#but it seems like they kind of just... ignore it's existence

[brawberryz]

I don't want to die

Batfam × negleted Asuka langley!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error/ This story has no relation to my Evangelion AU

You hate this

You hate everything, nothing is ever fair to you

You always tried your best being batgirl but still you couldn't get anyone to tell you how proud they were of you

You were good at fighting and you solved cases in hours but still it seemed like you didn't exist for your family

Your presence was a shadow between the great walls of the mansion, you didn't understand why none of your efforts to get noticed worked

But it's okay, you don't need anyone

You didn't need his approval, you're fine alone because you know very well that no one will protect you or take care of you

But at the same time you didn't want to be alone, you wanted to experience that love that Bruce gave to his other children and which you never felt

Bruce

How you hated that name, he was never a father to you and he never will be, he pretended to be the perfect and exemplary father but deep down he was as broken and rotten as you

You hated him so much, you hated your father and your mother, You hated your brothers and you hated men

Nobody understands you and comprehends you, they pretend to like you but you know that the fake

Richard, claimed to be the eldest brother and that he cared about his brothers but you knew it was a farce, he was as hypocritical and fake as the whole family

He only showed affection to the people who suited him and if you were not useful he just ignored you

You hate him so much, his mere presence makes you nauseous and disgusted

Jason, he was an idiot just like the whole family, since he had revived he was a person full of anger and revenge

In a way you understood him a little, but then you hated him

I believed that just because his life had been miserable it didn't mean that he should make life miserable for others, sometimes you wished that the joker would beat him to death with that crowbar again

Tim, you didn't hate him as much as the others but you still despised him

Since you and he arrived at the mansion You had some kind of rivalry since you two were equally intelligent and you were very competitive children

I never wanted to admit that I was wrong and at some point you were like that too, but having Bruce always put you on his side made your blood boil

Because Bruce seemed so proud of him but with you he treated you as if you were some kind of mistake

Damian, he was the second person you hated the most every time you two saw each other it seemed like you wanted to kill each other

You still remember the first time he arrived at the mansion you weren't so excited you thought he would be another idiot you would have to deal with

You were very surprised when you saw how a katana was heading towards your head, by instinct you dodged it your years as batgirl had favored you for the first time

You didn't remember that fight well, you only knew that if your father and your brothers didn't interrupt that fight you and Damian were going to end up killing each other

But there was something that stayed in your head, when they separated you Damian you and him were equally hurt by their big fight but everyone decided to pay attention to him

Everyone was so worried about him and they had only met him a few hours ago, but you

You had lived in this mansion for more than a decade and they didn't even bother to check on you

The only one who seemed worried was Alfred who carefully tended to your wounds

You could still remember the look of disappointment and anger that your father gave you after that fight

You wanted to cry at that moment and yell at him but you couldn't, you couldn't show yourself weak

It was a simple nonsense that shouldn't affect you, you were never going to show yourself vulnerable or cry again

But deep down, you would have liked to be able to cry

Barbara, you didn't hate her but you didn't like her either, you just tolerated her since at some point she was quite useful in your missions

But you weren't going to lie that at some point you felt jealous of them when she was Batgirl, you saw how Bruce treated her with so much love as if she were a daughter

How he looked at her with pride and cared for her, and you were there looking at her with hatred without knowing why she deserved that love and you didn't

It wasn't fair, she hadn't even tried hard to get Bruce to respect her and you who spent your whole life training and becoming one of the strongest and most skilled members of the batfam he didn't even turn to look at you

Cass, you tolerated her to a certain point your opinion of her was neutral

Sometimes you used to train together but you never talked, you only got together to train or on missions that Bruce asked her to accompany you

Steph, you met her when she was Robin, you got along well at the beginning but when she stopped being Robin you two separated and stopped talking for a while

When she came back she looked so different as if something had changed, you had heard that she went through a lot of things when she left like getting pregnant or something

You just kept quiet and didn't ask her so as not to make her uncomfortable

Your life wasn't the best but you learned to live like that, you got used to this life full of disappointment

Maybe you should just accept this life and wait to die, no one will remember you and the only thing people will remember will be batman's invisible daughter

You will remain as one of Bruce's many mistakes, a mistake he could never fix

_

It was another mission, it was easy you just had to deactivate some bombs that the scarecrow had placed in some buildings, you had done it many times it shouldn't be difficult

And as you sensed it was very easy, there was only one bomb left that was located in a warehouse

You were confident without paying attention to the warning of your father and oracle

You quickly went to the place where the bomb was located, you had deactivated many bombs this one should not be so difficult

But you trusted too much

Oh no

It was a trap, a fucking one

Before you could react the bomb ended up throwing the toxic fear all over the place and you didn't even have time to react

"(NAME)!"

Bruce shouted trying to get you out of there but it was too late

He could see how your body fell to the ground trembling while tears came out of your eyes

He could hear how you screamed in fear and begged for it to stop

"NO! NO PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME REMEMBER, ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

You said between screams while you grabbed your head and curled up further into yourself

Bruce was surprised to see you in that state, he had never seen you so vulnerable and scared

He knew it was the fear gas's fault but he was still surprised, not even when you were little and had come to the mansion you never showed yourself scared or vulnerable

Since you were little you always had that look full of hate and resentment

He quickly went to you to check your condition, he hugged you tightly to prevent you from hurting yourself because of your state

"(Name)!, please react!"

He said trying to make you see reason but all you did was scream in pain and agony

Whatever you were hallucinating was much worse than anything

_

Your head was full of memories of your childhood and that incident

You were supposed to forget it forever but apparently they decided to come back

...

You didn't remember your mother's face, it was a blur between your memories you only remember her tired voice

When you were little you didn't understand why she always seemed so depressed and tired, you were too young to understand the world around you

She was hardly ever home and if she was she was always lying on the couch drinking cheap alcohol

You always asked her what was wrong but she always answered "it's adult things, honey"

In those moments your little self wished you could be an adult and understand everything, to be able to help your mom with whatever she was suffering

But you couldn't, you were a little girl unaware of the world and the problems that surrounded her

You wished your mother had been more present in your life

You knew she had to work for hours and then come back tired, but still...

You still wanted her love

You saw how the other kids at school came to pick them up, how they hugged their parents happily

Hugs

Have you always wanted to know what it would feel like to have someone hug you, would it feel as warm and comfortable as many say?

You just wanted to experience that, deep down you dreamed that someone would hug you in such a quality and loving way

Then that day came, you could still remember it

You had come home from school as usual, everything seemed normal

Too normal

"Mom, I'm home!"

Screaming at you as you took off your shoes and left your backpack on the table

You found it strange that she didn't answer since she was supposed to stay home today

You walked down the small hallway of the apartment until you reached your mother's door

It was half open and you thought he was asleep, you opened it excitedly but all that joy and excitement disappeared as soon as you saw that horrible scene

"M-mom..."

You said in shock looking at her hanging body, small tears came out of your eyes as you looked at that scene completely paralyzed

You quickly reacted and went to her crying, praying to any god that existed that this wasn't real

But it was real, your mother's skin was as cold as the snow falling outside the apartment

After that it seemed that your memory decided to erase all traces of something you remembered

To a certain extent you could still feel your mother's cold skin between your hands

When you were little you didn't understand why Your mother had done that, but now

Now you understood everything...

_

You woke up in your bed, you heard the soft knock on your door

It was Alfred asking you to go have breakfast

"I'm not hungry Alfred, just leave me alone please..."

You said in a tired tone, it was the same tone your mother had

You curled up further in your bed, the old butler said something you weren't able to hear but you didn't care either

Nothing mattered anymore

So the days went by, you weren't even able to get out of your bed or eat

Even the batfam was surprised not to see you as usual to patrol

Richard decided to check on you and almost fainted when he saw your condition, your room was a mess, full of dirty clothes and other things

It was almost impossible to walk around there, your floor was full of things like books, clothes and other things that he didn't want to know what it was

But the worst was your appearance, you smelled terribly bad and your hair was greasy

He quickly forced you to take a shower, he had to push you into the bathroom since you didn't even deign to answer or get up

After Richard told the rest of the family about your sorry state something inside them turned on, like a protective instinct towards his sister

Now they had to force you to do things as mundane as bathing or eating, since apparently you weren't even capable of doing it by yourself

Each member of the batfam tried to cheer you up in their own way

Jason took you with him to the library while he told you about the new book he was reading, he thought it might be interesting for you but all you did was give him a tired look

Tim made you sit next to him while he worked on his computer, sometimes he asked you if you wanted to help him in some case but you just refused

The old you would have accepted without hesitation but the old you was no longer there

Damian and Cass made you go with them to train with them but you refused, arguing that you were too tired or didn't feel like it

So they just made you sit there while you watched them train since Bruce asked everyone to keep an eye on you

Steph and Barbara tried to cheer you up by making you spend time with them, but nothing worked

You gave them the same empty and tired look you gave everyone

Bruce decided that the best thing was to take you out of school and take you with him to work, since according to him you were in a very delicate and vulnerable state

Besides he could educate you, you didn't need any teacher when you had him, it was much better since you spent all day by his side and he could control you better

Richard tried to get you to bake a cake with him but all you did was look at him tiredly before nodding at his idea

But he still tried to make you happy while you two cooked but nothing could make you feel something

You were like a doll without emotions, you had entered a state where you couldn't even tell what was real and what wasn't

Your body was there but your conscience wasn't

But don't worry, as long as you're next to them you don't have to worry about anything

I'm thinking of updating Goodbye World My soon, there are just a few things left to edit and then I'll upload it

Leaving that aside, I hope you enjoy this!

@strwberryglass

[haerenven]

Pairings: roronoa zoro, Trafalgar law, portgas d.ace, red-haired shanks

summary: reader being introvert kitty

— (a/n): hey gorgeous ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ !, I just wanted to tell that the request are opened, and I would love to see your comments and your thoughts, enjoy babies >ᴗ<

Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper were seated in a haphazard circle, the scattered deck of cards between them resembling the aftermath of a fierce battle. Laughter echoed in the air, a rich, bubbling sound that filled the space like sunlight spilling across a room. Luffy’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he slammed down his final card with uncontained triumph. “I win! I win!” His voice rang out, a jubilant force that seemed to rattle the very walls of the ship’s deck.

Usopp slumped forward, his body giving way to defeat, while Chopper huffed, his small pout visible even from across the deck. “you are so lucky, luffy!”

Luffy’s laughter only grew louder, spilling over in waves as the others grumbled about their losses, teasing him with playful complaints. It was the kind of light-hearted chaos that filled the spaces between them, the kind that could only belong to this crew of misfits. And yet, amid the ruckus, something—someone—caught Zoro’s attention.

There you were, standing just on the edge of the scene, your presence an almost imperceptible grace amidst the noise. Your hands came together in a soft, delicate clap—barely a whisper in the air, but enough to be felt. A quiet acknowledgment of Luffy’s win, a celebration so gentle it felt like the world had momentarily paused to appreciate it. The gesture, simple and unassuming, held a quiet sincerity—a warmth that seemed to ripple outwards, like a soft breeze at dusk.

Zoro’s eyes lingered on you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips without him realizing it. There was something about you—something in the way you stood on the periphery, not quite part of the frenzy, but never disconnected from it. You didn’t demand attention, yet you commanded it in the most unobtrusive way. Your presence was like a song played on a string too soft to hear but too powerful to ignore, and somehow, it filled his chest with a sense of calm he didn’t know he needed.

The others were still lost in their playful banter, their voices blending into a chorus of good-natured complaints, but Zoro remained rooted, his gaze fixed on you. It struck him, then—how such a small thing as a gentle hand clap could stir something deep within him. There was a quiet beauty in your stillness, a serenity that seemed to settle over him, smoothing out the rough edges of the world that spun so loudly around him.

He stepped closer, his movement slow, deliberate—he didn’t want to disturb the fragile quiet between the two of you. “That was cute,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual, almost a secret shared in the space between breaths.

You looked up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an understanding that seemed to exist beyond words. A faint smile bloomed on your lips, and for just a fleeting moment, the world around you both seemed to slow, like a heartbeat in time, leaving only the two of you standing there amidst the clamor.

Zoro’s heart gave a soft flutter, a rare feeling that settled in his chest, warm and unfamiliar. For the first time in a long while, the noise didn’t bother him. The laughter, the chaos—none of it seemed too loud. With you by his side, even the most uproarious moments felt like a quiet, comfortable hum. There was no need for more words, for your small gesture had already spoken volumes, and that, in itself, was enough.

The Polar Tang was eerily still as it sliced through the quiet waters, the hum of the ship a constant lull in the backdrop. Law sat at his desk, pouring over charts and notes, his mind consumed by the endless calculations and strategies. But the silence around him began to feel almost… too still, like something was missing. The faint sounds of the ship creaking or distant voices of the crew felt far away, muted by the tranquility of the room.

And then, there it was again.

A soft sound, barely audible, but enough to break his focus—a gentle, unintentional hum slipping from your lips. It was quiet, subtle, a sound that most would miss entirely, but Law’s mind seemed to latch onto it, the quiet vibration pulling his attention like an invisible thread.

He glanced up, his eyes landing on you, sprawled out on the couch across the room. Your book rested loosely in your hands, but your gaze was distant, caught in thought, as if you were in a world all your own. Every few moments, a tiny, almost unnoticeable sound would escape you—a hum, a soft sigh, a small trill of something that made the air between you two feel alive.

It wasn’t intrusive, far from it. It was as though you were speaking in the language of the world, filling the space with a calm rhythm of your own. A hum here, a sigh there—an effortless, quiet expression of your presence. You were not demanding attention, but you were undeniably there, weaving a subtle, unspoken connection between you and the room around you.

Law’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze narrowing in quiet curiosity. He had noticed this before—your strange little noises, sounds that didn’t quite belong, but somehow made everything feel… softer. The way you could exist so quietly, so effortlessly, and still capture his attention without even meaning to. It was like you didn’t even realize how much you affected him, and it only made it all the more endearing.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence as his voice came low, yet unmistakably intrigued. “What was that?” His words were sharp but gentle, the kind of curiosity that belonged more to someone trying to piece together a puzzle than to a captain used to commanding a crew.

You blinked, slowly lifting your gaze to meet his, the tiniest smile on your lips. “Hmm?” You seemed caught off guard for a moment, like you hadn’t even realized what had happened.

“Oh, just… a noise,” you said, shrugging, the words leaving your mouth with a soft, almost musical quality to them. Your tone held a quiet amusement, an innocence, like you weren’t even aware of the small, charming effect you had on the room.

Law didn’t say anything at first, but his lips curved into a small smirk, the rare playfulness in his expression betraying the composed, serious mask he often wore. He leaned back in his chair, trying to pretend he wasn’t as captivated as he was. “You do that a lot,” he murmured, the edge of his voice softening just slightly, though he tried to keep his tone flat.

You tilted your head, those wide eyes of yours locking with his. There was no rush in your expression, no anxiety to explain or apologize. You just… existed. And that was enough. “I guess I do,” you said, a tiny giggle slipping from your lips—a sound so fleeting it might’ve been imagined if not for the lightness of it.

Law sighed softly, his gaze softening just a touch as he studied you, his gaze lingering longer than it should. There was a certain charm in your simplicity, the way you could fill the silence with such unintentional grace. He didn’t fully understand it, but it made him smile, just a little.

“You know,” he began, voice low and teasing, “you’re distracting.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but there was something in your gaze—a quiet playfulness that matched his own. “Oh? How so?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if your words were meant only for him.

A rare smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with that characteristic mischief of his. “Those sounds you keep making,” he said, his voice soft but not without a hint of affection. “I can’t focus with all this random noise.”

You blinked, the smallest hint of surprise flashing across your face before a sheepish smile crept onto your lips. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice so gentle it barely registered in the stillness between you. “I’m just… me.”

Law chuckled at that, his gaze warming as he shook his head. “I don’t mind it,” he said, his tone a little gentler now. “But just keep it down, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, but just as you returned your focus to the book in your hands, another soft, gentle noise escaped—barely audible, a sound of contentment that seemed to vibrate through the air.

This time, Law didn’t mind. He didn’t want to. In fact, the tiny, almost imperceptible hum felt like it belonged to him as much as it did to you. It was another piece of the quiet puzzle that made up this strange, unspoken connection between you two, and this time, Law couldn’t deny it—he welcomed it.

For once, the silence wasn’t so lonely, not when it was filled with you.

The lively port town was alive with energy, the streets bustling with vendors shouting their wares, the scent of fresh fish and spices in the air. The whitebeard Pirates had docked for the day, and you were walking alongside Ace, Marco, Thatch, and Izo, taking in the vibrant scene as the crew talked among themselves.

Marco and Thatch were deep in conversation, animatedly discussing something about a local delicacy. As Marco spoke, he gave a small wave of his hand, his voice casually rising above the noise. “Nope! I didn’t say that, alright?”

Without thinking, you let out a soft, almost inaudible sound, mimicking his words with a playful, almost cat-like mutter. “Alright…” The sound barely left your lips, sweet and quiet, but Ace—who was walking just beside you—caught it instantly.

Ace glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, his eyes soft and affectionate. The way you mimicked Marco was endearing, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but think how cute you were. His hand brushed yours gently as he leaned in a little closer, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?” he murmured, amused by the playful side you often showed only to him.

As Marco continued his conversation with Thatch, he suddenly paused, thinking for a moment. “Wait a minute…” he said, before resuming with his story.

The words barely left Marco’s lips when, once again, you mimicked him—this time in a soft, almost imperceptible voice. “Wait a minute…”

Ace’s smile widened, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your voice, so soft and tender, as if it was meant only for him. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you sure you’re not doing that on purpose just to mess with Marco?” he whispered.

You didn’t answer immediately, instead biting your lip in a shy, almost bashful manner. There was something so innocent about the way you mimicked those words, the way you spoke in that quiet, kitten-like tone. Ace’s heart warmed, and he couldn’t help but reach for your hand, his thumb gently brushing across your skin.

“I swear,” Ace chuckled softly, “You’re so adorable, I can’t stand it.” His voice was filled with affection as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “If you keep doing that, I might not be able to stop myself.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and you glanced up at him, your eyes shining with a mix of playfulness and affection. “I’m not trying to mess with anyone…” you murmured, though your words were barely audible, too quiet for anyone but Ace to hear.

But Ace didn’t need you to say much. He knew you well enough. His grin softened as he gently tugged you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. “I love it when you do that,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours for just a brief moment, his lips curving into a smile as his eyes searched yours.

The world around you faded into the background as the connection between you and Ace deepened. The bustling market, the laughter of the crew—it all seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you in a quiet, tender moment.

Even Marco, who had been oblivious to everything except his conversation, shot a glance over and raised an eyebrow at Ace, silently acknowledging how close the two of you had become. Ace simply winked back, pulling you just a little closer, as if claiming you in the quietest, most intimate way possible.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he murmured, his voice just for you.

The dim light of the tavern flickered, casting long shadows across the wooden floors as the Red-Haired Pirates gathered to unwind after a long journey. The air was filled with the clinking of mugs and the boisterous laughter of the crew, but you found your solace away from the chaos. Seated in a quiet corner, you observed your comrades from the shadows, content in your own space, letting the noise fade into a soft murmur. The bustling energy of the tavern felt distant, unimportant, like background music to your peaceful moment.

Your fingers absently traced the rim of your glass, your eyes flitting across the scene before you. The pirates were their usual selves—loud, animated, and exaggerated in their tales. Yet, you preferred to watch from afar, the lively spectacle seeming almost surreal in its intensity. It was a world you could observe without feeling the need to step into it.

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter broke through your thoughts, followed by a crashing sound. A pirate had knocked over a table, spilling his drink and sending curses flying. Your body instinctively flinched, the sudden chaos pulling you out of your peaceful retreat. You quickly shrank further into the corner, hoping to remain unnoticed in the commotion.

But just as you thought you could fade into the background, a warm presence approached, and a familiar hand rested casually on the back of your chair. The soft rumble of Shanks’ voice followed, gentle and knowing. “Everything alright, love?”

His proximity sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, and your heart stuttered for a brief moment. You had hoped to remain unseen, but Shanks always seemed to find you, his presence drawing you out of your retreat. As you turned your head to meet his gaze, your voice faltered, your thoughts scattered by the intimacy of the moment.

Before you could find your words, the rowdy pirate who had caused the disruption earlier staggered toward the bar, unaware of the havoc he had just caused. As he jostled toward you, you braced yourself, your body tensing instinctively. And then, before you could stop it, a soft “nyang” slipped past your lips, a quiet sound of surprise that you couldn’t suppress.

For a split second, the room seemed to freeze. Shanks’ eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curling into a teasing grin as the sound echoed in the air. He leaned in closer, his voice low and playful. “Oh my,” he teased, never mocking, only affectionate. “I didn’t know we had a cat in our crew. What’s next? Gonna start purring for us?”

The bar seemed to come alive again with laughter, the crew chuckling at your expense, but you could hardly feel embarrassed when Shanks’ eyes were filled with such warmth and affection. Your face flushed, your body retreating further into your seat, trying to hide from their gaze.

“I didn’t—” you started, but Shanks, ever the instigator, didn’t let you finish. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing hum, sending a shiver down your spine. “Come on, love, are you sure you’re not some secret cat? I think I’m starting to figure you out.”

You raised your glass to your lips, trying to hide your face behind the cool rim, but his laughter only made it harder to keep your composure. “I’m not a cat,” you muttered, your voice soft and almost shy, but the words were playful, even if you knew they weren’t very convincing.

Shanks chuckled, his hand brushing your cheek in a light, affectionate touch. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice softening slightly, “But I’ll tell you this, Kitty,” he said, his tone both teasing and tender. “You might be the kind of cat who likes a little attention more than she lets on.”

Your gaze flickered to his, the teasing still there, but now mixed with something deeper, something more genuine. It wasn’t an insult or judgment—it was simply him seeing you for who you were, quiet and subtle, yet with a spark that he couldn’t help but adore.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply shook your head with a shy smile, the warmth in your chest spreading. Shanks had a way of making you feel seen, even in the moments when you wanted to remain hidden.

The tavern’s noise surged back to its usual chaotic level, but the moment between you and Shanks lingered. His laughter faded into a soft hum of contentment, as though he had uncovered a part of you without effort. You didn’t mind it. Not with him. Being called “Kitty” wasn’t so bad, especially when it came from your husband, who always made you feel like you were exactly where you belonged.

[starlvcied]

₊˚⊹♡ rin itoshi x f!reader " FRAMED RIVALRY " CHAPTER 001

in which your academic rival, aka the captain of the soccer team, sneaks his way into the photography club with you. ꨄ︎ CHAPTER 001

cw: swearing (a lot) , rin definitely needs therapy wc : 3k

the sun shines down on the soccer field, casting shadows across the grass. you adjust the lens on your camera, the clicking of the shutter becoming a steady rhythm in the background as you move, trying your best to capture the intensity of the game. your fingers are quick and precise as you focus on each shot, freezing the action in time. the soccer players, all in their matching uniforms, run with a kind of urgency, their feet pounding the ground with every stride.

you’ve been a part of the photography club for two years now but no matter how often you’re on the sidelines of these games, there’s always something inspiring about watching the players. you find yourself naturally drawn to the skill, the precision of it all—except for one player.

rin itoshi, the captain of the soccer team, moves differently. the aura he gives off on the field is magnetic, but in a way that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous. he’s tall, lean, his movements calculated. his sharp, teal eyes never seem to leave the ball, and his hair falls just enough to obscure part of his vision—but somehow, it only enhances his intensity. 

you didn't like him. it seemed as if nobody actually liked rin itoshi. people just pretended to like him because he’s “cool”. he’s a rude, egotistical snob who thought he was better than everyone. you didn't pay him any mind in the halls, or when he would roll his eyes when you got a question right, though. there are a lot of rude people in the world, and your motto was “just smile and nod.”

you snap a picture of him, the ball seemingly suspended in midair as he prepares to strike. just as you click the shutter, a player from the opposing team rushes past you, and you stumble, your foot catching on the uneven turf. ouch.

the next thing you know, you’re colliding into someone—a solid body, a slight grunt, and then the unmistakable feeling of being pinned against the grass. your camera, thank goodness, is still in your hands, though you can feel the strap digging into your wrist from the awkward angle.

“sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but the person you’ve collided with doesn’t respond. you glance up quickly, your heart sinking as you realize who it is: rin itoshi. his teal eyes don’t even flicker toward you. instead, he simply pushes past you with a scoff, his sharp features barely shifting as he continues his stride across the field, his focus entirely on the game.

you’re left standing there like an idiot, with nothing but the faint echo of your own voice hanging in the air. you’ve been so used to getting nods, polite acknowledgments even from strangers, yet, for rin, you might as well not have existed at all. and that pissed you off.

you try to shake off the embarrassment, but it sticks with you like a bitter taste in your mouth. maybe it’s because you’ve never been completely ignored before. maybe it’s because you’ve heard the rumors about him—how he’s cold, distant, and borderline unapproachable. and now you understood how those statements came to be. still, it doesn’t help that he’s the kind of person who has no time for anyone unless they’re on his level—or so it seems.

the next morning, you arrive at school, the early bell ringing through the hallways. you’ve almost forgotten about the incident, tucked it away in the back of your mind where it doesn’t sting quite so much. but then the announcements come, calling for all students to gather in the classroom for a project assignment.

you’re a second year now, and the pressure of being in the student government and managing your club is always there, a subtle weight on your shoulders. so when the teacher announces the project topic, your focus sharpens.

debate. the topic? “do leaders need to be emotionally detached to succeed?” it’s a complex one, but it’s right up your alley. you’ve always been interested in leadership, in the psychology behind decision-making. but then the next part hits you: “for this project, you’ll each be paired with someone and will have a debate against another group.”

you glance around the room, already sizing up your potential partners. it’s all in good fun—until the teacher reads the names. and then your heart sinks.

“y/n, you’ll be paired with rin itoshi.”

you swallow thickly, the name ringing in your ears like an unwanted echo. rin itoshi? the same rin who so rudely ignored you yesterday?

your mind starts to race. the two of you could not be more different in your approach to leadership. you’ve always believed in understanding others, being empathetic and connected. rin, on the other hand, leads through sheer control, his focus on the end result rather than the people involved. emotionally detached? he practically embodies it. but could you find common ground on this topic?

the tension between you isn’t just academic—it’s personal. you’ve heard rumors about his cold nature, his obsession with soccer, and his overwhelming pride. he doesn’t care about anyone unless they can help him with his goals. and now, here you are, forced into a partnership with him for the most important debate of the semester.

the teacher hands out the project guidelines, and you find yourself sitting next to rin. his presence next to you feels almost suffocating. he doesn’t look at you as you sit down, his expression unreadable. his posture is straight, his focus already on the project—though whether that focus is on you or the assignment is unclear. 

this is going to be a long few weeks.

the days that follow the project announcement feel strangely heavier, as though the universe has decided to test your patience. you and rin Itoshi are thrust into a partnership that feels more like a battlefield than a collaboration.

the first meeting, if it could even be called that, happens during lunch. you find him sitting at one of the tables in the library, already with a notebook open, pen poised in hand. he doesn’t look up when you approach, not even when you slide into the chair across from him.

as the nice person you were, you went out of your way to stop at the nearest cafe outside of the place you had agreed to meet up. you ordered two iced americanos and buttered croissants. it wasnt pleasant working on an empty stomach. you got comfortable in your seat before speaking.

“i brought you some co-”

“i don't drink that.” he interrupted with the roll of his eyes, pushing the coffee away from him and back in your direction. your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. okay, maybe you shouldn't have assumed that he liked americanos, or coffee in general, but he could have definitely been more polite about it.

“okay, im so-”

“let’s get this over with.” he interrupted once more, reaching over to grab a ballpoint pen from his bag. you sighed, your eye twitching as you tried not to go off on this guy. it wasn’t worth it.

“so, how do you want to tackle this? should we split the research, or—”

he interrupts you with a single, clipped sentence, barely a glance in your direction. “i’ll take care of the facts. you handle the emotional arguments.” could he stop cutting you off?

your brow furrows at the dismissal. first he continuously cuts you off, and he isn’t asking for your input, isn’t interested in collaborating in any meaningful way. you can already tell that this will be one of those “i do everything, and you just follow along” situations. but you’ve dealt with arrogant people before. and you’re not the type to back down easily.

“i’m not just here to fill in the emotional side,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “we’re supposed to argue the same side, remember? that means we both need to agree on a stance. i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and i have very different ideas about what leadership even is.”

rin’s eyes flicker up at last, his teal gaze meeting yours for the first time in days. there’s a sharpness there, a challenge, but it’s not enough to throw you off balance. not yet.

“you’re overcomplicating this,” rin says flatly, his voice cold as ever. “leadership doesn’t need feelings. It needs results. leaders who rely on emotions are weak.” his words cut through the air, the arrogance thick in them. “so shut the hell up. i’ll prove that whats right in the debate. you just need to back me up.”

there it is—the familiar arrogance that laces every word he speaks. you resist the urge to roll your eyes. he’s treating this as if it’s a one-man show, like your opinion doesn’t matter at all.

“i think you’re missing the point,” you reply, trying to keep your composure. “you can’t discount emotions entirely. understanding them is what makes a good leader. you’ll never connect with the people you lead if you don’t even try to understand them.”

rin narrows his eyes at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s like he’s testing you, trying to provoke some kind of reaction. “are you trying to tell me that a leader should let their emotions cloud their judgment?”

“are you a fucking idiot? no, i’m saying a leader should be aware of their emotions and how they affect others. you can’t just bulldoze over everyone and expect them to follow you.”

there’s a beat of silence, and for a moment, you think he might actually engage with you—maybe even acknowledge your point. but instead, he leans back in his chair, the smirk still lingering on his face.

“fine,” he says, almost bored. “prove it, then. if you think emotions matter so much, show me how they’ll get the results we need.” his voice is a little quieter now, but the challenge is unmistakable. “but don’t waste my fucking time.”

the air between you two is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding passing between you. this won’t be easy. and it certainly won’t be fun. but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down. something about the way he challenges you—pushes you to be better, even in this strange, antagonistic way—lights a fire inside of you.

“fine,” you say, your voice steady. “i’ll prove it. but don’t think for a second that i’ll just let you steamroll me into agreeing with you.”

rin shrugs, as though he couldn’t care less about your resolve. “we’ll see.”

you both return to your work, each of you diving into your research. but the tension between you doesn’t fade. it simmers, thick and heavy, like something waiting to boil over.

the next few days blur together, the steady rhythm of research and debate preparation keeping you both busy. despite the friction between you, you can’t deny that there’s something undeniably effective about working with rin. his sharp focus on results, his ability to cut through distractions—it’s almost admirable. but it’s also maddening, because you know he’s only interested in his own perspective. and you’re stuck trying to make him see yours.

you’ve made some progress in gathering emotional case studies, examples of leaders who were able to harness their emotions to drive their teams to success. it’s compelling material, but every time you bring it up, rin shoots it down. “that’s all sentimental crap,” he’d say. “it doesn’t matter if they felt something. what matters is what they achieved.”

it’s frustrating. but you can’t give up. 

finally, the day of the debate arrives. you walk into the classroom, the desks now arranged to represent a court room, nerves buzzing in your stomach. you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but the thought of standing side by side with rin—who is so self-assured, so completely confident in his ability to win—makes the pit in your stomach tighten.

when rin walks in, he’s his usual self—cold, distant, but somehow commanding. his eyes sweep the room briefly, and then he makes his way to his desk, taking his seat without a word. you don’t even exchange pleasantries.

the debate begins, and the first few minutes pass in a blur of facts and figures. rin speaks with the kind of authority that only someone like him could wield. but you’ve prepared just as well. you know your material, and you’re determined to make your points count.

as the debate progresses, the audience grows increasingly engaged. your argument is strong, but rin’s is relentless. his words are sharp, calculated. it’s clear that he’s trying to wear you down, to undermine your confidence as if you’re the one he's debating against. and the tension between you grows thicker with every word spoken.

the days slip by, and you and rin seem to be locked in a battle of wits, neither of you willing to give an inch. despite the constant friction, a strange kind of understanding is starting to form between you. it’s not friendship—not by any stretch—but there’s an undeniable force that pulls you together, even if it’s mostly out of mutual stubbornness.

and then, without warning, something happens that catches you completely off guard.

it’s a wednesday afternoon when you first notice him.

you’re at the photography club meeting, organizing the week’s shoot plans and sorting through the photos from the last session. the room is small and cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clicking of camera shutters. it’s your safe haven—your space to let your creativity flow without anyone judging you. as well as the place where you and your two best friends crack up a storm almost 24/7. at least it used to be.

you glance up from your camera, surprised to see rin itoshi standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze sharp as always. he surveys the room, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips, before his eyes finally settle on you. his usual smirk is nowhere to be found, but there’s something just as dangerous in the way he looks at you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your tone a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “this is the photography club, not whatever you're thinking it is."

rin doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he steps into the room, a hand on your shoulder as he moved you to the side with the same quiet confidence he always carries. “i’m here to join,” he says simply, his arm dropping to his side, his voice flat but laced with something you can’t quite place.

your brow furrows in disbelief. “join? why would you want to join the photography club?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes never leave yours. “maybe i just like photography.”

“‘maybe i just like photography’ my ass,” you thought. you stare at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. the arrogance that typically surrounds rin’s every move is still there, but this time, it’s tempered with something else—a kind of unreadable intent. you want to scoff, to call him out on the fact that you both know he’s only here to stir up trouble, but something about his response keeps you from doing so.

“right,” you mutter, clearly unconvinced. “well, this isn’t a competition. if you’re here to just… mess around, fuck off.”

rin doesn’t even blink at your words. instead, he steps further into the room as if he owns the place and grabs the nearest camera, inspecting it with the kind of precision that makes it clear he knows what he’s doing. there’s no hesitation in his movements, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. his gaze flicks over the camera, his fingers adjusting the lens as if it’s second nature.

the other club members watch with a mix of curiosity and confusion. rin Itoshi, captain of the soccer team and the most notorious loner in school, is standing in your domain, looking every bit the part of someone who belongs. 

“i’ll take a few shots,” rin announces, his voice almost bored. “see what i can do with this.”

you stand there, speechless, watching as he lifts the camera and starts taking pictures of the club members. each shot is precise, deliberate. there’s no denying it—he’s good, great, even. he doesn’t just like photography; he’s skilled, his confidence in handling the camera evident.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that this is a game to him. that he’s here to prove something, even if he’s not admitting it. you feel your irritation flare up again, and you can’t help but retort, “you’re not just here because you like photography. you just want to outdo everyone, like you always do.” ‘you stuck up piece of shit,’ you wanted to add, but you didn't.

rin glances over at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. he’s still holding the camera, his eyes flickering with something almost imperceptible. “no need to make everything a competition,” he replies coolly, his voice lacking the usual bite, but the edge is still there. those words sounded funny coming from his mouth. “i told you, i just like photography. where’s the.. leader? or whatever.”

“you’re looking right at her.” you said, placing your hand on your hip. he gave you a scoff and an unconvinced look.

“got a problem?”

“i do not.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t press further. he’s not giving you anything to work with, and you know he’s not going to back down or admit anything.

“fine,” you say, the frustration bubbling in your chest. “but if you want to join, you better pull your weight. this club isn’t just for show, soccer boy.”

rin simply shrugs. “we’ll see, camera girl.” he says, turning his attention back to the camera. and just like that, it’s as if nothing has changed—except now, rin itoshi, the most competitive person you know, is in your club. and he’s not here for the reasons he claims.

don't feel like proofreading this whoops

tags : @mixolya

[tophat-69]

Vander and Silco - First Meeting

When I started writing for Arcane I wasn't sure if I wanted to write Jayce/Viktor or Vander/Silco first. I landed on Jayce/Viktor because the idea for "it's the good, defining itself" pretty much took over my life to the point that I was putting out a chapter a day for 22 days. But I backburnered a prequel fanfiction of Vander and Silco, to get back to later. I'm not quite ready to commit to it, but wanted to put out there what would be my first chapter. I'm hoping you enjoy it, because I'd like to revisit the idea and keep going someday. So, for now--enjoy Vander and Silco meeting for the first time in the mines, and the start of a partnership.

To be honest, on first impression Vander’s not actually all that impressed. 

“Hey-hey, slim! How was lockup this time?”

It’s midday at the mine, not that anyone would be able to tell if it weren’t for the whistles that echo down into the depths. The only lights in the drift tunnels come from their headlamps, and there’s a sort of liminality to that—it could be dawn or it could be midnight, and in the tunnels they would never know. All they can see is directly ahead of them, and everything else is shadow and rock, like blinders for the beasts of burden that they are. 

As the forward line, their crew is down deep enough now that stopping for meals is almost as miserable an affair as chipping their way through rocks, the kind of heat that makes the heavy protective gear suffocating, the kind of humidity that has Vander’s hair plastered to his neck and forehead beneath the hard hat, and his shirt melting into his skin under the leathers. 

“Still dank, dark, with terrible food and worse company. So, roughly the same as being down here with you lot.” There are a handful of hearty laughs at the dry sarcasm coming from within the echoing cavern, the kind of shared bleak humor that comes with working in the shittiest conditions known to man and, apparently, spending time in prison too. The voice continues with a sly undertone that lends itself well to the affected accent of the Promenade. “Still, food on the table and a roof over my head and topside footing the bill. I’m considering the merits of making it my summer home. ‘Stillwater Manor’ sounds very refined, don’t you think?”

As they stump into the echoing depleted cavern, tobacco smoke curls through the air, though smoking down in the mines is a dangerous game to the point that bringing a match or lighter down is highly regulated. Yet the thirty hewers of their shift fan out to sprawl onto the rough stone floors on either side of the cart rails, and all of the more experienced members of the crew seem to be taking this as expected and normal, throwing out greetings as they haul out their lunch pails and settle in.

Taking off their protective gear is more than just against regulations, it’s a stupid idea: yet there’s a helmet hanging from a rivet in one of the support ribs of the walls, head lamp pointed down to illuminate a book in the lap of a shadowed figure comfortably sprawled out lounging while the rest of them busted their asses. In the dark and with the light focused on the book in front of him, all Vander really gets is a glimpse of stick-thin legs resting on top of the thick leather uniform jacket as if it’s a cushion. 

Vander’s not even really a tight-ass about the regulations. Just someone who understands why these particular rules exist, and how dangerously stupid it is to ignore them.

So, overall--not the greatest of first impressions. 

“You ever consider not getting arrested, Silco? It’s getting to be a pain in the ass for the foreman to pull you out of there.” Cray may be their shift supervisor but down this far he’s just another one of them, putting his back into it to lead by example. Until Vander came along he was the biggest of the crew and did that just in productivity alone, and he’s a well-respected and liked man overall. But leading by example extends beyond hauling rocks and apparently means plunking himself down next to this ‘Silco’ and hooking his helmet off of the bolt, dropping it down onto his head and then thumping his loose fist on top of it. As Vander settles nearby, feet braced against the rail, he can hear Cray’s voice lower, his tone a warmly affectionate warning. “Keep your helmet on, kid. We had a rib pop about a month after you were pinched. Sully didn’t make it out.”

“When they’re given the choice between having me break rocks up there and break rocks down here, I always end up back in the mines. Congratulations, even Stillwater thinks this is a worse punishment than prison.” There are a few of the men who have clearly done time as well who raise their canteens in a toast to that, and the echoing clamor of ribald and lively conversations pick up, letting the newcomer drop his charismatic performance to respond to Cray. He sounds different without a crowd to perform to, and Vander has to strain to listen as he sits nearby and opens up his thermos of leftover stew. “I heard the news when I came in. He was a good man, it’s going to be hard to replace him. …Though I assume that’s why we have the eavesdropping newcomer.”

When the headlamp swings his way, Vander turns and squints against the glare of it being directly aimed at him until his eyes adjust to the light.

Vander’s second impression is an entirely different matter. 

For Vander’s first job, he had been a dockhand where the River Pilt met the Conqueror’s Sea, saltwater and freshwater slow to mingle in the estuary. The brackish waters were a pretty shade of blue-green under the too-bright sunlight, beautiful and troubled, river eternally forced to cede to the overpowering force of the ocean. 

Staring into brilliant, challenging eyes, Vander’s second impression is just ‘pretty.’ Which is probably stupid to think about a dirty little thing so grayed in coal dust that it looks like he’d rolled in it, no matter how striking his eyes are under direct lamplight. 

“Vander, Silco. Silco, Vander. He’s a cousin of mine, so maybe try to be nice to him?”

“Half of you up in the sumps are cousins and all the rest of you call each other siblings. I’m not going to ‘be nice’ to any of them until they prove they’ve earned it.”

It’s an interesting way to phrase things, almost like a slip of the tongue. There are damn few people in the world who would consider the Sumps to be ‘up’ from anywhere at all, even in the undercity. You’d have to be looking up from the bottom of the fissures or the mines themselves to see the world that way. That combined with the Proms accent doesn’t make sense, but Vander just files it away for now as he offers an amiable smile and an extended hand.

“Well, let’s just hope I can earn it, then. Pleasure to meet you, Silco.”

It’s hard not to feel like he’s being dissected when under the glaring bright light of Silco’s headlamp, sharp eyes assessing him. It certainly makes it easier for Vander to do the same without it being awkward, despite being the only thing the other can see clearly for that moment. 

‘Slim’ isn’t a surprising nickname—he’s built small and wiry, all limbs and no bulk to him. There’s a shrewd, wary intelligence in his eyes but one of them is bloodshot; beneath the coal dust Vander suspects he has a black eye and a gash on his cheekbone that he’s trying to conceal. Stillwater wasn’t the picnic that he wants to pretend it was, and the second he’s in direct light it’s obvious. Vander’s nineteen and he’d estimate Silco’s seventeen or eighteen, but he talks as if he’s been a part of this crew for years, he’s gone to Stillwater more than once in that time, and he is perhaps overly comfortable in the mines. 

And he’s a snarky shit who doesn’t even pretend like he’s going to shake Vander’s hand. 

Instead bandaged fingers bring his cigarette back up to his lips as he drags in one last deep pull before stubbing it out on the toe of his boot and pushing himself to his feet, Vander’s outstretched hand completely ignored.  

“Charmed.” His voice is dry, sarcastic, and then he’s back to the show of it all again so others can hear. Illuminated from below by Vander and Cray, they watch as he tucks the book into the small of his back to be held in place by a cinched in belt, then tugs on a uniform jacket. “New rule number one of these mines, Vander. If you see your blaster run, you get the hell out and if I tell you to stand clear you stay the hell out. Cray, I’ll be at the third inbye. You haven’t done anything with it since I’ve been gone.”

“We hit solid on that one about three weeks after you were picked up, slim. I could have asked for another blaster since mine decided to spit in an Enforcer’s face, but then I’d have a harder time convincing them we needed you bailed out.”

Standoffish towards newcomers or not, it’s clear that Silco’s deeply embedded in the crew and they’re looking out for their own. Mining communities are tight-knit like that, and they may squabble among themselves but they’re viciously protective of each other among outsiders. It’s one of their best qualities, and has carried over into the culture of the Sumps. The Enforcers picked up the youngest member of the forward line, and they raised enough hell to get him back out a little early by grinding their operations to a crawl. 

“I’d thank you, but now they’re making me work off that bail so I’m doing this for half my take for about as long as I’d have been behind bars. Which as far as I’m concerned means I’m not being paid to be nice to any of you.” Cray grimaces, but Silco’s wry, slanted smirk doesn’t slip as he shoves his tied-back hair up into his helmet and grabs up a leather toolbag. Wedging a rod through the strap, lighting a safety lamp, and tucking a stub of chalk behind his ear, he then waves a hand lazily as he lopes into the dark. “Tell Myra not to wait the cart on me at shift’s end. I need a chance to get some prospecting done while you’re all out of my way. Draw straws for who’s going to butty me, because I’m blowing something up tomorrow one way or another. ”

“Try not to make it one of us!” One of the miners pipes in, and Silco huffs his amusement as others laugh, but he’s disappeared into the dark, just a narrow silhouette and an uneven bob of a light as he heads to the tunnels, voice echoing back to them.

“Half pay, so I only half promise.”

Vander frowns after him, and based on tone he’s fairly sure Cray is doing the same. “Don’t mind Silco. He takes a while to warm up to people…”

“Your blaster is limping and beat to hell from being in prison. He’s going to get himself killed.”

“The limp isn’t from Stillwater, it’s why he got himself picked up in the first place.” Cray passes over a hunk of bread for Vander in exchange for a portion of the stew, and together they eat side by side. Vander doesn’t have to ask him to explain, his silence says enough. “We had a shitty roof bolter, it’s why the rib popped on Sully too. Too much strain on a pillar ended up with a rockburst. Snapped Silco’s leg like a twig, and it’s only because he’s a fast little bastard that his leg wasn’t just crushed and him along with it. He went from the medical tent straight up to the first Enforcer he saw, picked a fight and let them think they fucked up his leg. So, Stillwater foots the medical bills and gives him three hots and a cot while he can’t work to feed himself or keep a roof over his head anyway. He’s done it before, and him being a kid usually lands him a short stint, too. We’d have left him in for another couple of months to finish healing up...”

But they were threatening to replace him. So Silco is back with a half-healed leg in a job that requires him to be fast on his feet or be caught in his own blasts, doing overnight deadwork that isn’t even going to get him paid, and still dryly quipping with the people who screwed up his plans to let himself heal. 

He’s also not really a kid anymore, so the trick with the Enforcers isn’t going to get him leniency in sentencing for much longer if he goes and gets himself injured again. And it’s clear he’s not exactly making himself friends in prison, either.

“Don’t draw straws.” 

Silco needs a partner, but whoever is stuck with him loses the chance for production bonuses while they’re paired up, and risks being blown up alongside him. Vander has a roof over his head, can get by on the daily wage. Plus he’s pretty sure he could throw the cantankerous little shit over his shoulder and book it faster than Silco can run right now. 

Cray’s scrutinizing him, light bright on Vander’s face again, but he just dunks stale bread into three day old stew and continues eating. 

“…Well, guess we’d better get you the gauntlets, then.”

[wafflexdguy]

Powering Off.

It's a normal day!

Until it isn't.

A Vee x Reader.

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

Side note: look up what happens when pressure builds up and you'll realize what happened.

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

When Gardenview closed down, the Toons stook together. Because they were all they had left. You were among those Toons. An Unnamed character that somehow got popular enough to get your own Toon for a one-off occasion. The anniversary of Gardenview opening. 

It was lucky enough that you were able to come into existence. You chose your own name, one that you felt you were comfortable with. 

You got along with the other Toons just fine, the one that you interacted with anyway. Dandy, Astro, Vee, Goob, Scraps... You've met some of the Toons, but all of them were aware of your existence in some capacity. You don't know most of the other Toons on a personal level either. Which was fine, you kind of liked being alone anyway. You were used to it. 

You got along with Vee pretty well. You hang out with her a lot, and she seems to enjoy your presence. You don't really go on her gameshows though, just kind of participate in the crowd. She's invited you a few times to host with her, which you accepted. 

...Until she revoked your second invitation because you made too many jokes. 

It annoyed her, but you two never stopped hanging out. It was weird in a way; the loner hangs out with the extrovert all the time. 

Funny.

Eventually, you found Vee in her room practicing for her next gameshow, reading over questions, practicing which tone she'll be using, putting in the whole nine yards for a small audience. You decided to interrupt her practice. 

"Salutations, Vee." You formally greeted, which grabbed the televisions attention. She smiled when her digital eyes landed on you, walking up to you. 

"Greetings to my #1 contestant!" She put her hands behind her back. "What can I do for you today?"

You smiled as you put your hands behind your back. "Well, I was just hoping I could stick around and watch you practice your show."

She perked up, smiling brighter. "Actually, I have a better idea." She went over to a box, digging through it as you looked at her quizzically. After a moment or two she popped back up with a microphone that wasn't attached to her tail in hand.

"How about you be a practice contestant?" She offered. "Not a real contestant in front of crowds, but as practice, without all the crowds."

You hesitated. Vee noticed and quickly dialed back. "Unless you don't want to, no pressure." She tried to play off cooly. After a moment, you grabbed the microphone from her hand.

"I don't see any harm in it." 

Vee gave a toothy smile. "Great!" She quickly waltzed on over to a crate and stood on top of it. After one robotic clearing of the throat (ignoring that she doesn't have one) she acted as if a spotlight had just shunned down on her and grabbed her microphone. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Today we have one of our most exciting gameshows yet!" She dramatically exclaimed, one hand up in the air and the other holding the microphone up to her face. "And today, as one of our contestants, we have the one, and only...!" 

She said your name as if you were a celebrity. Something she did with all the contestants, but this time she said yours with more vigor. You dramatically waved to the non-existent audience.

"Thank you, thank you! Glad to be here." You attempted to lean on the non-existent podium, only to fall flat on our face.

Vee let out a snort. "Clearly one of our smarter contestants too." She joked.

"Shut up..." You muttered. She let out a robotic giggle as she jumped down from her crate and walked over to you, offering a hand to which you accepted. "Thanks."

"No problem," she offered a smile, "you okay?" She questioned cautiously, still retaining a small smirk. 

You nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's get back to practicing, yeah?" 

Vee shrugged, but you can tell she was still slightly worried. "If you insist." She waltzed back on over to the crate and climbed back on top of it. In a single moment, she was back in character, giving the confident smirk and a hand on her hip. 

"Question one:" She started, "How many legs does a lobster have?"

Finn usually gives off fish facts... a bit too often whenever he isn't making puns about them. Or even when he's giving puns about them. Either way, you know he's mentioned this once or twice.

"Ten." You confidently answer. Vee digs around in her bowtie, pulling out a card and reading over it for a moment. He screen turns into a checkmark as she gives a thumbs up.

"Ding ding ding! Correct!" She tosses the card behind her without a second thought. "That's 5 points to the contestant that answered first!" You let out a small chuckle as she got more and more into the act.

"Second question: What is a Deodar?" Vee questioned, raising her microphone towards you as you tried to think of a reasonable answer. The only thing you could come up with is a brand of deodorant.

"A.... Deodorant?" You guessed. Like clockwork, Vee pulls out a card from her bowtie once again and reads over it. 

A red 'X' flashes on her screen. She imitates a buzzer sound. "Sorry! Unfortunately, that's incorrect." She gives a weak smile. "The correct answer was a large Evergreen tree!"

You slightly beat yourself up for getting that wrong. Obviously the first thing you think of when 'deodar' comes up is 'deodorant'. You don't show it though and allow Vee to continue, only letting out a small 'dang' as a response to the failed question.

Vee discards the second card. "Third question:" Vee's toothy grin is now apparent and more obvious. "This one's a doozy," Vee commented, "Where in the human body would you find the medulla oblongata?"

"Oh!" A third voice enters the fray. "Is it in the brain?"

You look over to where the voice came from: Scraps appearing into your view as she smiles innocently. Vee's once happy go lucky attitude and expression evaporates into air as she quickly rummages through her bowtie, retrieving the card and quickly reading it over.

Vee glares at Scraps. "Of course you got that one right..." Vee mutters, clearly seething. You just tilted your head.

"How'd you get that one?" You questioned, not noticing Vee slightly fuming on top of the crate. 

Scraps just shrugged. "Just a lucky guess."

Vee rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. "It's always a lucky guess." Vee grumbles as she hops down from her crate. "What do you want, Scraps?" She asks, unamused by the sudden intrusion. 

"Oh, right!" Scraps perks up. "Glisten wanted me to go get you for something, he didn't tell me what it was."

"Of course he does." Vee mutters something about 'breaking another microphone' and starts to move past Scraps, not even sparing a glance. 

"Are you mad at me?" Asked Scraps.

"Yes." Vee simply replies.

"Oh." 

Vee exits the room with you not too far behind her. You quickly catch up to her, looking at her quizzically trying to figure out what she was mad about.

"So," You started, "what was all of that about?" You tried to not come off as demanding when saying that, or rude. She just looks over to you briefly and sighs. 

"Scraps always 'guesses' my questions correctly." She explains. "Doesn't matter how hard it is, or how dumb it is, she always gets it right!" She yells angrily, throwing her hands up in the air as she continues to walk with you by her side.

"Which two months of the year are named for mortal men?" She questions, not towards you but more of an imitation. "Oh, July and August!" She answers herself; imitating Scraps voice. 

"Cows produce 3% less milk when listening to what kind of music?" She presses forward. "Country music?"

Vee lets out a small, frustrated grunt. "It's always her getting the right answer, no matter how hard the questions are, it's like clockwork that she guesses them correctly, every. Single. Time." She facepalms herself. "It's just more annoying than infuriating, at this rate I'm going to lose all of my prizes to give out to contestants." 

You pat her on the back. "Hey, that lucky streak can't keep going on forever." You attempt to reassure her. "And you'll get her eventually." 

Vee perks up at that. She smiles softly.  "Thanks, bonehead. I appreciate that."

"Bonehead, huh?" You smile. "Was that for failing the 'deodar' question?" 

Vee scrambles herself as she attempts to correct herself. "Er- No! It wasn't meant as-"

"Kidding, kidding. I know what you meant." You stick your tongue out at her. Vee composes herself as she chuckles.

"You're the worst, you know that?" You only giggle in response.

"So I've been told."

Both of you were interrupted by a sudden rumbling sound coming from the next room. The old playroom of Gardenview. Well, it's more of a library, but the kids never treated it like that, they always ran around even when they weren't supposed to. Both of you look at each other confused as the rumbling continues. 

You're the first one to speak up. "Uh, should we go check that out?" Vee looks back at the room. It wasn't anything out of a horror movie, the place was still well lit. No real sense of danger other than the rumbling sound.

"I don't see why not." Vee answers, beginning to walk over towards the library with you in tow. 

The room looked well kept; most likely by Dandy, who hasn't stopped trying to keep the place neat and tidy ever since the place closed down. The rumbling in the room, unfortunately couldn't be pinned down to one location, which annoyed both you and Vee. 

"Of course it's never easy..." Vee mutters, looking around briefly to try and track down the source of the noise. She taps her foot as her tail sways around, occasionally flicking around as Vee's frustration grows higher.

"Hey," She grabs your attention as you look inside a room -not entering it-, looking at you. "Maybe it would be easier if we split up. Just to cover more ground." She clarifies. 

"You sure?" You ask to confirm. Vee nods and you take that as your cue to look around, Vee briefly following behind you before splitting to look for the source of the noise. 

You don't have much luck. You see a few machines here an there, almost as if they're containers for something, but they're empty. So whatever was supposed to be in there, you won't know for now. 

Your search stops as you come across a poster. Usually featuring the Toons that are more prevalent in the show, but this one shows you; the one from the Gardenview anniversary. It describes you- What would have been you if the lawsuits hadn't come up. You sigh solemnly as you realize what you could have probably had. 

Too late to do anything about it now, though. 

you continue to walk around for a bit, coming across of fan mail directed towards the Toons. You find some that feature Astro, Dandy, Sprout, Cosmo... It was good times. Of course, you were only there in spirit, just kind of watching it unfold because corporate wanted you to stay hidden until the big reveal on anniversary day. But still, good times.

"Hey!" A robotic voice cuts through your reminiscing. "Think I found it."

You look to where the voice is, and It's Vee poking her head out from behind a bookshelf. You immediately walk over to her.

"You found it?"

Vee nods, gesturing her head towards the sound. "Yeah, turns out it's this-"

...

She doesn't get the time to finish her sentence as whatever she was gesturing towards exploded, sending what you could make out to be glass shards, mechanical parts and a black liquid. Ichor.

It sends her flying back, hitting a nearby table. You yell her name as you immediately rush towards her, sliding on your knees as you try to assess her situation. Her situation being that nothing seemed damaged or injured, but the unsettling amount of Ichor that she's covered in is unsettling. 

"Holy- Are you okay?!" You ask, grabbing her hand. She sits up slightly as she rubs her head.

"Yeah- I think?" She stands up as she shakes off the Ichor off her off hand. "What the hell was that?!" She yells, looking over to where the explosion happened. You look over too, seeing what was one of those machines earlier, except now mangled and broken beyond repair. 

She huffs. "Stupid fricking machine." She mutters, attempting to shake off the Ichor, with only partial success. "Ugh, I'm going to have to get Tisha to help me out with this. And I have a show coming up in a few days and this happens."

You don't get any Ichor on you when she waves her arm again trying to get the Ichor off, to no success, this time seemingly sticking like glue. Vee lets out a disgusted sound as she just dangles her arm there, with the goop slicking down like a weird slime. 

You sigh. "Well, hey; go check up with Tisha and get yourself cleaned up, m'kay? I'll go to Glisten on your behalf to save you the trouble, sound good?"

Vee looks at you, then her arm. With a sigh, she nods slowly. You give her a thumbs up and then make your way to the exit of the library. 

...

Was she supposed to be feeling sick?

-Pretend like I put a really smooth transition here wooooooooo-

Glisten didn't want much, only to show off to Vee that he built his own stage and seats out of an old room, much to Dandy's annoyance, who was off to the side with his hands behind his back. You didn't really care much for it, and you knew Vee wouldn't either if she was here. 

Glisten was disappointed that you were the one that got to witness his show-off, but nonetheless, here you are. 

As you walk away from the (rather loud and long) lecture about how to 'properly set up a stage', you come across Tisha. Who was walking way with a trash bag of... Something, you couldn't tell what it was from a glance. 

"Oh, hey, Tisha." You wave to her, immediately grabbing her attention. She waves back as she calls your name back happily. You walk up to her with a friendly smile weary with exhaustion.

"How's Vee?" You quickly ask, hoping for the best. 

She smiles wide in return. "Oh, she's doing great! Came to me covered in Ichor though and it was... really hard to get off..." She drifts her eyes to the trash bag, holding it up slightly. It's only now that you're noticing her hands are covered with Ichor. 

"Really hard getting it off." She repeats. "But I did it! I was just going to throw this out but... She looked like she was about to throw up."

You stiffen up at that. 

"Strange because she doesn't have... Y'know, a mouth to throw up from?" She comments, putting a hand up to her chin. "She said that she was going to her room if you wanted to go see her."

You recompose yourself. "I'll go do that. Thanks for the help, Tisha!" You wave off as you walk away. She waves you away as she goes out to take out the trash. 

You power walk your way to Vee's room. You figured her feeling sick was due to her colliding with the table from the explosion. Speaking of, you should probably go let Dandy know that the library was now considered a hazard due to that. 

You sigh, either way, you'll go help her. It's the least you can do; you figure; for being such a good friend.

As you make your way to Vee's room, you considered just walking on in like you always do, but... For some reason you felt like this time you should knock. Just out of respect.

As you do, you hear a weak 'doors open'. You gently open the door.

"Vee? You okay?"

Vee immediately perks up from her bed, looking over at you with a weak smile. "Hey, good to see you again!" 

"It's only been a few hours." You joke, leaving Vee chuckling nervously. 

"Yeah... It's just..." Vee pauses. "What's that look for?" 

You point at her. "Your eyes and antennae are different." You point out. Confused, Vee grabs a mirror and looks at herself, immediately noting the enlarged antennae and red dots in her eyes. 

"That's..." She pauses, "New."

"The unsettling kind of new." You finish, walking up to her and sitting beside her as she continues to inspect herself. She flicks at her antennae and makes other gestures with her face to see if the red glint will go away. None of her attempts work.

You clutch the bed. "How're you feeling?"

She looks back at you, trying to come up with the right words. "How do you describe it...? It feels like my stomachs twisting." She describes for you, leaving you giving a weak chuckle.

"And you don't even have a stomach."

"That's not funny."

"I know."

"This shouldn't be happening..." She stresses. "I shouldn't feel like I'm sick, I-I'm mechanical." You put a hand up to your chin, attempting to think of an answer to that problem.

You come up with something. "Did you download a virus?"

"I'll show you a virus-!" Vee jolts towards you, raising a fist before quickly catching herself. You flinch back, throwing your hands up in defense. Vee backs up from you, trying to give you space to feel more at ease.

"Sorry- I don't-" She keeps cutting herself off. "I don't know why I did that."

You start to get up. "I should go get Rodger, he might know what's going on with you." You start to walk towards the exit, only for Vee to grab onto your wrist. 

"W-Wait! Don't!" She pleads. "Don't leave me alone like this, please..." 

Your pupils dilate. "V-Vee... Your stomach."

She looks down at herself.

...

Taking the saying 'your stomach will eat itself' too literally here, Ichor begins to leak from her stomach region. 

She immediately panics, screaming as she attempts to cover her wounds with her hands, to no avail. You immediately grab her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

"What's happening to me?!" She quickly grabs your arms, her grip probably could cut off blood flow if you had any. 

You stutter as you attempt to come up with a cohesive answer to what was happening to her. "I- I don't know! I don't know h-how to..." Your hands were shaking. You knew this wasn't normal; there's just no way. 

"I- I'll go find someone; I'll go get help-" You failed to do so as Vee adjusted her grip onto your wrists.

"Don't! P-Please don't leave me here alone!" Digital tears flow from the digital eyes as they look at you pleadingly. You're panicking. You don't know what to do, what you could do.

"Vee, I don't- I don't know how to fix this!" You manage to get words out. "I have to go get help; I can't do anything by myself right now..."

You try to think of a temporary solution. 

"Count to 100 for me."

Her trembling gaze looks at you confused. 

"I have to go, count to 100 and I promise I'll be back by then, okay?"

Hesitantly and weakly, she nods. She lets go of your wrists and you immediately run to go find some help. She does as you say.

"One...

Two...

Three...

Four....

Five..."

'Why does it feel like my body is tearing itself apart?' She wonders through pained sobs.

"Six...

Seven...

Eight...

Nine...

Ten..."

'Why does it have to hurt so much...?' She thinks despite agonizing moments.

"Eleven...

Twelve...

Thirteen...

Fourteen...

Fifteen..."

'Please...'

"Seventeen...

Eighteen..."

'Somebody...'

"Nineteen...

...Twenty...

Help me..."

[aventurineswife]

Hello I hope you have a good day :3

May I request Sunday, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu and Moze with the reader who is like Nikki from Shining Nikki?

Reader is kind and thoughtful, despite their enthusiasm, they still an introvert and somewhat modest about their abilities.

I hope my silly request won't be difficult for you 🥺

The Heart's Unseen Light

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Moze x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Nikki (Shining Nikki) based Reader, Emotional Intensity, Romance, Inner Conflict, Quiet Strength, Healing and Compassion, Self-Doubt, Empathy, Vulnerability, Philosophical Themes, Idealism vs. Reality, Mentorship Quiet Resilience, Supportive Relationships.

Warnings: Mild emotional tension, Internal conflict, Vulnerability, Subtle romantic undertones, Mentorship and guidance.

The scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air of the high-rise building’s expansive office. You sat in the corner, a soft smile gracing your lips as you adjusted the delicate fabric of your blouse, its soft hues complementing the quiet elegance you always wore. The hum of the bustling office barely reached you; you preferred the solitude of your own thoughts, your introverted nature finding peace in the quiet moments.

Aventurine, however, was a world apart from your serene existence. His flamboyant energy seemed to electrify the space as he strode into the room, his eyes flicking over to you. He always seemed to bring a burst of vibrant life with him, a stark contrast to your more understated presence.

"Ah, there you are," Aventurine’s voice cut through the air, smooth and rich with the cadence of someone used to getting what they wanted. He gave you one of his signature smiles—a charming, calculated expression that masked his true intentions. "I trust you're not too buried in work today, are you?"

You looked up from the papers you’d been absently flicking through, your cheeks heating slightly. Despite your best efforts, it was hard to ignore the magnetic presence he commanded. You shook your head, offering him a polite smile.

“No, just catching up on a few things. It’s a quiet day,” you replied softly, not wanting to make too much noise, even though you secretly enjoyed his presence.

He raised an eyebrow, his earring catching the light as his gaze lingered on you for a moment too long. “A quiet day?” He leaned closer, the warmth of his smile almost overwhelming. “I doubt anything with you ever stays quiet for long.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling a slight flutter in your chest. Aventurine was always so self-assured, so bold, and you were... well, you were you—kind, thoughtful, and content with being in the background. Still, you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Beneath the mask of charm and the dazzling exterior, there were cracks, little hints that there was something more beneath the surface. Something vulnerable, though he hid it well.

“I’m just...” You paused, unsure how to express it. “I like to take things slowly, I guess.” You stammered out a laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, even as the slightest bit of anxiety bubbled within.

Aventurine seemed to sense the shift in your energy. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he studied you, a glimmer of genuine curiosity behind his eyes. "Slowly, you say?" His voice softened, almost contemplative. "I suppose not everyone is as eager to race ahead as I am. But," he flashed his signature grin again, "I’ve always admired people who know when to take a step back. It’s an art form, really."

You felt your cheeks burn at his words, unsure how to respond. You were modest about your talents, always so aware of your limitations compared to others, especially someone like him. His unrelenting self-confidence made you want to retreat further into your shell, but there was something about his words—something genuine—that made you want to stay.

“I don’t know about art,” you murmured, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m just... trying to do what I can, when I can.”

Aventurine’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, more subtly this time. His eyes softened as he observed you. “You’re not like most people, are you?” he said, more to himself than to you, though you could still hear the underlying admiration in his voice.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity that flashed in his eyes. Before you could process his words, he placed a hand gently on the back of your chair, the weight of his touch sending an unexpected warmth through you. "Keep playing it your way," he continued, his tone low and quiet. "Sometimes the greatest moves are the ones nobody sees coming."

Aventurine straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face, as if the moment had never happened. But you could feel the change, the way his presence lingered longer than it usually did.

“Now,” he said, eyes twinkling once more with that familiar mischievousness, “I believe there’s a certain game I’m due to win. Care to join me?”

The dimly lit training room smelled faintly of incense and leather, an environment where every step felt deliberate, every action precise. You stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the strap of your gear, and tried to steady your nerves. Your heart raced, but you fought the fluttering inside, your thoughts swirling with doubt. It wasn’t that you were afraid—no, it was just... you never quite felt like you belonged in the world of secrecy and shadow where Moze thrived.

Moze, for his part, remained a silent figure at the back of the room. His eyes were sharp as ever, watching you with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. The Shadow Guard rarely spoke, his presence like an impenetrable wall of cool detachment. Yet, there was a certain weight to his silence that you had come to understand. He was always analyzing, always calculating, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at you.

"How is your technique?" His voice cut through the stillness, low and unyielding, yet without a trace of judgment. His presence loomed behind you, but he gave you the space you needed to answer.

You exhaled softly, fighting to keep your hands steady. "I think it’s... okay," you said, modest as always. "I’m not as fast as I should be, but I’m trying." You straightened your stance, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

A single eyebrow arched ever so slightly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something in Moze’s eyes—something that wasn’t just cold calculation, but perhaps a hint of acknowledgment. "Trying is all any of us can do," he said, his words almost a rarity for someone who spoke so little. "It’s not about speed. It’s about control."

You turned to face him, unsure if he was speaking about the mission ahead or about you. But Moze's gaze never wavered, and for some reason, his presence settled the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. Despite his stoic nature, he seemed to understand more than he let on.

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Especially you."

There was a brief silence before Moze took a single step closer. His violet eyes never left yours, but there was something about the way his gaze softened, just for a fraction of a moment, that made your heart skip a beat.

"You won’t disappoint," Moze said, his tone as cold and detached as always. But there was a depth in his words that made you believe him, despite yourself.

You were surprised at the small warmth you felt from his reassurance, though you didn’t dare show it. Moze had always been a man of few words, and even fewer emotions. Yet, in this brief exchange, you realized that there was more to him than just the hardened exterior of the assassin.

"Don’t overthink it," he continued, stepping back, his demeanor returning to its usual icy calm. "Perfection is a myth. It’s about finding your own rhythm. I trust you’ll do what’s necessary."

You nodded, still a bit overwhelmed by the brief connection you’d shared. As Moze disappeared into the shadows, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of determination build within you. Perhaps, just like him, you had the strength to endure, no matter the challenges ahead.

The golden halo behind Sunday’s head shimmered faintly as he gazed into the night sky, a small but visible crack in his otherwise serene expression. The Astral Express was quiet at this hour, the rhythmic hum of the train offering a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. Yet, a certain warmth had settled beside him—one that, despite his ever-present calm, stirred something deep within him.

It was you.

You sat beside him on the deck, a cup of tea held gently in your hands, the steam rising in delicate tendrils. Your presence was always a balm to him, a reminder of the quiet beauty that could be found in the world, even amidst his turbulent soul.

“Are you troubled?” you asked softly, your voice like a soft breeze that broke through the tension he could never seem to shake. You were perceptive, always knowing when something weighed on him, though you rarely pushed him to speak. It was a trait that Sunday had come to admire deeply, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why you seemed so different from others who had tried to approach him in the past.

He turned his gaze to you, his expression unreadable. Yet, there was something in his eyes—something tender, something only you seemed to understand. “I wonder,” he began, his voice soft but filled with unspoken gravity, “if people like me are capable of true happiness. I’ve seen so much suffering… and, sometimes, I wonder if my vision is just a fleeting illusion.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup before setting it down. Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you knew Sunday was not one to be swayed by fleeting emotions. His inner conflict ran deep, shaped by his past and his ideals.

“You’ve helped so many, Sunday,” you said quietly, your voice steady but warm. “Perhaps the answer isn’t in achieving perfect happiness. Perhaps it’s in the moments you bring light to others… even when the world feels heavy.”

His wings fluttered slightly at the edge of his ears, a subtle indication of the emotions he didn’t often show. He leaned back, his gaze now softening as he took in your words.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual melancholic demeanor. "But how can I keep fighting when the road ahead feels so uncertain?"

You leaned closer, gently touching his hand in a gesture of comfort. The warmth of your touch grounded him, making the weight of his doubts feel a little lighter. You had always been a source of peace for him, in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

“We don’t have to have all the answers, Sunday,” you said with a quiet sincerity that made his heart skip a beat. “But as long as we keep walking forward, we can find meaning in what we do—no matter how small it may seem.”

Sunday’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be present. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the vast expanse of the stars.

“I suppose that’s enough,” he whispered, a fragile but hopeful smile gracing his lips.

The air in the Yaoqing war tent was thick with the scent of alchemical potions and herbs. Jiaoqiu moved with quiet precision, his hands steady despite the fatigue that clung to him. His eyes, sharp yet closed, betrayed nothing of the torment that simmered beneath his calm exterior. He had grown used to the constant cycle of life and death, but it never became easier.

You had been assisting him for days now, and despite your modest nature, your quiet determination had earned his trust. He could feel the gentleness in your touch, the careful way you adjusted bandages or prepared the healing mixtures. Despite your introverted demeanor, there was an energy to you that couldn’t be ignored—a warmth that contrasted the grim atmosphere of the battlefield.

Jiaoqiu paused as you approached, your soft steps barely a whisper against the stone floor. You were carrying a fresh batch of herbs for the next round of medicine, your usual enthusiasm tempered by the heaviness of the war surrounding you.

“Here,” you said quietly, offering the herbs to him with a modest smile. “I thought these might help with the soldiers’ recovery.”

He reached for the herbs, his fingers brushing against yours. For a moment, you froze, the subtle connection sparking an unexpected warmth within you. Jiaoqiu’s seemed to sense your presence in a way that was both disarming and comforting.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and gentle as always. “You have a kind heart, even if you don’t show it often.”

You shifted, embarrassed by the compliment. Despite your kindness, you always found it difficult to accept praise, especially from someone as composed as Jiaoqiu. “I—I just want to help,” you stammered. “I’m not as skilled as you.”

Jiaoqiu smiled, the edges of his lips curving upward in a way that softened his usually serious demeanor. “Skills can be taught,” he replied, his voice laced with wisdom. “But the heart—the desire to help others—that is something much rarer. You have that in abundance.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart flutter, both touched and overwhelmed. Despite the war, despite the losses he had witnessed, Jiaoqiu was still able to recognize the goodness in others, even when it was hidden behind quiet modesty.

“You’re doing more than you realize,” he continued, his voice growing more thoughtful. “In a world like this, your compassion is a rare gift. Don’t ever doubt the difference you make.”

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, and though his vision was clouded, there was a depth to his gaze that made you feel understood in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t need to see to understand the weight you carried, the burden of war that had been etched into your soul.

“You—thank you,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. “No need to thank me. Just… keep being who you are. That is more than enough.”

As you turned to leave, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you. “You’ll be all right, you know. In this world full of chaos, your light will always shine through.”

The words, simple as they were, made your heart swell. Despite the ongoing battle, despite the never-ending struggle, you knew that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t walking this path alone. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough to keep going.

[trashno0dle]

between rage and serenity // an xmen au

summary:

All along Erik had been right. Peace, never really was an option. Nor had it ever been part of the question. Charles had just been far too blind, too ignorant to see the truth of that simple fact. So, a voice in the back of his mind murmurs, what are you going to do about it? ~~~ The events of Cuba happen very differently and Charles is forced to live with the aftermath. As he starts to spiral, losing himself in his grief and rage, he makes a vow on Erik's memory that he will create the world that he had wanted for mutants, no matter who or what may stand in his path. Meanwhile, Raven, thinking about the different future she could've had, slowly but surely ends up working through her own pain thanks to the aid of her loved ones. All while she's forced to watch the man she grew up with, her very own brother, lose himself in his own in the process.

snippet from the newest chapter (ch4) below the cut !!

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Once, Charles was a patient man, he could withstand the time it took for certain things to unfold, understanding of the time required to complete such a task like this. Now, however, he’s far from patient. Time isn’t on their side, there very well could be some unforeseen threat lurking around the corner, poised and ready to strike at them at their most vulnerable. He knows how the minds of men work now, he’s spent enough time thinking over each sickening thought overheard in their heads. They’ll wait for the perfect opportunity, use their grief against them and slaughter them like animals. These thoughts seem less like his own and more like Erik’s, he’d been right to distrust the humans, correct in his way of thinking, Charles should’ve listened when he had the chance.

It’s been only a night since his conversation with Hank and waiting isn’t getting any easier, nor is waking up, he finds. How is it that he’s become so horribly dependent on such a foul liquid to unfocus his mind in such a short amount of time? He figures, maybe it’s because he was slightly dependent to begin with, he recalled his early twenties in a sort of bliss, he’d been quite the heavy drinker, he supposed he’d just fallen back into old bad habits. Though worse, quite worse this time around. Raven had been the one to give him a rather harsh wake up call both times things had reached a certain point. There aren’t words to describe just how grateful he is to her for that.

But he hates it, oh he hates being awake, forced to simply exist in a world without him. It’s that unbearable ache in his chest, the chasm in his very soul where Erik’s had resided, both so impossibly intertwined and suddenly everything was ripped away all in an instant. It leaves him bleeding on the scorching sand, choking beneath the thunderous waves of the ocean and swept away from the shore by the relentless tide. Charles curses himself for even wishing for death, as much as he so desperately longs for the silence it would bring, what would Erik think of him if he were to end his own life without seeking the revenge he so desired. It’s that thrill, the rush, the need to avenge his dear one that keeps him going.

In truth, it scares him, if only a little. The idea that he can lose so much of himself in his grief, all his anger. Erik had already taken the majority of his soul with him when he'd been slaughtered, now all that's left is a few shattered pieces that are impossible to fit together, not without the missing remnants which are now lost for good. He's broken, impossibly so, detached from himself in a way that makes it difficult to focus on anything except the few driving forces left in his life, keeping him going and awake through all this pain. 

He's barely coherent, he wants nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep, preferably one which he'll never wake from. Unfortunately, the universe is never so kind to him, it took Erik away from him after all. No, not even fate could be so cruel. Humanity, it was humanity that lashed out in their fear and took the person who he loved so completely, ripped him from his life and continued to taunt him every moment. Asleep, awake, he's always reliving the same nightmare of that cursed beach and a sight he'll never be able to unsee for as long as he lives.

A silent shot. The agonizing pull of Erik’s mind being torn, their connection shattered in one instant. Red, redredredred—

[doctorgirlsblog]

Merz Prinzessin vs. Dutch Lion (series)

Part 9: Bad Timing

"Lando?", she spun around, totally surprised to see him. He just smiled softly, shoving his hands in his hoodie as he came closer.

"Waiting for someone?" he whispered, eyes locked on hers.

"I..actually yes. Sorry, it is nice to see you, I just didn't expect it..not after what happened."

"Yeah.. I took some time to think everything through. I want to give this, us, a second chance Aria. Because I love you. And I don't care what happened between you and Max, as long as you choose me. I know that there somewhere," -he stepped even closer to her so they were chest to chest, before he put his hand gently over her heart,- "in that heart of yours, you love me too."

Before she had time to react, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her like a man starved. Aria's eyes widened, as she gasped into his mouth, putting her hands on chest in attempt to push him away.

But what Max saw at that moment, standing above the pathway, looked completely different. With a disappointed shake of his head, he dropped the roses on the patio before turning around and leaving. As he sat back in his parked car, he could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears. He hit the steering wheel repeatedly, closing his eyes, his breathing ragged.

"Why?! Why would you do this to me?" He felt completely crushed by what he saw; their kiss played on repeat in his head.

He stayed still for a couple of minutes more before he started his car, driving back home, ready to drown his thoughts about her in alcohol.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

"Lando, wait." Aria managed to push him away. Her lips were red and swollen and she ignored little devil on her shoulder telling her how good he felt. She couldn't, she won't do this to Max.

"Aria, what are you-?"

"Please wait. I don't want to hurt you again Lando. I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't be with you."

"What? Why?" Lando spoke sadly, looking at her like a kicked puppy, and she knew that she had to let him down gently, not wanting to sadden him even more.

She caressed his cheek with her hand, Lando instantly leaning into her touch, as she spoke gently.

"Part of me will always love you, Lan. But I can't be with you. I'm sorry; I have to go." And with that her touch was gone, and so was she.

As she neared the stairs leading to the parking lot, she stopped dead in her tracks. Blue roses lay scattered on the ground, petals crushed. She picked one up, her eyes already tearing up as she looked around the lot.

"Oh Max.."

Seems like not all fairytales have a happy ever after.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Max kept drowning his sorrows in all kinds of alcohol he had available, looking at his phone that hadn't stopped ringing for an hour. Funny, he thought to himself, how he had waited for those calls for so long. There were dozens of unread messages, every single one from her, and Max had to sustain the desire to read at least one.

"Never again, Aria. Never again."

And knowing Max Verstappen, that was a promise.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Aria kept calling; Max's promise played on repeat in her head. Thinking back on how it must have looked to him, she understood why he wasn't answering. She kept trying, nonetheless.

The next race weekend arrived, but Aria felt like a plague in the paddock. Charlotte's inability to attend didn't help matters either. Lando was staying away from her, even though she caught him glancing at her sadly whenever she was near.

Max, on the other hand, was a menace. Angry since Thursday and media day, driving recklessly and reacting aggressively toward anyone who dared to say something. Still, he managed to drive perfect times, leaving Aria in second place, two seconds behind, in qualifying. Yet, when he did look at her, it seemed like he was looking at a ghost, because his eyes were dull and empty, not a single emotion showing on his face. It was like to him, Aria didn't exist anymore.

She kept staring at him from her garage, contemplating whether it would be absolutely crazy to go over to him. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, breaking her stare, so she turned around.

"Norris is here. Wants to talk to you." Elena said softly, nodding towards fidgeting Lando, standing in the corner.

Aria walked over to him, both already dressed in their racing suits.

"Lan.." she said gently.

"Um..I just wanted to see you before the race, to wish you good luck, like every one before. I.."

"I know. I miss this too. Maybe...we could..be friends?"

Lando smiled at her, his smile a little too sour to be sincere. "Yeah..friends."

Aria stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, sighing as she cuddled more into him. At least she managed to make amends with Lando. He understood.

What neither of them saw were paparazzi, currently filming that friendly hug and Max's eyes darkening on the screen stream, before he pulled his visor down.

"I'd better go now. Good luck, Aria. Stay safe," Lando murmured into her ear before pulling away and smiling sadly at the girl.

"Good luck to you too, Lan. See you on the podium," she joked lightly, kissing his cheek. Lando couldn't help but remember all the kisses they shared before those races. Was it really all gone?

With the race about to start and only Max's car in front of her, Aria heard the radio crackle, and Elena's voice came through.

"Good luck Aria. You got this."

Note: The next part will be a red flag. A race flag. Stay tuned.

Tag list:

@m4xgirlie

@amz824

@samriddhisingh

[legalandnotease]

So this Tony Stan from earlier... by the name of @good-news-every-1 got a bit precious about me reminding them Tony Stark and only Tony Stark was to blame for the Snap, despite their best efforts to shift the blame onto everybody else- most notably Steve Rogers.

I mean Tony blamed him and Tony is a totally reliable narrator right? At the same time as he justified creating Ultron (which he was meant to have been sorry about) and spouting HYDRA Rhetoric.

Anyway, this person went off on a tangent and then blocked me. (My first block since my transfer- honored!), but that doesn't stop me having fun at their expense.

A general rule of thumb with people like is aside from using terms they don't understand the meaning of... everything they accuse others of is what they themselves are guilty of.

For example they accuse me of "not being objective"- failing to understand that taking everything Tony Stark says as absolutely truthful and factual is not in any way objective.

....but let's break more of this down. They accuse me of "not addressing thier argument.

Which I did above (when I pointed out Steve stopping Tony murdering Bucky did not result in Thanos victory, and that Tony had a means of contacting Steve but chose not to use it.)

They just chose to ignore it.

There's then this weird section in which they object to me referring to Bucky as Steve's brother.....wait not.. before I get to that.

That is not what a False Dichotomy is.

"False Dichotomy" means to present a limited number of options as if they were the only ones available, not "refusing to accept alternative viewpoints".

This person doesn't even know what the logical fallacies they accuse me of are. They can't even get that right.

Bless this kid.

Anyway, they seem to think that people just because people are not biologically related it means they cannot have a familial relatonship.

Found family and adoptive family are a thing. Loki isn't biologically related to Thor, but they were raised as brothers. This person is meant to be a Loki fan they should know that..right?

Similarly, Bucky was Steve's adoptive brother.

"calling for Tony to murder his real child is somehow a different matter"

This is precisely the kind of emotional blackmail I was referring to in the original post. Tony fans try to use the false dichotomy that *killing children* was the only alternative to bringing the snapped people back 5 years after they had gone, or leaving half the universe dead for the sake of Tony's happiness.

This is two logical falllacies for the price of one: strawmanning and false dichotomy - the actual version.

Reversing the snap or bringing those snapped back to an earlier point would not have killed or erased Morgan Stark. She would still have existed. Nobody was ever asking Tony to *murder his child* - but purely to be less selfish and to help billions of others get their dead children back. Or at least try to do so instead of putting his desires ahead of those of the universe.

Next...

Note the backtrackng "the point wasn't about sacrificing Bucky" because that is exactly what our friend was really expecting Steve to do. Sacrifice his adoptive brother for Tony's convenience and hurt feelsies in Civil War.

They're not biologically related so it doesn't matter right?

"Steve admitted he knew" is not the same as admitting why he didn't tell Tony. There's no evidence that Steve didn't tell him because it was easier.

The evidence suggests he didn't tell him because doing so would endanger Bucky's life. Tony Stark would hunt Bucky down and try to murder him no matter when he found out: and Tony fans know that, they're just in denial. That's why they say "controlled conditions". They know Tony is violent and unstable, they just don't want to admit it because it would mean admitting their fave is not so pure and noble and good as they claim.

That part about Zola is weird too. Do they think Zola wasn't a fascist, or was a good guy? Zola was HYDRA. HYDRA are the MCU version of Nazis...

Well, OK authoritarians, but Zola was the right-hand man of Redskull and Redskull AKA Johann Schmidt was every inch a Nazi. He had an SS Uniform, for goodness sake.

Thinking characters who are canonically members of fascist cults are good because your fave's father happens to have been friends with them isn't very objective

So no, @good-news-every-1 you didn't prove anything. There wasn't a single "fact" in your reblog. Just headcanon, logical fallacies and a lot of errors.

One claim I often see Tony fans making is that Steve was being selfish for not "considering children born during the Snap" in the team's desire to bring everybody back.

This is obviously a form of emotional blackmail After all- how could *anybody* want to erase *billions* of children?

Well, this claim is wrong for a number of reasons

1: There is no evidence of large-scale births or an increasing birth rate during the Snap. Tony fans often say that there must have been millions and milions of children born during the Snap, but this makes no sense because, as a general rule humans do not simply "get over" losing their entire family an "move on".

Even losing one child can be an emotional blow that person never recovers from. Clint Barton lost all 3 of his children, and we know he did not simply "move on" and start a new family.

People do not simply recover from such things in a few years and create new families. It almost never happens.

Furthermore, population dynamics come to play: some planets lost as much as 3/4 of their population due to Thanos pre-Snap genocides.

Even for those who lost "only" half though this would mean half of all birthing females and existing children snapped.

Fewer birthing females means..... a lower birth rate. Also take account of things like infertility and the fact that some women who lost thier children would have been beyond childbearing age: notable case - Queen Ramonda.

Even assuming people were interested in relationships and reproduction (and most were not) the birth rate during the Snap would have been expontentially lower then it was before.

Real life disasters and catastrophes also reveal that it takes a long time for the population to recover. The Black Death killed 1/3 to 1/2 of the population of Europe in the Middle Ages- and it took something along the lines of 3 to 4 centuries for the population to reach the level that it had been before the plague struck.

Literally: it can take HUNDREDS of years for the population to recover. The idea that the world would have returned to normal after only 5 years is ludicrous.

2: The children killed by the Snap.

Half of the human race were snapped. This would have included children. Potentially hundeds of millions of children were killed by the Snap. This is far more than the number who who have been born during the Snap.

There's another issue however: many children would have died after the Snap.

Sick children whose parents or doctors were snapped and were unable to get the medical treatment they needed

Young children whose parents were snapped would have died within a few days if nobody found them.

Children in poorer countries would have been the first to succumb to things like famines and food shortages caused by the Snap.

However, children in rich countries would have followed. Food shortages and the breakdown of intractructure would have caused problems witht the availability of food and medical supplies. Diseases would have become more common without the medicines to keep them in check, and poor sanitation.

In other words, potentiallly hundreds of millions more children would have died after the Snap in addition to those who had been Snappped.

None of those children would have been bought back by Bruce's Snap in Endgame. They would have stayed dead. All because of Tony's selfish insistence that he "didn't change anything from the last 5 years".

So, no matter how Tony fans want to try and twist things: Tony Stark was quite prepared to sacrifice *hundreds of millions* if not billions of children for the sake of his desire to preserve his personal paradise.

He did not, in fact, "save everybody" at all. He saved only those bought back after the Snap and ... not really even them as they had to contend with years of social and economic problems.

You know what the most interesting irony of it all is though? Tony fucked over all those people for nothing. Pepper was already pregnant before the Snap, so reversing it would not have erased Morgan anyway.

[sanasanakun]

I think my favorite part of the dlc’s final boss is how it (can) directly mirror your Tarnished, and by extension, their relationship with Ranni. Obviously, this is coming from me, your resident Ranni glazer who will make everything about her if I can, so please understand this is my interpretation. 

My interpretation is that Miquella/Radahn act as a foil to Ranni/Tarnished, specifically when it comes to the themes of love, consent, and freewill. Now, I know it’s up in the air about how consenual the pact between Radahn and Miquella is. Personally, I see it as non-consensual; Miquella resurrected and controls a puppet of Radahn and/or bewitched him to be his “promised consort.” Given the theme of control with Miquella, I don’t think FromSoft would turn that around on us at the last second. Radahn’s situation is meant to be the final nail in the coffin; a demonstration of what Miquella’s “love” exactly means. Total control over one’s entire self and mind. Anyway, I digress, let’s get into how I see their situation mirroring, and acting as the antithesis, to Ranni and Tarnished. 

First, we’ll examine Miquella and Radahn. Miquella is presented almost throughout the entire game as a beloved figure. He is literally called “Miquella the Kind,” and his actions at the Haligtree paint him as an even more heroic figure. A demi-god who wants to help the weak, the oppressed, and anyone in between who has been scorned by the Golden Order. As we discover in the DLC, Miquella wants to create an “Age of Compassion.” But there’s always a catch, and Miquella’s plan is no exception. Why? Because his new age would remove the free will of everyone by giving him total control of how they feel, act, etc. He’ll make them happy and at peace because they’ll have no choice; they’ll have no self. This is exemplified in literal form with Radahn. The relationship between the two brothers presents itself as a one-sided obsession on Miquella’s part. Though we don't know a ton about them together, I think it’s safe to theorize Radahn didn’t willingly go along with Miquella’s plan. Radahn is canonically a fan of the Golden Order given his admiration of Godfrey and his father, Radagon. I can’t see him wanting to disrupt the current way of things. Plus, I don’t believe Maleania and Radahn would stage a fake war just to get Radahn into a position where he could be resurrected via Mohg. Too many hoops to jump through, so Occam’s Razor says Radahn rejected Miquella. 

Now that’s great and all, but the real meat I want to analyze comes from the actual boss fight, or more specifically, the twos’ body language during the fight. Radahn is an empty shell. He doesn’t have any dialouge aside from small grunts. He doesn’t address us at all, which is entirely unlikely for how he’s been described. He’s a ferocious warlord who values the strength of both his allies and enemies. At the very least, he would address someone as prolific and talented as the PC Tarnished. Yet, he doesn’t. Radahn is literally there to act as “the muscle;” he is the strong and powerful lord that Miquella admired him to be. However, by making Radahn only act like this, Miquella has erased the true essence of what made Radahn. He lacks his soul. Miquella might be the more interesting of the two when it comes to body language. I think Miquella’s theme of control really shines with how he places himself on Radahn during the battle. He is literally draped over Radahn with his arms wrapped around his neck. Obviously, at first glance this is meant to imitate an embrace, solidifying the two as both a team and lovers. Yet, Miquella’s position doubles in meaning when considering his need to control. The arms could represent a collar, with Miquella acting as the leash. His hovering gives off a “helicopter” vibe (for a lack of a better term). While playing I called him a “helicopter parent,” comparing him to where they are constantly looking over your shoulder and trying to direct you. Essentially, Miquella is caging Radahn in his embrace, revealing his need to control the situation and Radahn himself. Miquella is the personification of control; he won’t allow free will to happen because he thinks it causes too much pain and uncertainties. And Radahn, he embodies the fate of those who would live under the Age of Compassion; he is a puppet. Specifically, he is Miquella’s puppet in both battle and love. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter at all. 

So, how is this the antithesis to our beloved blue wife and the Tarnished? Ranni doesn’t appear to help the Tarnished during their fight with the duo, which I’ve seen a few complain about. While I would love to fight alongside my support princess (and I have downloaded the mod lol), I think Ranni appearing would undermine the character FromSoft has established and her relationship with the Tarnished. Ranni is very hands off. She gives her vassals the tools to work with and then tells them to do what they wish with it. She never forces you to do anything you don’t want to. When you confront her about her role in the death of Godwyn, she willingly admits it and then asks you if you’d like to pledge service to her. She doesn’t say, “You know my secrets, therefore you will be in my service so I can keep an eye on you.” Instead, it’s a choice; a choice for someone far below her in class and power, but she gives it to you nonetheless. For Ranni, the ability to choose and live the way you desire is incredibly important. She seems to dislike outside forces messing with the ability to expereince life (as she says feel, see, taste, etc). 

Therefore, in the final battle with Miquella and Radahn, Ranni is there with you via the tools she’s provided and the faith she has in you (you can interpret this as her blessing with the “we will see each other once more”). She doesn’t need to be hovering over you, arms wrapped around your neck; she trusts the Tarnished above all else to succeed and fight for her. But should they choose not to, she’ll be heartbroken but she won’t stop you. As for the Tarnished, our character is not a shell of a person. They are someone teeming with ambition and the will to fight for their chosen successor. They fight because they want to be there and challenge whatever comes to face them; they don’t need Ranni telling them “go fight Miquella and Radahn for me pls.” 

Their “Age of the Dark Moon” also is the antithesis to Miquella’s “Age of Compassion.” Whereas his is about control, Ranni wants to remove all outer god influence from the world. She wants people to experience their lives without the intervention of any god; to experience life on their own terms, whether they want otherworldly guidance or not. She literally takes her order and leaves the planet (?) with it and you. 

Ok, that’s enough of me rambling about whatever the fuck comes to my sleep deprived mind. I have a flight to catch in three hours, so I’m gonna leave it here. In closing, Ranni good I love her very much mwah<3

[lucabyte]

🐮

[requiemforthestars]

Being back in the Dragon Age fandom has awakened something long asleep within me, which is a seething deep, feral hatred and disgust for Cullen and dismay at the way everyone in the fandom is head over heels for him. Literally it's as fresh as it was on the first day. Truly, things you feel at 15 years old do not wane.

[here-there-were-dragons]

i'm seeing three times as many people bitching in the tag about the very idea that someone might not like this breed than i see people actually expressing unambiguous dislike for this breed

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[valkyurii]

i love spending hours writing only to read it back the next day, cringe, and then delete the whole thing

[j-esbian]

i feel like there is so much to be said about drizzt do’urden’s religious views and how he’s a stand-in for culturally christian atheists. he grew up in a corrupt religious society and has religious trauma, so as a result he views all religion as bad. at first it seems like he’s going to have a “pagan finds jesus” story but he eventually rejects mielikki too, and imo, it always felt out of character that he followed her in the first place so i wasn’t surprised when he changed his mind. he was looking for a name to label his preexisting system of ideals, which feels very much like christians who claim “all that matters is that you live by the bible and live in a godly manner”. many religions are about teachings and traditions as much as they are about “just being a good person and following god’s vibes” (which i feel like is INCREDIBLY standard in american protestantism)

i think a lot of it comes down to the fact that the forgotten realms (and a lot of fantasy tbh) treats the gods as just Very Powerful People instead of the forces of nature personified (and again this is to be expected from a christian culture, where jesus was Just A Guy)