#and he would never ever ever hurt you on purpose

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Good Enough

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,520ish

Summary: Logan tags along as your date to your brother's wedding.

Warnings: some mental health issues, insecurities

Notes: This is extremely self indulgent and may be terrible. My brother's wedding was yesterday and I had a mental breakdown because I've never been in a relationship and have now grown so insecure about it all. If only I had any hope of something, so I wrote this.

You sighed at the invitation in your hand. It was no shock to you to receive the wedding invite, it was from your own brother, but it stung none the less. Though you were very happy for your younger brother, you couldn’t help but ache for a relationship yourself. You wanted someone to be your confidant, your best friend. You wanted a partner to go through the difficulties of life with, someone to lean on. But you were never that girl.

  You also had a lot of insecurities surrounding yourself and relationships. You had never been in one. No one was ever interested in you. You weren’t what the world deemed a perfect girl. You were average, for the most part. It didn’t help that you were a mutant with the ability to turn invisible. Often, your mutation linked to your emotions, making you go invisible when you were nervous or excited or embarrassed. You didn’t help the X-Men besides being a teacher at the school. You weren’t what people wanted, leaving you feeling alone and longing. 

“If you glare at that paper any longer, it may actually turn invisible,” Logan’s gruff voice broke through your internal downward spiral.

You jumped slight, looking behind you to see Logan leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Oh, sorry,” you mumbled.

“Nothin’ to be apologizing about.” He pushed himself off of the doorway and walked over. “Now, what’s got you glaring that hard?” He peeked over your shoulder. “A wedding?”

“It’s my brothers.”

He nodded, grunting. “And… we don’t like him?”

“No,” you shook your head, “we love him. And I’m so very happy for him. It’s just…” Logan sat down in the chair next to you, waiting for more of your response. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Not buying it, sweetheart.”

You sighed. How much of the truth to you tell the man you stole your heart but had no idea? “It’s just… I’m happy for my brother. I honestly don’t want the relationship that they have, but I… I want a relationship. Sometimes I get lonely or I just want someone to share the good, the bad, and the ugly with.”

Logan nodded. “I understand a bit. With my, uh, long life, I’ve definitely had my moments where I’ve felt that.”

“Do you still?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged.

“There’s also the fact that I really don’t want to go to this wedding alone. I will be cornered, asked why I’m single and given suggestions on what I need to do or change to get a man.”

Logan’s brows pinched together. “That’s not right.”

“Yeah, well, it’s how it’s gonna be.”

“Not if I come with ya.”

Your heart began hammering in your chest. “What?”

“I’ll come with you. As a, uh, date—a fake date. To throw them off your case.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Logan shrugged. “I’m free and Charles keeps trying to get me out of the mansion.” And to help you, Logan thought. He would do anything to help you and be close to you.

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of hurt at the thought of Logan just coming to get Charles off his back. “I really don’t want to put you out—“

“I got no plans. I’ll be there.”

~~~

Your hands shook as you finished up getting ready for your brother’s wedding. This whole day was overwhelming to you. You were so happy for your brother and his bride, but the thought of people questioning you and pitying you had your stomach in knots. A firm knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it. There stood Logan, looking better than ever. He had clearly done his hair with more purpose and trimmed his facial hair. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a black bow-tie. You were taken back by the effort he had put in.

Logan felt the same way about you. You looked gorgeous. He had never seen that dress on you before, most likely because it was specific for the wedding. You were all dolled up and it took his breath away. Today might be more than he signed up for, and he was okay with that.

Logan cleared his throat. “You, uh, you look very pretty,” he said, more nervous than he meant to.

“Thanks,” you responded bashfully. You looked down, feeling your ability beginning to take control. “Shit.”

Logan reached out and took your arm. “It’s alright. Maybe letting it out now will help with the wedding.” He was assuming that your nervousness was triggering your invisibility and not his compliment. “I’ll keep a hold of you so I don’t lose you.”

All you could do was nod, thankful that only part of you was invisible. You shut your door and let Logan lead you into the garage and toward your car. He helped you into the passenger seat before going around to the driver’s side and heading off. 

~~~

The drive was mostly quiet, which you were thankful for. Between Logan being your date and this wedding, your mind was all over the place. You were also grateful that you were able to get your invisibility under control. Logan parked the car and glanced over at you.

“We can turn around if you want,” Logan said softly. “You don’t have to put yourself through this.”

You pressed out a smile as you looked his way. “Thanks, Logan, but I can manage.”

Logan sighed as he got out of the car and walked around to help you out. He wished that he had the courage to say something about his own feelings towards you. But he was sure you just saw him as a friend. You looped your arm through Logan’s and let him lead you into the venue. 

~~~

Your family was excited to see you and you were grateful that your parents understood not press the fact that Logan came with you. Logan sat in the last row during the ceremony as you were forced to stand on the bride’s side as on of the bridesmaids. His eyes remained glued on you. Your forced smile. The way your hands flickered in out how of visibility. But the thing that hit him hard was your glossy eyes. He knew that you weren’t crying because of the joy a wedding brought. Logan had to clench his fists tightly to prevent himself from going up there and pulling you away.

Logan continued to watch from a protective distance once the ceremony was over and you were pulled into pictures. The longer it went on, the more he could see everything weighing down on you and was angry that no one else was picking up on it. 

As soon as you were excused from pictures, Logan watched as you slipped away. Your invisibility took control and you were suddenly gone. Logan moved with purpose as he followed your scent and the frantic beating of your heart. He followed you to a small room in the back of the venue and locked it behind him. The sobs that began to sound from your invisible form, tore through Logan.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out, keeping near the door.

“I… I just don’t understand,” you sobbed. “I don’t understand why I’m not good enough… Not good enough for a date or a glance or a one night stand… I understand that I can be difficult and weird and I’m not the prettiest girl in the world but I… I deserve good things too. I just want to be good enough too…”

Logan’s heart was breaking at the pure realization that you truly believed that you were not good enough. He took a careful step forward, using his senses to try and figure out exactly what your position was in this room. He reached out his hand and was grateful when it brushed agains your arm. Logan gently grabbed it and pulled you into him. You leaned in and let yourself cry as he tenderly held you.

“I just want to be enough for someone,” you sobbed. “Why I am never good enough?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so wrong,” he softly said. “You are perfect. You are kind and beautiful. You are so talented and the best teacher. Anyone who can’t see those things are idiots… Darlin’,” he pulled back as you continued to shimmer in and out of visibility. His hands tenderly came up and held your face. “You are good enough… you are more than good enough.”

“Logan—“

“No, I should have been honest with you a while ago… You are enough for me, sweetheart. So much more than enough.” His thumbs gently brushed against your cheeks as your tears continued to fall.

“You… You aren’t just saying that?”

“Honey, you know me, I’m not one for words unless I mean them… You are good enough for me. Hell, you’re perfect in my eyes. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you that.” His lips met yours for a short but sweet kiss. “You are enough.”

[iinterstellaarr]

more suitor!gojo cuz i said so

the halls echoed with your falling footsteps. the estate was filled with maids and servants, all too eager to serve,

yet you had never felt more alone.

every day bled into the next. hours spent immersed in books, late night cooking when the kitchen staff had retired, and wandering the corridors in search of… something.

anything that might ease the growing emptiness within you.

while gojo was traveling, you would peak into his room. it was a mess, like a highschooler was occupying the room. the curtains were a sheer white that flew in the summer wind, and it eerily reminded you of a ghost.

his bedding was strewn across the room, a pile of decorative pillows sat unkept next to his bed, left in favor of two seemingly older ones.

you sighed and began to pick up the comforter that had been lazily thrown on the floor. you carefully made his bed, fluffing and stacking the pillows with careful precision. you placed your hands on your hip and admired the obviously very expensive bedding.

something about this small task allowed you a sense of comfort.

a sense of home in the labyrinth of halls, and a sense of control that you have so desperately grasped onto since you had first been made aware of the marriage.

“you made my bed?” you flinched at the buttery soft voice that came from behind you. his hair was down and his eyes were wide with shock. you never admired the carefully chosen hakama that adorned his frame loosely until now. he looked different in a way. he wasn’t the powerful ruler of the gojo clan everyone made him out to be. he was just…satoru.

however, lost in the view of your supposed husband, the realization hit you too late. you shouldn’t have been here.

“i- i’m sorry,” you stammered, stepping back in a rush, as if you’d been caught doing something wrong. “i didn’t mean to intrude.”

gojos eyes softened for a moment, but only a moment. “you don’t have to apologize,” his tone was far less playful than usual. “it’s just… i didn’t expect you to be in here.”

his gaze flickered around the room, the mess now slightly more organized thanks to your efforts. “thank you… for cleaning up.”

you stayed eerily silent, leaving satorus heart aching with the want to just reach out and pull you into him. your hair was delicately styled as your maids handiwork never failed. he had always thought you were beautiful, but he’d never truly appreciated it until you were mere feet in front of him.

“why don’t you sleep in here tonight ?” his words held an air of arrogance although he would swear he didn’t mean it like that. you slightly wondered if anyone had ever told him no.

“pardon?” your voice was soft and shy, like if you spoke to loudly you would crumble into dust.

“i mean, we are married, yes? it makes no sense for my lady to sleep in the wing furthest from me.” his voice held a tone of cockiness, as it always did.

you blinked, surprised by the suggestion and his arrogant words. stay here? with him? the thought felt wrong. not because of him specifically but because it felt like a violation. a reminder of how little control you had in this marriage.

“i’m perfectly fine where i am, and as far as im concerned, i am not your ‘lady.’ gojo.” you replied coolly. the words tumbled out before you could stop them, but it’s not like you disagreed with what you said. you did not belong to gojo, and he didn’t belong to you.

gojo blinked, taken aback by the coldness in your tone. he opened his mouth, as if to say something more, but then closed it again. you could see a slight internal struggle playing out in his eyes, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook. not now. not after everything that had happened.

you stepped around him, your movements purposeful, and with one final glance at his confused, almost hurt expression, you spoke again, this time quieter, but still firm.

“this marriage… it doesn’t mean what you think it does. and as long as i’m alive, it never will.”

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: Okay I need this out of my chest, I HATE how some people write dream as a villain— not like the swap ones— the ones that write dream as a villain so they can justify hating him and making dadmare stuff. Like okay bro you want something spicy for dream, but dream would NEVER ever hurt nightmare on purpose!!! That goes literally everything he believes for!!!! Like what is even the reason writing dream as the “villain” in stories and they write him just like how Joku rights canon nm!!! If you want a villain dream write him better like all the other rewrites of canon nm!! I’m sick of tired seeing the “villainized” Dream in corners of this fandom because THATS NOT HIM!!!! Yes you can write villain dream but they write him so shitty I just wanna scream into a pillow!!!

[lets-try-some-writing]

It's so tragic how, in your Twins AU, Optimus had to do the Cybertronian version of plastic surgery to look more like his brother. He could have gone through his primely transformation and said he, as Optronix, got a new frame because of the Matrix. Instead, he went all out and changed his body. I can only imagine what the Decepticons will think when they see Optimus again and notice his different yet familiar frame. Megatron might think he's having work done to "wear the face of his brother" instead of work being undone so Optimus can be himself again.

More for the Twin Au? Aight. Parts One and Two here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wearing Optronix's face was not easy at first. It ached. It burned. Insults and slurs, hatred and constant attacks... if not for the Matrix, Optimus would have given up long ago and let someone kill him. But he had his duty, and he would have to be cut down before he let himself fall away from his purpose.

He allowed Optronix to become as cruel as he did. He failed to stop his twin when the war grew worse. This was merely a natural consequence. The constant ache of his spark from the lack of its other half was ignorable. The never ending discomfort with his frame was negligible when he was busy planning or engaging in battle. And as centuries passed, he honestly noticed less and less. Optronix's frame grew to be his own. The bulky and boxy build became second nature to him, his spindly frame from the archives all but forgotten. The eternally in place battle mask was something he grew to cherish as it allowed him to hide his expressions when the pain in his spark grew too great. The heavy set blaster he carried, as his brother was known to do prior to his death, became a memorial of sorts.

He was Optronix, a corrupt mech who changed upon becoming Prime. Every single cycle he repeated his mantra.

"I am Optronix turned Optimus Prime. I am the leader of the Autobots. I was once a tyrant, but no longer."

Every time he saw himself in the mirror, repeating again and again... it grew easier to believe the lie. He stopped missing things from his time as Orion, at least dulling the ache. He missed the archives, but that void he filled with reading reports. He lamented the loss of his mentor, but that too he supplemented through teaching Ultra Magnus throughout the war. It only really hurt when Ratchet and Jazz fought him, but even that was easy enough to work around if he reminded himself of what he was.

He was Optronix. He was once wicked. And this was his penance.

Then, of course, the truth had to come out swinging. One wrong poisoning attempt and suddenly his reality was broken. He'd been poisoned countless times. It shouldn't have been as dangerous as it was with his immunity. But Ratchet on synthetic energon was nothing to scoff at, and simple fuel line drainage wasn't enough. They had to remove his mask to have him purge whatever was in his tanks as well. And that was when it all fell apart.

The team had their reactions. Optimus tried his best to be neutral throughout the whole process, letting them figure themselves out and acting accordingly. He continued his mantra, having had it long since become second nature. But one thing led to another, and Ratchet, ever Orion Pax's most loyal friend, was determined to bring back the mech he thought lost.

"We are giving you a reformat." Ratchet's servos were firmly planted on his hips, his expression dead serious. Optimus could only find it in himself to frown.

"We do not have the resources for such an endeavor. It would be a foolish waste of material." A hint of bitterness entered his tone, training to mirror his brother returning with a vengeance in the form of backhanded commentary. This was who he was now. There was no Orion Pax. Nothing to reformat back into.

"Sure, we don't have enough for a complete frame overhaul, but we can fix some things. Your face, your optics, maybe even your shoulders." Ratchet scanned Optimus's frame, his optics running with calculation. Optimus shied away from it instinctually, prior experience warning him against giving too much room for a potential attack.

"Ratchet... I'm not him anymore. I know I said I was Orion Pax, and I'm sure somewhere deep in my spark, he yet lingers. But that is not me. Not anymore." Ratchet, unlike how Optimus's anxious predictions portrayed him in dreams, did not scoff or come off as cruel. His expression softened as he came closer, reaching out to cup Optimus's face, the one thing he'd left unchanged as he gave the rest of his frame up reformatting to match his brother. The doctor's digits brushed over pristine faceplates, not a scar to be seen below the optics. It was... comforting.

"I believe my friend is still in here. And if I have to drag him out again, then so be it." In an act of intimacy Optimus had not had with anyone other than Bumblebee since he was but a mere archivist, Ratchet brought their helm crests together. The touch was simple, but the way their fields mingled and melded was divine, a cube of energon to a starving mech in Optimus's mind.

He couldn't fight back if Ratchet was this gentle with him. How could he?

"Let me do this for you." Those gentle words were all it took for Optimus to cautiously agree. And from that moment onward, Ratchet took his duty to spark.

"Mask off, Orion." Constant but gentle reminders rang out through the base frequently. Ratchet made it a point to use his old name, constantly urging him to grow comfortable showing his face again. Optimus scared himself more than a few times when he passed a mirror and saw himself.

He politely ignored the pitying looks he earned from the team after such reactions.

"Hold still. You don't need to be wearing this slag all the time now, so it needs to come out." Having tweezers in his optics wasn't all that fun either. But again, Ratchet was devoted. And to be fair to him, the moment the thick optical glass was removed, Optimus found he could actually see things he'd long since become used to having to squint at to view. The optics of an archivist were meant for data collection and analysis. Having them back was overwhelming at times.

He spent three whole earth days standing around simply watching things, learning to recycle his optics for optimal data collection. One night he spent up on the roof, admiring the stars for the first time since his arrival on Earth. As much as his instincts screamed at him to put the glass back in place, he found himself content to leave his optics alone.

They were familiar. He hadn't realized how much he missed them.

"You welded your data ports closed?" Ratchet gawked at him and the welds along Optimus's sides. He nodded without any additional reactions. It was yet another augmentation.

"I had to play the part not just in appearance and presentation, but also in functionality." Arcee winced as she saw the damage. Bumblebee looked concerned. Bulkhead, Primus bless him, seemed a bit sick to his tanks as he looked at the welds. It wasn't as if they weren't cleanly done, but every mech knew that there were certain components to various castes that made them unique, and often tended to be sensitive. Having those parts removed or damaged was abhorrent to them.

It was to Optimus once, many long vorns ago.

"We're fixing this. There is no way you haven't been going through mood swings without access to your datacables." Well, Optimus couldn't exactly deny that. Sometimes it felt like he was about to die if he didn't hook up to the console. During such moments, he tended to lean on the Matrix.

Ratchet, not having gotten any sort of retort, promptly got to work. Optimus marveled at the feeling the moment he found himself able to reconnect to his cables. They were difficult to manage after so long with them locked away, but just having them free was a relief he did not know he needed as sorely as he did.

"Not much I can do about your frame shaping considering our circumstances. But these, we can get rid of." Ratchet looked Optimus up and down as he hooked up to the console, restoring his long dormant archival subsystems through dutiful training through monitoring human websites. He hardly noticed Ratchet at all until the doctor took one of his servos and promptly began delicately removing the armored plating he had welded onto each individual digit.

The whole affair did not hurt. But when Ratchet was done, Optimus looked at his servos and saw... himself.

He saw Orion in the long and slender digits meant for swift typing, not battle or the handling of a sword. He saw Orion in the gentle tap of his digits as he typed again with them for the first time in eons. He saw Orion in the speed in which they moved, graceful in a way he had not been since he slaughtered his brother before their slumbering god.

Perhaps there was some Orion Pax left in him after all.

"OPTRONIX!" Megatron's shriek of outrage rang out across the battlefield as Optimus strode forward, hesitating only a moment as the warlord's sheer wrath. He was seething, his armor flared and his field a wild whip of anger and grief all wrapped into one burning wave. His blaster blazed with energy begging to be unleashed, his denta clenched so hard Optimus could almost hear them grinding from a distance.

"You dare wear his face! You dare take pieces of his frame as your own! Is this another way to torment me, you pit spawned heathen!?" Every word stung on a spark deep level. Optimus had long since learned to look past whatever Megatron said on the battlefield. it had been easy with his mantra because Orion was hidden. Orion was not the one being insulted or hurt.

But now? It was different.

"I will tear you limb from limb and rip that face right off your frame to lay my brother to rest! Do you hear me!?"

He heard.

He heard every single word.

And Primus, did it hurt.

[crystalsamethyst]

Ugh having pre-canon Fenglian thoughts with some headcanons involved...

But like from Feng Xin's POV, there's a person you are protecting and you end up loving them so much too but you know he's not and will never be yours because of many, many reasons, but you sometimes imagine maybe one day you'll just like run away together and idk hunt and stuff, you're both just so good at fighting, you don't even know WHY he has a guard since you've never even been able to beat him in a fight and you've never seen him lose against anyone else.

Before you even work up the courage to say anything about it after you've both worked so hard for years and years to achieve his dream and fill your life's purpose, a war happens, and then you see his dreams shatter, and it breaks your heart to see him so badly, and there's even more of an impossibility for the both of you. So you take comfort in one of the few people from old Xianle that isn't trying to kill you, and she gives you something close to what you wanted to feel, and it's a betrayal in your heart but at least it's nice.

And then something happens while you're gone so often. Every time you return, your main love is more and more different, and then disappears completely leaving you to take care of his parents. The other love dumps you for some reason. You're hurting. But you stay and take care of the prince's family because you're hoping he'll come back, and maybe then you can talk about things.

He does eventually come back, but completely changed and angry, and he demands you leave. You feel like it's from the bottom of his heart, and so you do. You really can't take the heartbreak. Maybe you'll return in a while, but when you do, the house is abandoned with horrifying context clues.

Then you see him again 800 years later and he's back to the kind person you knew, but it's awkward the way things were left, and you want to help him so you hide yourself. And it turns out he'd rather be frolicking with someone who's tormented you for centuries than trust your judgement.

And then they're in love and happy and you're happy for him but it also tears you up inside. If you'd said something back then, before the war, would he have chosen you instead? Were you ever as important? Could you have been?

[jestercouture]

trash turns to treasure. [ch.2]

watching you.

[1]

warnings: stalking, obsession, yandere, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Hisoka

You had avoided Hisoka’s card ever since he had “gifted” it to you.

It felt daunting to have it in your possession, almost as if it were holding a demonic talisman within its intricate artwork. It was a beautiful thing really, that you could not deny; good quality and detailed far beyond what you would expect from a simple thing such as a playing card. 

But it contained the very essence of Hisoka, acting almost as his lifeline, a part of him. They went where he went, and Hisoka used them with such precision it was more than unnerving. 

He weaponized them and used them to kill, to hurt, to tear apart.

Yet with you, he still used them all the same…but in a manner that almost didn’t feel that threatening. You almost felt like throwing up when you thought about it for too long, but it always came down to the fact that Hisoka hadn’t technically used them to threaten you. 

He had handed it to you softly, as though he himself wasn’t entirely sure of the purpose he gave it to you. 

Why did he want to ‘escort’ you? He had practically dragged you around York New, even though it was under your wearied direction. You still let him, though. As if you had much of a choice, Hisoka just had this…unmistakable air of threat that followed him. Like he was just testing the waters with you the whole time, testing you and observing your reactions.

But you think back to the card. 

Hisoka used those to fight others, to kill them. Why would he give one to you? What was the point of anything Hisoka did? You almost yearned to figure him out, but what would be the point if it cost you your own life? Hisoka liked to toy around and manipulate, you’d seen enough of his fights to see that fact glaring straight at you like a red alarm. 

 Hisoka played on that fact, that he could inspire dread into anyone he pleased and he relished in it. 

You knew you weren’t wrong when you began to realise that your encounter with the jester was something else, were you? You had tried to be so careful, so in touch with your surroundings, yet Hisoka had still wormed his way in, taken your mind hostage. 

Just like all that time ago, when you were poised to take the Hunter Exam. 

Irreplaceable. Is that how he saw you? Hisoka never saw anyone as irreplaceable, as he simply preferred to toss something away when it had served its purpose to him. There was no point keeping something useless after all.

 You were a meek little thing, really, accepting his help and answering so many of his questions. You even took his playing card at the end, with such intoxicating hesitation. You really didn’t know what to do with him, did you? Such a thought made him chuckle. 

It seemed as though he didn’t know what to do with you either. 

Hisoka initially saw you as a toy, something to play with and discard as soon as he lost his interest in you. He looked at you, running his eyes up and down your form to attempt to grasp whether you used Nen or not. He watched you interact with others, your demeanour so sickeningly normal and lacking variety it almost made him doze off. 

But then, on the day of the exam, he saw you again. Gazing upon the place rumoured to be the entrance to it, wistfully, fidgeting with your bag as you seemed to debate on whether to take the plunge. 

He waited. Narrowing his eyes and simply shuffling cards in the shadows, anticipating your next move. 

You stiffened up, and turned your back towards him, still unknowingly right near him, in reach of a single hand to wrap around your throat-

You were gone in a millisecond, not frightfully but as if you had made up your mind and acted on pure instinct. 

He never forgot about it, the way you had stood so resolutely in place, so sure that you would give in and attempt to make something yourself. But you walked away, just as confidently, maybe you’d be sure to return?

Hisoka almost hoped that you’d return, prove him right or- wrong- and you did, to his inward satisfaction. He went on to cause chaos, see chaos and earn his licence…but you never left his mind.

And since he had grasped you, had a taste of your mere presence, Hisoka would not just let you go. He would hunt you down. Bare witness to all of your natural reactions, how you would cry and beg, maybe you would struggle?

Or would you just stare at him, as still as you gazed upon the site of the hunter exam?

Hisoka wanted you to look at him so badly, your gaze on him, fixed and unmoving. You had never looked at him directly during your little expedition together, but he always kept himself fixed on you. It was like a compulsion, a need that he had to give into or else he felt like the memory of you was slipping away. 

And that wasn’t any good now, was it? 

Hisoka wanted to lay his eyes on you almost constantly; but in a city such as Yorknew, how was he supposed to find you? He was considered as elusive as anyone could be. He didn’t know all that much about you, but he was sure that he could change that. 

Hisoka would change it. And you in the process. 

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

Day 1. 10pm.

You went home normally, exhausted from the gruelling day of training that you had undergone. Despite your hard work in earning your license, you felt that you needed more fine tuning in regards to your abilities and strength. 

You weren’t stupid. Passing the exam meant that you were worthy to become a hunter, do all that traveling and exploring you’d always yearned for. Passing was one thing.

You wanted no scratch that, you needed more.

 But for that, you needed skill. Talent.

You needed to be dangerous. 

“God, what am I turning into?,” you muttered, clenching your jaw and grimacing at the stench of sweat that you were drenched in. Practically tearing your clothes off, you jump into the boiling jets of a long-awaited shower that’s been calling your name for what feels like years.

The muscles in your body relaxed and you groaned into steam rising around you, tension easing away and into the drain below. Bubbles slid down and covered every bare inch of you, and as you finished up and stepped out of the shower, a certain feeling began to wash over you. 

It was indescribable, at first. A cloying, heavy feeling that something was amiss…ever so slightly. A towel was hastily grabbed, covering your form as you quickly shut the bathroom door and scanned around your apartment. Nothing appeared to be out of place. The windows were shut, vaguely sheer curtains shielding you from any onlookers on the streets below. 

But why did you feel so wrong? Why did you feel as though something had shifted, yet you could see no such change? 

The minutes ticked by, you standing there and shivering, eyes wide and desperate to try and find the culprit of your unease. 

“I had better not be losing it,” you muttered. This was stupid, if you were so sure something was off, why wasn’t anything different? There had to be something though, anything to indicate any intrusion. You just had to be losing it, didn’t you? Meet a jester and get given a playing card, now you get weird feelings whilst wrapped in nothing but a threadbare towel? 

Whatever. 

The feeling never quite went away, hours ticking by as you tried to ease up and relax but you just had never felt this on edge before. As if there was someone else here,  watching…waiting for you to mess up and get sloppy. The only time you had felt this damn uneasy was when you had met Hisoka. God, when was he ever going to leave you the fuck alone? He wasn’t even here and he was haunting you, ghostly alabaster skin and all. 

It was a question you couldn’t answer, yet you knew deep down all this work you were doing was for him. To have a chance- even if it were a tiny chance- to hold your own in the event that you came across him yet again. 

It was for yourself most of all. To keep him away. 

Two golden eyes watched through the crack in your sheer curtains, eagerly looking in at you so vulnerable. Hisoka was so close to you, through this pane of glass. His connections had really come through this time; your address was admittedly a little hard to find but what did that matter? He had you now, all in a luxurious vision of his very own lecherous eyes. 

He chuckled as you furrowed your brows as you slept, seemingly frustrated and tossing yourself around. If you weren’t careful he’d have to jump in and catch you before you really hurt yourself. 

And catch you Hisoka would. And if you fought him, he would delight in doing it again, and again.

And again. 

Like a cat and mouse. 

[lazanhaazeda]

I wish people could understand that Mel CAN be a manipulator and an empathetic person, one does not cancel out the other, and the fact you guys keep trying to say for others to, "understand the complexity of the character" but KEEP IGNORING IMPORTANT CHARACTER FACTS its frustrating.

Mel is a good manipulator bc she understand others, her empathy is used to work towards others feelings, and THAT'S why she can manipulate Jayce so well, because he is ALWAYS open with his feelings, he always feels the need of aproval, and Mel is always there to say what he wants to hear, and I swear if I see someone else saying "Jayce wanted to be manipulated" I will jump (Wth is WANTING to be manipulated??? manipulated is doing something for others want, not yours).

This is not only throwing away ALL of Jayce's arc and character through the window, but is ALSO throwing away all Mel's character, she IS A FCKIN GOOD MANIPULATOR THATS WHY SHE IS THE FOX AND NOT THE WOLF AND HER ARC IS ABOUT TURNING INTO BOTH NOT JUST BEING ONE

And that's why they couldn't work out, they were meant to help eachother grow in character, yes, but not to grow together (Not criticizing people who ship them). But thats why all their scenes together just doesn't feel right, Mel is always surprised when Jayce comes to her seeking confort, yes, she can care about him, she can love him, her manipulating him doesn't mean she can't love him (after all she is the daugher of Ambessa, she only knows this about love, she doesn't think its something so big), and at some point she could have loved him romantically, but deeply? I don't think she knew Jayce deeply enough to really love him that way. The same with him.

Mel used Jayce, Jayce used Mel (In ways he probably didn’t even know, he used her for confort, for being a safe haven for him, also, maybe thats why HE apologized in the end to her, I will probably analyze this scene better later), Mel used Jayce for all her purposes and thought it was doing good for him too, after all, who wouldn't want a chair at the council sit? With all the investments and privilegies. Mel did have good intentions all the time, but she doesn't come front with people to ask what they want, she assumes, she do, she never asks, she tries to never show weakness but she always will show compassion, in many ways she is like her mother.

Mel is a interesing character because she commits bad things with good intentions, not noticing she is also hurting others, she does to others what she would want for herself, but never actually asks herself if others would REALLY want that. In top of that, she IS classicist towards Viktor, the same way all characters of piltover are in one way or another, this is embedded in their heads internally and sometimes they don't even know, the way she ignores him and is just going towards Jayce's aproval to get aproved the hextech weapons, the way she looks at him with arrogance, she looks down on him.

The thing with Arcane characters, is that most of them have more than one facet, they wont fit perfectly into the "good" or "bad" person, and I really wish Mel's character to not be boiled down into just "did nothing wrong ever" or "Girl character that stayed bettwen my ship"

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Hi! I just went through your entire WtTK AU and I have a (potentially sad) question :D

Has baby Eclipse ever accidentally hurt Y/N? Cause I noticed he's got some pretty big claws, and kids (especially young ones!) don't tend to have very good control of their strength and coordination when they're little

*grabbing you and shaking you*

Thank you for liking my au and for engaging! I love these fish a normal amount!!!!! As for your question~

———————🐠🐟🐠🐋🐳🦭🦈🪼🦐🐙

The first time it happens, Eclipse is too young to realize what he’s done. Tiny baby teeth are still sharp enough to pierce and tear, and when he mindlessly mouths at you a little too hard Moon is the first to notice the blood at your shoulder where your baby nestles his face. Sun is a mess of anxiety over the realization that your little guppy has teeth and claws sharp enough to hurt his mama now, and no will yet to prevent it. The bites don’t leave a visible scar, but the boys never forget.

It happens again, of course. Many times. Little nicks of careless baby claws and eager baby teeth. Nothing serious, and your mers are diligent in teaching Eclipse to be careful with his mama and her delicate body. Sun maybe goes to far with it really, and for a while your little boy handles you like you’re made of glass. Eventually you ease the anxiety he develops over hurting you into a more reasonable level of caution, but he’s always very careful.

But even the most careful, cautious people slip sometimes, and Eclipse is just a boy after all…

He hadn’t meant to. He swore up and down around hiccuping sobs over and over again how he hadn’t meant to and how he’s so so sorry. You coo and shush him, one hand pressed down firmly to stem the bleeding from your calf, and the other holding onto his hand (so much bigger than yours already, and covered in your blood) even as he tries to pull away.

“Clip, sweetie, look at me. I’m ok. It’s going to be ok. It was an accident. I’m not mad. It’s ok.” You talk to him as gently as you can, holding him as close as he‘ll let you. For a moment you resent how big he’s gotten so fast. Eleven years old and he’s already taller than you.

Moon doesn’t take it well, of course. Sun takes it worse. They get your injuries cleaned and stitched up, and they end up healing into four pale pink scars just a few inches above the first scratches Moon gave you on your ankle years and years ago. Eclipse doesn’t speak almost at all for weeks. He stays with Moon most of the time, and his nocturnal father uses the time to share whatever wisdom he earned from his own time as a sharp and dangerous creature on how to be gentle. Your son keeps his hands entirely to himself for that time, accepting hugs but not returning them. Your heart hurts far worse than your leg. Sun stays by your side while the other two are away, and his son won’t meet his eyes for days either.

Things get better. They heal, they scar, the marks fade and leave behind lessons for all four of you. Eclipse grows into a frighteningly deliberate predator, and those claws and teeth never do any harm that they don’t fully mean to do by the time he’s mature. Certainly after that, though he causes his fair share of carnage, he never hurts you.

[ancientbygone]

i didn���t do it, i didn’t do it for love; what did i do it for?

[sequel piece to kill the sparrow]

[thefabulousfab-3]

It’s crazy how all the hatred for Colin can be boiled down to, “he’s not toxic enough”.

[deadrlngers]

no but thinking of violante's manic state following her murder of ruven and that sick game of association-replacement played by gortash where he acts just like ruven did, picks up some of his behaviours and mannerisms and speech patterns he specifically used with violante and that he knows of well bc he observed and studied them interact, so that he can fill up the now empty spot left by ruven's death.

[musical-chick-13]

I really don't want to make this a political blog, but there is. A big difference between "Neither of the major parties are on board with my values"/"I have criticisms of everyone in the political sphere"/"the political system is inherently flawed, I wish we had better candidates to pick from" (or even, "Wow, there is so much on both sides that really sucks! No one here is a particularly great person!")<-all of which are fair and things I actually do agree with, and "Both sides are, in every single way, on every single issue, literally completely the exact same."

[aquaticfreakshow-sys]

Call me petty or whatever but, making fun of and shit talking my toxic ex with my current partners is literally so fun....

My current boyfriend of ten years was ALSO with them so it's really fun to completely trash talk our failed poly relationship lmao

Healing is being able to laugh at how ridiculous it all was instead of being afraid of them.

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Thinking about neurodivergent!secretary!reader who absolutely despises when there's new, young soldiers at the base.

Your base instinct is to run whenever there's a teenager in front of you – it doesn't matter if you're almost 30 years old. The scars of the bullying you suffered when you were young are still tender, and you hate when their scrutinizing gazes lock onto you, tongues sharp and ready to pick and pull at every loose thread of insecurity you have; hammering you down until stop sticking out like a bent nail.

Your boys see that. And they hate it.

They just love their little doll, their favorite (only) secretary. It's the highlight of their days to see you all pretty with your dresses and your soft but purposeful steps, calling out to them with a quiet voice. You're like a little bunny – small, scared, and cute. Their nerves flare up with the desperate need to just keep you safe in their hands, always within their reach.

And when they find out that some good-for-nothing recruits are intimidating you and talking shit about you behind your back, trying to bully you for the way you chose to live your life?

Price doesn't think twice about ruining their military careers. Who cares about some stupid runts? All that matters is your pretty smile, love. Maybe bullying doesn't call for a dishonorable discharge, but hey. A little abuse of power is absolutely nothing if it means keeping you happy.

Ghost will be more than happy to beat up all of the scum that had the gall to whisper nasty comments about you whenever he's training them. You're his little piece of heaven. The only bird that has ever looked at him with loving eyes, and not fear. He wouldn't stand for anyone who badmouths the one soft thing he has going on in his life. And if he punches their jaws until they dislocate so they can't talk about you? That's on them for not blocking. And if he breaks their finger so they can't type anything? Oh, lovie. That's on them for not dodging.

Soap is a lot less subtle. He'll just knock down whoever's near him if they so much as whisper something about you. No one talks about his bonnie. Not when you're the sweetest little thing that's ever been around him. Soap sometimes daydreams of getting a nasty toothache just by biting you, so sweet you are. And no one can ever hurt you beside him and his mates, when they eventually show you the sugar pain of their affections. Interestingly, Sergeant MacTavish just never seems to face disciplinary action despite how openly aggressive he is to those new runts...

Gaz is the one with the information. He's all tight lipped smiles and fake laughs when he's talking with a new recruit and they dare to poke fun at you. Sometimes they even know you're 141's secretary and openly expect Kyle to agree with them. As if he could ever think anything but the absolute best about you, his precious doll... He wouldn't let this slander go on for much longer, though. Just a few words with Price or Ghost and the recruit would be swallowing their words with blood and bile. You can always trust him to be your knight in shining armor, love, just like you're his princess. No harm will ever come your way, if it's up to him.

[isildheir]

Honestly, my abuser saying Louis was just as bad as Lestat or basically implying they hate how people write Lestat off as more abusive than he is or that Louis was just as abusive was a red flag I should've put a lot more stock into.

[kissitbttr]

“i’m sorry baby” simon murmurs against your warm skin, large hand coming up to palm your breast under the material of your shirt as he watches you squirm under his hold, fingers kneading your nipple.

“you hurt me, si…” you whine, doe eyes looking at him as you sniffle. “i hate you”

he hums with a nod, peeling your shirt off just enough to expose your naked chest. “i know baby, i know.. was a dick to you, yeah?”

you don’t answer, covering your face with your hands as he continues to pepper kisses down to your stomach. your quiet sobs make simon’s heart breaks.

“fucking asshole”

that almost makes him laugh, but he doesn’t. only smiles. “i was”

“a bastard you are”

he kisses your clothed cunt. “i agree.”

you shudder at the contact, whining. “careful. i just waxed there. I’m a little sensitive.”

he groans. he swears you’re doing that on purpose. “i will sweetheart.”

his fingers move to pull your laced panties down, ever so slowly. his hunger increases the moment his brown eyes settled on your pretty wet pussy.

“christ” he breathes out. “gonna make it up to you, pretty girl. i promise.” he sits up on his knees, looking down at you. glossy eyes looking up at him with a small pout formed on your lips. his cock growing hard under his briefs

‘fuck, don’t look at me like that’ he thinks to himself

puffing out a scoff, you reply “doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for this si”

he knows. he hurt you. his pretty girl. he made you cry and that’s something he would never forgive himself too. that fight was stupid, he knows that now.

“i know, sweetheart” he pulls the waistband of his boxers slightly, just enough to take his hard cock out before hovering your body. a small gasp escapes your lips when his the tip of his shaft make a brief contact against your cunt. “i didn’t mean to make you cry. was a proper dick. hurting my baby like that, yeah? what kind of a man am i.”

he gives a soft kiss on your lips in which you hum, eyes fluttering shut. he wraps his hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before guiding it to your wet entrance while putting his other palm beside your head to support his weight.

you bite down your lower lip trying to suppress a moan when he slides the tip up and down your cunt. mumbling a low ‘fuck’ at the slicky sound of your wet cunt. another loud groan rumbles off his chest when his cock slips in. simon stays still for a while before he sits up straight, hooking his hands underneath your knees, telling you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“gonna fuck you real good, ma” the term of endearment almost makes you cum. as he begins to rock his hips back and forth. he watches you arch your back, soft hands gripping around your tits with pretty moans falling off your lips like an angelic prayer. he growls at the perfect sight, making him thrust even faster.

“show you how sorry i am”