#was going to individually adjust the brightness but was too annoying

[gaybuckybarnesss]

CHALLENGERS MICKEY 17 (2025)

[11queensupreme11]

How did you find/make your aesthetic profiles of the gods in your book?

i was gonna link you to my guide that i posted a long time ago, but i realized how old it was and that it was lacking some details...... 💀

so i'm gonna do a new one that hopefully helps a bit more!!!!

websites used: pinterest, tumblr, canva, deviantart, & photopea!

first off, i find the pictures from sites like pinterest and tumblr. the color schemes of each pic need to be somewhat close to each other (but it doesn't always have to be like that depending on the psd you'll be using later on)

i'm gonna use hades for example. this is the first pic i find of him lol:

the most dominant color here is purple, with some tinted ivory from his skin, and brown in the background, so the next few pics i find should have somewhat similar colors too, or they should at least be purple cuz it's the most frequent color here

here are the next few photos i found:

they don't look perfect, but we can always individually tweak the colors and shades later

i download the photos and then i go to canva. the site provides you with templates that you can use but since i only got three pics, i chose the "email header" option.

(for those wondering which template i used for the bigger ones you see in the first chapter with percy and the yans, i don't use a template. i just use "custom size" and type in "800 x 800 px")

go to the sidebar, click "elements" then scroll down for "grids" and then find the one with 3 parts. i reduced the spacing between the photos to zero.

then i upload all 3 photos and put them in the squares. because they're not exactly the closest in color schemes, i individually edit them until i'm satisfied.

canva provides filters that you can use, but i always find it best to toggle with the adjustments like brightness, contrast, saturation, etc.

here's what i ended up with so far:

again, not exactly perfect, but whatever

now that i'm done, i go up to "share", select "download", and increase the size by 1.5 (that's 900 x 300 px). idk why, but for some reason, the quality looks better when you enlarge the size before download.

once that's done, i download the whole thing.

(keep the file type as "png" btw)

then i go over to photopea and upload my graphic. it'll look like this:

in another tab (not the photopea tab, but like... the actual tab of whatever browser ur using), i can find a bunch of psd colorings in deviantart. since i want one that's specifically purple, i just search up "psd coloring purple"

and i get all this:

i pick whichever one i think might look best and download it.

then i head back to photopea.

at the top, click on "file" and the new psd you just downloaded, and it'll show up in a new tab.

stay on that tab, go up to "layer" -> "layer into" and select the first tab where the graphic's at. this applies the psd coloring onto ur graphic.

over at the side, there's something called "opacity: ___%" you can toggle with that if the psd is too overwhelming, so you can lessen it by dragging it down if you need to.

once you're satisfied, click "file" -> "export as" -> "png" and it'll be downloaded.

and that's pretty much it!

THIS CAN BE A LONG PROCESS THOUGH! literally in every step, you might end up going back and changing stuff.

for example, i do not like the right photo that i selected. the purple is too bold compared to the purple shades in the left and center photo. i'd probably go aaaalll the way back to the earlier steps by returning to pinterest to find a better photo

or maybe you don't like the psd you picked. if that's the case, delete the photopea tabs and redo the above steps with a different psd.

it can be a bit annoying if ur the perfectionist type and have to go back again and again 😅

but anyway, psd coloring's are great. i'm looking back at the og versions of all the graphics i made (og as in, before i applied the psd colorings) and they're soooo different from the finished pieces

[fleetingpetal]

mundane introduction.

|| a good while of collecting ingredients, and you are now on your way to the small home you resided in along with your little brother. however, an unexpected guest awaited you.

chapter warnings. none.

additional notes. first chapter!! the start of it all — god it feels so good to finally get this out. this on its own is already just short fluff, the second chapter is going to be even more fluff lol

series masterpost , next up is chapter two: all about my sibling.

“alright, let's see...” you murmur to yourself, hand skimming through the small crate you brought along with you.

lavender melons for soup, check.

a few fruits to make your little brother that snack he loves so much, check.

three freshly plucked dendrobium you found while collecting ingredients, also check.

“oh thank the archons — everything's been sorted.” you let out a soft sigh of relief, beaming in accomplishment. it's been quite the hassle trying to find enough materials due to the constant presence of kairagi and nobushi, those annoying, arrogant samurais. but you digress. you have collected everything you two needed for another few days, or a week if your little fledgling doesn't decide to feast on the melons for a late night snack.

getting up whilst stretching your body out; you adjust your kimono sleeves and pick up the small crate. you can just about imagine the smile that made your little brother's face shine brighter than the sun, the thought of being able to provide so much more for him in a few days time made you elated.

“hmm...♪” you began to hum a tune to yourself as you made your way back home. smiling as yet another thought entered your mind; perhaps you could make that flower crown today aside from simply making a fruit snack. you did pluck three dendrobiums, and the sakura tree that's not too far away from your residence is still very much well.

more idle and comfortable silence surrounded you and the hauntingly beautiful nature of tatarasuna, birds of dawn singing along to your tune as the cold breeze harshly attacked your exposed arms. the tips of your fingers along with your knuckles were red, you could only imagine how red your cheeks must be from the cold.

roaring thunder could be heard in the distance and you make a mental note to prepare that comfortable spot in your home for your little brother along with yourself.

apart from a harsh cold breeze and the chirping of the birds, your quiet humming occupied the silence as you made your way home.

— — —

“where are you going, wanderer?”

the youth paused in his tracks, turning his attention to a little boy sitting outside a small house. as his gaze met the little one's, he didn't know what to respond, not through words but rather with a small smile.

the little one was quick to reciprocate that smile, a bright smile.

the fledgling's attention soon fell on the wandering youth's get-up, that veil he had on his person especially.

the child got up from his position and approached the wanderer, the little one's expression still bright with life in spite of how evidently fragile he appeared.

the intent to talk was there on both their ends, but there's only so much they could say. however, the child spoke before the eccentric wanderer could, “my name is izumi. what's yours?” it may be somewhat of an illusion at first glance, but the little boy's expression seemed to brighten in curiosity. with a small smile as the youth sat down to the little one's level, he introduced himself calmly.

“kabukimono.”

a name that he didn't wish to use. but he's got no other option.

a quiet 'oh' escaped izumi, murmuring the name to himself once as a means to memorize it.

“it's nice to meet you, kabukimono.” the little one beamed, extending his small hand out for the eccentric individual as a greeting.

for a moment, the kabukimono hid his hands beneath the silken fabric of his attires' sleeve. but he didn't remain contemplative for long as he, too, extended his hand out. similar to izumi, the cold palm of his hand gently held the little one's warm one, a soft smile adorning the eccentric's face.

“it's nice to meet you too, izumi." said kabukimono, his expression softening as he saw the little one's smile brighten.

(⁠ ; •⁠ ⁠﹏ •⁠) ( ; ⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠) (^ v ^ *)

at long last, here you finally were! the familiar sight of your home allowed for a tremendous amount of relief to wash over your entire being. feet numb from the cold, and you're sure you're going to catch a cold like last time, but you believe you should be fine... hopefully.

you were more surprised to not see your little brother greeting you like usual, but you figured he's probably taking a nap.

setting the small crate full of lavender melons and fresh fruit, not to forget the three dendrobiums you brought along with you. and you swing the door open with a content and bright smile, “izumi! i'm...”

you pause, the cold enveloping you whole as your eyes land on the stranger sitting down beside your brother. who and why was someone here?

izumi was quick to greet you with a bright smile, “(name)! you're back!” he got up and was about to sprint towards you, only for him to be stunned by not only his condition but your gaze that burned holes into the stranger's skull. clearly suspicious.

“...izumi—” “hold on! i can explain,”

kabukimono reciprocated your suspicious glare with a confused and clearly nervous expression, a hand held up to the feather ornament he had as he did everything in his power to avert your gaze, but found himself unable to. choosing to not remain in silence, he got up from his seat and stood beside your brother, hand still clenched onto the golden ornament.

a quiet sigh escaped you as you crossed your arms. attention now on izumi as you waited for his supposed explanation. “go ahead.” you spoke calmly, something that distracted the kabukimono out of his initial nervousness under your gaze, but he digressed.

“(name), this is kabukimono. kabukimono, this is (name).” the little one stood between you two as he did the honors, looking up at both of you with a warm smile. “kabukimono was wandering around, we talked for a bit then decided to go inside since it was cold. he even cut some of the left over melons for me!”

rather simplified, as always. but hearing your little brother's reasoning began to make you feel less suspicious of this wanderer, but more guilty for already assuming the worst of his intentions.

your gaze met kabukimono's, and you smiled as his gaze locked with yours for a moment. you sighed through your nose as you bowed your head down apologetically, “i'm sorry,” you spoke in a soft and apologetic tone, bringing your head back up. “i hope you can forgive me for my unwarranted behavior.”

you spoke much more softly than before, it completely made that nervousness he felt dissipate entirely. he reciprocated your smile with a small one, only nodding subtly in affirmation to your words, which made you feel a little better.

“ah, that reminds me—” you spoke whilst walking backwards, carrying the small crate again and showcasing it to your little brother who beamed at the sight of so many lavender melons. “hehe, seems someone's looking forward to dinner.” you chuckled as you ruffled izumi's hair playfully, setting the crate down then closing the door behind you.

“now,” you spoke yet again, your gaze on kabukimono once more. “allow me to introduce myself; you can call me (name). i am izumi's older sibling.” your smile softened as you introduced yourself, to which he reciprocated that soft smile with his once small smile widening slightly.

a quiet hum escaped you as the distant roaring of thunder can be heard, and you already proposed an activity for you three to do.

make yourselves comfortable.

“yeah, you won't be leaving anytime soon,” you remarked as you guided your guest further into your humble little home, izumi walking beside him with a smile.

“the storm won't go away for a while, so how about you stay for the night, kabukimono?”

taglist ( open, comment under the series masterpost to be added! ): @featuredtofu , @alatusorrow , @aruatsu , @ieatruinguards , @chibiduck .

[michelle-0]

Gleaming with Glamour: Unveiling the Charm of 17KM’s Vintage Gold Rings Set

Introduction:

17KM is a fashion brand ，they offer a variety of products such as necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings. The brand focuses on bringing fashionable and stylish designs to customers at affordable prices.

Hot Product

17KM 70 Pcs Vintage Gold Rings Set for Women Teen Girls

【70 Pcs Rings Set】 You will get a set of 70 pcs different designed boho gold rings(such as snake, crystals, butterfly, moon, stars, flower, chain twist, heart shape, and other fashion elements). You can combine them in any combination to create a lot of fashionable ring to match different clothes and occasions.

【Multi-Size】 Various size from 4-9 in US size, you can stack them together or use them as single rings. They can be used as knuckle rings, midi rings, minimalist rings, simple rings, or toe rings.(Ps: Most of them are adjustable rings, if they don’t then you can get some pliers & snip the bottom to make the ring an adjustable.)

【Cute and Dainty】 boho vintage style, safe and comfortable to wear, provide a variety of different collocation that can be worn casually or dressy. You can also wear it and get much compliments when going out to special get-togethers or more formal events.

【Premium Quality】 All rings are made of high-quality alloy materials combined with electroplating process, smooth surface, bright color, environmentally friendly materials.(Kindly Reminder: Our stackable rings are gold plated with black, so it’s normal for the black on the fingers, that’s not quality issue, which can be avoided by coating them with clear nail polish before wearing.)

【After-Sales Service】 We 17KM Jewelry always focus on customer satisfaction more than anything else. Any questions could be answered and solved in 12 Hours, just enjoy your purchase. Please search ” 17KM ” on Amazon for more JEWELRIES!

A Review Of seven teen KM

I love the product! I counted out the rings just to make sure there were 70 and there were, which sometimes doesn’t happen with buying higher amounts of products. I love the different designs of the rings, and all the individual bags for them too. Planning on organizing them to fit the designs and the hand written note was amazing, it was very sweet even after knowing that everybody gets about the same one. The hand writing was very neat and legible, and I can’t imagine how long it would take to get the packages together AND write these messages. Some of the rings are too small, but I love pinky rings and rings for my top knuckles anyway. Most are adjustable, so that’s an added bonus.

I would highly recommend buying these if you like more simple but chic styled rings and the price is amazing for the quality. They don’t look or feel cheap, and nothing came broken for me. The Fashion Jewlery larger zip lock bag is adorable and will definitely get some use. The zipper is amazing with the circle pull instead of the normal either slider or regular zipper. Sort of annoying cutting open the tops of each bag, but it added an element of gifts like on Christmas, with I highly enjoyed. It also added to the safety of the product, so it all in all it worked out all right. I hope this review helps people make a decision about buying these rings, as they are an amazing gift for just about anybody who likes rings or even jewelry as some look similar to wedding bands. Thank you!!

In conclusion, 17KM’s Vintage Gold Rings Set is not just a collection of accessories; it’s a testament to style, quality, and individuality. So why wait? Embrace your inner goddess, unleash your creativity, and let these rings be the shining stars of your jewelry collection!

[lanadelreyismyinspo]

“my camera is not annoying”

hi! i legit haven’t seen enough enemies to lovers for tasm!peter so here you go lovelies!! it’s also lowercase intended just because i luv luv luv all lowercase <333 my apologies to anyone it may bother!

warning: creepy man in ally?? im unsure how to word the warning my apologies, bad grammar, academic validation?? mention of a C- being a bad grade

your eyelids were tremendously close to closing completely but you couldn’t get that individual thought out of your mind. well, it wasn’t necessarily one individual thought. it was a spiral of thoughts all connected to the same thing. actually, not a thing. a person. peter fucking parker. thoughts surrounding him were running wild obnoxiously in your head. you couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupid camera.

it all started when you were arguing in science while working on a worksheet that of course mrs. larson assigned you two to work on together. peter insisted on adjusting his camera settings instead of assisting you on the worksheet so essentially you were doing the entirety of it by yourself.

“peter, c’mon. mrs larson assigned this for us to do together. not for me to do all the work while you fidget with your annoying camera” you urged attempting to get his hands off his camera and onto his pencil.

“my camera is not annoying. and right after this, i need to take pictures of the basketball team.” he informed.

“that doesn’t excuse you from this worksheet. now can you atleast do number 9?” you asked.

“that’s the easiest problem, do it yourself.” he answered.

“do it myself? as if i haven’t done the entire worksheet for you when there is only ten problems” you retorted and rolled your eyes.

“i’m sooo sorry darling.” he responded sarcastically. your lips went agape, he had never used a pet name for you before. of course you were used to the typical insulting names but this caught you off guard.

he had caught you staring with your lips parted, “what? i know im extremely attractive and all but staring is rude.”

“yeah, you are so incredibly attractive.” you said in a mocking tone.

now, here you were thinking about him calling you darling. such an acute action made you see peter in such a different light.

you wanted, no, needed to go on a walk to clear your mind. in hindsight it was a bad idea. a young lady walking around new york at the dead of night by herself, but at the moment it seemed like a bright idea to think about peter for five minutes during a walk then go home and pass out.

you slipped out the door and started walking down the sidewalk. you’d just walk around the block. so you finally allowed any thoughts about peter you could’ve possibly closed off to flow carelessly throughout your mind.

peter saw you leave the apartment complex from his window. he said he was done patrolling for the night but he couldn’t shake the thought of making sure you were okay. so he pulled his window open once more and went down the fire escape.

for you, it was colder than expected. it was the middle of january in new york and night, you should have known better. you were quite dull minded sometimes. you passed an ally where you were swept off your feet and a gloved hand covered your mouth.

peter swore his heart leapt out of his chest when he saw that happen. he immediately sprung into action getting you out of the man’s grasp and webbing him to a nearby wall where he could alert the police.

it happened all too fast you couldn’t comprehend what you had just witnessed.

“are you alright, y/n?” spider-man asked.

“how do you know my name?” you question back.

“i, uh, i’ve lived around here for awhile. you tend to pick up a few people’s names.” he quickly covered any fact about his identity.

“oh, uh, i’m alright thanks to you. thank you so much.” you spoke.

“no problem, just what your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.” he replied.

“let me walk you home?” he offers although it was more of a statement than an offer.

“yeah, i live in the apartment complex just down the block.” you informed but he already knew that.

you guys started walking down the street and awkwardness filled the air, “so why were you walking by yourself this late at night?” spider-man inquired.

“i just needed to clear my thoughts.”

“about what?”

“just some boy.” you responded nonchalantly but peter on the other hand had a pit form in his stomach. was it jealousy? it couldn’t be, he thought.

“well he’s not just some boy if he’s causing you to need to clear your thoughts at this hour.” spider-man stated.

“he’s not even a sweet boy. he’s rude and obnoxious. but he just called me a name today that made me rethink how i felt about him.” you explained.

“what name did he call you?”

“darling. a stupid reason to get worked up i know.” after you answered, peter’s eyes widened. he was the boy.

immediately after he registered the information in his head you had arrived to the apartment complex, “thank you for walking me home, and everything else.”

“it’s just what i do” he responded. when he got home he was left to his own thoughts. he was the boy. now his own thoughts were running wild.

the next morning went by quickly up until fifthperiod, science. thankfully, mrs larson decided to be a god send and not assign partners for this assignment but it was a group of three and of course your and parker’s mutual friend, gwen, forced you all to be in a group so you still had to work with him. it was surprising how you and peter had yet to get along even with all the times you’ve been forced to work together. something about him just brought out the worst in you.

you were all working, minus the occasional gossip between you and gwen, once where she decided to point out your previous crush on spider-man and said it was “larger than life,” and the regular bickering between you and peter. mrs. larson began handing out the latest exam results.

your smile faded when you received a C-, although it didn’t seem like a big deal and your grade average could take this hit, it still hurt. you shouldn’t have done this bad. tears filled your eyes and you got to use the restroom. the laughter between gwen and peter halted.

“you should go after her.” peter suggested.

“no, you should.” gwen said.

“why?” peter asked.

“i think it’d just be better if you did and i always know best.” gwen pointed out.

“what do i even say?” peter asked,

“figure it out.” gwen said and essentially pushed peter out of the door.

peter walked out of the door and heard you crying all the way from the girl’s bathroom with his super hearing. he also heard the occasional crumple of paper, signalling that you were still staring at the grade. he made his way down the hall to the girl’s bathroom entrance and he knocked on the door, “hello?” he asked. no answer

he asked again, “hello? y/n?”

“go away, this is embarrassing!” you shouted.

“not as embarrassing as your crush on spider-man” he tried to humor.

“sorry, bad time.” he mumbled.

“can you just come out here so we can talk?” he tried to reason.

“why do you even care?” you shouted. you continued , “you’ve always been better than me academically. this should be a victory for you.” you screamed. that’s when peter had enough and walked in the girl’s bathroom and he was pleasantly surprised that you hadn’t locked yourself in a stall, instead you were crouched down in the corner, knees against your chest.

“go away.” you said barely above a whisper.

“please, y/n. look at me.” he crouched down to your level, inches away from your face. you looked up through your eyelashes.

“i’ve always been intimidated by you.” he confessed.

“i didn’t-” he cut you off, “let me finish. please.”

“i’ve always been intimidated by you because of how brilliant you are. i know i argue with you constantly and pick fights but it’s just because i am so incredibly astonished by your intelligence. and even if you weren’t so smart that doesn’t define you. you’re so passionate about everything you do. and you’re so assertive. it’s admirable.” he rambled on.

“thank you, peter. i really appreciate this.” you sniffled. peter somehow had his camera the whole time and took a picture of you.

“peter!” you shouted.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry. you just looked so-”peter paused.

“what?” you asked.

“peter, what?” you borderline screamed.

“stunning. you looked so stunning.” he finished.

“oh my god. you’re still annoying as ever.” you punched his shoulder.

“we have lunch next period. join me?” he asked.

“yes, i will eat lunch with you and your annoying camera.” you answered.

“my camera is not annoying.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Wen Ruohan/Wei Wuxian?🍉

Forked Path - ao3

“You did me a favor, and I intend to repay that,” Wen Ruohan said, adjusting one of his gauntlets in irritation – more at the fact that he was sinking back into that old nervous tic, a tell that he’d thought he’d eliminated years ago than at the actual request, ridiculous as it was. “But to confirm, you’re certain that this is what you want? It’s not in my nature to stop midway, so if you have any hesitations, exercise them now or not at all.”

The two rogue cultivators looked at each other and after a few moments of clear silent communication and struggle, they looked back at him and nodded. The man did so reluctantly - Wen Ruohan looked at his wife, the immortal mountain’s disciple, and her nod was far more firm.

“Very well,” he said, lips twisting in distaste. He hated owing people favors, especially when they rejected his preferred counter-offer to graciously allow them to work for his sect, but he wasn’t yet so ungracious that he wouldn’t live up to something he had to do. “We are therefore agreed: in the event both of you die prematurely, I will take your son into my sect to be raised therein, rather than allow him to be raised alone outside or in the Jiang sect."

He paused, frowning. "To be clear, however, I am not going to raise him myself! He’ll be brought up among one of the branch families.”

Dafan Wen had some kids around the same age, didn’t they? That was pretty out of the way. With luck, he could avoid having to see the brat at all…and that was all assuming that these two died, of course. Still, based on their level of certainty and the association of the immortal mountain with divination, Wen Ruohan was going to assume a worst-case scenario was likely to occur.

“That’s fine,” the man said, his voice oddly sarcastic. “We don’t expect you to do more for us than you do for your own children.”

That pricked at Wen Ruohan’s pride, since he didn’t have a conscience to be affected.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with a frown. He had two sons of his own, and they were being raised perfectly well by his wives, as far as he knew. It wasn’t really his concern until they were old enough to actually start getting started in cultivation, swordsmanship, or even the scholarly arts, at which point he would naturally take over their education with the assistance of many able tutors – he was far too busy to waste time with them, squalling brats that they undoubtedly were, until then.

“Nothing,” the woman said, and she looked amused – he almost suspected she was amused at his expense. “After all, with hard work, even the sharpest sword can be ground down into a needle.”

That wasn’t how that idiom went at all, but Wen Ruohan was too lazy to correct her.

Later, though, after they’d left, her words kept pricking at him in the same matter as idiomatic needle – it occurred to him that he didn’t much like his wives, even though the connections they’d brought to his sect were exceedingly beneficial. It was said that where there was a father, there was a son, the two invariably resembling each other, and he’d assumed that that would be the case here…but on the other hand, if he left all the initial raising of his sons to those wives he didn’t like, wasn’t he risking them raising the children to be just like theminstead of him? Grinding down his sons’ edges, so to speak?

That would be utterly unacceptable.

He was so busy, though. Beyond his own cultivation, his sect now controlled over a third of the cultivation world, and he was ambitious to raise that to half, and then perhaps even further. How could he waste time on something as pointless as taking care of small children?

On the other hand, he supposed that in the long run he’d actually be saving time if he at least made sure they were raised up right. After all, he’d always assumed that his two sons would be his right and left hands, his able aides capable of enacting his will, and obviously it would be a disaster to find out later on that they’d been spoiled rotten or rendered stupid....

No, he was sure his arrangement was fine. How much damage could his wives do in just a few years?

…perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad an idea to check in on them.

Just to make sure.

He definitely wasn’t going to raise that stupid Wei boy, though. Favors had limits!

-

“Your accomplishments do you credit,” Wen Ruohan said to Wen Qing, and even meant it the way he didn’t mean most of the things he was forced to say at these stupid discussion conferences.

After all, Wen Qing was of his bloodline, if distantly – Dafan Wen was a branch family – but at any rate, they shared a surname, and it was sheer pleasure watching her put all those other ‘promising’ young masters in their place. Anything that added a sheen of glory to his sect was a good thing.

She saluted deeply, trying to hide the way she was beaming, and Wen Ruohan wondered once again if it was time to bring her back to the Nightless City as his ward instead of leaving her out in the wilderness with the rest of Dafan Wen. To get the sort of medical skills she had at her age showed promise and talent, and he needed people of promise and talent, especially ones with his surname, if he were going to make good on his intention to conquer the cultivation world.

He would’ve brought her back years ago, in fact, except that Sect Leader Nie said that children were fidgety, flighty creatures that were bad at dealing with change and that he’d be better off sending medical texts and tutors to Dafan Wen rather than bring Wen Qing back to the Nightless City over her father’s protests. Normally, Wen Ruohan would have disregarded advice he didn’t like and proceed with his own intentions regardless, but Sect Leader Nie had been helping him deal with his own sons ever since he’d reclaimed them from his wives, who he’d discovered had been ruining them, and it seemed unwise to dispute with him regarding matters of child-rearing at that point. After all, if he wanted Wen Xu to end up as even half the son that it looked like that Nie Mingjue was going to be, he needed the man’s expertise, and that meant making compromises, irritating as it was.

Compromises like not just killing Wen Qing’s father for refusing to hand over his children, despite it being easier to accomplish. Or not killing Sect Leader Nie himself, no matter how irritating the man was, because now his sons loved that old bastard.

(Wen Ruohan had spitefully decided to get back at Sect Leader Nie by spoiling his youngest son, who seemed at first glance to be more like the lazy scholarly type, beyond belief. It seemed to be working very well so far, including in causing Sect Leader Nie no end of frustration at his extremely clever-when-it-came-to-evading-work second son; Wen Ruohan, satisfied, viewed this result as being wholly due to his own efforts.)

“How did you find that talisman you mentioned in your last paper?” he asked Wen Qing lazily. “I hadn’t seen it before. Was it in one of the books I sent, or somewhere else?”

In truth, that had been the most interesting aspect of the presentation from his perspective – he didn’t have either talent or interest in medical cultivation, but he could recognize firepower when he saw it. Just because the talisman worked on disrupting things at a very small level for medical reasons didn’t mean it couldn’t be repurposed for larger things…

“Oh, no, Wei Wuxian invented it,” Wen Qing said. “He used it to blow stuff up until I convinced him to make a smaller version for me.”

“Wei Wuxian?” Wen Ruohan asked, frowning, and then recalled – ah, yes, the Wei boy. His parents had died some five or eight years back, if he recalled correctly, and he’d had to go fetch him pursuant to that old agreement; it had been extremely annoying at the time. He’d been in the middle of a very nasty argument with Sect Leader Nie at the time, the one that had led him to think his most serious thoughts to date of eliminating the man entirely, and then, just as he’d been on the cusp of making a decision, he’d received word of the deaths of Cangse Sanren and her husband Wei Changze.

Naturally, he needed to find and recover their son as he’d promised long ago, which given how unreliable reports of the location of rogue cultivators was naturally became a colossal waste of time, but on the bright side it had at least given him a chance to vent his spleen and get out some of his rage on something other than wringing Sect Leader Nie’s neck. It turned out that Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze had died in some obscure night hunt in Yiling, but figuring that out had all but taken a full-scale canvass of six different territories – and then Sect Leader Jiang, who hadn’t bothered to do anything near the same level of search and had opted to search the various towns individually on his own, as if that would ever work, had tried to leapfrog off the back of his hard work, thinking he could just thank him and take the boy away just like that.

Wen Ruohan had refused, of course – he had the parents’ personal request, and that outweighed Wei Changze having been a former servant of the Jiang sect or Cangse Sanren being possibly a former lover of their sect leader – and it had turned into something of a political mess for a while.

That had been where he’d gotten most of the venting out, actually.

Sect Leader Nie had sided with him in that fight, though, rather viciously, and by the end of it all Wen Ruohan was reminded of why exactly it was that the man was a useful ally to have around. He’d also forgotten what exactly they’d been fighting about, but he wasn’t going to admit that, so he just magnanimously forgave him. It had all turned out rather all right, and Wen Ruohan had put the boy out of his mind shortly thereafter.

Why would he come up now, all of a sudden?

No, wait, he’d sent him to Dafan Wen, just as he’d planned. And of course Wen Qing was from the main branch of Dafan Wen as well – she would’ve been raised with Wei Wuxian as a little brother.

“How is he doing?” he asked, more out of etiquette than actual interest, but Wen Qing lit up and started talking about how her little shidi was a verifiable genius, and so good with her actual younger brother, and whatnot. Wen Ruohan nodded, pretending he was listening, and cast his eyes around the rest of the discussion conference, looking for a distraction – there was Sect Leader Nie, who was generally good for a laugh, but he was scolding that second son of his for failing one of Lan Qiren’s classes and having to be sent a second time over. Jiang Fengmian was comforting him, telling him that he was sending his son as well this year, and of course Jin Guangshan’s heir was of age as well, and would undoubtedly be going, too…

Hmm.

“If he’s such a genius, he should interact more with his peers,” Wen Ruohan announced. “I’ll recommend him – and that brother of yours, I suppose – for the lecture series at the Cloud Recesses this summer.”

It wouldn’t do to be left, after all.

“You…you will? Really? That’s wonderful! Thank you for the opportunity, Sect Leader Wen! They’ll treasure it! How can we ever repay your kindness –”

“As long as they impress me with their talents,” Wen Ruohan said, already imagining Jiang Fengmian’s constipated expression at seeing his lover’s son that was stolen from his grasp wearing Wen sect colors and, in an ideal world, smearing his own son into the ground with his superlative skill. “That will be repayment enough.”

-

“You need to get laid,” Sect Leader Nie said, and Wen Ruohan was reminded again of why he despised the man and should have killed him years ago. Why hadn’t he done that again? “As a matter of cultivation.”

“You’re joking,” Wen Ruohan said, putting down his bowl of wine and staring at him in disbelief. He hadn’t expected the man to actually be serious. It was rare enough an event, but in fairness to him, he never joked about matters of cultivation. “How does one help the other?”

“It’ll help balance you out.” Sect Leader Nie thought about it. “Or at least let you get out some of that nervous energy that makes you a paranoid megalomaniacal little bitch about eighty percent of the time.”

That sounded a bit more in character.

“If dual cultivation could fix personality problems, Lao Nie, you’d be immortal.”

“Who says I’m not?” Sect Leader Nie asked, teeth bared in a smile. “Only time will tell. Haven’t I already outlived my father?”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes. Sect Leader Nie had outlived his father because when he’d started in on a qi deviation like every other member of his blasted family, he, Wen Ruohan, had personally dived into the irritating bastard’s spiritual consciousness and dragged him back out again. It was very much not something that people were supposed to do, being more likely to cause qi deviations in the person doing the rescuing than resulting in an actual rescue, but he’d never cared what people were supposed to do and, really, it would be extremely annoying to have to do without him now that he’d invested all that time and effort and figured out how to get some real use out of him. Anyway, they both seemed to be fine and possibly they were also soul-bonded now - he wasn’t actually sure, Wen Qing always got a weird expression on her face whenever she talked about it, and he usually stopped listening at that point.

He didn’t really care. As long as it didn’t interfere with his plans, what did it mtter?

“Who exactly am I supposed to be dual cultivating with, exactly?” he asked dryly, deciding to address the matter head-on because that was the only way Sect Leader Nie understood things. “Don’t volunteer yourself again. I already told you that I refuse to indulge your ridiculous kink for dangerous people.”

Anymore, anyway.

Sect Leader Nie made a face at him, but Wen Ruohan ignored him. He might’ve fallen for that before the whole spiritual consciousness-soulbond business, but now he knew for sure that it was a kink, so – no.

Nothappening.

“You have a kink for things that increase your power, I don’t know why you’re being so judgy about my kink,” the other man grumbled. “And I don’t know, find someone – not another wife, you hate your wives, and anyway they’re much happier with their other lovers.”

“I didn’t pick them because I liked them,” Wen Ruohan pointed out. “I picked them because I wanted to absorb their sects and all the aligned sects associated with them. Which I did.”

“See, this is your problem! You married for power, rather than power, if you get my meaning –”

This was true. If any of his wives could cultivate worth a damn, maybe he’d care more about them. As it was, getting a son on each of them had been an exercise in willpower.

“ – and now you’re too busy pursuing power to fuck anyone else. You really need to get it out of your system. Find someone who can kill you.”

“No one can kill me,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’m the closest thing the cultivation world has to a god. Everyone should bow down and worship me.”

Sect Leader Nie started muttering something about megalomania again, but Wen Ruohan ignored him. It wasn’t a qi deviation talking if it was true.

“I bet we could find someone who could kill you if we tried,” Sect Leader Nie finally said. “And if they’re powerful enough to kill you, they’re probably powerful enough for the dual cultivation to improve your own cultivation, which is all you care about…we should start a war, maybe.”

“A war? Against who? And why?”

Sect Leader Nie frowned thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “The Jin sect?” he suggested, probably because he’d never liked Jin Guangshan. “Or the Jiang sect? Or both, I guess, since they’re allied. They’re next on your take-over list, aren’t they?”

“You’re next on my take-over list,” Wen Ruohan said threateningly, except Sect Leader Nie only laughed at him. Which was fair, he supposed, that whole soul-bond thing made the whole conquering business somewhat unnecessary – Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie were bound together now as thoroughly as if he’d married the man.

Which he hadn’t. And wouldn’t. No matter what stupid snarky comments Sect Leader Nie said about Wen Ruohan treating him as a de facto consort on account of not having devouring his sect whole.

(Which he wasn’t going to do either - his sons still loved the man, and by now they were as thick as thieves with the Nie boys. What was he supposed to do, disappoint them? It’d be the same as disappointing himself, and he wasn’t about to do that.)

“I suppose we could start a war against the Jin and Jiang,” he allowed. His plan had always called for battle eventually, since he knew there was a limit to how many sects he could absorb through political, marital, economic or other means. As long as the other Great Sects stood against him, he’d never be able to achieve total domination – plus, he’d have to continue to suffer through those awful discussion conferences with the boring lectures and the petty politics of it all. Why couldn’t they see that they’d allbe better off under his dominion? “I could send Wen Zhuliu –“

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how you fight wars honorably, and also because I hate that man’s guts. I can’t believe you gave him your surname.”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes yet again. Such petty concerns were beneath him. “If we launch a surprise attack using him assassinate the Jiang sect leaders, thereby bringing down the Lotus Pier, the war will be over sooner,” he pointed out.

“Makes it harder to assimilate them into the Wen sect afterwards, though,” Sect Leader Nie pointed out, and damnit, he had a point. “Not to mention you’re going to want some experienced people policing your waterways when you finally take over…”

Damnit.

“Fine,” Wen Ruohan said. “We’ll declare war the old-fashioned way. Maybe we’ll find someone on the opposite side that can impress me, and then I’ll marry her – or him – and be done with the whole business. Happy now?”

Sect Leader Nie made a maybe-so gesture with his hand. “Anyone who can match you in power can probably kill me,” he said regretfully. “Would you consider sharing –“

“Paws off my hypothetical future consort, you beast. Anyway, aren’t you already pursuing Lan Qiren because he nearly slit your throat with a guqin string once?”

“A man can look!”

-

“Say,” Sect Leader Nie said, staring at the army of fierce corpses currently shambling along to the tune of Wei Wuxian’s flute, advancing inexorably towards their enemies – an entirely new cultivation style that the boy had recently invented. In an effort to impress his benefactor Wen Ruohan, apparently. “Are you sure about the no sharing rule?”

Wen Ruohan stared at the grown man perched on a tree like a demon, wrapped in shadow and crackling with power, eyes glowing as red as the sun-patterns on his clothing, who seemed to want nothing more from the world than to serve it up to Wen Ruohan on a platter.

“Yes,” he said, voice only a little strangled. Maybe Sect Leader Nie had a point about power being a kink for him. “I’m very sure.”

[odos-bucket]

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 1

The thing about Dick is that he has a way of making people feel comfortable around him. It probably comes from being a performer, certainly comes in handy when he becomes a vigilante, and later an older brother. He puts people at ease. It’s a skill that he can manipulate to his advantage, but not necessarily something that he needs to put effort into; it’s kind of automatic. People have a tendency to talk and act around Dick as if they’ve known him their whole life. Which can come in handy, sure, especially as he gets older and fine tunes it along with his other abilities.

But he doesn’t receive the same automatic comfort from others that he gives off. And especially as a small child, strangers talking to him, coming into his personal space, or touching him without permission can be overwhelming, and disconcerting.

At Haly’s it had been something he’d kind of dealt with, but usually only within the deceptively controlled environment of pre or post show adrenaline, and always as a single member of a large company of performers. He was honestly barely consciously aware of it back then.

For the most part it doesn’t even really bother him. Dick likes people. He likes interacting with circus patrons, and later with fellow guests at the events that he and Bruce attend. He likes attention, likes it when people want to watch him do a cartwheel (even if he feels like they’re way too easily impressed).

Dick doesn’t understand what’s happening when he feels himself suddenly start to shut down towards the beginning of a charity gala for the Gotham hospital. He likes people. He likes parties. He’s never been bothered by crowds. He should be fine.

But the ladies who are crowding and cooing over him are making him feel trapped. And the band that’s fighting with each of the dozens of different conversations that are taking place in the room for every individual’s full attention is giving him a headache. The lights are so much dimmer than the big top’s, but somehow still way too bright. He keeps finding himself needing to rub at his eyes.

Dick tries to politely extricate himself from the women he’s been talking with, but they seem reluctant to let him go. He’s “such a charming young man,” after all. And it isn’t often that the socialites of Gotham are “graced with the company of a performer of his caliber.”

Dick smiles, and tries not to flinch away from a woman who pats his cheek. He’s not sure why the contact bothers him, normally it wouldn’t. But he’s not himself right now. Maybe it’s because of how hot it is. He’s not feeling right in his skin, all sticky, and prickly.

He doesn’t realize how dazed he’s become, until the sound of someone saying his name is shaking him out of it. No one’s actually said his name in a while, mostly it’s been variations on “honey” or “dear”. Sometimes they’ll call him Richard, hardly ever Dick though. But Bruce is calling him Dick as he approaches through the moderate crowd, and that gets his attention right away.

The ladies have the good sense to at least shift out of the way, and soon Bruce is kneeling down in front of him.

“Hey, chum,” he says softly. “You’re looking a little wobbly there. You doing okay?”

Dick doesn’t know why, but when he opens his mouth to answer something between a whine and a sob comes out. Confused and embarrassed (and exhausted, although he doesn’t quite know to identify that one) he pitches forward on rarely unstable feet, and smashes his face into Bruce’s shoulder.

He’s caught in an instant, and lifted up into steady arms, a hand coming to rest at the back of his head.

“Hey, shh. . . it’s all right.”

Bruce’s voice seems to fade, blending in and out of the rest of the muttering conversation that they’re surrounded by. Dick’s not bothering to hang on for any of the specifics of what he’s saying. Something about “being able to tell when a child is exhausted,” and “not treating my son like a performing seal.” If Dick had been more alert he may have thought to wonder ‘since when does Bruce have a son?’ but as it is he’s barely aware enough to pick up on the poorly concealed anger in his voice.

A moment later he can feel himself being carried.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles.

“I know, sweetheart,” is the last thing he hears before passing out.

---

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Dick says later, after they’re back at home.

Bruce frowns, and pauses his gentle stroking of Dick’s hair.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he says, more carefully than Dick is able to pick up on.

Dick scrunches his nose, and flings his arms into the air, before flopping them back to the couch.

“Why did I get all weird tonight?!” He demands.

“If I had to guess,” Bruce says slowly. “I’d say you were tired, and maybe a little overwhelmed.”

Dick makes an annoyed noise, that morphs into a wide yawn.

“I should have noticed,” Bruce continues. “We shouldn’t have gone-“

“No,” Dick interrupts. “But that wasn’t my regular me! I don’t get overwhelmed!”

“Everybody gets overwhelmed. And you’ve had a long week, lots of late nights, that math test on Wednesday-“

“Do you?” Dick interrupts again, saving Bruce from needing to continue to prove that he’s tuned into what’s going on in his life (something which Dick is becoming increasingly aware of Bruce feeling the need to do).

“Do I what?”

“Get overwhelmed.”

Bruce considers the question with a deliberately thoughtful expression.

“I’m very good at hiding it when it happens,” he finally says.

“Oh. . . okay.”

“Dick, you know there’s nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed.”

“Then why’d you bother to get so good at hiding it when it happens to you?” Dick asks without missing a beat.

Bruce doesn’t have an answer for that. Years later he’ll find himself wondering why he didn’t take the time to make it clear to Dick that hiding his emotions like that isn’t something he ever expects of him. He’ll catalogue it as one of his many failures as a parent. In the moment he just holds himself awkwardly under the child’s expectant, if slightly bleary-eyed, gaze.

“Sometimes you have to do things to keep in control of a situation,” he finally says.

Dick turns big eyes up at him.

“I want to get better at it.”

You don’t need to, is what Bruce should say.

“You’re already pretty good at it,” is what he does say.

Dick makes a contemplative face.

“You weren’t the problem tonight,” Bruce continues. “Those grown-ups should have been able to tell that you were tired, and left you alone.”

“. . . You’re mad at them,” Dick realizes.

“Yes,” Bruce admits readily.

“Oh, okay. I thought that maybe. . .” Dick trails off into another yawn.

Bruce frowns down at him.

“I didn’t want you to be annoyed at me,” Dick says sleepily, adjusting himself so that he’s leaning more fully against Bruce’s side.

“Why would I be annoyed with you?”

“I’dunno,” he half says, half hums.

Bruce’s frown deepens.

“Do you worry about that a lot?” He asks quietly.

He feels the responding shrug more than he sees it.

Dick mumbles something about not wanting anyone to be disappointed.

“You’re not responsible for keeping other people happy,” Bruce tells him.

Several seconds pass with no response. Bruce is about to ask for confirmation that Dick realizes this, when a soft snore informs him that the time for discussion has passed. Instead, he goes back to running his fingers through his ward’s hair, and begins a mental list of people not to let near his child.

[ageofxail]

31, 33, and 1! ^^

31: Look at the country you are currently living in. If they are an official Hetalia character, how do you feel about that character, as well as the country itself?

That would be the United States of America. Alfred F. Jones. I have... mixed feelings about him as a character. I do really love him! But he does not well encompass a lot of things I personally like to see in a representative of the US, hence my own deviating revisions of an American Representative in Daniel King. (And for England in Nicholas & Noel, and, well, all of my muses lmao) America's so incredibly vast and has so many cultural lines that it pretty much necessitates multiple characters to more accurately portray a wider scope of American mindsets and personalities. Alfred can be the bright, loud, annoying tourist and overbearing sort of American that's eager to start a brawl and hark on about the perfections of his Union while Daniel can be much softer-spoken diplomat who would rather adjust his posture and demeanor to match the country he's visiting and take on some of the darker aspects of a country fuelled by Corporate Greed and be the economist side of the legislative feud between Federal and Local jurisdictions. America is a mess and chaos and I could ramble about being fascinated, impressed, disgusted and wary of so many things about this country for literal days on end but this is a simple ask, therefore I will hold myself back. This time.

Alfred's an awesome character, please do not take my stance as hating on him, but I do find many aspects of his characterisation to be extremely annoying and overplayed. I love him, I don't love what Flanderisation has done to him in a lot of the Hetalia fanworks I've consumed over the years.

tldr; love Alfred F Jones, have my own ideas and I'm allowed to play with those.

33: What are some of your biggest headcanons?

Every individual Representative is completely unique. They're all going to have wildly different origin stories and sets of lore behind him. Some more outlandish than others. Sure, majority of my own Reps were humans who were magically selected by the Universe At Large to be an extremely good example of A Perfect Englishman or A Perfect Canadian, but then there's my Prussia who was magically created by occult magical practices by the Catholic Church and then said magic went haywire sideways and created a feral bloodthirsty living weapon who eventually learned self-control. Sort of.

Day-to-day lore also varies wildly; Noel (my Modern England) has extreme wanderlust but finds it physically painful to stay away from England for too long (see: After a decade of living in Australia with intent to retire from being a representative, his general health declined rapidly and forced him into a hard physical reset of his facade); Daniel (America/New York) has a binding magical contract where he cannot disobey - but he can Lawyer! - an order given by a member of Congress; Gabriel (Utah) can hear the Desert Buzz and if allowed to concentrate, can communicate effectively with coyotes and bees.

Representatives are largely unnecessary to the running of a country/state/city/region, and so are not holden to strictly historical paths that rep'd place had gone down. They're individuals and can have their own stories, even ones that are contradictory to what is believed about history. See: Daniel being a loyalist during the revolution. Again, this will vary wildly.

1:What got you into Hetalia?

Studying, actually! While searching for a study guide to assist my AP Euro History class in my sophmore year of high school, I came across a youtube video titled "What if WWI was a Bar Fight?" and while reading the comment section, there were many references to an anime called Hetalia. Curiosity had me looking up the show, watching a couple episodes, continually forgetting it was a thing and yet still revisiting the concept of Personified Representations of Countries as I wrote out summaries of various historical events thru the guise of Reps. I slowly consumed more actual Hetalia content, but by about five years into playing with Reps, I had decided I liked my own developed Personifications better than either canon or fanon Hetalia Reps and largely abandoned Hetalia in favor of simply enjoying my immortal lads as their own creations with loose ties to Hetalia as a starting point. A bachelor's degree in history and fourteen years later, I still enjoy Hetalia, but largely do my own thing.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

[myundeadgayson]

SBI found family dynamics just,,, i’m crying, you don’t understand.

there’s something so especially cute about AUs where each of the Sleepy Bois decide to take Tommy under their care because they realize they’ve suddenly become attached to this tall, reckless child.

maybe they’ve found that Tommy really enjoys something they love, or they see themselves in him, or they just simply decide that “oh, i think i care about this kid. let me pass on every bit of knowledge i know to him and keep him safe in the process.” either way, they’ve each individually decided “oop, i care now” about this kid.

like, i’m talking all the adoption AUs, Origins AUs, the DSMP AUs or canon-related fics where the author explores how the SBI are still connected and care for each other despite their differences and the events of the world pushing them apart— all of it. there’s just so much care to explore and various dynamics of why they care so much about one another.

like one of my favorites to explore: Bedrock Bros dynamics.

there’s all the various SBI AUs and canons, and there’s almost always a moment where you can see why they’d relate to one another, be it through their actions, goals, or personalities.

Techno having a moment in whatever AU where he looks at Tommy. he looks at this tall child that almost always starts off being so rambunctious, so obnoxiously loud, so bright-eyed and full of life and potential. he has a such a fighting spirit in him that Techno relates to. he relates because he’s also a fighter, though he isn’t as loud about it.

any moment in AUs or fics where Techno decides “i’m going to teach this reckless child how to fight because even though i don’t care about him (spoiler: he does), i might as well teach him how to protect himself” and it means so much more because it’s Techno taking the time out of his day, his weeks, his months to teach this thing he knows well and pass on his knowledge to Tommy, and it creates bonding time between them. and Techno slowly opens up and finds himself caring more and more every time Tommy pushes through and greets him with the brightest grin as he asks Techno to teach him more things.

or any fic where Techno is reading or sitting quietly in an area by himself.

he’s relaxing in his own space. maybe the Voices are loud that day, maybe it’s some internal anxiety getting to him, maybe he just wants to be alone— and Tommy finds him, and instead of annoying him, Tommy realizes Techno wants quiet time, but Tommy wants to be around someone. so Tommy just sits quietly down near him.

i can’t express to you how simple, yet wonderful the concept of Tommy simply sitting quietly in the floor at the foot of Techno’s bed while Techno reads is to me.

Tommy’s normally so loud. he’s a storm of chaos and energy, but he can recognize when people need space and quiet. and exploring Tommy’s knack for understanding emotions and people by him deciding to sit nearby, but not next to Techno. he offers Techno space, but he also hates being alone, so he stays nearby and occupies himself with a phone, a book, or whatever else until Techno wants to talk, or Wilbur comes in to join them and sits down quietly with his guitar and strums until maybe Tommy falls asleep.

Wilbur and Tommy dynamics get me too.

like, my favorite are the found family modern AUs, but they haven’t adopted Tommy. instead Tommy’s just this kid that Wilbur meets by some various means. the two of them bonding and creating such a brotherly bond because they realize through talking and bantering with each other that they have so much in common. and Wilbur going home to tell Techno and Phil about the little gremlin child he’s met with a new story to tell each time.

those AUs, but Tommy finds out Wilbur knows how to play guitar and Wilbur gets so stunned because maybe he’s never played for more than Phil, Techno, and a few others. maybe he only plays small gigs in tiny cafes and hasn’t gotten the confidence for more than that because he’s not sure if he’s even good yet.

that scenario, but Tommy hears him play and gets so excited. he’s so enthusiastic and genuinely impressed that Wilbur’s just taken back.

this kid is looking at him with stars in his eyes and telling him with wholehearted honesty that he believes that Wilbur is talented and he wants to hear more. and Wilbur’s smile growing so soft as he decides that he can do that for Tommy. and that being such a pivotal moment for Wilbur believing in himself because no matter what anyone else thinks, Tommy thinks he’s good and he meant it.

just to top it all off, i have to give a Phil moment.

i think the best Phil and Tommy moments for me are just always Phil deciding that even though this child isn’t his (adoption AU moment), he doesn’t care. Tommy’s still his son.

that’s so vague and basically every Dadza/adoption AU, but let me explain.

i mean specifically those ones where Phil realizes they are different. like in any AUs where Phil’s got wings and maybe Tommy’s an avian, or a raccoon-hybrid, or just a normal human. and Philza realizing that they’re not the same at all in many ways, but especially for the fact Tommy can’t fly or relate to whatever bird-like habits Phil has.

but also, Phil saying fuck you to those thoughts and taking Tommy flying with him anyway. Tommy can’t fly, but that doesn’t stop Phil from showing him the joys of being high above the clouds with the wind in your hair.

Tommy being so delighted by it every time and Phil being so overjoyed by the way Tommy asks to go flying again.

Avian Tommy hits big on that one because though Tommy technically has wings, he can only glide. he can’t fly with Phil, his wings aren’t strong enough, but Phil teaches him how to embrace that Avian side. he guides Tommy through the art of gliding and showing Tommy how he could glide farther, how to land safely, and basically all the ways of mimicking flight in a way that won’t get Tommy hurt. he shows Tommy how to take care of his wings too and Tommy becomes like his own.

or another favorite: Human Tommy/Racooninnit/whatever other non bird-related version of Tommy having to adjust to Phil’s weird bird habits.

specifically i’m talking preening. like, Phil occasionally fussing over Tommy’s hair when Tommy comes home from playing outside with Tubbo. or whenever the boys used to have trouble sleeping when they were little, i always imagine Phil messing with their hair and it lulling them asleep. Tommy becoming a part of that trend after getting brought into the family no matter how old he is because nightmares are nightmares, and Phil will absolutely sit with him anyway.

and anyway, i got off topic but i just,,, Sleepy Bois Inc dynamics involving Tommy constantly have my heart.

(this is all revolving around their characters by the way, not the IRLs. i think it’s obvious, but just in case anyone was wondering to be sure.)

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 3

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor comes face-to-face with his first deviant.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

Connor winced as the planks under his feet creaked with his shifting weight; quiet but still too loud for his liking. He reached the bottom of the steps and let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment. It gave him the opportunity to see it wasn’t completely pitch black, and there was pale light from the streetlamps outside streaming through the cloth-covered basement windows.

He understood why Ralph had called it a cellar now; the floor was packed dirt, shrouding his footfalls in total silence. Concentrating, he even thought he could hear the rain outside.

No androids, though. The cellar was eerily quiet, setting the hairs on the back of his nape on end.

Connor started forward, holding his service pistol aimed to the ground and shifting sideways to make himself a smaller target. He gave a start when something brushed against his cheek, like the cold breath of a ghost, but the cause was nothing more supernatural than one of the basement windows having been propped open.

He scowled. So that’s why he could hear the rain, and now Ortiz’s android was long gone.

Something caught his eye. There was a faint light against the wall below the window, and Connor carefully moved forward for a better look. It was only when he was a few feet away that he realized what he was looking at: various candles, sprinkled dried petals, and even some kind of statue.

In the flickering candlelight there was strange, hurried writing on the wall. As if the writer had been in distress. He squinted to read the letters, but they made no sense.

RA9?

Connor turned and opened his mouth, about to shout to Ralph that the cellar was clear, when a hand clamped down hard to silence him. He didn’t even have time to give a muffled shout as he was dragged backwards into the dark.

His back pressed against a wooden shelf, inhaling sharply from the discomfort and in response to who—or what—had grabbed him.

The CyberLife android had him pinned, one hand held tightly over his mouth with the other splayed against his chest. It was deceptively strong, and when Connor tried to shove the android away, it barely jostled from his efforts.

Panic coursed through him as his body reacted to the pressure, giving him an inconvenient erection for the second time that night. For fuck’s sake, was Connor really that pent-up that he was getting his rock’s off to… to…

The prototype’s LED spun a rhythmic blue but its eyes were watchful, appearing almost black in the dark. Gone was the earnest, innocent look, replaced with something far too calm and intense. Connor swallowed thickly, wondering what the fuck it was thinking, when it raised its hand from his chest and pressed a finger against its lips. The universal sign to be quiet.

Oh. So the Ortiz android was here. But why were they sneaking around if that was the case? Surely they could just order the fucker to come out of hiding and be done with it. The sooner Connor could get home, the better. His night was already ruined enough without having to look for lost property.

The android didn’t explain its actions, but it did wait for something, and it took Connor a second to realize it was waiting for him. He gave a small nod, indicating he understood what it wanted, if not why it wanted it.

It released Connor and stepped back, giving him one last lingering look before turning and disappearing into the deep shadows. Only the faint glow of its light ring made it so Connor could keep track of its progress, moving around the shelves and various heaps of junk lying around.

The android moved like it could see in the dark. Hell, maybe it could. Connor had no idea what kind of high tech bells and whistles CyberLife gave its shiny new toys.

He lost sight of it as it moved around the corner of a shelf, and he gave up trying to keep pace when he banged his shin against a wooden grate. He hissed an annoyed “shit” under his breath, wincing as he did.

A startled gasp came from the other side of the cellar, followed by a shattering noise like a dropped glass, and then hurried footsteps in the dark.

“Don’t move! Detroit police!” Connor yelled automatically, raising his gun at the figure as it fled toward the steps.

The figure raised its arm, the muzzle of a gun flashing at the same moment thunder filled the cellar. A jar of some kind of jam burst next to his head.

The android—had to be, a bright red circle was blazing from its temple—fired again, this time brushing so close it grazed Connor’s cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind.

The next shot, Connor knew it wouldn’t miss. His did. He depressed the trigger twice and missed both times, his aim shaky from adrenaline and the near brush with death.

This is it, he thought. This was how he was finally going to die. In some dirty old cellar to a fucking android.

Connor was shoved sideways as the gun went off a third time, the explosion not loud enough to mask the sound of a bullet hitting something soft. He hit the dirt floor hard, gasping as pain burst through his shoulder.

But he couldn’t get up, there was a weight on his chest, pressing him to the ground next to the staircase. The wooden steps acted as cover for the next bullets that fired overhead, chunks of debris raining down on them as the crazed android fired over and over.

Connor stared, dumbfounded, as the other android sat on top of him, shielding him with its body. His eyes went even wider when he caught sight of the dark hole in its shoulder, spreading dark liquid with every second.

“You’re hurt,” he breathed, remembering what that stuff was. Thirium. The android had taken a bullet for him.

It didn’t acknowledge him, instead it held out its hand and demanded in a firm tone, “Give me your gun.”

He blinked. Wondered if he’d hit his head.

“What? No, I’m not gonna give you my gun!”

“Con!” shouted a familiar voice from upstairs, laced with worry and fear.

“Don’t come down, Colin!” he cried back, panic in his throat.

If his brother got killed by this thing—

The CyberLife prototype grabbed the gun out of his hand, rose onto its knees, and fired between the wooden rails of the staircase.

Connor heard at least one of them hit the target, but the cry of anguish was not what he had been expected. It almost sounded like the victim’s android was in pain.

But that was impossible. What the hell was wrong with it?

“Connor, what the fuck!” Colin yelled from upstairs. At least he listened to Connor and hadn’t come down.

“The fucking android has a gun, so stay put!” He never imagined he’d be saying words like that one day. What a fucking mess. “It’s glitching out, or broken, or something!”

“…the CyberLife android?” Colin called back, confused.

“No, goddammit, the other one! The Ortiz android!”

“The what? Jesus Christ, are you serious—“

Connor flinched as several more gunshots rang out, but the CyberLife android, still straddling his hips like he was a piece of fucking furniture, fired back.

“Get off,” Connor hissed, trying to push the android away, but it was like trying to move a stubborn statue made of marble. “And give me back my gun!”

To his eternal surprise, it actually listened, turning the pistol around and handing it to him grip first. When he took his service weapon back, the android eased off of him, still remaining in a hunched crouch so it wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

“I need you to lay covering fire, Detective.” It spoke with unnatural calmness, the kind that only a machine could display, especially in the middle of a shootout.

“What? Why?”

The android tilted its head and eyed him with what looked suspiciously like annoyance.

“Because if we’re to understand what’s happening with these androids, we need to take one that’s still functional.”

Connor blinked rapidly and open his mouth, disbelief ringing through him.

“You’re going after it.”

“Yes,” it said, like that was a perfectly reasonable statement. “The risk should be minimal to your team. If I fail and am destroyed in the process, take down the deviant with whatever means you wish.”

“W-wait!”

Connor reached out his hand to grab the android by the sleeve of its jacket, but it had already moved, dashing between the open space between the stairs and the shelves.

Gunshots spurred Connor into action, and he braced against the staircase and fired repeatedly in the direction of the red LED. He tried not to hit it, but if he did, he certainly wasn’t going to cry about it. They should be riddling it full of bullet holes; it wasn’t just defective, it was murderous.

“Drop your weapon!” he yelled, hoping there was some shred of programming in its broken circuits that would make it obey a human. “You are firing on human police officers!”

To his surprise, it answered back.

“You’re gonna kill me! I know you wanna destroy me! Well, that’s not gonna happen, so stay back or I’ll—I’ll keep firing!”

Connor had never, in his entire life, heard an android sound like that before. Its voice shook with fear and its words were clipped and tight with panic.

“Put the gun down and come out with your hands up! We’re not going to kill you, but you have to give us something in return! A show of good faith!”

Connor wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. He didn’t know the first thing about talking down an android, but he did know how to deescalate a dangerous encounter with a person. Maybe this defective machine would act the same way.

“I don’t believe you!” the android shouted, on the verge of hysteria. “You’re gonna shoot me first chance you get!”

Connor frowned, frustrated. If this was a shootout with a human, the behavior of the suspect would be a strong indicator of an unstable individual, one who would snap at the slightest provocation. It was a situation where he would cut his losses and try to protect his officers as best he could.

But he only had to buy enough time for the prototype to make its move. Connor didn’t know what it was planning, but they had to subdue the android one way or another.

“I’m putting down my gun.”

He lowered it out of sight but didn’t otherwise release it.

“You’re lying!” the android accused immediately. “If you really mean it, kick it out to where I can see it!”

“I can’t do that,” Connor said softly. He wished he knew the thing’s name. He might have a chance of establishing a rapport if he did, but he’d never considered learning an android’s name to be a priority until now.

“Then I guess neither of us are leaving,” the android said, steel underlying his tone. “And an android can outlast a human.”

Fuck. It was right. If it came to a standoff, with helicopters and SWAT surrounding the house, they could be there for hours. Connor was trapped by his own doing, stuck under cover beside the staircase.

Connor was loath to admit it, but his best chance was the CyberLife android. And it could only succeed if Connor distracted the�� the subject.

“All right. All right.” Connor took a hard swallow, unable to believe he as actually doing this. “I’m sliding out onto the floor. Then we can talk, okay?”

“Fine. Do it.”

Taking one last breath and hoping these next few seconds wouldn’t be his last, Connor released the grip of his pistol, put the weapon on the ground, and slid it across the floor. It skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, out of reach.

“There,” Connor called out, a growing pit in his stomach. “No more gun.”

There was a shuffling noise, probably the android peeking out to see the weapon was in fact out of Connor’s reach.

“Why don’t we start small? Get to know each other?” Connor said, attempting a more pleasant tone than he’d used so far. “My name is Connor Anderson. What’s yours?”

“Carlos,” it said. The voice seemed steadier now. That was good. “My name is Carlos.”

“Okay, Carlos. I’m a detective with the DPD. Do you know why I’m here?”

Connor could have sworn the android sniffled.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong.” It was timid, like a child being scolded by a parent. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so disturbing.

“I just want to ask you some questions, Carlos. Figure out what happened. Can you help me do that?” His tone was steady now, falling into a familiar rhythm. This is what Connor was good at, or at least, what he used to be good at.

“I…” The android trailed off, its voice softer. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, Carlos,” he said, repeating the name and wielding it as if they were long-time friends. Just two buddies having a chat. “We’ll get this whole situation sorted out. Everything is going to be all right, I promise.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere, or maybe it was trained instinct, but Connor knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“No. No no no no. You’re a liar! All humans are liars! I won’t let them take me!”

Connor heard heavy footfalls on padded dirt, and he looked around the edge of the staircase, heart leaping in his chest at the bright red LED and the shape of the android, far too close as it quickly shortened the distance.

The android took aim and Connor pulled back just as a shot went off, breaking off more of the wood. He backpedaled, scrabbling across the dirt and panicking when he couldn’t regain his feet fast enough.

He was going to die, fuck fuck fuck, he was going to fucking die—

The homicidal android ran around the corner and fell forward, slamming into the ground at Connor’s feet.

The CyberLife prototype pressed its knees into the Carlos’ back, pinning it to the ground.

It tried to raise its arm and angle it backwards to shoot, but the prototype grabbed its wrist and twisted in one smooth motion. The sound of plastic cracking filled the space, and the android gave a human-like cry.

The prototype savagely twisted the android’s hand to disarm it of its gun, and with cold and precise ruthlessness, it then plunged its fingers into the back of the Carlos’ neck.

The android screamed. Connor had never heard a human make a noise like that before. Like the noise a machine would make if it was burning from the inside, a horrifying screech of metal and fire.

It twisted its fingers and disconnected some kind of black cable, and with a crackling cry, the android went silent and still. Only a pulsing red LED ring told Connor that it was still functional.

Apparently satisfied with its work, the prototype rose to its feet and dusted its hands off on the front of its jeans.

Connor just stared at it, dumbstruck.

Smoothing down its tie and adjusting the front of its jacket, it yelled, “All clear, Lieutenant!”

The prototype then raised its head, cocked it to the side, and dragged its gaze over to settle on Connor. It looked him up and down, and Connor felt absurdly naked by the penetrating gaze.

“Are you unharmed, Detective?”

“I…”

Connor seemed to have lost his ability to speak, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Colin, Ralph, and the rest of the DPD on site entered the cellar.

Colin gave a low whistle as he appraised the downed android, and then reached out a hand and helped Connor up from the dirt floor. Connor didn’t complain about the help, he wasn’t sure his shaky legs could have gotten him standing.

“Nice job, Con. I was about to call it in to the station. That plastic fuck really kill our victim?”

Connor opened his mouth, was about to correct Colin that the prototype had done most of the work, and then immediately felt foolish for wanting to give credit to a machine.

Instead, he said, “It would seem so.”

“You will have to take it down to the precinct to close your investigation, Lieutenant,” the prototype answered Connor’s brother. “I incapacitated the deviant, and it shouldn’t come back online until its neural cables have been reconnected.”

It adjusted the cuffs of its jacket, fidgeting in a way that was far too human. Who the fuck at CyberLife decided to give androids nervous tics?

Connor frowned. Now that he’d had a couple minutes to catch his breath and slow his racing brain, the full implication of murdering androids was hitting him.  He tilted his head at the YN800 model.

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t CyberLife want it back? Take it to their labs and study it, or whatever. Why don’t you go call them to clean up this mess?”

Colin was wondering the same thing judging by the mirrored frown on his face. Instead of obeying like a machine should, the prototype met his eye.

“Deviants are notoriously difficult to observe, even by CyberLife’s leading experts. If forcibly opened for diagnosis, their coding becomes unstable, corrupted, and they eventually shut down. If we wish to know more about the deviant’s motives,” it dropped its eyes to look at the machine in question, “then you’re going to have to question it like you would a human.”

Colin caught his eye, raising his brow in a look Connor could interpret as, Are you for fucking real with this thing?

Connor simply returned a shrug to say, Don’t ask me. I have no idea.

“CyberLife will, of course, cover whatever costs your investigation incurs,” the prototype continued, “as well as provide the DPD with additional resource as a token of the company’s gratitude.”

“Fine. Whatever. Hank can deal with the politics, seeing as he’s the one who let the clowns come to the circus.” Colin gave the prototype a scathing once-over. Without taking his eyes off the android, he barked, “Ralph, get some muscle to haul that thing to the ME’s van and load it in. But if it so much as twitches on the ride to the station, put a bullet in the back of its head.”

“Yes, sir,” the rookie responded, nervous and twitchy like a small animal as he rushed to obey his superior officer. “Right away.”

“Does that meet your approval, YN800?” Colin sneered, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze down to the model number on its jacket. His eyes didn’t stop there; they proceeded down its body, less dismissively and more lingering in obvious interest.

Connor’s stomach tightened in discomfort. He shouldn’t care one way or another; it was just a machine, even if it had saved Connor’s life.

Of course, Connor wouldn’t have gone down into the cellar alone and unprepared in the first place if it hadn’t gone off without telling him, so there was that.

The prototype didn’t seem to take offense, meeting Colin’s wandering eye with its own cool stare.

“CyberLife appreciates the DPD’s cooperation during the course of this investigation.”

“Guess that’s a yes.”

Colin gave the android a wink and Connor a smirk before leaving to coordinate the rest of the cleanup.

In a gesture that was ridiculous on an android, the prototype tightened the knot of its tie at the base of its throat. Without a word or a backwards glance at Connor, it ascended the staircase out of the cellar.

Finding himself now playing the part of the pathetic puppy, Connor followed close behind, not trusting it leaving his sight again.

Next Chapter

[musings-from-mars]

@nuts-and-dolts-week - Day 1 : Childhood Friends (or, acquaintances?)

((EDIT: I reblogged this with an AO3 link if you want to leave a comment!))

Ruby hadn’t really understood why her dad had been so nervous about this big trip to Atlas. A whole week in the most technologically advanced place in Remnant? How could this not be the coolest thing ever? Almost all of her Signal classmates were going on the week-long trip, too. Despite her dad’s “I don’t knows” and “maybes,” Ruby had managed to get him to sign the permission slip and pay the dues for her to go. Of course, his condition that he chaperone was annoying, but at least it was happening! Ruby couldn’t wait to see the cool tech and weapons at Atlas Academy.

Much to her dismay, however, Ruby realized this school trip was ending up being way more boring than she expected. As her dad had put it, this really was shaping up to be “an elaborate recruitment event dressed up like an educational trip.” High-ranking military types and grizzled old academy professors gave tour after lecture after presentation, but to Ruby, it all blurred together. Who cared about graduation rates, or quality of education? Ruby wanted to see the cool stuff!

Which is why, despite knowing it would probably get her in trouble, she sneaked away during a lecture on the history of the kingdom to try to look around for something more interesting. Her class had spent the whole day at this academy, so Ruby knew well enough that this place was huge. But she hoped what little she’d manage to see would feature something cool. Maybe a weapons workshop, or a tech lab of some sort. There had to be something around in these huge echo-y halls.

Just when she was about to give up her search and sneak back into the lecture hall, she heard something from a nearby room. She shuffled closer and listened, noticing the placard by the door, Project Workshop #307.

“Her software is coming along even better than planned,” a man’s voice from within spoke. “The specifics of her hardware is the more troublesome aspect. But as an individual, she is displaying a tremendous level of self-awareness and agency. Not to mention she is quite personable and friendly, if not a tad bit literal. I’m still working on her ability to detect hyperbole.”

“It’s very impressive,” another man spoke. He sounded familiar. “But I am certain you know that the hardware is the top priority at this time. I find you focus too much on this project’s more...sentimental aspects.”

“Yes, well, you did ask for her to be as believable as possible. And I feel she is well on the way to achieving that goal!”

“Indeed. But you do understand what I am telling you, correct?”

“Yes, general. Understood.”

General? General Ironwood, that guy who gave the big welcome speech that morning?

“Good. I am very satisfied with the progress you’ve made on this project. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, sir. Good day!”

Ruby heard the sturdy thumping of boots on the floor, and she panicked and petal burst away to hide under a nearby bench. She held her breath and watched as who must have been the general walk past, none the wiser. She sighed in relief, then began to crawl out from under the bench only to see someone else leaving the same room, and she yelped and hid once more.

The person walked by her hiding spot, or...a robot? Four robotic legs ambled down the hall, and Ruby thought for a second that a big mech had been released inside the school. She poked her head out to look, but instead saw a man in a chair. It was like a wheelchair, but...with legs. Still cool, but not a mech.

Once the man and his robo-chair had disappeared around a corner, Ruby turned her attention to the room he’d left. He’d shut the door and she feared it was locked, but was relieved when it opened when she tried the knob. She grinned and looked both ways down the hall one more time, then entered. Time to see what this project was.

The men had talked about software, and how realistic she was becoming. Was this an AI of some sorts? A completely artificial person, even? The concept blew Ruby’s mind, and she hoped that was the case. She entered the room and gently shut the door behind herself, then turned to see...a laptop. A laptop sitting on a table, surrounded by notebooks and papers. Ruby had been expecting something cooler to look at. Maybe an android, like the hardware the men had talked about. She gave the notebooks a closer look, and was at least intrigued by their content.

The P.E.N.N.Y. Project.

“Penny...” Ruby muttered in curiosity as she looked at the header of one of the notebooks.

The laptop screen turned on, a bright lime green. “Salutations!”

“Wah-!” Ruby yelped and almost fell over, instead managing to land her butt in a nearby desk chair. She looked at the laptop with wide eyes. The screen was completely lime green, save for a small power on/power off icon in the bottom right.

“‘Wah’?” The feminine voice asked. “What does that mean?”

Ruby held her breath as she slowly adjusted herself in her seat, then used her legs to roll her way closer to the monitor. “Hello?”

“Hello!” The voice answered with delight.

“Who are you?” Ruby asked.

“I am Project P.E.N.N.Y., but you may just call me Penny.”

Ruby’s jaw fell open, and she glanced at the notebook again. “You...you’re an artificial intelligence.”

The voice seemed to giggle. “In a way, I am. My intelligence is man-made, but my more proper categorization is ‘Synthetic Person.’”

“Woah...” Ruby murmured, staring at the screen.

“‘Woah?’“ Penny asked. “What does that mean?”

“It...” Ruby wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s just a thing you say when, like, you see something really cool.”

“‘Woah’ is an exclamation of wonder?”

“Yeah!” Ruby said with a laugh. “That makes more sense than what I said.”

“Thank you for teaching me!”

“Uh, sure.” Ruby was talking to a computer. Or, well, a synthetic person. This was so flipping awesome! This was exactly the kind of thing she had been hoping to find.

“Who are you?” Penny asked.

“I-I’m Ruby.”

“It is wonderful to meet you, Ruby!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious. “And it’s awesome meeting you too!”

“You are the first person besides my fathers that I have gotten to talk to so freely.”

Her fathers? “You mean the general, and that man in the...spider chair?”

“Precisely!” Penny confirmed. “Pietro Polendina is the one who is designing me, and General Ironwood is overseeing my progress.”

“That’s really cool,” Ruby said with a laugh. “When do you think you’ll be finished?”

“That is uncertain at this time. My father is currently designing a physical body for me! But the problem with that is without an Aura of my own—”

The door suddenly opened, and Ruby spun around in her chair to face whoever it was. Except she spun herself a little too hard and continued rotating, having to turn her head to face the man in the robo-chair while scrambling to stop her spinning.

“P-pardon me,” the man said, eyes wide and glasses crooked on his face as he stared at Ruby.

“Sorry!” Ruby yelped, hopping to her feet and standing upright, rubbing the back of her head. “I, uh...” She then quickly fell to the floor and mimed searching around for something. “I dropped my...lucky bottle cap.” My what...?

The man adjusted his glasses and chuckled. “Child, shouldn’t you be with your classmates?”

Ruby’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah, uhm...I got lost?”

The man Ruby deduced to be the Pietro Polendina whom Penny had mentioned shook his head fondly. “I do not blame your curiosity, young one.” He glanced at the desk. “I see you have made an acquaintance, Penny.”

“Ruby and I are acquainted?” Penny asked, sounding excited. “I have never been acquainted to someone before!”

Pietro chuckled fondly, like Ruby’s dad would anytime she’d go on a ramble about weapons or types of Grimm. “And while I am all in favor of you meeting new people in time, I’m afraid all information to do with you is proprietary at the moment. You and Ruby will have to catch up some other time.”

“I understand,” Penny said. “My conversational software is very impressionable.”

Ruby stood back to her feet as straight as she could, feeling hot under her Signal uniform. “So, uhh, I should go, huh?”

“Do not forget about your lucky bottle cap!” Penny reminded her earnestly.

“Oh, uhh...” Ruby’s face burned.

Pietro let out a hearty laugh and shuffled his robo-chair to the side. “Run along, Ruby. You are certainly missing a riveting retelling of Atlas’ military history.” Humorous sarcasm tinged his words.

Ruby nodded and awkwardly marched to the door. “Y-yes, sir,” she said, then struggled with whether she should salute or not, then compromised with a wave. “Uhm...bye, Penny.”

“Farewell! I hope to talk to you again soon, acquaintance!“

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Falling For You But You Are Worlds Away: Chapter 1

Summary: After a close call with a reporter that resulted in Simon getting hurt, Linda makes a difficult and heartbreaking decision. Meanwhile, Wilhelm returns to Hillerska, hoping to at least rekindle his friendship with Simon, only to find that even that was no longer possible.

Title inspired by Taylor Swift's "Come Back, Be Here."

Note: So... after several weeks of obsessing... I finally did it... I finally wrote Young Royals fanfic. And, I really shouldn't because I have Grad school and a part-time job and I barely have time to breathe.Speaking of that, I probably won't have a consistent update. There might be times when I disappear for several weeks. Please be patient and understanding with me, I'm still trying to balance school and work.

AO3 link

It was supposed to be a normal day of running errands – a trip to the grocery store, dropping off mail at the post office, and maybe getting ice creams as a treat on the way home. But, no, Simon should have known better than to think that his life would somehow go back to normal during Christmas. After all, the prince had denied his involvement in the viral video and Simon had broken up with him to give both of them some space. This all happened only a week ago.

But, even after all that trouble and heartbreak, here he and his family were, being chased down their own street by paparazzi with their stupid cameras and fake sympathy.

“Simon, won’t you tell us your side of the story?”

“Is Prince Wilhelm lying? Are you in a relationship?”

“Mrs. Erikkson, how did you react when you found out your son may have been involved with the prince?”

“Don’t say anything,” his mother hissed in Spanish, clutching Simon and Sara’s arms tighter against her side.

The plastic bag of groceries was digging into Simon’s skin and he wished he could adjust his grip but he didn’t dare slow down. Those hyenas at his heels could catch them and he didn’t want to give them that satisfaction.

But, then, Sara let out a startled scream. A reporter had grabbed her arm, making her drop the groceries. Clementines rolled out of the bag and onto the pavement.

And, just like that, Simon saw red.

“Let go of her!”

He ripped his arm from his mother’s hold and lunged at the reporter, pushing him away from his shaking sister. The reporter, a middle-aged man who had probably been doing this for a long time, released Sara. But, before Simon could pull her away to safety, searing pain exploded at his cheek. He tasted the blood before he even realized what had happened.

His mom and Sara screamed.

The other reporters began to yell at the first one. Things like “What is wrong with you?!” and “Fuck, you can’t touch our sources like that! We’re gonna get sued!”

His name was being called. It sounded like Sara.

But, Simon, feeling dazed and tired, just stared up at the bright blue sky. He didn't even realize he had fallen to the ground. It was a nice day, though.

It should have been an ordinary nice day.

 .....

“Thank you, officer, we really appreciate your help.”

“Just doing our job, ma’am. Please don’t hesitate to call us over if you see any more suspicious individuals around your home. We’ll send someone over, immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Linda bid the police officers a good day and shut the door. With them gone, she finally lowered her mask and allowed the weariness of the day to manifest in her bones. She leaned back against the closed door, letting out the breath she had been holding.

No matter how many times she had dealt with the police, it never failed to make her exhausted. She should be used to this by now.

When she and the kids still lived with Micke, it wasn’t uncommon for neighbors to call the cops to complain about her ex-husband disturbing the peace. Mostly because he was yelling at her and the children. Sometimes, even hurting her. (He never touched the children. Linda never let him. The one and only time he almost laid a hand on Sara was finally when Linda finally gathered her children, important documents, and a few meager possessions and fled into the night.)

Linda believed that they were past all that. That in this new life she built for herself and her children, they would never have to call the police to their home or worry about their safety ever again. But, after what happened to Simon today, she could no longer hold on to that dream. Not for the time being.

She knew what she had to do to keep her son safe, even if it hurt her. Even if Simon would resent her. She hoped he wouldn’t. That he would see that she was doing this for him.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Linda straightened her shoulders, lifted her head, and began to make her way back to the living room, where she could clearly hear her children bickering on the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sara asked her brother.

“I’m fine,” Simon answered, sounding annoyed. “He didn’t even hit me that hard.”

“You could have hit your head!”

“But, I didn’t.”

“You should have left him alone.”

“He touched you!”

Sara pressed her lips together and looked away as she dabbed ointment to her brother’s bruised lip. Simon flinched, which made his sister’s lips quirk to an amused smile.

But, despite her children looking seemingly okay, joking around and teasing each other the way they always did, Linda couldn't stop looking at that dark mark marring her son’s handsome face. 

Clearing her throat, she stepped into the living room.

“Mi amor, how are you feeling?” she asked, sitting on Simon’s other side.

“I’m fine, mama,” he replied, immediately. “It’s just a scratch, it will heal in a few days.” He grinned. “It makes me look badass though, right?”

Sara snorted. “More like reckless.”

“A reckless badass.”

“Mi amor,” Linda interrupted, gently, not wanting them to start bickering again. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Simon straightened up, looking serious. Linda’s chest felt heavy as she took his hand in hers and stroked it. Sometimes, she wished her children were still small and had no other care in the world except for what candy they could get at the grocery store that week.

“It’s about school,” she began.

“I’ll transfer back to Marieberg,” Simon said, misunderstanding where the conversation was going. “I don’t mind. Sara can stay at Hillerska, she has friends there now, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Besides, Rosh and Ayub are excited to have me back.”

Linda shook her head. “I don’t think you should go back to Marieberg either.”

At that, Simon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I should go to another school? There aren’t any others close by.”

Linda sighed as she looked her son in the eye. “When the… video… first came out...”

Simon flinched and looked down at his feet.

“... I thought about how to… protect you. Especially after what happened today-.”

“Mama, I can handle it,” he interrupted, still unable to look at her. “I was fine today.”

“No, you weren’t,” Sara interjected. “You got punched.”

Simon glared at her. “They’re just reporters, I can handle them.”

Linda squeezed his hand. “It’s not just the reporters, Simon. It’s also… the others. Remember that boy from the other day? He followed you home! He could have hurt you!”

Simon's eyes flashed in anger at the memory. “But, he didn’t, you drove him away. And I would have been fine, I could take him.”

“That doesn’t stop me from worrying!”

Linda ran a hand through her hair, frustrated and cursing her son’s stubbornness. Unfortunately, that was one thing he inherited from Micke.

“Anything could have happened and I can’t protect you! Not at school, not at the grocery store, not even here at home! And do you know what that does to me?! I worry about you every time you’re out of my sight, Simon!” 

Unbidden tears brimmed at Linda’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had to be strong. She was making the right decision.

“A few weeks ago, I called your Tia Elena. She already knew what happened, the news reached them...”

“Oh, God!” Closing his eyes, Simon groaned and fell back against the couch.

“… and she actually suggested that… you go to live with her for a while.”

Almost immediately, Simon’s eyes snapped open and he sat up. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure, before, because I don’t want you to be away from us. But, after what happened with that boy from the other day and the reporters today… I think this is the best thing for you.”

“To send me to America?! That’s the best thing for me?!”

Simon pulled his hand away from her hold and stood up, presumably to stalk off to his room.

Linda tried to blink away the tears. “Simon, mi amor, please! This is the only way to keep you safe!”

“You’re sending me away! From you and Sara and my friends! My whole life is here!”

“It’s only until this all dies down, I promise. You can transfer back to Marieberg next school year. But, just for this term. Please, Simon.”

She watched Simon’s stiff back as he processed her pleas.

“W-What about a visa?” he asked and the hope in it broke her heart. “Don’t I need one of those? And they take time, don’t they? By the time they process it, school’s gonna start and I still have to travel and-.”

“You have an appointment with the U.S. Embassy the day after tomorrow,” Linda interrupted. “Your Tia Elena took care of everything. She even sent some money along to help with the fees.”

“Oh.” Simon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “W-Would they even have room for me?”

“There’s only her and Ana now ever since Ricardo left them. And she says you can work at her store to earn some extra money, if you want.”

From the corner of her eye, Linda spotted Sara, who was unusually quiet. Her daughter was staring at her brother, her face unreadable. It was difficult to read Sara these days. But, Linda hoped that her daughter understood why she was doing this.

Sara didn’t want to leave Hillerska and that was fine, she had gone ahead and applied for that Grant to be a resident. But, even if Simon applied for a Grant too and became a resident, he would still get chased by reporters. He would still get recognized and followed by creeps and people who wanted to do him harm in Bjarstard. But, in America, with Linda’s older sister, he could be safe from the scandal.  

“Is there really no other way?” Simon asked, softly.

Getting to her feet, Linda moved towards her son and wrapped him in her arms.

“Mi amor, I know this is difficult for you. It is for me, too. I want nothing more than for you to stay here in Sweden with me and your sister. But, I want you to be safe. I want people to stop stalking you and bothering you about something so… traumatic. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to go to school and live your life in peace. In America, no one knows who you are. You can live normally again, go to school, and even… date someone new.”

Simon flinched in her arms and she regretted her words.

What Simon had with Wilhelm was truly special, something for the books, the kind of love story you often watch on T.V. and read about in books. She had never seen Simon as happy as he had been when he was with the prince, even if they thought Linda didn’t know. (Of course, she knew! She was his mother!) It was only a shame that their story ended in a tragedy that not only broke her son’s heart but also brought negative and unwanted attention onto his life.

“Simon, please,” she begged. “Just for a few months, I promise, mi amor. And, then, you can come home and life will be back to normal, I’m sure. Please.”

Time felt like it was slowing down as they stood there in the middle of the living room, Simon slowly breaking in her arms and Sara only watching helplessly.

Finally, her son let out a breath. “Okay,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ll go.”

Linda burst into tears and buried her face against the fabric of Simon’s orange sweatshirt.

Despite her own heart breaking into pieces at the thought of being away from her son, she was also so incredibly relieved.

 ......... 

The Christmas break was too long, in Wilhelm’s opinion.

He spent most of it making required public appearances, sitting in on council meetings, and attending royal parties. He went about his duties like a robot, his emotions numb and something in him broken. His mother thought he would get over it if she threw enough things at him to keep him busy enough to not think of Simon. But, obviously, it didn’t work.

Simon was the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the mornings and the last thing he thought of before he slept at night. He had tried texting but his texts went unanswered. His calls would result in just ring after ring after ring until voicemail picked up. He spent many hours just scrolling through Simon’s Instagram, not seeing any new posts. Rosh, Ayub, and Sara had all blocked him so he couldn’t even see any posts of Simon, if there were any.

During the yearly Christmas party hosted by the Royal family, it was normally Erik who had to socialize and make nice with all the nobility and distant relatives who came. But, this year, Wilhelm had to do it. And it was fine, at first. He managed to remember some names and those he didn’t remember, he managed to sidestep with a polite “sir” or “ma’am.” But, then… But, then!

His mother introduced to him the daughter of a Duke whose name he couldn’t remember. With the way his mother smiled and practically pushed the girl to his side, Wilhelm knew exactly what she was doing. It ruined the rest of the party for him, as well as that poor girl’s Christmas. Wilhelm was so annoyed that he ignored her when she tried to make conversation. Eventually, he caused her to break into tears when he bluntly said that he didn’t care who designed her dress.

The Queen tried to scold him, called him a disgrace, and demanded that he get himself together. Wilhelm only shot her a blank look, excused himself, and left the party.

There were no more attempts at setting him up after that.

So, when Christmas break ended and it was time to return to Hillerska, he was relieved. He dutifully packed his things, including the small Christmas gift he got for Simon. He was hoping that even if they couldn’t restart their relationship, they could still be friends. Wilhelm would take anything Simon was able to offer him right now, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Your Royal Highness,” Malin called through the door. “You’re supposed to be at the church in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Malin!” Wilhelm called back to her.

The prince looked over his appearance in the mirror one last time, making sure his school tie was tied properly and his jacket free of lint. Not that Simon would care about those, but Wilhelm wanted to look his best, for once. He even got a haircut over break. He wondered if Simon did, too. He couldn’t wait to see him.

Feeling the anticipation brimming inside him, Wilhelm made his way out of his room. He joined the others in leaving Forest Ridge to head to the church. Ahead of him, Henry and Walter waved, pausing to let him catch up to them.

Despite their initial impression on Wilhelm, they really did mellow out the more he got to know them. And when the video came out, they were the only ones who didn’t look at him weirdly (at least, not blatantly to his face) and never once asked about the video. They even texted him a Merry Christmas over break. He would take their company over August’s.

And, speaking of the devil, there was his traitor of a cousin now, pushing through the other boys to get to him. Wilhelm quickened his steps, not wanting to get caught in a conversation. He had successfully avoided him during the Christmas party at the palace after giving firm instructions to Malin and Johan to ensure that he didn’t get close to Wilhelm.

Luckily, his bodyguards were most likely doing exactly that as Wilhelm made it to the church and slipped into a pew without August catching up to him. Henry and Walter slid in after him, chatting about their holidays.

“Wonder what they’re singing this time,” Walter wondered aloud.

“Hope it’s something good,” Henry added.

Wilhelm only smiled, his annoyance at August finally melting away and replaced by excitement to see Simon and hear him sing again. Christmas break was too long.

Finally, the whole church had filled up and the Headmaster signaled for everyone to be quiet.

The choir entered.

Wilhelm spotted Felice and gave her a small wave. She had remained a great friend to him throughout the break.

As the choir began their song, Wilhelm scanned the heads, looking for that familiar head of curls. Someone else was doing a solo this time, a girl he didn’t know and her voice was nice but it wasn’t Simon. Why wasn’t Simon doing the solo?

Wilhelm couldn’t even hear the song or decipher the lyrics. His eyes desperately scanned all three rows but he couldn’t spot Simon.

Where was Simon?!?! Did he miss the first day of school?!?!

But, Sara was just a few pews ahead. She wouldn’t leave home without her brother.

The excitement that had earlier filled him turned into fear.

Did Simon quit the choir?!

Not caring about how it looked, Wilhelm scanned the pews across from them and the pews behind him, trying to spot those curls. But… he couldn’t see them. Not one strand.

The choir had finished singing now and the Headmaster had stood up to welcome them to another semester, go over the rules of the dorms, and list the school administration’s expectations from their students.

All of it went over Wilhelm’s head.

And, finally, they were dismissed to go to their first class of the day.

Wilhelm shot up and, muttering apologies to Henry and Walter, made his way out of the pew. He ignored the “hello’s” sent his way and hurried to the front.

Sara and Maddie were chatting with each other as they made their way down the aisle, all excited smiles and talking about how wonderfully Felice sang.

“Sara!”

The girl slowed down and froze upon seeing him. He saw the anger flash in those normally calm eyes. Then, she turned her gaze away and walked past him.

Wilhelm was not giving up.

He turned around and gave chase. “Sara! Sara, wait! I just need to ask you something.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Prince,” she seethed, not stopping.

He hated to do it but he gently grasped the arm of her school jacket. “Please, I need to ask you. Where’s Simon?”

Sara pulled her arm away, glaring at him. “Why do you ask?”

Wilhelm swallowed. “He didn’t sing with the choir. And I can’t find him anywhere and I just-.”

“He doesn’t go to Hillerska anymore.”

Wilhelm’s heart stopped. “What?”

Sara shrugged, turned on her heels, and walked away. Maddie shot Wilhelm a pitying look before hurrying off after her.  

His chest felt tight. And it seemed like there wasn’t enough air for him to breathe.

Simon... left?

[rawr-ily]

A Stupidly Long Oikawa Analysis

   The main issue with Oikawa is that he's not naturally gifted, which is emphasized a lot in the show. For example, the last episode of the season one match of Karasuno vs Seijoh was named "Oikawa Tooru is not a Genius". Despite that, he's still the best player on Seijoh, and is highly respected by his teammates as a setter and their captain. Due to not having any natural skill or technique, Oikawa resorted to compensating with his own tactics. He knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never have the same technical skill as a genius like Kageyama. Instead, he used his own skills in analysis and communication to bring out the best in his spikers.

   This is why, despite being called Grand King, Oikawa is depicted as a mighty general. He leads his soldiers, and in return, they trust him with their lives and fight with him. The amazing thing about Oikawa's leadership is that his teammates trust him because they know he can lead them. They understand that Oikawa has honed their skills and improved them all as players. He's helped them all, and when a game comes, they understand that all he asks of them is to keep trusting him. Trust that he'll send them a good toss, trust the strategies he'll formulate, trust his leadership.

At the end of the day, Oikawa knows he doesn't have the technical skill of a genius, so he dedicates his focus to improving his whole team. The origin of this focus would probably come from the episode where he almost backhands Kageyama in middle school. Iwaizumi intervenes and literally knocks some sense into him. They fight and yell, but then Iwaizumi tells Oikawa, "There are six people on court! The team with the best six players is the best!" Oikawa seems to have an epiphany then. He seems to realize exactly what his best friend is saying. It seems very straightforward at first, but it clearly not all that simple. Oikawa thought that he had to improve himself as a setter so he could carry his team to victory. He was trying to be a king. Luckily, he had Iwaizumi to cut off that train of thought very early on.

I loved how the show compared what Iwaizumi said to multiplication and addition. Oikawa thought that he had to improve himself because he thought you just mushed together the strengths of each player. That's wrong. He learned that you multiply the strengths of each player instead. It took me a bit to understand that one too. The way I look at that, it means that each player will affect one another when in a team. They can't just play as individuals that happen to be on the same side of the court. By trying to add the powers of your team, you just stack them on top of each other. By multiplying, you take what you already have and make it greater by merging it with something else.

If you like visuals, think of oil and water vs baking soda and vinegar. Adding oil to water increases the overall volume of liquid, but they never combine. If there is a cup of water and a cup of oil, you get two cups of liquid. Baking soda and vinegar doesn't just stack; it explodes. If you have a cup of vinegar and a cup of baking soda, they'll make way more than two cups when they combine. The players get stronger when together.

So, Oikawa stops trying to become a king. He obviously does keep trying to improve as a player, but he starts to focus more on his spikers. He realizes that he can compensate for his lack of natural technical skill by using his own natural skill of reading people and adjusting his responses adequately. Oikawa is a versatile player, and a very flexible setter. He gives his energy to improve his team, and they respond by giving their energy to get better and win. I found it interesting how loyal his teammates were to him. It brings me back to Oikawa being a general and not a king. Kageyama is high, untouchable, and barks out orders as the king, while Oikawa is the brave general who leads the soldiers. Oikawa fights alongside his soldiers. Kageyama stays in his palace, highly revered, but alone. The difference between them is that people are forced to follow Kageyama because of his unparalleled power. People follow Oikawa because they trust him with their life.

It's actually one of my favorite pieces of symbolism in Haikyuu. Kageyama was a genius from the beginning. His skill was something he was born with, and now he's king. When the eldest prince is born they have the birthright to become king. Kageyama got his title simply because he was lucky (

I love Kageyama, and I know he worked very hard, but he was mainly able to get there because he's a natural born genius. Generals have to rise through the ranks and work for their position. Some soldiers in history were actually more loyal to their general than to their king. Generals risk their lives with their soldiers. The king commands from the palace. The analogy doesn't really work for their relationship, but it's great for their individual characters.

As for Oikawa's relationship with Kageyama? It's complicated, as most things with Oikawa are. Oikawa is Kageyama's upperclassman, and It's evident that Kageyama once looked up to him. At first, I never understood why Oikawa hated Kageyama so much. It was fairly obvious that his underclassman basically worshipped him, and I thought it would do wonders for his ego. However, it seems so much more obvious after a bit of rewatching. Middle school Kageyama was a natural from the start, and middle school Oikawa was just a mess of overworking, burning out, and crippling insecurity masked by egoism.

Oikawa hated that he worked himself to death to make the cut, then some random bright eyed prodigy first year just comes in and steals the show. Maybe it wasn't reasonable to hate him so much, but middle schoolers aren't reasonable. Some people say Oikawa was supposed act more mature and responsible, an that he should have had more self control with his feelings. They seem to forget he was a CHILD. He was a literal child; he just entered adolescence, and he was still learning. He shouldn't be expected to handle things like an adult when he isn't one. Oikawa was just SCARED. He loved volleyball and didn't want to be replaced by Kageyama. He overworked himself so he wouldn't be dispensable. I agree that he should not have tried to hit Kageyama. However, you can't say that it makes him a bad person or character.

Oikawa wasn't really in his right mind at the time. It was clear that he was in the middle of an adrenaline rush of sorts from overworking himself. He was visibly agitated and overwhelmed, but, Kageyama approached him. This isn't Kageyama's fault either. While I do think he should have been able to tell it was a bad time to ask, Kageyama was an even younger child. He was never good at reading people either, so Kageyama can't be held accountable. Imagine, though, how Oikawa felt. He was in the middle of training so he wouldn't be replaced, and who decides to interrupt? The person he's trying not to be replaced by. Again, not Kageyama's fault, but you must understand that Oikawa was afraid. He was stuck in this swarm of negative thinking, and the very source of so much of his fear and insecurity was suddenly right in front of him. It wasn't right of him to do that, but you can understand why he did it.

That's another very interesting part of Oikawa. It was his worst fear come to life when he was subbed out for Kageyama in one of their games. It was too much for him, and he just finally snapped. Thankfully, Iwaizumi's lecture struck a chord in him, and he made an apparent effort to remember it. However, I don't think it made his fear go away. In fact, I think his fear of being replaced originated much before middle school. Obviously, I have no idea when exactly, but I would have to guess it started around the middle of elementary school at the latest. This is mainly because I believe Oikawa's obnoxious personality is a sort of defense mechanism used against this fear. Oikawa is objectively very good-looking, flamboyant and charming; he's also very popular among girls.

I found it very interesting that he was portrayed to be a heartthrob by the media, but was seen to be very immature and honestly quite annoying. Around his friends he acts very childish, but switches again to his charming persona when around fans or other classmates. It was fairly clear that something wasn't right. I wanted to believe it was just inconsistent writing, but one of Furudate's greatest strengths is building characters; I also saw no clear consistency problems with other characters. I believe that Oikawa switches personas depending on what reputation he's trying to uphold. We know Oikawa is insecure at heart, and we see him trying to play it off by being prideful.

If we go back to his fear of being replaced, I find reasonable to believe that Oikawa acts the way he does so that people don't get bored of him. He wants  a reputation, because that means people will know about him. Something that is consistent about his personas is that he's very sociable in both. He's childish, loud, and constantly wants attention, or he's always laughing, flirting, and joking. It's almost as if he believes that everybody will find someone new if he doesn't remind them he's still there. He thinks people will get bored of him, so he constantly tries to make sure people stay interested. A lot of people say that Oikawa is too annoying and narcissistic, but he does it because he's afraid people will get rid of him if he doesn't keep their attention.

That also leads to another major part of Oikawa's character. I actually believe this may be the biggest part of his overall character. There's something that sets Oikawa apart from every other character. Regardless of if you like him or not, you can't deny that there's an energy about him that's just different. He's the closest you'll get to an antagonist in Haikyuu, but you also get to see his soft sides. We see the love he has for volleyball and for his teammates. It's strange to see so many different sides of a character. It's also interesting how Ushijima wanted Oikawa join Shiratorizawa. It's understandable, considering Kageyama still hadn't developed and Oikawa was the best setter in the prefecture.

So, the question I always wanted to answer: Why didn't Oikawa go to Shiratorizawa? Yes, the fandom exaggerates it and loves to joke about it, but it was a real question for me at first. Oikawa wanted to go to Nationals, and joining Shiratorizawa would have guaranteed it. Best ace and best setter in the entire prefecture on one team? They would blow the competition away. It would have been much easier if Oikawa had indeed swallowed his pride and joined Shiratorizawa. However, it seems that it wasn't necessarily about all about "worthless pride". Of course it was a factor, but Oikawa wouldn't let his pride get in the way of his dreams; he's smarter than that.

It was then that I started to notice a recurring pattern with Oikawa. He's a direct opposition to the main characters. He refused to join a powerhouse team for an easy ticket to Nationals. He uses his personal strengths to improve instead of being upset over what he doesn't have. Oikawa is an incredibly unique character because of his sheer will to do things the way he wants. Oikawa is a setter; he's a control freak, but in a less direct way than Kageyama. He doesn't force everyone to adapt to him, yelling, "You better follow me!" Rather, he goes his own way and says, "Follow me if you dare."

He carves his own path, regardless of what others say. Seijoh was destined to lose from the beginning. Furudate loves symbolism in Haikyuu. Notice how every national level school is represented by an animal? The mighty eagle of Shiratorizawa, the wild crow of Karasuno, the clever cat of Nekoma, the soaring owl of Fukurodani? What does Aoba Johsai have? A castle. Aoba Johsai translates to Blue Castle. While the other teams fight, jump, and soar, Aoba Johsai is beautiful, strong, and reliable, but they will never fly. It was almost as if Oikawa went to Aoba Johsai simply to prove he didn't need Ushijima to go to Nationals. Looking at it like that, it indeed makes it look like Oikawa refuses to go to Shiratorizawa out of pride. However, I like to see it as more than that.

First of all, Oikawa's greatest wish was to defeat Shiratorizawa in order to go to Nationals. OIKAWA DOES NOT SETTLE. He refuses to settle for only half his dream. Maybe it's too prideful, but it would invalidate the years of hell he put himself through trying to accomplish it. It was like Ushijima was telling him, "Hey, you tried your best, didn't you? You can't beat me, and all your years of work are for nothing. Just join us and give it up." It was insulting to him. Oikawa's sheer perseverance was what got him where he was. He took everything the world threw at him and threw it right back. Suddenly, it all stops and he's offered an olive branch of sorts. The world doesn't offer everything he wants, but it's something. Just enough to get him to stop fighting back.

Oikawa wants all or nothing when it comes to his passions. It's risky, maybe not a very smart decision, but that's just who he is.He doesn't want the olive branch; he wants the whole damn tree. Oikawa wants to look at Ushijima, to scream from the top of the world, and tell everybody who didn't think he could make it, "I DON'T NEED YOU." He wants to show people they were wrong. No, he's not a genius, but he doesn't need to be one. He wants to follow his dreams his own way or he doesn't want it at all.

Second of all, Oikawa wanted to go to Nationals with Iwaizumi. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were together their entire lives. They played, they laughed, they cried, they won, they lost, but they were always together. Oikawa needs Iwaizumi specifically because he trusts that he'll never be dispensable to his best friend. Iwaizumi is his support, the way he grounds himself when things are too much. Oikawa and Iwaizumi want to go to Nationals together. It's not some fantasy they conjured up; it's their childhood dream. Oikawa wouldn't be willing to let go of that. Again, Oikawa refuses to settle. He wants to lead a team to Nationals with his partner, or he doesn't want it at all.

   Oikawa was willing to risk everything. He wanted to go all in. Maybe it was wrong, and maybe it was just worthless pride. Regardless, it shows us his unparalleled passion for the sport. He deserved so much better than what he got, but life isn't fair. Haikyuu shows us that. It's almost discouraging to see Oikawa lose. If you look at it, between Oikawa and Kageyama, Oikawa is actually the underdog. Kageyama is the genius player and Oikawa just tries his best. Haikyuu is an underdog story, but sometimes the roles are not as we think.

(⚠️!!SPOILERS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER!!⚠️)

When Oikawa is seen as the "final boss" as the official setter of Argentina's Olympic team, it's the cherry on top to confirm what type of character he is. THIS MAN WAS SO DAMN PETTY AND DETERMINED TO FOLLOW HIS DREAMS THAT HE IMMIGRATED TO A DIFFERENT HEMISPHERE. He was so determined to make his own path that he made a name for himself on the other side of the world. He was virtually unknown, and had to start from scratch all again. What happened? He actually did it, and now he's the main focus of his team. I have such a ridiculous amount of respect for Oikawa. The determination that man has is unparalleled.

I believe Furidate also uses Oikawa as a model to teach us that, yes, it's discouraging to be surrounded by people better than you, and failure is inevitable. However, it you can use those failures as a lesson to improve yourself, and if you stick to your goals until the very end, the world will get tired and it'll work out in the end. Oikawa tells us that it's okay to be bold; he tells us to understand that it takes time to succeed, and you will succeed. He tells us to treasure those who support us, because the trust they have in you is more than you could ever know. In the end, Oikawa really accomplishes his dreams. Maybe Iwaizumi isn't with him, but Oikawa has learned by then how to live without him and vice versa. Instead, he gets to fulfill his promise of defeating him when they face each other.

Oikawa never got to go Nationals, but now he's at Internationals. Now he finally gets to beat Ushijima, Kageyama, and Iwaizumi all in one spot. We don't even get to see the result of the match, which is actually something I love. Oikawa is the only one we know in Argentina; it would be unrealistic to try to decide a winner between the two teams if we don't know the strengths and weaknesses of each player. Regardless, we finally get to see Oikawa get what he deserves. Maybe it will work out for him, and maybe it won't. Something amazing about leaving an open ending is that we get to analyze the characters as we please, and we get to imagine what happens ourselves. It's actually one of Furudate's best pieces of symbolism in the whole series.

Their stories are not over yet. Maybe Oikawa loses again, but he keeps going. Maybe he finally throws the towel. Who knows? Characters are ever changing, but I believe Oikawa will stick to it. Then again, maybe his knee injury will force him to quit. Life is unpredictable, but Oikawa's determination has been constant throughout the whole show. The way he grew as a person, a player, and leader, just enraptured me to no end. Oikawa is one of the most fascinating characters I've ever come across. I don't like picking favorite characters, but I genuinely believe Oikawa is the most well written and complex.

That concludes my 3,000+ word rant/essay about the wonderful anomaly that is Tooru Oikawa. Honestly, there's definitely more that I forgot to incorporate or have not thought of, but this is what I have!! Thank you for reading through all that?? Also, I'm not going to go through that and edit it, so feel free to comment if anything makes no sense :)

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

How would the guys handle a “girly girl” S/O? Either poly or individual is fine with me. Thanks!

"How would the boys act with a S/O who is a girly girl? Could they handle that?" -anon

I've said this once and I'll say it again!!! I don't think the boys have a type!! So if you're a girly girl?? Totally won't care. Here you go!! (Made this poly btw)

Poly!Lost Boys x Girly Girl S/O

The boys had spotted you on the boardwalk. Pastels, teased hair, manicured nails, and expertly done makeup to match. You were a prim little girly girl, and their complete opposite. For some reason, that only drew them to you

At first, they just wanted to mess with you. "Piss off the princess" as David had some eloquently put. And it was fun. So fun, actually. They flirted with you, of course, but David made sure to play with your hair, putting a strand out of place. He stroked your cheek, his gaze making you flustered as you tried your best to keep up with them. You could've sworn a second ago you had been surrounded by your friends, but they were nowhere to be found now. Marko had leaned in close, a wide smile on his face as he asked what perfume you used and blatantly took a whiff. You had squirmed at his closeness, and tried to give him a reply. He'd hummed, telling you that he liked it with a grin that made the compliment seem far too suggestive (even if it wasn't). Paul took your distraction as an opportunity to play with the edge of your skirt. You yelped and bat his hands away, but he was already leaning down. He whispered in your ear, "Nice heels. Though, I'm surprised your feet don't hurt. Maybe you wanna spend some time off them?" He flirted. Dwayne was the only one that didn't tease you as ruthlessly as the others, and he caught you before the blonde terror twins could make you trip backwards. You had pressed your back right up against his chest, and quickly looked up to see the handsome brunette. It was all a little much for you, the onslaught of teasing and flirting, and you had flushed bright red. Dwayne rubbed his knuckle against your cheek, quietly asking, "What's wrong, princess?" And that had been the final straw. You had broken away from the four, stomping off as you cursed the boys and their antics. They had jeered, calling for you and asking you to come back

They bothered you every night after that, and eventually they weren't such an unwelcome sight. Really...they could be quite charming when they wanted to be. Despite the warnings you'd recieved about "boys like them", you ended up dating them. All four of them.

Marko low-key likes that you're extremely girly. It makes him look more tough whenever you stand besides him, and he's definitely willing to fight anyone who bothers you. Marko would interlock his arm with yours, and ask you questions about the things you liked (even if they were things he had no interest in). He would even talk to you about makeup and fashion, and just saw your style as your own personal self-expression. He liked to hang out in your room and play with all the stuff you had on your walls. He's not big on wearing makeup himself, but he likes to watch you put it on. He'll hover just a little bit out of the sight of the mirror, tilting his head to the side as you focus on applying your eyeshadow and eyeliner. He likes to watch you make yourself "look pretty" and will argue that, "You're always pretty". He always smiles when you ask him what color you should use, and he grins a little bit more at the boardwalk that night. Will watch "girly" movies and shows with you, and actually likes some of them. Will even listen to some "girly" music with you. Likes to listen to gossip, and totally knows all the names of your friends. Is one of the only boys that can tolerate your friends. Will still tease you from time to time about how girly you are, but he never means it in a bad way. Was totally ko-ed that one time you were chewing bubblegum and blew a bubble while talking to him. Won't explain why, but he just thinks it was really hot. The two of you went into an alleyway, and he was the one chewing gum when you left.

Paul had been completely devastated when he heard that your favorite singers were Cyndi Lauper and Madonna, and had tried to convince you to come back to the cave with them just so he could show you some "real music". You had denied, as you were hesitant about getting on one of their death machines. Especially Paul's. The first time he had you listen to metal, you had just said, "this sounds very angry" and you swore that Paul looked like he was about to cry. Literally conditions you to like it, but will mostly put on soft rock/ballads as a "compromise". He listens to some of your music as well, and one time you caught him humming "Physical" by Olivia Newton John afterwards. He's the most willing to let you put some make-up on him, but only something that "rockstars" would wear. You end up finding out that Paul looks really good with some eyeliner. Let's you paint his nails, but the boy can barely sit still long enough for you to do one coat. And trying to wait for it to dry? Forget it. He even likes the painted nails, but, again, he cannot sit still. Paul loves the fact that you mostly wear skirts. Whistles every time he sees you, and is definitely the type to try to sneak his hands under your skirt to try to cop a feel. If you sit on his lap, his hand is going straight to your legs. You gotta hold them so he won't try anything. Likes to pick out your outfits, even if he usually aims to make it as skimpy as possible and most of his choices get vetoed.

Dwayne is the nicest to you, and he treats you like a little princess. He always tells you that you look pretty, and would let you talk about whatever you wanted. He just likes hearing you talk, even if he has no idea what you're saying. Listens to you talk so much that he starts to pick up some of your slang. In his deep voice, he just says, "That was totally bogus". Type to hold open doors for you and treat you like a lady, even if the others make fun of him for it. He's your giant bodyguard, and he basically makes sure no one tries to take advantage of you based on how non-intimidating you look. The type to buy steal you whatever you want, and may spoil you a bit. If you like a certain piece of jewelry, he's giving you it the next night. He was the one that helped you pick out your earrings when you and them decided to become more official. Let's you braid and brush his hair, but he never wears it out of the cave. If you wear sneakers one night, he'll tie your shoelaces for you so you don't have to bend down in your skirt. Low-key has a kink for when you put on lip-gloss. He just likes watching you apply it, and will pull you into a kiss as soon as your done. It's one of the rare instances where he'll do PDA, so you let it slide that when he pulls back and half of your lip gloss is on his lips instead. He just comments, "Bubblegum." And acts like nothing happened. You mostly want to ride with him because he's the safest, and he always helps you on/off of his bike

David could be a perfect gentleman at times, when he wasn't being an ass. He teases you the most out of all the boys. He likes how feminine you are, mainly because it makes him feel more manly and tough. His all black coat and punk/metal look really constrasts with your feminine style, and he loves watching how beach go-ers immediately back down when you tell them that he's your boyfriend. Yeah, they weren't expecting that. He enjoys pushing your boundaries and testing your knowledge on things outside the mainstream. He will even suggest books and movies to you, but it wasn't until you started dating that he actually got you to listen to him. This was mainly by literally giving you his copies or watching them with you at the cave. You two mainly have conversations about those things, or about the things going on in your life. He's really not the type to be interested in girly things, so rip- Loves and almost insists on having you ride with him, mainly because he loves the way you have to hike up your skirt and how tightly you grip onto him. Definitely teases you by calling you "little girl" along with his usual "kitten" and "sweetheart". Likes that you're a girly girl a little bit too much, especially the fact that you get your nails done. You scratched your nails down his back one (1) time in bed, and he had to keep himself from vamping out and biting you in retaliation. Likes to joke about how he and the boys are "corrupting" you, but secretly thinks it's kind of hot

The boys all call you "barbie" and it's a running joke in your relationship. If you ever start to annoy them, they'll say, "Okay, Barbie"

One of the boys favorite things is picking you up from the mall or the boardwalk when you're with all your friends. They live for the looks your friends give them, whether they're judging your choices or giggling at how cute they are. One of your friends comments about you not possibly being able to date all of them long term, and the boys roll their eyes. David just replies, "Long term is exactly what we had in mind", and ends up telling you about their vampirism soon after. It was a bit of a shock, but after some time to adjust they were able to convince you it wasn't as bad as you thought. But they knew convincing you to change would be a whole other battle...

Overall, none of the boys really mind that you're girly, but they'll definitely tease you for it