ugh.

He realizes that he closed his eyes at some point and hurriedly opens them. His expertise is by no means professional, but he is almost certain that that weapon wasn't ordinary. He has no idea what it means for him. Maybe he needs stitches, painkillers and a kiss and he'll be good as new. Or maybe it's like one of those films where you get hurt by an unknown creature and then you grab the sink in front of the mirror at midnight and watch the veins under your skin move on their own.

He doesn't feel shot, as silly as that sounds. He feels numb. Falling. Farther and farther away.

He is falling and falling as deep as he's ever fallen in his life. Maybe not as far as "got lost in the woods" far. No, more like " a coin dropped behind the fridge" far. It's not really about the distance but more about the feeling that he's never going to get out of here because no one ever looks in here.

He’s falling until the state of falling starts to register as a resting point, because that's the only variable he still feels. This corner he falls into is very deep and dark and dusty.

He doesn't remember to open his eyes again.

___________

Smokescreen sounds frankly hysterical, yelling at Blurr through his earpiece.

“I understand you like to show off, but you can't outrun a freaking tsunami?!?!”

Blurr only speeds up, “Watch."

“You cocky IDIOT this is suicide!”

“Relax Smoke” laughs Blurr ”You say that every time.”

The half-destroyed bridge shakes and sways like a wounded animal as the water from the overrunning sea crashes into it, gouging into the concrete and bending the metal.

The whole scene is...depressing. Water and debris everywhere and damn. This isn't the first time Blurr is witnessing a large-scale attack by the "forces of evil" as the hero agency likes to call them, but looking at the wrecked cars and scattered debris doesn't get any easier with time. Maybe it just hasn't been long enough. Who knows.

Springer doesn't look like he is bothered by it. But Springer also has a lot more experience being a superhero. With his skill at giving out smiles and encouragement in absolutely any situation, not many can compete.

Blurr certainly can't. In fact. He's got a face with subtitles that turn on in almost any stressful situation. Wearing a mask is probably one of the best things he can do to calm down any random civilians waiting for him to save the day. If they can't see him making panicked grimacing eyes, they'll be feeling much better.

A few more seconds and he's on the collapsing bridge. The people stuck on it look hysterical and bruised, but no one seems injured, so it shouldn't be difficult.

Blurr's plan is simple. Get all the people out of the disaster's path. Then get yourself out. Easy.

Easy?

He can pinpoint the exact moment when something goes wrong.

It's the second that a crooked, hideous-looking monster grabs his leg and pulls him underwater. The second when Blurr fights it with all his might and realizes with sudden horror that his strength isn't enough. That he is. Not enough.

His lungs burn, begging him to take a breath and he doesn't even know which way is the surface because all there is around him is the dark, black, cold pressure of water. It's clinging to him, seeping through his suit, his hair, burning his eyes and making his fingers go numb. It's pulling him somewhere, and he's obeying whether he wants to or not.

His spine prickles with panic.

His personal miracle. His damn magic or guardian angel or cursed luck or whatever the hell it was called. That thing that was always there to catch him like in that game of trust fall. He'd gotten so used to it's presence, he began to take it for granted.

Like the air you trust to be there every time you need to take your next breath.

And right now?

It's not here.

His body takes a convulsive breath and finds nothing but water.

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avelera · 7 months ago

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Arcane's Jayce & Viktor: A Tech Industry Perspective

I've been wrestling with whether to make a short and sweet post about these points or to just have another long-winded meta and clearly since I'm incapable of being brief, I guess we'll just dive in.

I work in tech. What I see in this industry colors a lot of how I see Jayce and Viktor in Arcane. I'll try to be brief about a few of the things that stand out to me the most and that I think are intentional.

1 ) Jayce and Viktor are references to Alfred Nobel - This is a historical reference so direct I genuinely don't know how people grasp Jayce and Viktor's characters if you don't know about it.

Alfred Nobel is known for two things: inventing dynamite and bequeathing his subsequent fortune to founding the Nobel Peace Prize. These things are very much related.

Nobel was brilliant but socially naive. When he invented dynamite, he intended it to make life easier and safer for working in mines. Sound familiar? That is literally what the Atlas Gauntlets and Hex Claw Jayce and Viktor invented with Hextech was posed to be. It is a direct reference to Alfred Nobel and dynamite, there is no question about it in my mind whatsoever that they pose the benefit to society as specifically being useful to miners.

Nobel also believed that the awesome destructive power of dynamite would mean the end of warfare. Literally. He thought it was so disgusting and unthinkable that people would use explosives on each other that it would grind violence to a halt. He was very, very wrong about this. So wrong, in fact, that he spent the rest of his life in horror and remorse at how explosives were being used to kill people and created the Nobel Peace Prize to promote innovations aimed at peace, a prize which annually recognizes those who "conferred the greatest benefit to humankind".

Likewise with Jayce and Viktor, they are both horrified to imagine Hextech used for warfare and we think they're incredibly socially naive for thinking this, because they are. Maybe in another universe, there'd be the Talis Peace Prize to try to make up for what they unleashed on the world. Which brings me to my next point:

2 ) Jayce and Viktor have typical engineer blindspots to society's ills - As I've discussed in-depth in another meta, Jayce and Viktor both desperately needed some non-STEM or scientific classes in their life because their worldview is so naive and stunted as a result that it's the source of a dizzying number of their problems. Neither of them could even consider that Hextech, like dynamite, would be weaponized immediately. But they have other huge gaps too as a result of their narrow focus on science, and I do believe this is intentional by the writers as a commentary on engineers and tech people in general.

Short version, Jayce desperately needs some understanding of history and of rhetoric. When Ambessa asks him if his school teaches military history, he doesn't even know if they offer it. She was testing him with that question and as a canny manipulator and general, she clearly takes that to mean she can run circles around him, and she is right. Because with incredibly simplistic plays to his male ego, like calling his leadership "impotent", Ambessa immediately gets Jayce riled up and not thinking clearly. She blindfolds him, spins him around, and shoves him headlong into taking violent military action in exactly the direction she wanted him to go in to kick the nest and set off a war.

Jayce is also easily manipulated by Mel for more benevolent but still self-serving reasons with appeals to his life's work with flattery, his male ego with sex, and his dreams for a better world to make him fall quickly into step with the city's corruption with only a little nudging because he has no strong civic understanding of his own to fall back on. As Cait notes, he's never taken an interest in the Council or politics before until he becomes a Councilor himself.

Short version for Viktor, he wants to make the world a better place but he's never actually had to think through human nature before. He's literally never bothered. We know this because of his blindspot towards Hextech weaponry where he truly believed they could avoid it being used for warfare, and the fact that later in his cult, he's somehow shocked to learn that people will do bad things for the ones they love and won't just slice pieces of their own nature and personality off to fit into his little Utopian commune.

Literally cracking any kind of history or sociology book or heck, a Pratchett Discworld book, would have told him that there's a straight fucking line between deciding people are the problem when it comes to fixing society's ills and eugenics. He falls headlong into that trap and it requires his older, wiser self to beat him over the head with the truth of the horrors of his own simplistic worldview would lead to before he literally annihilates all life in his home city in his attempt to save it.

Which brings me to my next point:

3 ) Jayce and Viktor as oblivious tech nerds who have never cracked a book open but suddenly thinking that because they're great engineers, they have the solution to all of life's problems.

This is a somewhat shorter point, but I think in modern society we all know about the proverbial tech bro who keeps reinventing things like public transportation and taxes because they've never read a book in their life that doesn't have equations in it.

To be clear, they aren't bad people! I'd even hazard to say that young tech bros trying to make public good-based startups with a laughable lack of social awareness aren't bad people either! If anything, the education system has failed them, and they're pouring their intellect and earnest, human desire to help others into endeavors with the narrowest possible world perspective, which happens to be their field of expertise and thus it makes sense they'd see that as the greatest value that can offer, it's just too limited a view so they end up reinventing things that already exist or making worse, more dangerous versions of things that already exist. Tragically, their naive but well-meaning worldview often leads to:

4 ) Viktor and Jayce, but mostly Jayce, as tech bros being beholden to billionaire interests to make their dream come true:

Like Jayce, we see how these tech bros have their vision co-opted by people with a broader vision and understanding of the world, by billionaire investors who turn their inventions into making a quick buck for themselves, to warmongers and dictators who turn the creations of their mind into surveillance state horror stories. Some of that is a lack of wisdom on their parts when it comes to building in safeguards, sure, but part of that is there is a class divide too between the powerful and bright-eyed young inventors who just want to improve the world. As Singed notes, no one in power is ever innocent. And those in power have the capital to make a young inventor's dream come true and thus, tie them to their demands and interests. As Jayce said, they built the Hexgates, "Like [the Councilors] asked." Specifically this indicates that their vision has already been co-opted to serve financial interests. It also, again, makes it almost laughable how naive they are that they didn't realize warfare was next after trade.

Like many tech bros with billionaire investors, Jayce relied on the Kirammans, who were one of the wealthiest people in the city and literally on the Council that represents the State, and on Mel who is also part of the State, who is the wealthiest woman in Piltover, and who comes from a family of world-conquering warmongers, to make his dream come true from the very start.

From the beginning, Jayce was at a losing disadvantage when it came to keeping his dream ideologically pure and free of the influence of the wealthy and powerful.

And finally, just to point out that I'm not making this up, that these parallels are in fact intentional and built into the story:

4 ) Jayce and Viktor as parallels to Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, founders of Apple. Christian Linke, co-creator of Arcane, specifically noted them as inspirations for Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with Jayce (Jobs) as the face of the company and Viktor (Woz) as the real brains behind the invention.

This caused a lot of sturm and drang on Twitter with people misinterpreting that he means Jayce isn't the actual inventor of Hextech, which I think is an overreaction. Jobs, unlike many tech bros who have earned society's ire lately like Musk, was actually an engineer too. It's completely common in tech spaces for partnerships to be made up of one partner who is able to handle being the public face of the company, and one introverted and socially awkward genius who prefers to sit in a dark room and actually tinker with the problem and who would literally rather set themselves on fire than talk to a non-technical human being. I know because I've been in such partnerships before myself as the public face.

Where Jayce and Viktor rather charmingly buck the stereotypes of that relationship and so in turn actually make it more like what I've seen in the real world, is the fact there isn't resentment between the two as a result. Viktor is glad that Jayce is willing to be the public face and doesn't want to get in the way. This is actually very common with the engineers I know! It's not seen as glory stealing, it's seen as sparing them awful, painful work they don't want to do, like networking.

Yes it means Jayce needs to sacrifice some time in the lab, but it's a simple division of labor that he's happy to do, especially if it frees Viktor from the responsibility so he can focus on what he loves, because Jayce loves him. And you'll note that Jayce is very above-board academically speaking on this front, he always cites Viktor as his partner and is scrupulous in giving Viktor credit, in conversation at least, even if he doesn't forcibly drag Viktor on stage to take credit there.

Anyway, when I write meta or even fic for these two, this sort of background is always on my mind, and I thought it might be valuable for others who maybe aren't as familiar with the tech space as I am.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane meta #jayce talis #viktor arcane #ambessa medarda #a tech perspective

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hansoeii · 7 months ago

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Hullo! I’ve been watching a bunch of your Timelapses and I was wondering how do you always come up with the colours for your pieces? They’re always so cohesive and pleasing to look at (I almost exclusively work in greyscale so if I’m using colour it’s always a lucky guess and it never looks quite right)

Hey there!

I have to be honest that most of the time I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I have no idea how most of my pieces are gonna turn out. My work process is usually based on "Fuck around and find out", haha. I'm happy to know that it apparently doesn't come across that way, though.

A lot of it comes very naturally to me simply because I've been drawing non-stop for so long, but I can give you some small tips that really help me:

1. Have as many references as possible!

Here's what my reference sheet looked like for the Jayvik piece:

It helped me a lot to understand the overall color scheme I wanted to convey. Lots of very cold tones, pinks and very light blues and greens. These colours sorround Jayce and Viktor throughout all of season 2 and I wanted to keep them, especially since in my piece they are lying in the glowing hexcore.

Don't shy away from using references, get as many as you possibly can! Look at other poeple's art too and try to understand how they work with colours.

2. Work with complementary colours!

Since I paint a lot of romantic illustrations I want them to look pleasing and comforting, which I can accomplish by using complementary colours! You see this a lot with couples that are blue and red coded, for example. And I wanted to do the same thing in the Jayvik piece! For that I used the highlights in their hair!

Viktor's highlights are a soft pink hue.

While Jayce's are a soft blue hue.

The colour wheel works perfect for figuring out if two colors compliment each other because they are literally right across from one another!

3. It doesn't have to be true to life.

Pretty self-explanatory, but I thought I'd add it in here anyways. It's important to understand how colour and light works, but you don't always have to follow the rules. Does the rim light look cool but it makes zero sense? Who cares! Keep the cool rim light! Just have fun and fuck around.

4. A little trick to make your life easier!

I'm not excatly the best at colour theory, I still struggle with it quite a bit, but here's a little trick I like to use from time to time:

If you want all your colours to look coherent, take one specific color as your flat colour. Choose a hue that you would like your piece to have. Like this:

Now you choose whatever colours your characters have and paint them in. For example, here are the skin colours I chose for Jayce and Viktor:

Looks off, right? These colours don't fit the overall piece at all. So what do we do?

Turn down the opacity! It's that easy, wahoo!

I went from 100 Opacity to 72 for this specific illustration. And look at that!

It's so much nicer already! Now you know what colours to use as your actual flats! Just repeat this with every other part of your illustration and you'll have a great starting point. :)

I really hope this was helpful! I'm not an actual teacher and I don't have a proper illustration degree, so some things might not be completely accurate, but I thought I'd try my hand at this anyways!

#teacher han is at it again #if I talked bullshit forgive me #I just hope I was able to help at least a little bit haha #I'm always happy to give some tips!#art process #art tutorial #color tutorial #colouring #illustration #tips #my art #arcane #jayvik #tutorial #anon #ask

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randomshyperson · 1 month ago

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don't run away without me - wanda maximoff oneshots

summary: Wanda's neglect of everything around her, and constant abuse of the darkhold reaches a breaking point - you can't go on like this anymore. | warnings: mainly angst, hurt/comfort, they fight and actually resolve things through dialogue (crazy ik), mutual pining, fluff by the end (you may consider the canon of agatha all along for the "open" ending) | words: 2.588k

a/n-> A month ago i think @iguirisu request an angst one shot, and here it is, i randomly had inspiration for it today at work hope you like; I actually do miss writing about Wanda's depression state, or dark hold influence era.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The smell of coffee made you sigh and relax a little.

Natasha smiled affectionately - despite the obvious tiredness and sadness that your gaze hid, it was good to see you a little, even if minimally, more cheerful.

She took her place in the armchair, crossing her legs. In her hand, a hot cup of tea. You, on the other hand, left yours on the table, your fingers nervous.

"You took a while to visit, Y/N." Nat began, without waiting for you to make any excuse, she added; "I was hoping Wanda would come with you."

You look down, a sad laugh escaping you. "Yeah, I asked her to." You mumble, unable to hide your annoyance. “"Things have been... tricky. Ever since Westview. I thought we were doing well, as much as possible, but Wanda..." You sigh, forcing a smile at Nat. "She's been shouting me out."

Natasha takes a sip of her tea before commenting. "She knows none of us hold a grudge against Westview, right? Even though it's been, well, fucked up."

You laugh weakly at the comment, nodding. You take a sip of your drink too, enjoying the the taste of it.

Nat stretches out her legs and rests them on the coffee table. "Maybe I should visit."

You shake your head. "Better not, Nat." You say, and this surprises the redhead a little. You sigh. "It's her magic. She's been restless, and Wanda, well, she gets really nervous sometimes. I tried to talk to her about contacting that witch we faced in Westview, you know? Agatha Harkness. But she won't give in. And that damn book too. I may not be a witch, but I can sense something's wrong."

The redhead sighs. "Damn, Y/N, that sounds like... a lot."

You smile weakly. "Yeah, I know. But thanks for having me here, Nat. I guess I needed to get out of that cabin for a bit, to clear my head."

She shakes her head gently. "Please don't mention it. I think everything would be easier if we all still lived together in the compound. We'd end up making too much noise for Wanda to get stuck in books." Her joke makes you smile, a little nostalgic. Natasha looks at you curiously. "Are you sure you don't want me to visit? We can just, I don't know, talk. Spend some time together. I feel like I haven't seen you guys in... forever."

You smile sadly, looking away at the apartment. It’s exactly how you remember it, the same way Natasha welcomed you from Shield, a safe home for a defected black widow.

“It’s okay, this helps a lot.” You lean back against the couch, resting your back. “Can we talk about something else? Anything. Even if it’s a fantasy.”

She chuckled in confusion. "I don't understand, Y/N."

You sigh sadly. "I just miss you so much, Nat."

She frowns, adjusting her posture to move closer, taking the seat next to you. "I'm right here, sweetheart." She says, reaching for your hand. You smile, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

You lean in to hug her, and for a moment, the feeling is just as you remembered. But it doesn't last long, and with a sigh, you wake up.

The covers of your bed are tightly wrapped around you, but the cabin is cold and they do little to keep you warm. It's not just the weather, you know. Wanda is reading again, and the darkhold always makes sure that the cold feeling never goes away, even when you turn on the fireplace and sit on the rug in front of it.

You get up without rushing, there's nothing to rush about. You go to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, but maintain a relaxed appearance of someone who just woke up, which in the past Wanda would comment on how charming you are - but now, she doesn't even look up from her book when you leave the room.

You're not surprised that there's no coffee; if you don't make it, Wanda will just go on without eating, for hours and hours until her body protests with exhaustion.

It's not healthy, you can insist. But she won't give more than a grumble in return.

This morning you prepare pancakes, and some coffee. There are freshly picked apples that manage to bring a small smile to your face. You think it will be like any other morning, quiet and lonely, but Wanda's physical form appears to sit at the table with you.

"Hi, Y/N." It's almost painful actually. The distance and indifference have grown to the point that greeting you in the morning is almost like talking to a stranger.

Your back tenses before you glance at her from the corner of your eye and murmur a good morning, your attention returning to the preparation of the coffee.

"You woke up late." Your hand hesitates in cracking the eggs, but only for half a second. Wanda sighs. "I thought you weren't going to do that anymore."

You place the eggs on the tray, and move to find the flour. Your back is to Wanda. "I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble disinterestedly.

She laughs, humorless. "Come on, you were the one giving speeches about how wrong and dangerous that was, and now you're doing it almost every night."

You set the bowl down on the table with a little more force than necessary. "What is it now, Wanda?" You demand, irritated but more importantly, upset. Days goes by with Wanda not paying a single glance at you, and now she’s demanding answers. "Just say what you mean."

She rolls her eyes, and you swallow hard. She can be so… mean. Like Wanda never was. But then again, ever since Westview, and especially since the Darkhold, you've been discovering sides of her that you've never seen. You tried to stay positive about it, because well, relationships are hard. But it was all extremely tiring.

"I just think it's a little funny, when I asked to talk to my boys, you said it was wrong. That I was abusing your power, that it was dangerous to mess with these things, that speech about natural law and the veil of the dead, or whatever nonsense you made up."

"I didn't make it up-"

She interrupts you: "But when it's about you visiting Natasha every night, then it's okay?"

You laugh humorlessly. "Because it's me! Because I hold the connection, because it's my power! I've explained to you this a hundred times, but you don't want to accept it." She huffs, standing up, ready to leave the room, the conversation, and that makes you laugh again. "Go ahead, just run away again."

She looks at you with irritation: "Me? You're the one who's running away, Y/N! Every night to visit our dead friend!"

You have to laugh because honestly this has to be a joke. Wanda swallows hard at the sound. "Wanda, you're not even here." You gesture to the other room where her astral projection is reading the darkhold, and she turns her face away, almost embarrassed. You run a hand over yours, sighing. Exhausted. "This is all bullshit. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

You explode. "She talks to me!" And this takes Wanda by surprise, she looks at you with a frown, and you hold back the tears that threaten to fall. "A change of scenery for a change. "

"I talk to you."

She looks at you as if you've been slapped, in a way, you're almost happy to have some reaction.

"You said you didn't want to leave me alone."

You frown, and hold her gaze, even though you can't hold back the tears anymore. "And in return, you barely look at me."

"Y/N, that's not true. We were ready to have breakfast-" She tries to get closer, to touch you, but you pull away, laughing humorlessly, gesturing nervously to the kitchen.

"Breakfast? Wanda, none of this is real!" You scoff, gesturing around. "This farm, the food, even the fucking animals, you created everything with your magic. All of this is a lie."

"Don't say that."

But you get closer, breathless with emotion, your hands find her face, and Wanda resists the urge to lean into the touch, her gaze conflicted as if she were also resisting something else, something stronger and deeper.

"I'm real, Wanda. And I'm right here. Begging you to let me in." You confess, and some of her certainty breaks. "But you push me away. And ignore me for days, limiting me to a ghost of you."

She touches your forearms. "I know you don't like it, but astral projection allows me to study without leaving you alone and-" She tries, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

"Enough, I don't want to hear the same excuses all over again." You walk away, a sad smile on your face. "I think I should just go."

Wanda tries to contain her emotion, but she's crying the next minute. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you."

You laugh sadly. "What I want. Funny." You retort, walking around her to pack, and Wanda swallows hard. It takes a moment, but she finally follows you to the room, where you search for the few belongings you brought, which weren't fabrications of chaos magic. She doesn't even realize she's forced back her astral projection until she sees the darhold floating alone, almost begging to be read again.

"So that 's it? Are you really just going to leave me alone?"

You don't look at her. "Clearly that's what you want, Wanda. Enjoy your reading."

But she stands in front of the door, blocking your way. You sigh impatiently, but she holds her position. "And what do you want?"

You hesitate, and Wanda tilts her head, her eyes turning red. You snort in protest at the attempt of mind reading. "Unbelievable." You mumble in disappointment, but there's a bump when you try to cross because Wanda won't step aside. "Come on, you said you wouldn't stop me."

"Why did you come with me in the first place?" She demands to know then, her gaze almost pleading, and that makes you hesitate, take a step back.

"Wanda."

"Tell me." She says, and you swallow hard, looking away at the floor. She laughs humorlessly. "Fine, and then you say I don't talk to you."

She steps aside, turning her back to you to walk down the hallway again, and you sigh, thinking fuck it. Things can't get any worse than they are now.

"I'm in love with you."

It's the first time you've said it out loud, admitted it to yourself, actually. Wanda frowns at you, and then laughs briefly and incredulously.

"Right." She mumbles, and you take a step toward her.

"I'm serious."

Wanda doesn't flinch. "Well, I don't believe you."

It's your turn to frown, confused and a little embarrassed, as you watch Wanda sigh and walk over to the couch, where she sits. You sigh too before entering the living room again, the bag of clothes loosely in your hand. "What are you talking about? What do you mean you don't believe? This is just a fact, not something to argue about."

But the redhead shakes her head. "That's ridiculous, Y/N. You're not in love with me." You open your mouth to protest, but she keeps talking. "First of all, you never said anything. You didn't even think." She looks at you with a certain certainty that makes you swallow hard. That nosy witch and that bad habit of looking into people's minds. "Second, you're.. off limits. You're Nat' s. You always have been and always will. I mean you visit her even after death now."

You grimace, and then you finally understand what Wanda is really saying. "Wanda, I," You begin, dropping your backpack on one of the armchairs and approaching where she is, kneeling down to her level. "Natasha and I broke up during the blip. I told you that. We became friends, just friends, over time. I’ve been visiting her because I was feeling lonely, and I missed having a friend to talk to." Wanda looks away, and you try to follow her gaze, your hand reaching for hers in your lap. "And yes, about the first thing, you're right. I'd never thought about it. It took me a while to understand, to realize. I guess I was trying to protect myself."

She looks at you with some uncertainty. "From me?"

You laugh shortly, shaking your head immediately. "Oh, no, Wanda, not from you." You clarify quickly. "I was afraid of getting my heart broken, you know? You had someone. And well, Natasha was my first love. And it was mutual. I didn't know how to deal with rejection, with the possibility of well, of living through this right now. It's been hard, but I'll survive."

But Wanda swallows hard, her cheeks gaining a new color. "But I... didn't reject you."

You laugh awkwardly. "It's okay, I don't need you to let me down slowly, the shock and silence are enough for me to get the message." You joke, but when you make a move to stand up, Wanda tightens her grip on your hand, keeping you in place.

"You just caught me by surprise." She murmurs and it's the only thing she says before advancing on you, a firm kiss on your lips. She barely lets you get used to the feeling - pulling away immediately, her brow furrowed in conflict. "Fuck, don't show me that."

"I didn't do anything-"

"It's not you!" She snaps, her eyes red. Wanda suddenly becomes agitated, standing up, her hands on her head for a moment. You worry, and when you try to touch her, she suddenly grabs you, her arms around you, her face hidden in your chest. She takes a deep breath, as if trying to wake herself up to this moment. "Please, don't leave me alone with it."

You understand, the book, which continues to vibrate in the next room, waiting, demanding a reader.

One of your hands goes to Wanda's head, and the other to her back, trying to calm her down.

"I'll stay with you, Wands." You say, swallowing hard afterwards. "But on one condition." She breaks the hug only to look at you. You sigh. "We'll ask for help."

"What? No-"

"I'm serious." You interrupt. "If not Agatha Harkness, it will be someone from Kamar Taj, like Doctor Strange. You need help, Wanda. You don't sleep, you barely eat. You're paranoid and restless. You're hurting yourself, and I'm not going to stand by and watch."

Wanda sighs tiredly, and buries her face in your chest again, nodding softly. Though the next moment, she mumbles, “Strange won’t help. Sorcerers don’t… help witches.”

You kiss the top of her head. “Agatha Harkness then.”

The redhead groans in protest. "I don't trust her." But you hug her a little tighter.

"I know, darling, me either." You whisper. "But who knows what Westview has in store for us?"

Wanda hides her warm face deeper inside the hug. "I like it when you call me that."

It's your turn to blush. "Lucky for you, I have an endless list of pet names for you, Miss Magic Fingers." She giggles, trying to tickle you so you'll let her go, but the break only makes you laugh and shower her face with kisses.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots

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moonstruckme · 8 months ago

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Hi Mae since u said u would be willing to do an ED reader here's a lil idea for James or tasm Peter but them with a gf who had a really bad ED before they met (he doesn't know) and she starts to relapse and he thinks she's just too stressed to eat or something (idk u can pick how the topic comes up) and just her telling him and him comforting her (this is a bit self indulgent bc idk how to tell anyone I'm dating that I'm struggling)

Hi lovely, thank you for your request!

cw: discussion and depiction of eating disorder, anxiety

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 916 words

You don’t seem much up for talking at dinnertime. Which is fine. James can talk for the both of you.

He prattles on about Sirius’ one-way rivalry with the temp at his work while you cast him half-hearted, flickering smiles and push your food around your plate. He’s made sesame tofu, a first for James but he thought it turned out all right. His plate is clean, whereas yours is all mixed up but he’s fairly sure you’ve only eaten a couple of green beans.

You don’t appear to notice when he finishes his story. Your fork seems almost limp in your hand.

“If you don’t like it,” James says lightly, “I don’t mind making you something else, lovely.”

You look surprised, then guilty. “No, sorry, it’s good.”

It’s not like you would know, but James isn’t cruel enough to point that out. Aside from his own ego, he has other reasons to suspect his cooking has little to do with this.

You’ve been strung up tight, lately. There’s a lot going on at work, some conflict with your boss you don’t really want to talk about, and drama in your family you want to talk about even less. James has tried to make home as comfortable and easy for you as he can, but understandably you’ve grown withdrawn, seemingly exhausted all day long. He wishes he knew how to do more for you. Wishes he could cast a bubble of pure goodness to put you inside so the only things that could get to you were the lovely things you deserve.

“I know you’re stressed,” he says, gently as he can, “but you’ve got to eat, you know? It’s probably cold by now, you could have something else if it’s easier.”

Something painful twinges in your expression. James reaches for your hand on instinct.

“I get that you’ve got a lot going on, angel. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we could.”

You sigh. “No, it’s…I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking, Jamie.”

James frowns, but forces himself to stay quiet. He has the familiar sense that all he’s doing is putting his foot in his mouth.

After a minute, you say quietly, eyes lingering to the side of your plate, “I haven’t always been able to eat properly. It’s been…I’m a lot better about it than I used to be, but it’s still difficult sometimes. Like now.”

Your hand feels tensed inside of James’. His heart has begun to ache lowly. James thinks he knows the term for what you’re trying to tell him, but he’s not about to lob it at you now, not if it could only make you feel worse. He tries comforting you the surest way he can think of, smoothing his thumb along the side of your hand.

It at least seems to relax you enough to say more. “You’re not too far off, I guess, because it is sometimes worse when I’m anxious.” You glance up at him tentatively, an attempt at a smile on your lips. “Food’s just a bit more difficult for me right now.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up like that,” says James, earnestness aching in the back of his throat.

You lift a shoulder. “How could you have known? Sorry I haven’t been eating your cooking.”

“That’s not your fault, sweetheart.” Your gaze flees his again. Guilt and shame quiet James’ voice. “I’m sorry, I thought you were only stressed.”

You give a little laugh. “I guess I am stressed.”

“Yeah, and for good reason, but…can I hug you?”

You nod, and James gets out of his chair, bending awkwardly to get his arms around you. Your fingertips press into the muscles of his shoulders.

“It’s not quite so simple as stress, though, is it?” he murmurs into your shirt.

He feels your chest contract with a sigh. “No,” you admit.

“What can I do to help?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, Jamie.”

“Not accuse you of not liking my cooking, though, surely.”

Another little laugh, this one seemingly more genuine. “Yeah, that would help a bit, actually.”

James worries about smothering you, backs up enough to see your face. His hands want to go there, too, one for each cheek.

“Please tell me if you think of anything,” he says. You don’t agree but don’t look away from him either, which James figures is about as good as he’s going to get. “Would it be any easier if we ate in front of the telly?”

You chew your lip. “It might, yeah. I’m not sure.”

“You don’t have to make any promises,” he assures you, taking up your plate and bringing it into the kitchen. “Do you want me to reheat this for you? Or we could have something else?”

You linger at the edge of the kitchen, fingers bundled up in your sleeves. “I’d like to try to finish that, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, m’love. More than okay.” James presses some buttons on the microwave, then turns to you, requisitioning you for another hug. He kisses your hair. “Thank you for telling me.”

Your voice is soft. “Thank you for listening.”

He scoffs, squeezing you around the middle so that you squeal. “You make it sound like a chore. Don’t be so ridiculous.” James presses another kiss to your hair before releasing you. “Go find something good for us to watch, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

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lagooneah · 2 months ago

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I'm very normal about Yuta Okkotsu from Jujutsu Kaisen- so here are relationship headcanons because I'm SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM-

He very much gives "quiet dominance".

You know, like putting his hand on your waist to guide you closer or in a certain direction? Putting his hand on the back of your neck to remind you he's there? Yep, that's him.

With that, he's hyper aware of his strength and the fact that (especially if you're the average person) how much stronger he is compared to you.

He NEVER leverages that strength, he's more gentle with you than anybody else.

Like, instead of just grabbing your hand randomly, sometimes he'll trail his fingertips down your forearm, stop at your wrist, and wait for your signal to grab your hand.

He's so soft spoken around you, asking you how your day is, listening intently to your woes or your greatest times.

He'd remember the little things that even you don't recall.

Like the fact you like certain foods cooked in a particular way, you like scents mixed with these ingredients, or that these specific hues of colors are your favorite- both aesthetically and what goes with your skin tone best (even if he can barely tell the difference, whatever you say goes)

He guessed the scent one- because he TOTALLY buries his face in your neck after you shower just to INHALE whatever perfumes and soaps you've used.

Maybe consuming that much of the fumes is unhealthy but he doesn't give any shits.

To circle back to the hand holding thing, he's BIG on consent i just know it.

He never does ANYTHING you don't allow first- like the first stages of your relationship was understanding where he can touch you, how he should speak to you. Just to make sure he wouldn't make you uncomfortable because THAT is a worse punishment than death to him.

When he tells you about his "line of work" and explains why he always wears a ring. He reassures multiple times that he isn't technically committed to anyone, its simply a promise to meet his first love who he'd cursed in the afterlife.

He'd sacrifice it a little, saying that when he's around you he won't wear it if it makes you uncomfortable, that his devotion to you is real even with it.

When you confirm that it's ok and that you respect the importance it holds to him, he's of course extremely happy and would just hold you all night telling you how much he loves you and how selfless you are.

Not in an inherently sexual way, but Yuta is OBVIOUSLY a man of praise- he gives it out like candy, AND he is very weak to it. Double edged sword here.

I feel like he wouldn't mind being big spoon or little spoon (since he's so obnoxiously passive with people he loves) but if he could say a preference it would be big spoon simply for the fact that he thinks he can protect you easier if something were to happen in that position.

I don't think he would have a super specific "type" of person he likes, mainly because he couldn't allow himself to develop that taste with Rika around. But I do think he might have a thing with someone who take charge/can stand up for themselves. Not that he doesn't like the more shy bunch, he'd stand up for you whenever you needed it.

He's overall a lover boy let's be REALLL.

Love Language is probably Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, and maybe a bit of Physical Touch because again- his accidental cursing of Rika deprived him from personal connection and ESPECIALLY physical affection for YEARS.

Okay, I'm done (for now) I adore him, and I just can't stop thinking about how cutie pie he is. Yuta stans where are youuuuuu

#certified cutie pie here #yuta okktosu my beloved #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu yuta #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #headcanon

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coca-lastic · 1 month ago

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How would BNHA characters resolve arguments?

Part 1: Takami Keigo (Hawks)

I'm back!!!! Thanks for the support on my fics, I love youuuu!!!

As I always say, English isn't my first language, so please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes :)

Keigo works A LOT, and it's not like he really has much of a choice, he'd love to be able to sleep for a whole day, watch a few movies with you, read an entire book in a day, play a game on the hardest difficulty until he gets sick of it, or just fuck you until neither of you can take it anymore.

But, this is almost never the case, in fact, you can count on one hand the amount of times Keigo has been off work for more than 2 days, and probably 99.99% of it is because Keigo got sick, so it doesn't really count as a break or vacation.

And you always try to understand, you really do, but sometimes you feel like Keigo just puts work above you, and maybe it's your insecurities making you see something that's not true, but it still hurts when you call his number and he doesn't answer, or when you wait up late until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, only to hear Keigo arrive two hours later so tired and hurt that he's not even able to give a kiss.

The thing is, even though you understand, you're also tired of always understanding and understanding and understanding, so one day, when Keigo has the day off because his agency is celebrating an anniversary, you just explode. Because you had planned a nice time off, some decorations and freshly prepared food for your boyfriend, all of that for everything to be ruined when he received a call informing him that there was going to be a meeting with another agency that was of utmost importance.

And Keigo left, because what else can he do? Work is what he was raised and trained to do, so if they call him he's already on his way. But no you, you weren't raised or trained to handle that, so today you stayed up until Keigo arrived to have a talk with him, so you made yourself a coffee to stay awake, went to the living room cabinet, turned on the TV and waited while watching a movie.

After a few hours you heard a creak on the balcony and saw him walk through the door.

"Hi babe, what are you doing up so late?" He said as he took off his jacket and walked over to kiss you.

But no.

No.

You weren't in the mood for that.

Seeing how you took a step back Keigo tilted his head a little as he watched you in confusion. "Something's wrong love?"

"What do you think?"

You could tell the exact moment Keigo tensed up. He knew from your tone and posture that something was up. The thing is he didn't know what, and it was exactly what you were asking.

"...Did I need to get you something or something like that?" No answer. "Love, is it because of dinner yesterday? I know it wasn't my best creation but..." Still no answer, and it seemed like he was starting to get frustrated by the way he saw you. "Love..."

"Try again, since you're so important and needed by everyone, you should be able to guess what's bothering your girlfriend, right? Or maybe you know better about what worries everyone except what worries your partner" You said with a frown and a cold and hurtful tone. It was meant to make him feel bad, because you were already tired of understanding.

"Love... If it's because of work, you- well, I... you know it's not easy but-"

"Is it easier to leave me hanging every time I try to plan something for us? Wow, thanks for showing me your priorities" You said with sarcasm and a fake laugh, as you turned around and headed to the room, you realized that if you continued you would cry, because you weren't as strong as you wanted to pretend, you couldn't understand as much as you wanted to.

"Love, please" You heard him say behind you, and you could hear a bit of desperation and tiredness in his voice, and it made sense, it was the only day of vacation he had been given in months and it was ruined, he was obviously tired. And normally you would reason and hug him until he fell asleep, but this time your own pain didn't allow it.

It wasn't so much that he worked hard, you knew he did it for a good purpose and, although sometimes you didn't understand how he managed to do everything, he always made sure to keep you cared for, loved and pampered. But it hurt you that they took him away from you every time you managed to have him in your arms.

Then, you saw how the door to the room closed in front of you before you could get in thanks to one of Keigo's feathers.

"Baby, listen to me before you lock yourself in our room, please" but you didn't turn around, you didn't try to open the door either since you knew that with just a feather Keigo could defeat you if he wanted to. "I know you had plans for today and, believe me, I was also looking forward to eating your food while we watched that series and believe me, when I received that call, I was about to throw the phone out the window, but I can't. You know I can't" He said as he tried to approach you and hug you. But you took a step back, pressing yourself against the door. And what he said made sense, but you still couldn't say it. "Please..., you know I love you"

And you loved him too, a lot.

But you also loved yourself, and you understood that even though he had things to do, so did you, and yet you still put the relationship first. Always finding time to share together, always comforting him after work hours, always there.

But you were sick, hurt, and tired of the fact that while you were always there, he was there sometimes.

"Keigo, I understand that you have to work, I understand that it's important to you, I understand that you can't spend that much time with me. But I'm sure that if one damn day you left work a little earlier or assigned extra tasks to your assistants instead of doing it yourself, you could be with me. But you don't, because your heroism is worth more."

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want to let them fall. No, you wanted Keigo to see that you were steadfast, that it hurt, but you wouldn't let it break you.

"Open the door, Keigo." You looked him straight in the eyes so he could see you weren't up for games or talks.

He stared back at you for a few seconds. You could see his realization at how hurt you were, and also his regret, but that wasn't enough, not anymore.

He opened the bedroom door, letting you in. And, even though he wanted to sneak you inside, you closed the door before he could. However, his voice echoed through the door. "Love... Look, I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but... I love you, okay? I don't want you to doubt it." You heard his footsteps walking away, probably toward the guest room. You weren't going to deny that his words helped you a little, but you needed more than words this time.

And Keigo knew that. So while he slept, he started thinking about what he could do.

He didn't want to lose you. Even if you didn't realize it, you're the most important thing to him. Hell, sometimes even he's surprised that his heart can love someone so much.

Too bad neither he nor his heart know how to show it.

The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes, which you didn't expect since Keigo was working today. So unless someone came into your house exclusively to cook (something you wouldn't really complain about), Keigo stayed home. The thought brought comfort to your heart, which had been aching all the time the day before. But it still hurt that he only did it once you exploded, and not before.

As you left the room, you started to hear Keigo's voice. He seemed to be on the phone and a little agitated. As you got closer, you could make out his words better.

"No, no, those work hours are over. I need Tuesdays off... Yeah, well, there are other heroes, boss... I don't care, I'm not going to do it."

Seeing Keigo upset wasn't common. And after hearing the word "Boss" and realizing who he was talking to, you started to get a little worried.

'He'll leave again.' 'He's going on a mission.' 'I'll be alone.'

"I'm busy right now, Boss, and I'm not going to change my mind... Yeah, yeah, I'll be there tomorrow," he continued into the phone. Then he hung up and sighed.

You didn't know what the call was about, but it obviously wasn't a very pleasant one. Normally, you'd go hug him and ask him to tell you what's going on. But not today.

You walked closer to the kitchen, where Keigo was flipping a pancake, his posture tense and his brow furrowed.

"What time are you going to work?"

Keigo turned around, surprised by your presence, and his sour demeanor changed to a...nervous one? Okay, that's unusual for him.

"Hey, Love, I- well, it's just that- No... I'm not going to work today."

Your face was completely surprised, not because of the day off, but because of his attitude. It was very rare to see Keigo so nervous and shy.

"Uh, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I... made breakfast." He turned around immediately to hide the blush on his face, finished serving breakfast, and gave it to you.

"Okay..." You said, looking at him suspiciously.

You sat down at the table without saying many words to your boyfriend. You were still upset, very upset. Breakfast wasn't going to change that.

However, you didn't know how far Keigo's repentant, desperate for forgiveness, version of himself could go.

But you were going to find out soon.

Keigo sat down across from you, still a little embarrassed and flushed, but he looked you straight in the eyes.

"Love... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you, and for focusing on my duty to others and not on my duty as your partner, which, even if you don't believe it right now, is 100,000 times more important to me, and I'm going to prove it to you. I swear." He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and continued. "I...can't promise you I'll be with you 24/7, although believe me I would enjoy it so fucking much. But, I want to improve, I want to be better...for you, for you to feel comfortable and happy about...about all of this, u know? so tell me what to do and I'll do it, love, I promise I will."

You looked at him and realized his desperation.

Shit, you'd forgotten how much this man loves you.

And you wanted to never forget it again.

"Remind me that you love me, Keigo. Not just with words. Prove it."

You stood up from the table, along with your plate, and headed to the kitchen to clean it without even looking at Keigo again. This time you didn't just want words; you wanted actions. And you wanted him to figure out what to do.

Oh, if only you knew that man knows every part of you. You doubted he could get anything that would make you forgive him, but he got more than that. Keigo is observant, very observant. He knows the dress you eyed a week ago while browsing an online store; he knows the restaurant you've been wanting to visit for months; he knows what makes you happy.

And he'll use all of that to get your forgiveness.

Checklist to get my girlfriend's forgiveness:

- Take her to the restaurant she wanted to try (with a private reservation)

- Give her her favorite flowers (tulips and peonies)

- Give her the dress she wanted along with a necklace.

- Remind her that you love her, don't be stupid, Keigo.

- Take her there, she'll love it.

A few minutes later.

"Love, put on the red dress you like and dress up. I want to take you somewhere."

You were lying in bed, giving Keigo the silent treatment. But you NEVER turn down a dinner date.

So you put on a dress, but not the red one. Keigo wasn't going to tell you what to do. You put on a new black dress, only to realize that, given how good it looked on you, it was probably a gift for Keigo instead of a punishment.

And you confirmed it when you left the room and Keigo stared at you for more than the seconds considered decent.

"Is it still too soon to tell you that when you forgive me you have to wear that dress?"

Your response was only a reproachful look, to which he smiled at you with false innocence.

He approached you and carefully placed a hand on your waist, expecting you to reject him, but you didn't because his compliments always makes you SO happy

"You look beautiful, love, so fucking beautiful."

"I know."

"I love you."

"Okay."

Keigo lets his head fall forward, letting out a deep, husky laugh, his hair falling a little onto his forehead. Then he brings his face down to your cheek and places a kiss.

"After today's plans, you won't be so cold anymore."

"As far as I can see, you haven't even made me leave the house, Keigo. I'm starting to get bored."

He just laughed a little and took your hand as you left the apartment.

He decided it was best to go by car so as not to ruin your hairstyle and dress; knowing you, that would only make you feel uncomfortable in the restaurant.

The closer you got to the restaurant, the more relaxed you felt. The whole way there, Keigo made sure you felt good, occasionally kissing your hand, putting his hand on your leg, complimenting you every time you moved, and telling you he loved you.

When you arrived at the restaurant and realized where your boyfriend had taken you, you could only stand in shock. You hadn't told Keigo you wanted to come, but he'd noticed.

You looked at him with shock all over your face, to which he just smiled and winked.

While he was talking to the waiter about the reservation, you couldn't stop thinking that Keigo was paying more attention to you than you thought.

"How did you know?" You said as the waiter led you to a terrace apart from the rest.

"Please, love, you liked all his posts on Instagram, it was obvious."

"Still, I didn't think you'd noticed."

He brought your hand up to his face, leaving a small kiss, "I always notice, beautiful."

When you arrived at the table, you felt like crying. The terrace was completely decorated with lights and flowers, and a slow melody played in the background.

The waiter left, and you saw a table in the center of the terrace with two wine-colored boxes on top of it: one small, like a jewelry box, and the other medium-sized.

"Keigo... What?" You looked at him with curiosity and surprise.

He gave you that shy look from the morning again, which you were starting to like a lot. "You like it?"

"Kei... do I like it? Damn, babe, it's beautiful."

His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. "Do you want to open the presents?"

"Of course!"

You headed to the table to sit down and opened the first gift, the medium-sized one. Meanwhile, Keigo watched you. He wanted to see your reaction, wanted to imprint your beautiful face on his mind and never lose it.

When you opened it, you noticed it was the dress you'd been wanting for a while. And if there were any doubts that Keigo wasn't thinking about you, this gift erased them completely. Because you never asked him, you never even talked to him about it, and yet he knew.

"Keigo...how-" you looked at him, your eyes a little teary.

"I heard you talking to your friend from work about the dress. I thought maybe it was a good gift," he said, once again shyly.

"It's beautiful, Kei. Thank you, really," you said as you examined the dress. It was truly beautiful, both the dress and the gesture.

"Open the other one. You'll like it even more"

When you opened it, you confirmed that his words were true. It was a necklace with a watch pendant along with your initial. The necklace was made of gold/silver because he knew that was what looked best with your skin tone. Plus, underneath the necklace was a small piece of paper with a dedication.

"To the woman who deserves every second of my life."

"Oh my god, Kei... Did you- did you really do this for me?"

"Of course I did, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't love you enough to deserve it."

"No... you didn't... God, it's beautiful, Keigo, thank you," you said sincerely, your eyes filling with more tears, but you didn't let them fall.

His gifts had been beautiful, the place too. The food arrived a few minutes later, and it was wonderful too. Even the conversation with Keigo had been comfortable, but...

"Kei, really, thank you, love. I loved all of this, but... Fuck, it's hard to explain, but it still hurts, okay? Thanks for showing me you know me, but- I... it's been months of keeping this inside, and- I can't...i'm so sorry"

Maybe if it were someone else sitting in front of you, they would have walked away, or yelled at you, or given up, but in front of you, was Keigo.

And he just smiled, a tender, understanding smile.

"I know, I know I hurt you a lot, and I understand. But the day isn't over. There's something else I'd like to show you. I know it won't solve the whole problem, but maybe it will show you that I want to."

You were really surprised there was more. But apparently, Keigo wasn't ready to give up.

"We're going to have to fly a little bit up there, do you mind?" You shook your head quickly, not caring about your hair at this point; you wanted to see how far Keigo could go.

After paying for the food, he gently took you in his arms and began to fly. He began showing you beautiful places you didn't know could be seen so well from the sky. By now, you felt like Jasmine exploring the world with Aladdin.

"Keigo, if you let me fall, I swear I'll never forgive you." He laughed loudly and held you tighter against him.

"Relax, love, we're almost there."

You saw he begin to descend, but you couldn't understand where. From what you could see, you were relatively close to the place where he grew up and trained to become a hero, which was strange since Keigo usually avoided those kinds of places.

You looked at him strangely. "Kei...where are we going?"

"Shhh, it's a surprise, don't ruin it with your questions," he said reproachfully, but with a smile on his face.

When they landed, it was somewhere near the buildings where he grew up, but it was an area completely filled with trees and flowers. He started walking, guiding you through the small forest.

"Okay...well..." Keigo suddenly started to get nervous. "I know you don't know this place, but I used to come here when I could get away from my training or when I had days off from work... I, well—maybe it sounds a little silly, but I used to come here whenever something was happening in my life, to de-stress. I—have you heard of writing down the things you think to...I don't know, de-stress or something?"

"Yeah...I've heard of it," you said, confused. You didn't know where he was going with this.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and, with the help of his hand, removed a small bush. As he removed it, you realized it opened into a covered area with a small table, which had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the center.

"I came to this place to write about things that happened to me, usually things... well, you know my childhood wasn't the best. But when I met you, I started writing about you and how you were, the only thing I could think about." He led you closer to the table, and you noticed that from there you could see a cliff and the beautiful sunset.

Keigo extended the bouquet that had previously been on the table toward you as you moved closer to the railing that bordered the cliff.

"I brought you here because it's the place where I realized I was in love with you. It's the place where I would get away from absolutely everything and think about the person who made me and continues to make me happy."

By this moment, tears were running down your cheeks, and you couldn't believe what he was telling you.

"I'm sorry, love. You don't know how much. I'm sorry for not showing you how obsessed I am with you. I'm sorry for not giving you the time you deserve. I'm sorry for making you feel like my work matters more when I would give anything to spend my life with you."

"I know... God, I love you so much," you said, your voice breaking, your tears growing stronger.

"I love you even more. I swear I'm obsessed with you. It was in this place that I realized it, and it's in this place that I want you to realize it."

You took the flowers from his hands and held them to your chest with all the love in the world.

"I want to give you something. I want you to take it home and read it when you think you're ready to forgive me." He turned around and grabbed a wooden box hidden among the trees and the structure.

He pulled several sheets of paper out and held them out to you.

"They're from when I met you, so you can see how much I've loved you since the first second."

You looked into his eyes with wonder and love, and before you could even lock eyes, you threw yourself at him and hugged him. You needed him, you wanted him.

"Thank you, Kei, thank you."

"Thanks to you, for still being here."

You enjoyed the beautiful place until the sun set and the place, without light bulbs, began to darken.

Keigo led you to the car you 2 had left at the restaurant and then to the house.

And, even though you didn't tell him, you had already forgiven him, because he had kept his word, he had made it his goal to show you that he loves you.

And oh man, when you read those pages, you cried like a baby when you realized that the first thing he wrote about you was

"I met a girl and, God! She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's incredible"

And the last thing he wrote, before you started dating, was

"If she'll let me, I want to love her every second. I want to hug her, I want to kiss her, I want to touch her. I love her, so much.

If this woman doesn't drive me crazy, I don't think any other can."

#x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks angst #bnha hawks #bnha x reader #keigo takami #hawks #mha hawks #mha x reader #fanfic

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bunni-v1 · 4 months ago

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i genuinely adore how you write smc, it’s so so real and accurate

on that note, could you write something in relation of him & a reader with terminal illness ?

Generally speaking, there's not much that would change in his behavior. He's still overbearing and sickeningly sweet to you. There are a few things that might be a little different though.

He probably could magically cure you if he wanted to, but I fucking HATE that trope in media with a passion. So I'm not gonna touch it because disabled people aren't broken, they just need to be accommodated. And that's number one; he is super accommodating to your needs. The spire is made so it is easier for you to get around, if you can't walk or struggle to do so with your illness he'll make you the nicest mobility aids ever. You won't have to worry about things not working or being unable to wander around, he'll make sure you can.

If you're having a bad day, you won't have to want for anything. He's at your beck and call, whenever you need him. If he even leaves your side at all. If he does for any reason, one of his many servants will take care of you until he can. It is the best care you could ever ask for, I'm serious. He knows all about how to care for all kinds of disorders and diseases, so he applies that knowledge to you better than any doctor you've seen has. Perks of being with the former fount of knowledge I guess lol.

He's more protective than even if you're ill. He'll still let you go about your day, but he's anxious about anything that could happen to you more than usual. You've already got limited time, he's not trying to make that time any shorter for any reason. Even the slightest shift in expression and he's at your side like a worried mother, it would be cute if it didn't happen so fucking much.

Lastly, and this is dependent on what you want in this case. If your illness is too much to bear and he cannot take it away, he won't try and extend your life. He wants you to spend the rest of eternity by his side, he adores you more than anything, but if you're suffering he can't bring himself to force you to live with the pain.

He'll do everything he can to make your life easier, even if he can't magically cure you. The time you spend with him is likely the best you'll ever feel because he will never let you feel like your disease defines who you are.

You will be loved, though. Cared for and cherished with or without your illness. He of all cookies understands that your disabilities and limitations do not define you as a person, they are simply a part of you that he comes to accept and cherish.

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madfantom · 8 months ago

Text

Full animatic And so, part 2 of my comments, let's start.

◁Part 1 || Part 3 ▷

In the last part, and here, the order in which the children got to William is shown, and I will explain why it is not the order of the murders Here is a MEMO with missing children to make it easier to navigate, since I drew very simplistically.

I mean, when watching usually fnaf animations, I myself had the question "who the fuck are all these kids?" and, either in another animation I understood, or I did not understand at all, or the designs were so simplified that you can guess (I mean a child in all red or with a pirate armband is foxy, Freddy is all brown, etc.) So I just made outlines of their hair and costumes and that's it

It's just a little complaint here, don't pay attention, I'll just say it once, and that's because I didn't think that someone would write the same thing all the time when writing AU And one more thing. Chick's name is SOFIA. Please guys, I know that Suzy from fnaf 6 exists, okay? She's there, hell, she's even in the animation next to Cassidy. I just shifted her from being a chick to another one, not removed. And she also has an interesting role and a different design logic, I just don't have time to do everything. In fact, I even have a reason why Sofia exists and I wrote a very long text post about it, but I haven't finished drawing sketches there, so you won't see it yet. It's just that I'm starting to get a little bit hung up by the same type of comments from Pinterest, although to get rid of this, I write in big letters everywhere that it's AU

Let's go back to the animatic

I have displayed the methods of killing, which will then be reflected in the appearance of the ghosts. In fact, I took the idea from my old horror zine Fnaf art when I was thinking about how the children died there to make their appearance more creepy. Some of the ideas remained, and some were redesigned, as well as some designs

Sofia was placed in a ventilation unit. William caught her and left her there suffocating in the off ventilation , after a light strangulation, suffocating in the off ventilation. She didn't actually die, but she was the first (And I refer to this also in a custom night with the phrase "I was the first, I have seen everything!") And now imagine how the room smelled of chemicals after cleaning it from all kinds of oils and other liquids necessary for mechanisms that are very difficult to wipe off. While ventilation did not work and the girl was locked in a narrow place after she was strangled, forced to watch through the slots for the children who were after her That's why Sofia's ghost makes such a quiet clucking sound, as she coughs as if she's still in the ventilation. She won't die of suffocation, nah, in this comic she's still alive and William can cut her throat.

About the rest it is more obvious, well, not counting the pictures on the Background.

Jeremy was electrocuted, so his ghost hair is pulled up as if by an electric shock. He also has charred lips and eyelid skin and no eyebrows, and his hands have torn and charred stripes from just the same clamp. He looks like the most crippled of the three

Fritz couldn't stand the blows from blunt and sharp objects and in the end they attached a mask to his face with a nail gun or something like that and set it on fire quite a bit. Well, just a little bit. His background is directly related to the comic, which Redraw at the beginning, and now I continue. I'm still doing it, but I need a lot of time for it

Gabriella was basically cut while they wrapped one of those cables around his neck that are forever hanging on the walls in fnaf and pulled out his eye after death

#fnaf #fnaf au #five nights at freddys #distressful au #william afton #purple guy #fnaf missing children #animatic #animation #art #illustration

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chessboredom · 4 months ago

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Hey hey! Yeah ive noticed when it comes to actual toxic shadowvanilla (or even closer to cannon) they dont get in depth of it. It feels like theres something MISSING! Ackkkkkkk i am a beliver of them being mutually toxic to each other (especially tr) If TR did for some reason truly became a cookie of decite, it would not end well for either of them! Think about it, shadow milk wants someone who understands BUT how he wants Pure vanilla to be a cookie of decite. And and shadow milk so caught up in his joy didnt even notice the cannon betryal, then take that and up it with truthless recules. Tr would 100% be lying for his own gain, probably notice shadowmilks emotional weakness and twist it like a KNIFE! The roles would be reversed! Shadowmilk is the puppet now, yet he doesnt KNOW it! So blinded by his loneiess, and the need to have someone to understand him! That he allowed himself be used (quite ironic if you think about it) cuz PV normally is not one to show his emotions in his sprites (other than his staff and well shadowmilk meddling) AND HE ISNT A OWO MAN!!! Sick of the owo man treatment! TR is that but UPPED!! A cookie of decite who doesnt express his emotions, able to twist it however he likes. Like i can see this as a Sm thinks hes the puppet master, while being the puppet. Tr lets him think that!!! Its easier to maulipate someone if they think their in control. Its MESSY! (I cannot put into words how messed up this situation would be) shadow milk you FOOL! Youve created your own MONSTER! One who sees you as a means to a end, a PUPPET. False fluff, fapse happiness, false LOVE! What TR gives you is a LIE and even if theres truth in it YOU DONT KNOW IT, YOU COUNDNT EVEN TELL WHEN HE PULL OFF A LIE! (In cannon) YOU are now in the web of lies of your own creation, Tr is your spider!! Anyway uh thats a little bit of what this dymatic makes me go crazy over (i have more ideas....)

ANON YOU FUCKKING GET IT OH MY GOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS REAL!!!!!!! I LOVE TOXIC YAOIIII!!!!

I'm gonna fucking yap about PV characterization (AGAIN.) (I just love him so fucking much.)

Very Long LONG post. XP

I'm so happy right now because you UNDERSTAND that PV isn't just some fucking UwU bean guy. Like, this is why he's so fucking good at being a leader because of his EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE and that he DOESN'T get caught up by his emotions and focuses on the problems even if it's stressful. Like a scene in Odyssey where Dark Cacao gets MAD when Clotted Cream had the idea of wanting the powers of the Soul Jam but Pure Vanilla remained calm as ever(And all of the sprites used this scene have his eyes open. He is SERIOUS.) Out of the WHOLE Ancients, despite his youthful, brighter amd unchanging appearance (and that's why his Korean Va is a girl to convey his youthfulness) he is the nost mature because he tries to Understand the situation and not diving head first. He isn't a warrior, but he is skilled involving emotions BUT he keeps DOUBTING himself at first like "I can't believe I did that! But I'd do anything for my friends to protect them."

AND THEN SHADOW MILK COOKIE COMES IN!!!! Omg Shadow Milk Cookie, DO NOT unlock the full potential of that Skill Pure Vanilla- I man Truthless Recluse has(Emotional Intelligence😇 LEVEL UP! ➡️ Emotional Manipulation😈) that he made you look stupid by making YOU think that YOU are the one IN CONTROL!

LOOK AT HOW HE DOES IT BY MAKING SMILK THINK HE'S IN CONTROL!!

En got "You and I... were meant to be together."❌️ The shadowvanilla shippers are really feeding on this line omg.

Kr got "I guess I have to accept you... Or become a part lf you."✅️ THAT'S WHAT I WANTED TO SEE!!!! EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION AT IT FINEST BAYBEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! MAKE HIM THINK HE'S THE ONE PULLING YOUR STRINGS WHEN YOU'VE ALREADY SLITHERED YOUR WAY THROUGH HIS MASK!!!! UUUGGHH SMILK YOU MADE HIM BETTER THAN YOUUU

That's why I kept mentioning that PV is KIND, and not Nice and he is pretty much capable of incredible violence. Does anyone even REMEMBER PV having enough seeing his friends suffer when he was the last one standing that he tries TO KILL DARK ENCHANTRESS?? He does a lot of things that involves he SACRIFICING HIMSELF in the process. UGHHH!! FUCK!! PURE VANILLA COOKIE IS NOT NICE!! HE WANTED TO KILL SHADOW MILK COOKIE!!! Remember the "Crash Out" scene? That's his true emotions having throwing a suprise party. He had ENOUGH. Then the scenery changes that made him remember that he wasn't supposed to be a violent person. He's an angel! 😇🙏 Silly Vanillyyy, why would you say "I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!!" that isn't like you at all!! [sarcasm](He is literally holding back the rage every single fucking day of his life.)

As much as people love to draw PV hugging Smilk closing to the end of the Ep, he literally beats him up and people seem to forget that over thinking PV is nice Uwu It doesn't have to be this way Shadow Milk Cookie. Meanwhile in the Korean version, Awakened PV had a dialogue that went, "I like helping people but I had enough of your shit Shadow Milk Cookie.☺️" Pure Vanilla Cookie said calmly. (Link to the video I made with this line.) And then made shooting stars of Truth descend from the sky to attack him. He did say he wanted Smilk to be his friend, but he wouldn't back down in a fight anymore. That's why his Awakened "Compassionate" or "Comprehender"(in Korean) form finally showing his real role that he is a MAGIC TYPE all along who has been disguised under the role of a HEALER.

Anyway TR ♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤ SMILK. TOXIC YAOI REAL!! Two Cookies of Deceit. One emotional and one empty. Smilk may be the best at psychological warfare and torture, but he got himself an emotional manipulator. Tr easily takes advantage of his emotions because he acts like a child!! Just give him what he wants then he'll be satisfied in no time. Take it away from him, he's gonna have his tantrums again.

Noe I couldn't add more tbh. You explained it well and all I could do is smash the TRUE over and over.

Even with my interpretation of canon that Tr won't last long with Smilk because of the Friendship Gang and "the universe couldn't allow this! One of you turn "good" now!", I like to think the toxicity still lives through Awakened PV since he's both Truth AND Deceit. Like a bright star from light years away that's actually dead, he could still act as of he were still TR to make Smilk more paranoid and obsessed with him in a more fucked up secretive way that other people wouldn't even notice because PV is already good! He wouldn't do evil things again, right? Hehe.

Also sharing this twt post of Tr ripping Smilk's eye as well. 🥰🥰🥰

https://x.com/41n4v15/status/1896085874628087843

#asks stuff #shadowvanilla #chess' analysis #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #crk analysis

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spiderfunkz · 6 months ago

Text

MAMA, I'M CHASING A GHOST

pairings. cho hyun-ju x guard!reader

cw. femxfem, heavy angst, no happy ending, canon violence, mentions of a transphobic environment, mentions of hyun-ju's & reader's not so nice past, reader is implied to be dead by the end of this.

author's note: to the anon who sent this, are you okay? hehe, anyways i apologize for any mistakes that i made in this fic. i'm working on a lot of requests right now, but still feel free to send some of ur ideas! it just might take a while🫶🏻

you never really knew yourself.

for you, life felt like a long train ride with no destination. you've felt this way since you were just a child, but it was different then. you used to have a small spark of imagination and hope, but now that is long gone. you couldn't really pinpoint important memories of your past, you barely remember anything, it's just all just a blur.

but there is one thing that you still remember. something that you have yet learned to forget. it's the closest thing you have to happiness.

cho hyun-ju.

a person you met so unexpectedly. during a rainstorm where your parents had forgotten to pick you up from school, she was the only person that insisted on keeping you company. you didn't understand why she did that, you still don't understand it now. she was kindness personified. from that day on, she would keep you company at school, she was your first and only friend.

then, her hair was short, shorter than yours. she was tall, taller than you but only by a couple of inches. she always had a sweet smile, one you could never forget. it's depressing how hyun-ju is the only thing you could still recall without fail.

your friendship with her didn't change. not even until high school. you are still you, unfortunately. hyun-ju's changed, but she's still herself, fortunately.

she has expressed her struggles about her identity to you. you listened to her, you tried your best to understand, and you supported her. you ignored all the mean insults people would throw at you for being friends with her. you try to teach hyun-ju how to ignore them like you, but obviously it was harder on her.

you promised to always be on her side. to be there for each other no matter what. there was nothing that could keep you away from her. she was the light you needed in your life. one day, you give her the idea to run away. together. to finally be able to live the lives you've both wanted.

sadly, that idea was cut short.

you disappeared without a trace. hyun-ju didn't get a text, a call, or even a letter. she had so many questions, and there were no answers to them. she needed you, you knew that. and if you were given the chance to speak at her during those times, you'd say you needed her as well.

but you didn't, you couldn't. she thought you were gone, like gone gone. people speculated the same.

you wished you were, it would've been easier.

now, you work as something little you would refer to as a monster. you don't know what drove you into this but you were desperate. this was the only thing that gave you the money to continue living. a good amount of it too.

it's been a while since you've been doing this.. guard job. the guilt has built up like crazy. if there was something that managed to fill that guilt even more, you'd break.

and now you're feeling what it's like to break.

bastards. is what you wanted to say to the other guards for leaving you behind. now you're held hostage. at gunpoint. no weapon was near enough to defend yourself with, you are utterly helpless.

"take it off." the man demanded, you complied with barely any hesitation, you knew this was gonna be your last moments. you silently pray that you are wrong.

mutters and whispers were exchanged, you guess they weren't expecting a woman to be under the mask. "that too." he gestured to your hood, your identity was now revealed to everyone. they could see you clear as daylight.

everyone could.

that's when she noticed you. you looked less lively than you used too. hyun-ju only knew for sure that it was you when you accidentally locked eyes with her. the same eyes that saw her go through one of the toughest times of her teenage-hood.

you didn't know she was here. you didn't spot her at all throughout the games played so far. it wasn't your duty to hand out meals, or to guard the restrooms, this was the only time you interacted with the players.

"gi-hun, wait." her voice was stern, "give me a moment with her."

"hyun-ju," her name made your ears ring, "we cannot waste time. the guards will come back and we have to get moving."

"it will only take a bit. i swear."

she leveled to your height. you're on your knees, body tense, heart racing. she's on her knees too now, she's calmer than you are, but her heart is racing just as fast as yours.

"y/n?" you don't know how her voice still managed to sound so gentle with you.

though you refuse to make eye contact with her.

"is this where you are now?" her words managed to sting every part of you, you don't know how to respond. she must have so many questions.

"how long have you been doing this?"

"years." your voice was nothing but a whisper.

she's beyond disappointed. "do you remember me?" how could you forget her when she was the only good thing in your life?

you nod, rather cautiously, you could sense a gun being pointed at you still. "where were you? did you leave with the intention of joining this type of work?"

you shook your head.

"could you explain to me why? just a part of it." her eyes were focused on you, for a while, all she wanted to just hug you, to slowly brush your cheek, to tell you that everything is okay.

but she would be lying.

"i'm sorry." was all that came out of you. you wanted to say more, to tell how beautiful she looks now, how happy you are for her, but you couldn't. your voice didn't allow that.

"talk to me. we both know how this is going to end." her voice kept that gentle tone, even when she knows the impending doom you'd have to face. "we have very little time, y/n."

"i'm sorry, hyun-ju," saying her name felt painful. "i was young, stupid, and desperate. i didn't know how to tell you, or how i should say it. i was struggling, it's my fault i didn't communicate," you cry, you didn't care anymore, "i needed you, and i know that you needed someone too. but i couldn't imagine you needing me any further. i'm selfish, i know. but i felt like i was losing myself."

"and you didn't care to tell me? you thought it was better to leave without a word? to have me left alone while you knew i was still figuring things out?"

you stay silent.

she still waits for a response, but she quickly realizes she won't get one.

she looks at gi-hun, you realize his gun was still aimed at you.

"never mind." those were hyun-ju's last words to you, the last words engraved in your head, everything after that felt like mockeries from death.

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ghostlynightpanda · 22 days ago

Note

hai!!!!! I hope you’re doing super duper well!!!! I was wondering if you could do some hc for aib characters with a reader that’s really short? Plssssss I love how you write you’re amazing!!!!! Full creative liberty tho and also feel free to completely ignore this hehe mwah!!:3

AIB Characters react to a really short Reader

A/N: I hope you like the story! I’ll be honest, I don’t have much firsthand experience with height-related teasing — I’m around 185 cm, so I usually get the opposite. But I based a lot of the comments and moments on things a friend of mine (who’s pretty short) has actually experienced over the years. (She once got mistaken for a child at her workplace and someone even asked if she was there to visit her parents — she’s 26.)

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, canon typical blood and violence, 3.045 words

Ann

The first time Ann saw you, she was standing on the second-floor balcony of the Beach, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning the new arrivals like the former detective she still very much was.

Most were older teens and twenty-somethings. Tough faces. Broken shoes. Blood under their nails. Survivors.

And then there was you.

You stepped through the gates looking like you got lost on the way to school.

Short frame. Soft features. A hoodie two sizes too big. You barely reached the height of the guy next to you, and the guards didn't seem to take you seriously either — they barely even checked you.

Ann's brows knit together.

A kid? Here?

Her instinct kicked in before logic could catch up. She made her way down to the lobby, weaving through the crowd, already mentally preparing how to explain the rules gently. You didn't look like someone who had played many games. Honestly, you barely looked old enough to drive.

You were standing off to the side near the vending machines, eyes calmly watching the chaos.

Ann approached like she was handling a delicate situation — calm, cautious, steady.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low and kind. “You doing okay?”

You looked up at her, a little confused by the tone. “Yeah? Why?”

She gave a small smile, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “I know this place is overwhelming. But I promise you, I'll help however I can. You don't have to be afraid.”

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

Then sighed — not annoyed, just… tiredly amused.

“Oh no,” you muttered. “It's happening again.”

Ann paused. “…What is?”

You gave her a dry smile. “You think I'm a child, don't you?”

She blinked. “I just—”

“I'm twenty-four.”

The silence that followed was loud.

You could see the realization dawn on her face — the subtle widening of her eyes, the way she slowly stood back up, visibly recalibrating her entire understanding of the situation.

“…Oh,” she said finally.

You gave a little shrug. “It's fine. Happens more often than I'd like to admit.”

Ann looked genuinely apologetic now, her posture shifting from protective to awkward professionalism. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make assumptions. It's just—”

“—I look like I wandered out of a school trip and into a death game,” you finished, deadpan.

A small laugh escaped her — quiet and sheepish. “Something like that.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “Thanks, though. For trying to help. It's kind of refreshing.”

She studied you for a moment, then nodded with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she said, folding her arms again, “if you're going to survive here, I guess I'll have to stop underestimating you.”

“Please do,” you said with mock grandeur. “I may be fun-sized, but I'm deadly.”

That made her laugh — a real one this time, low and warm. Then she tilted her head slightly and said, “Come on. Let's get you settled. Adult or not, it's easier here when someone's got your back.”

You fell into step beside her, feeling a little less out of place.

And from that moment on, Ann never once treated you like anything less than capable — though every now and then, you'd catch a glint of that protective instinct in her eye. Not because she thought you were short.

But because she cared.

Kuina

“You really are bite-sized, huh?”

You froze mid-step, your face already heating up as Kuina sauntered into the room with that signature smirk of hers. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, amber eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I'm not bite-sized,” you mumbled, pulling the hem of your shirt down, like that would somehow add height. “Just… efficient.”

Kuina chuckled and walked over—long legs eating the distance effortlessly. “You sure? I feel like I could fit you in my jacket pocket.”

You gave her a flat look. “That's not how pockets work.”

“That's not how you work,” she teased, poking your cheek gently with one perfectly manicured finger. “You're like a keychain. Adorable. Easy to lose in a crowd. Very collectible.”

You swatted her hand away, pouting, but it only made her grin wider. “Okay, now you're just making stuff up.”

She leaned down until her face was level with yours. Even crouching, she was somehow graceful and smug all at once. “You're just mad because I'm right.”

You crossed your arms. “You're only taller because of genetics and vengeance.”

“Oh?” Kuina raised an eyebrow. “Vengeance?”

“Yeah. You look like the type who grew tall out of spite. Like, 'oh, I can't reach the cookies? Fine, I'll grow six inches and roundhouse kick the cabinet.'”

Kuina threw her head back and laughed—one of those rich, unrestrained laughs that made your chest flutter. “You really think I kicked my way into tallness?”

“I wouldn't put it past you.”

She ruffled your hair, something she did far too often. “You make it easy. You're practically inviting people to pat you.”

“I swear, if you start using me as an armrest—”

“Tempting,” she purred, dramatically pretending to rest her elbow on your head. “But I'm restraining myself.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered every time she got that close. The teasing wasn't mean—it was fond, effortless, laced with warmth.

Kuina noticed. Of course she did.

“Hey,” she said softly, hand dropping from your head to lightly tap your chin. “All jokes aside… I think it's cute. You're cute.”

You blinked. “That's not fair. You can't just—say things like that.”

“Why not?” she teased, leaning in closer, her lips brushing your ear. “You're fun to fluster.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You're evil.”

“And yet, you keep hanging around.” She stepped back, mock-sighing dramatically. “Short, brave, and foolish. My favorite combo.”

You looked up at her from between your fingers. “You're really not gonna stop teasing me, are you?”

She winked. “Not a chance, tiny.”

Aguni

”Stay close,” Aguni said gruffly as the game began.

You rolled your eyes. “I'm not a lost child.”

He glanced at you, skeptical. You barely came up to his shoulder. In the dim light of the industrial warehouse, with flickering floodlights casting long shadows, you looked even shorter.

Aguni wasn't the type to underestimate people—he'd seen too much for that—but when the game card flipped and showed 6 of Clubs, a simple yet cruel game where one group had to fight the other. Aguni instinctively positioned himself in front of you, muscles taut, ready to shield.

“I can handle myself,” you said quietly, stretching your arms, bouncing on your toes.

He grunted. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Then the doors slammed shut and the game began.

The attackers came fast—two-on-one brawls in the corridors, tight spaces, metal pipes clanging against concrete. Aguni's strength was undeniable. He dropped one opponent with a single devastating elbow and used another as a human shield without hesitation.

But then he heard footsteps to his left—closer to where he'd last seen you.

He turned, expecting to see you needing backup.

Instead, he saw you dancing between attacks.

You weren't blocking blows—you didn't need to. You dodged with an ease that made it almost insulting for the guy trying to land a hit. Your frame was low to the ground, unpredictable, slippery like water. You dipped, ducked, flipped over a railing, kicked someone in the knee, and disappeared into the shadows like you belonged there.

Aguni froze, watching you. One of the enemies lunged at him while he was distracted and he snapped back into motion, annoyed at himself.

The rest of the game passed in a blur—fists, shouts, blood, and breath. But every now and then, Aguni caught glimpses of you moving through the chaos: quick, clever, ghostlike. Untouchable.

When the last opponent dropped and the timer beeped out the end of the game, you reappeared beside him, not even winded.

He stared at you. “You move like a damn stray cat.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. “That an insult or a compliment?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Didn't expect that.”

“I get that a lot,” you said, wiping a smear of blood off your cheek. “People see someone short and assume 'fragile.' But there's more than one kind of strength.”

Aguni studied you, this time with something different in his eyes—recognition. Respect.

“You're not strong,” he said bluntly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

He stepped closer, his gaze heavy but not unkind. “You're not strong like me. But you're fast. Smart. Dangerous in your own way.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “Was that… a compliment?”

He didn't answer right away. Then, with the faintest twitch of his lips, he said:

“…You'd still lose in an arm wrestle.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Aguni finally cracked a small smile and walked off, calling over his shoulder, “But I'd want you in my corner again. Short or not.”

And in his world, that was as close to a love letter as it got.

Niragi

You were walking beside Niragi through the desolate mall, scanning broken storefronts for supplies for the Beach, when he suddenly stopped mid-step.

“What?” you asked, turning to face him.

He stared at you through a cracked mirror, realizing you didn't even reach his shoulder. His brow furrowed like he was seeing something unbelievable—like he'd never truly noticed the height difference until seeing you side by side in the reflection.

“…Have you always been that short?”

You squinted. “Excuse me?”

He took a slow, exaggerated step back, hands out like he needed to process your existence. “Nah. There's no way. Did you shrink?”

You groaned. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” he said, clearly not serious at all. “You're like a limited-edition fun-size bar. If you were three centimeters shorter, I'd need a microscope.”

You started walking again, ignoring him. Predictably, he followed.

“Like, do you have to take twice the steps I do?” he asked, falling into stride just slightly ahead. “You must be burning calories like crazy. It's practically cardio for you to walk across the room.”

“Must be exhausting carrying all that height and ego,” you muttered.

He barked out a laugh. “Ego's proportional to leg length, baby. And guess what? These legs are premium.”

You shot him a flat look. “And your personality is what—on backorder?”

“Ouch,” he clutched his chest in mock pain. “Don't lash out just because your reach tops out at, like, a kitchen counter.”

You stopped walking. “I can reach shelves just fine.”

“Oh really?” he tilted his head. “Tell that to the box of crackers you knocked over trying to grab earlier. You nearly body slammed a cupboard.”

You rolled your eyes. “That shelf was rigged and you know it.”

Niragi smirked, leaning down so his face was closer to yours. “You're lucky you're cute when you're mad. Little angry hamster energy.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Did you just say I'm cute?”

He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just gave a grin that was all teeth and trouble. “I said you're cute when you're mad. The rest of the time you're just… compact.”

“Compact?”

“Portable. Travel-sized. Earthquake-safe.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he raised a finger, eyes gleaming.

“In fact,” he said, mock-serious, “you're dangerously close to vanishing. If you were any shorter, I'd trip over you and not even realize it was a person. Just be like, 'oh, weird bump in the floor.'”

You stared at him, deadpan. “You done?”

“Almost,” he said, finally straightening up and walking ahead of you again. “Just trying to understand the daily struggles of being a sentient action figure.”

You muttered under your breath, “And I'm trying to understand how you're still alive with that mouth.”

He laughed again, loud and unfiltered. “Admit it,” he called back. “You love this. If I didn't bully you, you'd start to worry I was sick.”

You caught up to him, shaking your head. “You're insufferable.”

He glanced down at you with a glint in his eye, nudged your shoulder with his elbow, and said just low enough for only you to hear:

“Yeah, but I notice you always walk beside me. Even if you gotta take double the steps.”

And for once, you didn't have a comeback. Because he was right—and damn it, he knew it.

Last Boss

The first time Last Boss took notice of you, you weren't even sure he was looking.

It was during a game — a brutal one. A Spades card, fast and violent. Everyone assumed you were the weak link. You were short, quiet, and didn't radiate danger like he did. But where others relied on brute strength, you were fast, clever, slippery. You never fought to overpower — you fought to outmaneuver.

And when the dust cleared, you weren't just still standing. You were the reason the team survived.

After that, Last Boss watched you. Quietly. Always from the edge of the room. Never saying anything. Never asking for attention. But you felt it — that shift in air, the way your presence mattered to someone who usually saw everyone else as background noise.

He never teased you about your height. That wasn't his style. He didn't speak unless it was necessary — and teasing wasn't ever necessary.

But you noticed things.

Like when you reached for a high shelf in the Beach's crumbling kitchen and, without a word, he appeared behind you, grabbed what you were reaching for, and handed it over before vanishing again. No comment. Just action.

Or the time someone snorted behind your back and muttered something about how “the kid should stay out of the next game.” You didn't even turn around — because he did. He didn't say anything. Just stared at the guy, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade. The silence stretched. Thickened. The guy backed off with an awkward laugh and didn't say another word.

And once, when the Beach was crowded and tense, you felt someone bump into you too hard — half-accident, half-challenge. Before you could even react, Last Boss was beside you, not speaking, just there like a stormcloud with a sword.

People stopped testing you after that.

He never treated you like you were fragile. He didn't hover. He didn't offer pity.

He just… noticed.

When you climbed a cracked wall during a Hearts game and nearly fell, a hand caught your wrist — quick, callused, strong. You looked up, heart racing, and saw him holding you steady, eyes unreadable beneath the darkness of his tattoos.

“Careful,” he said simply. A rare word. Heavy with meaning.

You nodded, breathless. “Thanks.”

He held your gaze for a long moment. Then, silently, he helped you up the rest of the way and kept close the entire game — just enough that you could feel him if you needed him. Never smothering. Just there.

No comments about your height. No jokes. No "short stuff" or "kid" like you'd heard from so many others. Just calm, steady help.

That was the thing with him.

Where others laughed, called you a kid, or acted like your size made you someone to protect or dismiss, he never did. He treated you like an equal.

He watched your movements in games with the same focus he gave anyone else. He handed you things from high shelves without a word. He stood behind you when someone looked at you wrong, not because you needed him, but because he had your back.

He treated you like everyone else.

Maybe even like you mattered.

And in a world where being short often meant being overlooked, that was rare.

That was enough to make you notice him too.

Chishiya

You and Chishiya were walking through the remains of an abandoned pharmacy, the faint smell of dust and expired medicine lingering in the air. He moved with his usual casual arrogance — hands in his hoodie pockets, white-bleached hair catching what little light filtered in through the broken windows.

You were focused on scanning the shelves for painkillers when you heard his voice behind you, smooth and dry as ever.

“Must be hard living in a world built for regular-sized people.”

You blinked, slowly turning to face him. “Excuse me?”

Chishiya leaned lazily against the doorway, one brow arched, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It's cute, really. The way you had to tiptoe just to reach the middle shelf.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

“Funny coming from you,” you said flatly. “I'm pretty sure we'd see eye to eye if you didn't have that hair giving you a centimeter advantage.”

He blinked — just once — then let out the tiniest huff of amusement.

“Touché,” he said.

You crossed your arms. “Don't act like you're towering over anyone. For a guy, you're compact. If we were action figures, you'd come in a limited edition 'pocket strategist' line.”

“Better than being fun-sized chaos,” he murmured, that damn smirk deepening.

“Please. You're only pretending to be taller because you only hang around people like Kuina. It's all part of your illusion game.”

He gave a slow, sarcastic nod. “You've cracked my greatest deception. Well done.”

You shrugged, mock casual. “Don't worry. I won't expose your secrets. We short people have to stick together, after all.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but almost... amused. “So now I'm one of you?”

“You always were. You just hide it behind good posture and a god complex.”

There was a long pause.

Then, quietly, he said, “You know, most people don't talk to me like this.”

You smiled. “Most people don't get the chance.”

He looked at you for a moment longer than usual — no smirk now, just that quiet, calculating stillness he wore when something (or someone) had truly caught his attention.

Then, with a soft scoff, he turned away.

“Let's keep moving,” he said, already walking toward the back exit. “Before you need help reaching another shelf.”

You rolled your eyes and followed, calling out, “Don't trip on your ego, Chishiya. You're not tall enough to survive the fall.”

You didn't see it, but his smirk returned — just barely — and lingered longer than it probably should have.

Masterlist

#alice in borderland #Ann x reader #Ann Rizuna x reader #Kuina x reader #Kuina Hikari x reader #Aguni x reader #aguni morizono x reader #niragi x reader #Niragi Suguru x reader #last boss x reader #takatora samura x reader #chishiya x reader #Chishiya Shuntaro x reader

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miyamizuna · 1 year ago

Text

Is it that sweet? I guess so~

Haikyuu boys as lyrics from "Espresso" by Sabrina Carpenter part 1 | part 2 ft. miya atsumu, kuroo tetsuro, semi eita

I can’t relate, to desperation (miya atsumu)

Being the MSBY social media manager means work- especially when it comes to Miya Atsumu. It seems like every other week he gets himself. caught up in controversy. Whether it be him being too touchy with an already-married older actress, or even being spotted on dates with multiple female idols. It’s your job to defend his already poor internet reputation.

“Y/n~ c’mon now, one date is all I'm askin’! Throw me a bone here!” He pleads for the 5th time today. He was sure to be persistent after the many rejections before.

“Miya, how many times do I have to tell you no?” You sigh as you reject him once more to add onto the tally of 56 rejections over the course of a year.

Sure he was attractive, what normal person would say no to a 6’1” professional volleyball player? Sadly you know firsthand about his player activities. You understand it though, a young early twenties male is bound to act like this. though the severity of actions vary on a case-to-case basis; he happens to be on the far end of the spectrum.

“Besides, it’s unprofessional to have a relationship between the two of us. I’m your manager.” You explain to him hoping finally you’d be able to get the message through his thick skull.

“Professional or not, who cares! give me a chance to prove myself! C’mon I've been good recently, no contreveries!” He explains trying to persuade your thoughts.

“If you call being spotted with a married woman in a fancy restaurant ‘good behaviour’, I don’t know what to tell you.” You frown as you avert your eyes from him, back to your laptop, typing out a public apology for Atsumu’s recent events.

With a frown, he steps forward and closes your laptop whilst leaning over your desk. His figure obviously towering over your sitting self.

“Enough of that, It wouldn’t be the same as those famous women who only want me to have an affair. It’s different with you.” He explains with sincerity as if this time he actually means what he says.

You look up at him with a smirk and now with crossing arms, leaning back on your office chair. “Oh really? Maybe when you give me an easier time with your little affairs, I’ll consider it.”

That's when his face lights up and puts on a stupid grin and leans in closer to your ear. i’m

“Oh you bet.” He whispers seductively in your ear before pulling away and walking to the door of the office.

“Well, see ya around Y/n, ya better hold up yer end of this.” He tells you before walking out of your office.

God this man. He's so… desperate for attention!

and I got this one boy, he won’t stop calling (kuroo tetsuro)

42 missed calls. Are you fucking kidding me? You had met this hot guy today at the cafe you work at, he was a tall man in a business suit, kind of built as you could see some of his triceps through the dress shirt, a really classy guy overall, though odd his hair didn’t match the aesthetic. You left your number on his cup just for the slight off chance he wasn’t in a relationship. Clearly, he’s not in one.

You decided to call him back, afterall you were busy with the cafe with the 8 hour shift you had just worked. Now lying on your stomach first, your leg hanging off the bed, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” a male voice says after only one ring.

“Uhm, Hi. You left 42 calls on my phone.” You informed him as if he wasn’t already aware of what he did.

“Oh yeah, I did do that~” He teases through the phone. “So what’s your name, coffee girl?”

“It’s L/N Y/N, and you?” You ask with a semi-interested tone returning the energy of his voice.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. Y/n is a pretty name ya know” He flirts through the phone.

You can just imagine his silly smirk, the same exact one as when he saw the cafe when he read your number, and then the “call me <3” written under it.

“So I take it you’re not taken as you’re calling me” You suggest as you twirl your hair and kick your legs, god you feel like a teenage girl.

“Nah, I’m not taken. Haven’t really had a girlfriend before, closest was talking stages.” he explains you hear the ruffling of papers in the background.

So that explains the 42 calls. Takes a man's guts to admit that.

“You don’t exactly know what you’re doing, don’t you~” You tease as you hear a sigh from the end of the phone.

“Well no- I do know what I’m doing! Just I wanted to get to know you- soon!” He fumbles words trying to explain himself which brings a laugh out of you.

“Suuuure…”

There’s now a long awkward pause in the conversation. In which both of you don’t exactly know what to ask each other next.

“Soo- Are you a full-time worker at that cafe?” He suddenly asks, speaking up to fill the silence.

“Well no, I’m still in college. I’m going there for an English degree. How about you? You seem like you got a pretty good job.” You explain, then follow up with a question about himself.

“Well darling, I’m a sports promoter, specifically for volleyball. I work for the Japanese Volleyball Association.” He informs you with a proud tone.

This does pique your interest, not every day do you meet a guy who works for a sporting association who happens to walk inside a hole-in-the-wall café.

“Well shit, that's cool! Did you play in high school or something?” You ask now, flipping over onto your back to a more comfortable position.

“I did- made it to nationals during my last year.” He answers with a cocky tone. There is more shuffling of papers in the background, maybe he’s still at work-

“Kuroo! We need the papers finalised by tonight!” A voice from the background of his end says with a very demanding tone. Causing him to groan into the phone.

“Well you certainly heard my boss…” He sighs. “Call you back cutie. We still need to finalise our date.” He tells you before hanging up the phone not even leaving time for you to respond to his statement.

“huh…? DATE?” You shout to the void that is your room.

Man, this guy is confident. Both him personally, and you being too willing to give this man a chance. You know one thing though. You’re definitely going to come back to 42 calls again.

I'm working late bc I’m a singer (semi eita)

Oh, Semi Eita, the lead singer and guitarist of his little band. The foundation of what his band is about all stems from him. His rock style is unique, flashy if you call it. He always felt the need to stand out from others. You know that best as his significant other. Since high school, he’s always been a show-off or tried to be. Because of his show-off nature, he was benched on the volleyball team in his 3rd year.

Now here he is, slumped over on his office desk at one in the damn morning, struggling to come up with meaning to his new song.

“You know, Eita, This song must really got you stumped. You haven’t stayed up writing this late in forever.” You smirk leaning on the doorframe to his office. You both know that you’re right.

Eita usually has a set schedule; sleeps at 11 pm, unlike his teen days when he’ll pull all-nighters for fun. He sighs and turns his office chair around.

“Well, I guess you can say that.” He replies as he tiredly smiles at you.

You walk over to his desk, the wood planks creek in the silence of night, and lean over his shoulder to look at the song.

“So what’s this song about?” You ask him while reading the lyrics.

“A boy who fell in love with a girl and sees her with rose-tinted glasses.” He explains as he taps the pen on the paper every few seconds, clearly in thought.

“Well is she a good person, or a bad person.” You ask, sitting yourself at the corner of his desk.

He sits at his desk long in thought. “That’s the thing. I don’t really know.” He admits and he runs a hand through his hair, the other hand twirling the pen around.

“Well when you think of this girl, who do you think of?” You ask him whilst playing with the drawer of his desk that sits above you.

as he sits there in thought, an idea suddenly pops into his head. There is one girl in particular that comes into his head.

“I think of you.” He lets out with a grin as he ruffles your hair, causing you to let put a laugh

“Me, huh? You really love me that much huh..?” You grin in response to his actions, with a proud tone of voice.

“I guess I do huh?” He smiles at your proud self. “I’ll write about you being the girl who I view in rose-tinted glasses,” He says as she writes down his ideas on the paper, making light scribble noises.

That's just when you get up and try dragging him away from the desk.

“You know its bed time right?” You tease and you put him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

“I’ll be there soon! Just, let me finish noting these ideas down!” He protests and he doesn’t look away from the page despite what you’re doing to him.

You sigh in response and let go of him. Walking to the door in the process.

“Don’t stay up too late. We both know how grumpy you get without your beauty sleep.” You tell him in response to his protests. Finding a good opportunity to tease him in the process.

As you walk out of the room, all you can hear is a grumble in response. All for the fact he knows you’re right.

espresso is my spotify number 1 rn

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httpuckdrop · 4 months ago

Text

ashes – day 122

series masterlist

falling back into a routine with jack was easier than you had expected.

you'd spend the nights at his place, or he would spend them at yours, without feeling like much had changed. if you couldn't fall asleep in each other's arms, then at least you could facetime until sleep took over. and now that you have heard from him every day, you can't fathom how you could have ever ignored him.

it wasn't completely as if nothing had happened; you were a bit more on edge, and your mind had a habit of flickering back to your argument those weeks ago. but instead of letting it consume you, you tried your best to move past it, to accept the fact that it happened, but also understand the fact that it didn't have to mean too much. that you can both grow stronger from it, instead of let it break you down.

it was difficult at first, though. jack's concussion was still present in the room whenever you met with him, despite the fact that he assured you that he was feeling much better. he wasn't allowed to get back on the ice just yet – that's how severe it had been – but he was definitely improving. you knew he still had headaches, even though he tried to tell you that they were completely gone, plus he was a little bit slower and had a harder time multitasking than usual.

this, combined with the fact that he already couldn't cook before his injury, was not exactly a recipe for success for your date tonight.

you were supposed to cook the same dish as the first time he made dinner for you, but this time, he would not allow you to interfere. he had invited you over on the premise that you'd do it together, so how did this make sense? whenever you even came close to the stove, he shooed you away, insisting that he could do it himself.

he definitely couldn't.

when you had sat on his couch for far too long – after eventually being exiled from the kitchen – you began to smell something… that definitely wasn't part of the pasta dish he was making. it smelled burnt, and you no longer could stay away.

but when you made it into the kitchen, jack was moving all over the place, not even noticing your presence. he was trying to handle one pot of spaghetti (currently boiling over) and one pan of bacon (which seemed like it was done frying about five minutes ago) – but you stopped yourself from interfering when you realized that his focus was shared with yet another thing.

"sorry, mom," he groaned into the phone he was balancing between his shoulder and ear. "i'm a bit distracted- trying to cook some dinner."

he grabbed a spatula and flipped some of the bacon onto a plate. yup, definitely burnt.

"ha ha, the whole my son can't cook deal is getting boring. i can cook if i want to." a pause. "well, maybe i want to because i want to do a nice thing for a girl. is that too much to ask?"

your breath hitched in your throat.

"yes, we're back together again. kind of, i guess." he was talking to his mother about you? so casually? "she's good, i'm good, we're good. can i call you back later? yes, my head is okay- no, i'm going back to practice on monday. yes, i'll be careful. i love you but i have to focus on cooking, okay? okay, bye."

he let out a loud groan the second he hung up the phone, clearly dissatisfied with the chaos in front of him. it wasn't until your stifled laughter met his ears that he turned around and acknowledged your presence. "dinner coming along nicely?" you asked, feeling guilty when you spotted the disappointed and frankly shameful look in his eyes.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled as he turned the stove off, hand reaching out for your side when you stepped closer. "i really thought i would do better this time…"

"it's alright," you hummed, one hand reaching for the back of his neck. "you can't be the best at everything. it's sweet of you to leave something for the rest of us."

your lips met in a sweet kiss, one you never wanted to part from. one that made you question how you could ever go weeks without feeling his lips against yours. one that made your heart swell in a clearly uncomfortable, yet warming way.

"i'll order some pizza?" you asked, to which he pouted ever so cutely yet nodded.

every second you spent with him, you were forced to remind yourself of how you couldn't allow yourself to fall too deep.

and yet, with everything he did, he made you want it so badly.

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