#He's such an ugly little thing I love him so much

[seiwas]

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

.

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

.

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

[dissapointu]

u have beautiful writing and it’s honestly a talent! you’re so quick with it like hello? may u please do how arcane characters would react to having a partner who likes making handmade gifts instead of buying them? me personally i LOVE making handmade gifts because it seems more beautiful putting in work for my friends and family! honestly you’re my favorite writer on this app I’ll most definitely think about makin u a handmade gift! you’re so cool!

FIRST OFF??? YOU are the coolest person EVER and reading your message made me do a little happy dance in my chair, so thank you for THAT! 🥹 The fact that you’re out here pouring love into handmade gifts for your friends and family?? ICONIC. Handmade gifts are SO slept on, and you’re out here proving they’re the superior love language. If I could, I’d be your hype squad 24/7. (Also, i would ugly cry if you made me a gift Mamas.)

Okay, okay, let’s jump into how the Arcane characters would react to having a partner who loves making handmade gifts because spoiler: they’re all gonna be absolutely obsessed with you. Let’s GO.

———————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx would LOSE HER MIND every single time you gave her a gift. She’s such a sucker for anything you pour your heart into.

• “Wait, wait—YOU made this? For ME?” She’s staring at it with huge eyes like you just handed her a treasure map.

• She’d keep EVERYTHING you give her, no matter what it is. You could hand her a crocheted pigeon and she’d be like, “This is the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

• She’d totally try to make something for you in return, but it’d be chaotic as hell. Like, you’d get a DIY flamethrower or something held together with duct tape and glitter.

Basically, she’s your number one fan and would brag about you constantly.

Vi

Vi is playing it cool, but deep down, she’s melting into a puddle of feelings. She’d get all quiet when you give her something and just kinda… stare at it like she can’t believe someone would put in that much effort for her.

• If you made her something wearable, like a bracelet or beanie? That thing is NEVER coming off.

• She’s not much for words, but she’d pull you into a tight hug and just whisper, “Thanks. I mean it.”

• Also, if anyone dares to make fun of your gifts, she’s throwing hands. (“What’d you say about my partner’s hand-painted mug? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”)

Sevika

Sevika would be SO caught off guard when you hand her a gift. She’s not used to people doing thoughtful stuff for her, so she’s just… staring at you, holding your gift like it’s a foreign object.

• If it’s something practical, like a leather pouch or gloves? She’s putting them to use immediately. And trust, she’ll let everyone know her partner made them.

• If it’s something sentimental? She’s keeping it tucked away somewhere safe, but you’ll catch her looking at it when she thinks you’re not watching.

She’s a little rough around the edges, but trust me, she cherishes EVERY handmade thing you give her.

Silco

Silco would be SO intrigued by the concept of handmade gifts. Like, he’s trying to figure out why you’d put in so much effort instead of just buying something. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s because you care about him. And yeah, that hits him right in his cold, scheming heart.

• Something elegant or functional, like a pen case or a decorative box? He’s putting it on his desk like it belongs in a museum.

• Something more emotional, like a portrait of him and Jinx? He’ll treasure it forever but keep it private—it’s too precious for the world to see.

You’ve officially cracked the Silco Code: thoughtful effort = instant softie.

Vander

Vander is 100% DAD MODE ACTIVATED every time you give him something. He’s smiling so big it hurts, just standing there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something for the bar, like a new sign or decoration? He’s putting it up immediately and making everyone compliment it.

• More personal gifts, like a knitted scarf? He’s rocking it every single day, even if it’s summer.

• He’d also love hearing about your process, sitting there with his tea like, “Tell me about this one. What inspired you?” Big golden retriever vibes, honestly.

Ekko

Ekko would be OBSESSED with your gifts. Like, you’ve unlocked a whole new love language for him.

• If you made him something for the Firelights, like a custom mask or patch? He’s adding it to his gear immediately. “Look at this! My partner made it. Isn’t it sick?”

• If it’s something sentimental, he’d carry it around like a good luck charm. It could be the tiniest trinket, and he’d be like, “This? This is everything.”

• He’d also 100% try to make something for you in return. Now you’ve got matching handmade energy, and everyone is jealous of your vibes.

Jayce

Jayce would be SO touched by your gifts. This man is a golden retriever in human form, so every time you give him something, he’s beaming like you just made his whole week.

• If it’s something for his lab, like a personalized toolbox? He’s showing it off to Viktor like, “Look what my partner made. Aren’t they amazing?”

• Something sentimental, like a framed photo or painting? He’s hanging it in his house and telling EVERYONE about it.

Jayce is basically your personal hype squad, and he’s never gonna stop appreciating your creativity.

Viktor

Viktor would be SO soft about your gifts. Like, he’s not used to people going out of their way for him, so when you hand him something, he’s just sitting there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something practical, like a custom notebook for his designs, he’s using it every day and thinking of you while he works.

• Sentimental gifts, like a sketch or keepsake? He’s keeping them close, tucked away in a spot where he can see them when he needs a boost.

You’d inspire him to start tinkering on something special just for you. Now you’ve got your own Viktor Original™.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would be SO charmed by your gifts. She’s used to fancy, expensive things, but the effort and love you put into your handmade stuff? That’s what gets her.

• Make her something practical, like gloves or a scarf? She’s wearing them CONSTANTLY and bragging to everyone.

• If it’s more sentimental, like a personal letter or drawing? She’s keeping it somewhere safe and rereading it when she misses you.

Caitlyn loves thoughtful gestures, so you’re basically her dream partner. Period.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be absolutely enchanted by your gifts. She’s surrounded by luxury, but your handmade work feels so much more personal.

• Something elegant, like jewelry or an intricate painting? She’s showing it off at council meetings like it’s priceless.

• Something heartfelt? She’s keeping it in her private quarters where she can admire it when she’s alone.

Mel would also encourage you to turn your craft into a business because she believes in your talent 100%.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would be IMPRESSED. She’s a practical person, so if you make her something functional, like a knife sheath or leather gear, she’s putting it to use immediately.

• If it’s sentimental, she’d keep it hidden, but trust—it means a lot to her.

She’d respect your dedication and probably compare you to a warrior. “It takes discipline to create something with your own hands.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger would be THRILLED. He LOVES creativity, and your handmade gifts would light up his world.

• If you made him something clever or whimsical, he’s showing it off to everyone in Piltover. “Look what my partner made! Aren’t they brilliant?”

• Sentimental stuff? He’s putting it in his workshop where he can admire it while he tinkers.

He’d also want to collaborate on a project with you because you’re basically his new favorite inventor.

Salo

Okay, Salo would be one of those people who doesn’t know how to react at first, but you’d totally catch him staring at your gift later, all soft and thoughtful.

• If you made him something like a carved figurine or a small keepsake, he’d keep it in his pocket for good luck and touch it when he’s thinking about you.

• He wouldn’t be super showy about it, but you’d KNOW it meant a lot to him when he said something lowkey like, “You didn’t have to, but… thanks. This is nice.”

• Deep down, he’d be so touched that you took the time to make something just for him. Handmade gifts just hit different for someone like Salo, who appreciates quiet, meaningful gestures.

Scar

Scar is giving CHAOTIC, “OMG YOU MADE THIS??” energy every single time. Like, no matter what it is, he’s holding it up like you just gifted him the crown jewels.

• If you made him something goofy, like a silly little knitted hat or a bracelet, he’s rocking it IMMEDIATELY. “Look at this! My partner made it! Aren’t they the best?”

• He’d totally try to “help” you make stuff sometimes, but he’d just end up making a mess and laughing about it the whole time.

• Scar is your ultimate hype man, always gassing you up and telling everyone how talented you are. You could hand him a macaroni necklace, and he’d be like, “Masterpiece. Absolute masterpiece.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is secretly the softest bean about your handmade gifts. Like, she’d be a little shy at first when you gave her something, but you’d catch her smiling at it later when she thought you weren’t looking.

• If you made her something practical, like a cozy scarf or a cute notebook, she’d use it all the time and feel so warm and fuzzy knowing it came from you.

• Sentimental gifts? She’s absolutely treasuring them forever. She’d keep them somewhere special, like her desk or bedside table, and glance at them whenever she’s missing you.

• Maddie would totally ask about your process too, like, “How did you even come up with this? It’s amazing.” She’s so supportive, and your gifts would mean the world to her.

Lest

Lest would be absolutely ENCHANTED by your handmade gifts. Like, she’d hold them so gently, as if she’s afraid of breaking something so precious.

• If you made her something elegant or delicate, like a hand-painted vase or a piece of embroidery, she’d treat it like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

• Lest would also love the thought and care behind your gifts. She’s the type to listen closely when you explain how you made something, nodding along with genuine interest.

• You’d totally catch her showing off your gifts to her friends, like, “My partner made this. Isn’t it beautiful?” She’d treasure everything you give her, no matter how big or small.

And that’s it! TL;DR: YOU are a gift, and every Arcane character would feel insanely lucky to have someone as thoughtful and creative as you. Keep being amazing, bestie. 💜

[aithusarosekiller]

Honestly we need to make more GENUINE enemies to lovers Jegulus content

With so so much emphasis on the enemies to the point where it's practically enemies AND lovers

The type where they're so damn evil to each other that you question whether them getting together breaks some sort of moral code but at the same time you can't help but wait for them to angrily kiss.

They're calling each other the most horrific, offensive names and doing everything they can to get a rise out of each other. They're using one another to turn their friends against them. They're getting in physical fights (so much tension there it's sickening) and they're just straight up vile constantly.

They NEVER EVER shut up about how much they hate one another, they'll both search each other out in order to cause some form of damage to either property or the person. Whenever they need to let off some steam they pick a fight because it's become habit. It goes on for years.

When they eventually get together it's with so much resentment. They almost definitely accidentally confess or kiss in the middle of a fight and it only increases the anger on both sides. So now they're both aware that they're into each other but they refuse to step down and say they like each other because 'he's still so infuriating and his ego is too big already, I can't let him think he's hot and worth being around' so they pretend it never happened and keep 'hating' each other. Over the next few weeks they will be literally clinging so desperately to each other like they can't bear to be apart while whispering hatred to each other looking like they want to kill each other. And it isn't that there's a weird coercion thing with a power imbalance, they're both equal, they're just annoying little violent shits.

It only mostly dulls with time. They're 6 years into their relationship planning their wedding while cuddling up in bed and have to pause to insult each other's taste, looks, and personality, fight over literally nothing and bring up times from the past that they managed to get one up on the other, then smile sweetly and have a tiny little gentle kiss before going back to planning. Their petnames consist of 'fuckface' 'foureyes' 'ugly cow' and 'wankstain' and they're used intermittently with 'baby' 'lover' 'babydoll' 'my heart' and ANY other cringe ass name you can think of. Duality. Idk just James potter saying babydoll to the person he just accused of being a lying, money-hungry, ugly, disrespectful whore is so him.

Any normal reasonable stranger would be so worried about how unhealthy and toxic it is but they're just so used to hating each other that it's become a love language. A way to express themselves and reminisce together. They know they love each other but it's just fun to pretend they don't, there are boundaries since they got together but they never really talk about them bc they know what they are and not to cross them.

[littledeathdove]

Donna Beneviento headcanons

To take a break from writing my analysis on her and Angie 😋

(Bro she is so damn fine/pretty/beautiful basically all of the above, LOOK AT HER HANDS OMG, the elegance when she is making Angie wake back up?? I need someone to match my feelings when it comes to this woman omg)

Okay now that I’m done with my little…rant there, let’s get onto these headcanons 😈🙏🏾

Donna is mute, well selectively mute since she much rather prefers to speak through Angie. When she does speak through her own mouth it’s usually just to speak to Mother Miranda since she does see the woman as her mother in some stance.

Now Donna does sometimes speak through her own mouth to other people, but when this happens it’s usually before she can even stop herself. Usually it’s in situations where Angie went dormant and Donna can’t wake her up in time to get out the words she needs to say.

She only speaks a couple of words before she transfers into speaking through Angie.

Donna does love the enjoy of the kill but she hates thinking about her first actual murder which was the gardener. His death makes Donna withdraw into herself even more since he was one out of the two people kind to her. And she did grieve his death at the time since she did have good intentions when she gave him hallucinations.

Donna is actually very mean inside and that’s why Angie taunts people, mocks them, and even makes insults. It all because Angie is acting out the personality trait that Donna doesn’t show through herself. Which is because she tries to make herself seem as much of a shadow as she can by not speaking.

Donna never puts a bad/ugly feature on any of her dolls and if she does mess up and accidentally causes the doll to have such features, she never gives them life through sharing her cadou. The reasoning for this is because Donna she doesn’t want to make her dolls, things she sees as a part of herself, suffer by making them live with such a face like she had to.

Donna ideal lover would likely be someone playful since she definitely loves games as much as her doll, Angie does. A boring person would just make her bored with them as a person but if you are interesting enough, you’re lack of playfulness will make up for it.

Even though Donna is murderous she isn’t sadistic. Donna doesn’t find pleasure in making people feel pain but she does find it funny most of the time. Speaking of finding pain funny, Donna prefers to watch her victims suffer from the hallucinations she gives than any pain she gives them. Pain always equals to her playmates soon dying way more sooner then they would if she just inflicted nightmarish hallucinations on them.

If Donna did have a childhood friend that protected her from bullies and all of that but somehow drifted away from Donna growing up (likely when Donna isolated herself), Donna would become possessive if she got that friend back. By that I mean like you wouldn’t be able to have anyone else as the main person you give your attention to or else she would withdraw again.

I also believe that you would get a horrific hallucination about said person the next day if you were to come back to her property.

I have more headcanons but I just want to get out of my drafts before they sit in here for another 4 days 😞

[blaisenova]

a little drabble i shat out teehee. super experimental, super angsty, super shorter than usual. i wouldn't have it any other way.

as always, ao3 link is in the reblogs.

no warnings for this one other than the usual messed up relationship bs i don't think, but let me know if i missed anything and i'll tack it on

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A heaving breath disturbs the dust that has gathered on the bright red scarf that hangs on a bent nail sticking out of the wall. Once, perhaps, it would have reminded you of someone else, but all you can see now is a warped version of yourself that clung to both it and all of the memories that it held despite how much it hurt him. 

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

That he was too much like you, only broken in different ways. Like looking in a mirror that had been shattered, seeing a distorted reflection that might have been you if the light had shone at another angle, or if the ones that had broken you both had done so more similarly; if there weren’t parts that had been removed; replaced; rearranged. You were imperfect echoes of one another, simultaneously too alike and too different; warped by the way your sound bounced off of the walls.

In the end, it hadn’t really mattered that you both wanted the same thing; to be seen, and to be loved despite how ugly the view was.

You had always known that you weren’t something worth seeing – weren’t convinced that you could be seen – and he’d been convinced that not seeing every part of him all at once, all the time, meant that you didn’t see him at all. 

You’d feared him just as much as you’d adored him; he’d hated you almost as much as he’d loved you.

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You both had held on to things that would only ever hurt you, and neither of you had known how to let it go until you were already so thoroughly intertwined with one another that you had to rip and tear at the thorns that bound you so that you just might have a chance at escaping. You’d thought, at some point, the bleeding might stop – now that his binds weren’t tearing open your body just to be certain that you’d still bleed at his command – but, even though your soul is no longer connected to his, the thorns remain, and you are an open wound; a bleeding heart; a walking haemorrhage.

Nightmare wouldn’t like that you were staining his carpets so.

You weren’t sure you could bring yourself to care.

Gently, you rub his scarf between your fingers. It’s thin and threadbare, and some part of you finds kinship in that fact. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

Does familiarity have to be a good thing?

“I miss you,” you confess to no one, because something about the admission makes you feel filthy. Thick tar falls from your sockets and stains your cheeks, and terror lances through you as you realise that maybe you never will be anything more than this ever again. 

Your breathing comes quick, and you hold your breath so as to not disturb his dusty remains any further than you already have; and, you wonder why you treat him with a reverence that he would never return.

You wonder if he could ever understand just how terrified he made you – of being nothing more than this; wonder why it matters so much to you that he understands; know he can’t possibly, when he is the one making you so afraid.

What were you, before? What are you, now?

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, and rearranged. 

You think of a story you read, once, long ago. The books you managed to get your hands on before were worse for wear – yellowing pages that were putrid and warped from the journey they’d taken when they were discarded and forgotten; nothing like the pristine, well taken care of books that you had access to now, though something about that made them mean less – but you absorbed what they had to offer you with an appreciation you were sure they’d never been granted before. They spoke of gods, and humans, and monsters, and they wondered in ways you’d never wondered before; ways you wonder now.

You think of the story of the Ship of Theseus.

Pieces and parts: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Is it the same ship? Are you the same you? Now that you’ve been rebuilt – removed, replaced, and rearranged – are you still the person you once were? Can you be rebuilt again? Or, are you stuck like this, now that the one that was constructing you is no longer around to restore your weathered parts? Are you trapped, half-finished and without a purpose? A boat built with perforated wood? 

Water rushes in the gaps, and, through the same rifts, your blood pours out. Because, despite being free of his ties – the thorns are gone; you ripped them out; you tore out their roots, so they can’t possibly grow back, right? – you still tear yourself open just to be certain that you can still bleed, should he command it.

He’s not around to command you anymore.

Somehow, you feel you still need to be prepared for it.

“I miss you,” you confess to yourself, and something about the admission makes you feel vile. Thick tar falls from your sockets and drowns you, and you’re horrified because, even now, you’re still exactly how he reconstructed you – removed, replaced, rearranged. You fear you’ll never be anything more than this.

Can you be anything more than this?

You weren’t rebuilt to be a person. You weren’t remade to have desires or needs. You’re not sure he knew how you were meant to function, when his hands were deep within your very mind; your very soul. You’re not sure he knew how thoroughly he was stripping you of the programming that kept you alive. You’re not sure it matters whether he knew, when the result is the same.

His hands left you, coated in oil, or tar, or blood – whatever it was that flowed through you – and he’d wiped sweat from his brow – smeared you across his forehead – after a job well done.

Pieces and parts of you: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Refashioned to please a person that can no longer reap the rewards.

The fabric between your fingers grates on your bone and wears you away. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

You wonder if familiarity is ever a good thing.

“Killer,” a voice calls, and you numbly raise your head to meet a bright cyan eye with your own two empty ones. His sockets are half-lidded, and his expression is tight. When he speaks, his tone is harsh. “You serve no purpose, serving someone that no longer exists. Come back to me. Let him go.”

Again, your gaze falls back down to the red on your hands, and you wither at the sight. You feel light and heavy, all at the same time. “How?”

He sighs, and the sound makes you flinch; apologies taste bitter as you swallow them back down like bile. In a way that is certainly contrary, he kneels before you – pulls your chin up with his hand in a way you know is uncharacteristically gentle – and smiles; wider, when you smile back. His hand outstretches towards you, open and empty. “Let me help you.”

You stare at the offer, gripping your grief in closed fists, and, carefully, you allow your fingers to fall open. Uncertainty shakes you as you reach for his hand, and you’re careful not to make contact when you deposit your soul – heart-shaped; unstable; ugly – within his grasp. Your fingers dart away from the construct before you can change your mind.

“Good,” Nightmare praises, but you wince as he draws your soul up and away, right before his face. His eye watches its shifting form in fascination, and, this time, his smile almost feels real. He looks back at you, and you already feel the oncoming sting. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix you.”

“I miss him,” you confess, and the admission makes you mortified. Thick tar falls from your sockets, and you can’t breathe.

“I know,” he says, “but you won’t.”

He brings your soul to his teeth, and a choked sound of agony catches in your throat as he bites down and consumes you. For a moment, panic locks you in place – punctuated by the way your breath stutters with each excruciating soulbeat – but the feeling disappears as quickly as the rest, and you’re left with nothing but the pain that serves as the cost of numbness.

As you barrel towards apathy, laughter pouring from your chest – you’re not sure why you’re laughing. It’s not funny – you think that you can never be more than this.

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, rearranged, always in someone else’s name.

[kuzure-collapse]

These two asks were pretty similar so I'll answer them together. You can read about the LI's ideal dates in this post and find the last love levels post here.

I don't really know how to quantify their love levels. I mentioned the Love Meter Boost in the story but I never actually drafted how it would work or if MC would buy it. I guess I can try to describe how the LIs are feeling about MC so far?

As of ch. 30:

Tomohiro:

i'm trying to write more scenes for him since it's been very yanagi and kotose heavy so far

off-screen, mc has been going to school with him and tomoe every morning and telling them about his day and interactions with the other characters

he usually has lunch with his friends, sometimes invites mc to the rooftop alone, sometimes joins his sister

during the lunches alone with mc, they continue to talk about topics of love

although he likes mc, he never reveals hints of his love no matter how much mc begs to know. he decided he wants to make mc fall for him first before he reveals anything

certainly taking a more flirtatious approach now that mc is interacting with all these other people. he's feeling more possessive and jealous now, might show more of his ugly side

Kotose:

currently coming to terms with his feelings and starting to acknowledge it as something more than a desire for friendship (best friends?)

unfortunately for him, mc has been giving a lot of mixed signals. is it friendly teasing or flirting? he has trouble understanding because he's never really had friends before

he wants to spend more time with mc and learn more about him, intrigued. he wants to impress mc with his knowledge and skills, too.

awkward attempts but at least he's now making more of an effort

off-screen, they've been having amicable study sessions. kotoha isn't around as much because she's spending more time at choir

i want to write more twin interactions and their development, but haven't been able to work it in :/

Satsuma:

at first it was just your typical setter-hitter teammate relationship

he's taken more of a liking to mc ever since learning about mc's insecure past and talking about bullying

for now, there isn't much of a romantic feeling. more like wanting to take care of an underclassman that he can see himself in

he knows mc is a little intimidated by him. feels kinda dejected by that because he's only had good intentions so far.

yet he also finds it endearing, thinks mc's attempts to please him amusing

he wants to help mc and be the mentor he wished he had when he was younger

not aware of any romantic feeling he might have, just feels the need to take care of mc. he's not sure why tomohiro gives him such a bad feeling

still a bit shy and reclusive, but is opening up and growing more easygoing around mc.

i wish i wrote more scenes of him and satsuka 😔

Yumeki:

admires mc a lot, especially because mc is the only one on the team who goes out of his way to spend time with him (satsuma doesn't really talk to anyone, and the other members keep to their own groups)

no other guy has been this nice to yumeki before and he's desperate for male friendship because he's always surrounded by girls (not that it's bad, he just wants to hang with fellow guys sometimes)

he feels guilty for embarrassing mc at certain moments, really just wants to help mc, searches for ways to provide his servitude

often looks longingly at mc's intimate interactions with other characters, doesn't know why

currently unaware of any feelings towards mc, but he's starting to realize things about himself

i also hope to write more of him >.<

Yanagi:

acknowledges mc's use as an ally in a world where they are the only real people

he's surprised that the wimp he encountered their first day in the game was actually pretty capable

although he feels camaraderie because of their shared niche interests, he pushes that away and tries to only view mc as a tool for his missions

he's just using mc as an extra pair of hands and because of his system, that's all, nothing more to it

wont admit that he's starting to think of mc as a friend though, sometimes laughs to himself when he recalls their interactions

[morningfawns]

Kinito my beloved little freak

Bonus NUH UH gif:

[buwheal]

BEACH OUTFIT 💥💥💥💥

He used to surf the web back in 98'.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[stuworbutwitheds]

This might be a hot take(?) but i do like how Eddy become more grumpy as the show went between seasons

Of course he is more mean and kinda more aggressive with his friends.

But i think it's a great way to show how trauma can affect your personality, especially when it comes to physical abuse. Not every child that suffers like that is quiet and shy, some of them can mirror the bad traits of their abuser and they're just as valid to get love and support.

[werewolf-apologist]

ppl who complain that muto hates finn or that the show loses focus on finn bc it also includes side character episodes……..are u ok

[collecting--stardust]

Cele's little chuckle when the interviewer asked him if he will be the one to beat fermin tomorrow... his usual ciao at the end... HHHHH

[mmmmuffins]

.

[glitter50000]

bitches be getting so happy watching the darkling being portrayed as a villain and a toxic lover. It’s me, I’m bitches

[seiwas]

omfg i ran out of tags talking abt this tee but !!!

there’s this line: maybe he’s fine just coming home to you

and it just!! was the final blow !!! my heart clenched !!!

i love it when people talk about one another as if they aren’t talking to each other if that makes sense… or people talking abt themselves ! but in third person idk !!! there’s something so flirty snd teasing about it !! but also so shy and i love it 🥺 when u say things like that !! with the maybe’s and all, it’s so soft !! and honest !! and tender !!

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide" A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences but you're already making your way towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. You think that might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, they could probably smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief-

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to see just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀