#but I don’t want people to misunderstand what I’m about

[wisteria1999]

Not to be an asshole or anything but I truly do not understand why people are so obsessed with there being more male characters in reverse 1999. Like. There are literally hundreds of thousands of male characters across different media. For centuries men have been the only ones in fiction who were allowed to be complex and interesting, with women being little more then pretty objects who barely have any effect on the plot outside of being love interests. Now that there is a single game where it’s mostly women driving the plot, a bunch of people are having a meltdown? Oh no god forbid you have to play a game that primarily focuses on female characters and their stories for once. What a horrific tragedy.

And I don’t want to hear anything about “But the gender ratio in the playable character roster is unbalanced! MEN deserve to be represented too!” Yeah sorry idk if this is a hot take but I really don’t care about this point and I think it’s stupid. Men have been overwhelmingly represented in fiction for as long as storytelling has been a thing. Men being underrepresented in a video game is not a problem. The real issue with the playable character roster is the underrepresentation of the cultures of people of color (which is uncomfortably noticeable for a game with the concept of traveling to different time periods in different areas around the world, but has only really represented white or east asian cultures). Please redirect your energy to advocating for that.

Do not misunderstand me: I do not hate men or male characters. There are plenty of male characters IN reverse 1999 that I like quite a bit. I’m just sick and tired of people acting like there HAVE to be more male characters and that it’s unfair that there aren’t. If we get more male characters, great! As long as they are interesting and well designed I don’t have a problem with more men. It just drives me up a fucking wall when I see people have the reaction of “oh more women 😒” EVERY TIME the cast of a new update is revealed.

“Oh I really hope the new limited character in 2.5 is a man for once! We’ve had too many women! 😩” oh now I’m hoping that ALL the new characters in 2.5 are non-men out of SPITE.

[ilikekidsshows]

did you see the spoilers for ml season 6 where there’s a new girl with a prosthetic leg and that leg ends up broken and marinette’s involved somehow? honestly i’m gonna give marinette the benefit of the doubt for now and just assume this is either a huge misunderstanding/accident or extremely misleading spoiler just because this is a serious thing, like I was super disappointed with how her character’s written in season 4 and 5 but I just don’t want to believe the writers would come up with something like this when this would easily be one of the worst things she’s ever done (if she’s actually responsible). I saw the spoiler on TikTok and there’s several explanations I’ve seen in the comments:

the new girl (idr her name) is lila/cerise in disguise and she wants to ruin marinette’s reputation (iirc the writers said she’s nice and not a villain but maybe they just don’t want to spoil the plot for obvious reasons)

marinette didn’t have bad intentions/it was an accident/misunderstanding/spoilers are too misleading/not enough information yet

and my least favorite explanation…the new girl was trying to get with adrien (some fans are saying this to say this is all part of her scheme to get adrien to break up with marinette and date her instead but some are saying this to justify marinette if she was actually at fault for this)

I think my main concern is how the writers are going to address this. What if they try to justify it if marinette really was at fault? Or what if it’s all a misunderstanding but then they put the new girl to the side to focus on how sad this is for marinette? Are they going to be able to address this in a way that doesn’t come across as ableist while also not making their protagonist look like a bad person? What do you think?

---

I just saw the leak, but at first I couldn't find it, so I’d already written a response before that, so here's me describing the possible nightmare scenarios before the writers proved me right about their priorities:

Like, hot take, but it doesn’t matter what the new girl is doing, messing with her mobility aid would still be absolutely unforgivable. Even if it’s Lila in disguise, Marinette has already exhibited so much ableism in trying to prove her disabilities aren’t real that I would just say that the writers shouldn’t be allowed to as much as mention any disability ever again. “A person claiming they’re disabled could be lying to get special considerations, so make sure to check any claims of disability, no matter how awful you come across for doing it,” is not a lesson that has any place in a children’s cartoon, even accidentally. And that’s exactly what any scenario with a girl faking a disability / using their disability to get closer to Adrien would entail as well, the idea that we should be suspicious of disabled people trying to “cheat” their way to things that “belong” to us.

But, like, even if it actually is going to be aiming to be an actual lesson in disabilities where it’s all a misunderstanding/mistake, the thing is that, lately, I’ve been looking back at the “lessons” in this show, even in the earlier seasons, and I just don’t have faith in these writers’ ability to deliver any kind of moral to kids in a consistent way, unless they’re going to have a character directly talk to the screen to explain what the moral is.

Let’s use ‘The Mime’ as an example. The scenario in this episode is that Marinette, through her clumsiness, deletes the most important video Alya had filmed so far, and then spends the rest of the episode trying to recreate the video in order to cover up for her mistake. In the end, it turns out there was no problem because Alya had already saved a copy of the video because she expected something like Marinette deleting it to happen, so she was never even mad or disappointed, but Marinette still sets up Alya to get a one-on-one interview with Ladybug. What did Marinette learn in this episode exactly?

The most good faith interpretation of the episode is that the point is that you own up and make up for your mistakes, hence Marinette setting Alya up to get an interview with Ladybug. But this message is muddled up by the fact that, even before the retool, the writers didn’t want Marinette suffering any real consequences for messing up, or to show her messing up in a way that couldn’t be “fixed”, so the video was actually safe and no irreparable damage was done. Alya had foreseen that Marinette would mess up and planned accordingly. This takes the wind out of the sails of the lesson because of course Marinette would do something nice for Alya, who’s such a considerate friend who never gets mad at her and plans around Marinette’s flaws. It’s a pretty different thing to go out of your way to apologise or make things up to someone who is actually mad at you for a good reason, and it requires a lot more courage. The situation in ‘The Mime’ is the easiest version of this situation imaginable for Marinette, but completely unrealistic for anyone facing this kind of situation in real life.

So, with this kind of previous showing back when I still had faith in this show, how would I expect them to deal with Marinette accidentally messing with someone’s mobility aid post-retool? I’d expect a lot of focus on how upsette Marinette is, because that’s the show’s number one priority outside of the love quest, with the show going out of it’s way to make it very clear that Marinette didn’t mean to, she feels really bad about it and she’s scared of how the new girl will react. At the end of the episode she would gather her courage and face the music, and it turns out the new girl was actually getting a new mobility aid that very same day and she wouldn’t have needed the old one any longer anyway. And then Marinette will maybe make some gesture of friendship that the new girl gladly accepts, no hard feelings. Any normal person would still be pissed about their expensive mobility aid being messed with, but the writers of this show never have characters react normally when the normal thing to do is not instantly forgive Marinette. So this scenario would be making things easy for Marinette, but completely unrealistic for the viewing audience.

Simply put, I really, really really hope the sneak preview is purposefully misleading, as they tend to be, and the crew doesn’t try to tackle the topic of physical disabilities with their tendency to favor the perspective of their coddled, able-bodied protagonist.

—

After seeing the leak:

So, like, fucking hell, way to further sully the idea that Marinette ever took her job as Ladybug seriously. Just to make herself look like the victim when she’s caught stalking someone (something she insisted last season she’d stopped doing), she goes so far as faking being Akumatized, transforming into Ladybug and jumping right in the middle of the field, of this girl's path, to scream about an Akuma attack. Like, the reveal that Sublime knew there was actually no Akuma and that Tomoe apparently made the leg less sturdy on purpose doesn’t make it better when Marinette got Sublime slippery and then startled her enough to make her slip. People break perfectly fine legs from slipping, it's why anti-skid devices sell so well in winter. All of this being an accident doesn’t make it okay, and Marinette sure as hell didn’t have anything close to those “good intentions” her stans love to attribute to her.

But, of course, her victim is going to be a perfect flawless angel who wasn't even upset about the stalking, instead defending Marinette to Ladybug, just in case saying: “this girl I know pretended to be Akumatized because she was caught stalking me” might make Marinette look bad to the audience. She also instantly reassures Ladybug, the one who actually caused her to slip, who hasn't done anything more than stare at her slack-jawed, because god forbid anyone ever say anything about Marinette that isn't validation or praise while she's too busy freaking out about herself.

Like, Marinette causes Sublime to break her leg, and we instantly see the victim in this situation go: “I’m okay, I’m not hurt”, while Marinette just stands there having her personal little panic attack. Like, a girl lost her leg, and the writers still try to sell Marinette as the injured party by having the victim insist she's okay while Marinette is having another one of her manipulative, please-feel-sorry-for-me-audience emotional breakdowns. The writers seriously made Marinette’s victim prioritize reassuring her over anything else.

I knew the writers were going to have Marinette be instantly forgiven, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so instant that she didn’t even get to finish processing her fuck-up. Or to go so out of their way to make Marinette seem less at fault because, like, Tomoe messing with the leg on purpose isn't a villain scheme, it was just to make Marinette look better in comparison.

The writers have this ability where, when I write down what I think would be a very likely way for one of their stories to go very badly, they do just that while still managing to make it worse.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

Dramatic Ending Ch. 24

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Before the end, the people who believed in God were in mourning.

Still, no one tried to stop Azel.

Perhaps, unbeknownst to everyone, a new era for the Land of Divination and Bewitchment had arrived.

-

Azel: Could you stop making such a gloomy face?

Emma: …I’ll try my best.

Once the people were out of sight, Azel slipped into a nearby guest room.

I followed without thinking, but I didn’t know his purpose.

(But, this is good timing.)

Whether it was because I was influenced by the people, or because I had learned that the end was tomorrow, as soon as I relaxed, my vision blurred, and I couldn’t even speak properly.

(I decided to spend time without regrets…)

Emma: I couldn’t help you with anything after all, could I?

Forcibly suppressing the overflowing sadness, I raised my voice brightly.

Emma: What did you want help with, Prince Azel?

Azel: Ah…

Azel: …That’s right, you said everything you wanted to the old man on my behalf.

Azel: Thanks to you, I didn’t have to waste any effort. That’s what you were for.

Emma: Haha… Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?

Azel: No, it’s a fact. Please don’t misunderstand.

(Does he realize he’s digging himself deeper the more he talks?)

My heart ached as I looked at Azel, who had turned away.

Azel: More importantly, aren’t you being sought by Akatsuki?

Azel: Your father doesn’t know where we went.

Azel: If he handed Enis over to the doctor, he might be wandering around the castle by now, unable to bear it any longer.

Emma: That’s true. I need to get back soon, but…

Emma: …I thought we were going to have a secret conversation in the guest room.

Azel: There’s no such thing. I just wanted to go somewhere quiet.

Emma: …

Azel: However…

Azel sat down on a long chair by the window and looked up at the full moon.

Azel: If you have something you want to talk about, I wouldn’t mind listening.

(…This God is…)

Emma: You’re becoming more and more generous, aren’t you?

Emma: You said earlier that you would only answer one question…

Azel: …Ah, no need for mercy.

Emma: Please wait, I want it, I’m happy!

(I’m sure I’m not the only one saddened by the farewell.)

(Tomorrow hasn’t come yet…)

I gathered the cold night air and cooled my heated body.

Emma: Prince Azel…

Emma: …Are you really going to disappear?

Azel: Yes. The “death of the eternal God” is exactly what it means.

Azel: I, as God, will die. And it will be a grand spectacle in front of the masses.

Emma: That’s… tomorrow?

Azel: Tomorrow. There’s no change in plans.

Emma: But…

*flashback*

Silvio: I hear that the Living God is reincarnated and descends to Tanzanite at regular intervals.

Silvio: In other words, there are times when the Living God isn’t around.

Silvio: Azel happens to be here now, but when he’s not, the people worship an idol god.

Silvio: Even if the Living God dies, “God” doesn’t die.

*flashback over*

Emma: Even if Prince Azel is gone, the idol god will remain.

Azel: Of course, with that old man leading the way, God won’t disappear from everyone’s hearts.

Azel: God will remain as an idea. But the important thing is which side becomes the majority.

Azel: Whether they continue to depend on God, or break away from God. If the will of more than half changes, the country will change.

Azel: Besides, did you think I wouldn’t consider what you’re worried about?

Azel: I’ve already taken measures. It’s impossible for God to be defeated by mere mortals.

(…This is no good. I just said I would support you, and yet here I am thinking of ways to stop you.)

Perhaps my heart hasn’t caught up with what I understand in my head.

When I lowered my eyes, a sigh dissolved into the silence.

Azel: …I didn’t want to be bombarded with questions from you because you would react this way.

Emma: I’m sorry.

Emma: But… Prince Azel, you’re being cruel too.

Azel: What do you mean?

Emma: You’ve had this plan all along… ever since you met me, right?

Azel: Of course.

Emma: …And yet, weren’t all those suggestive actions cowardly?

Azel: What are you talking about? When did I ever act suggestively towards you?

Emma: You don’t remember?

Azel: No, not at all.

Emma: Even though you were so clingy to me.

Azel: Huh? Please stop fabricating facts.

(At first, I thought it was because of God’s detachment from the world.)

(But, ever since you chased after me to the party you were supposed to hate, the contradictions in your words and actions became obvious…)

(Even now, you were trying to keep me away at first, and yet you’re holding me back like this.)

Azel continued to gaze intently at the moon, but he couldn’t hide the redness of his ears.

Emma: …Prince Azel, you’re a sinful God.

(Even I, who knows nothing of love, can tell.)

(Azel doesn’t react like this to just anyone…)

Azel: Look who’s talking.

Emma: What do you mean?

Azel: You too…

Azel: …No, never mind.

Emma: Now I’m curious.

Azel: Don’t worry about it. I was just delirious.

Silence dominated the room, to the point where we could hear each other’s breathing.

(This suddenly became awkward.)

(I should have had so many things I wanted to say and ask…)

(My heartbeat is so loud, I can’t put my words together properly.)

Azel: …

Emma: …

Azel: …Don’t you…

Azel: Don’t you need to pray to God one last time?

Emma: I’m not a believer, you know?

Azel: I'm a merciful God, even to non-believers.

Emma: That’s news to me.

Azel: …Shut up. You wished for my wish to come true earlier, didn’t you?

Azel: In exchange for that piety, I thought I’d at least listen to your wish too.

(My wish…)

Azel: Well, I’ll listen, but I won’t grant it.

Emma: …

(If I could wish for anything right now, there’s only one thing that comes to mind.)

(But it would be cowardly to say it out loud.)

(Even if God tempted me with sweet words, I shouldn’t say it.)

I pressed my lips together to prevent it from accidentally slipping out.

Perhaps sensing something from my behavior, God stood up and looked down at me.

As I tried to step back when he approached, he grabbed my hand.

Azel: I told you before. Don’t try to endure it with a creepy smile.

Azel: Say it.

Emma: …I have no wish.

Azel: That wouldn’t be fair, would it?

Emma: That’s not something a swindler God who forced a debt on me should say.

Azel: You…

A hand touched my cheek, and I braced myself for it to be pinched.

But the usual pain didn’t come; it was just gently placed there.

Azel: I’ll have you know, I already know your wish.

Azel: And yet, I’m still listening.

Emma: Even though it’s something that can’t be helped by saying it…?

Azel: Yes. That’s why I said “listen” first, right?

(...)

(..........)

I placed my hand over the warm palm that cupped my cheek and squeezed it tightly.

Emma: …I don’t… want you to die.

(I’m… contradicting myself too.)

(After all, I’m saying the same thing as the apostle in the end.)

The moment I said it, regret began to eat away at me.

But Azel didn’t brush my hand away.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Why?

Azel: I understand your wish, but I don’t understand why you’re so desperate to stop it.

Azel: Unlike that old man, whether God exists or not won’t affect your daily life.

Azel: Of course, a kind person like you would be saddened by someone’s death.

Azel: But even that is just a fleeting moment when measured on the scale of life.

Azel: It’s a pain that will fade quickly with the passage of time.

Azel: To put it bluntly, my death is “irrelevant” to you.

Azel: Don’t trouble yourself over a God you only spent a short time with, it’s foolish.

(––That’s what you were leading me to say.)

(Just as I wished for what was best for Azel…)

(Azel thought this was best for me.)

Accepting God’s mercy, I tilted my head, nestling it against Azel's hand.

Thinking about the pain of the moment this hand would become cold, I didn’t feel like I could go back to my normal life.

Emma: Prince Azel… what would you do if I said I was going to die tomorrow?

Azel: …………It wouldn’t matter to me if you died.

Contrary to his words, Azel's expression grew stern, as if to say he was displeased.

Emma: That’s the kind of emotion I’m feeling right now.

Azel: Sigh… I told you not to fall in love with me.

Azel: .....

Azel: ………… Ah.

Azel: No, that’s wrong.

(…I didn’t mean to corner you like that.)

Seeing Azel so obviously flustered made me laugh, forgetting the situation.

(You don’t have to try to hide it now, it was obvious.)

Emma: Are you in love, Prince Azel?

Azel: Don’t get cocky.

Emma: Ow… Ow ow!

He pinched my cheeks tightly, stretching my face.

Azel: Don’t nitpick, I just misspoke.

Emma: …I’m in love, you know.

Azel: …

Emma: I feel like I’ve been scammed.

(I thought I would never fall for a wicked God who put me in debt, no matter what.)

(…But once I realized you were just a compassionate person who couldn’t be honest, I suddenly lost my composure.)

(Besides, with the wicked and greedy Azel, I didn’t have to hold back…)

(I enjoyed the time we spent together so much.)

The parts of him that I respect, and his clumsy kindness in everyday life, piled up to build my current feelings.

It may still be shallow, like a small sprout just beginning to grow, but I’m certain that this is what I’ve been yearning for all along.

(I can’t pretend it never happened now.)

Emma: I think I’ll resent and curse you forever, so be prepared for that.

Azel: …Cursing someone who’s going to die is pointless.

Emma: I mean “I won’t forget.”

Azel: ...........

Emma: I feel relieved now that I’ve said what I wanted to say. Thank you, Prince Azel.

(I feel like crying, but…)

(…No, it might be too late already.)

Tears spilled down my cheeks, even though I was smiling, and wet Azel's hand.

At this distance, there was no way to hide it, and I could only lower my eyes.

(I don’t… have to hold back, do I?)

(The root of all evil is the God in front of me, after all.)

Once I gave in, I couldn’t stop, and sobs gradually welled up.

I didn’t want him to see my tear-streaked face, so I tried to shake his hand off, but against my will, he lifted my chin and made me look up.

Emma: Prince Azel, at least a little of my–

My parted lips were sealed.

My eyes widened at the soft sensation I had never known before.

As I stared back in surprise, he pecked my lips again briefly.

Emma: It’s impossible to say I’m not in love after this.

Azel: Shut up.

Azel: …It’s your fault for provoking me.

Emma: I only cried because of the wicked God.

Azel: That’s what provoking means.

Emma: What kind of common sense– Mm!

As if to say he wouldn’t acknowledge any objections, he stole my breath away again.

Once he had broken through, God didn’t stop kissing me.

Not only my lips, but each tear that spilled from my eyes was met with a loving kiss.

(I really… might end up resenting you forever.)

Azel: It’s all your fault.

Azel: …It’s your fault I became a fool.

Emma: Then it’s Prince Azel's fault that I fell so in love with you.

Emma: It’s cowardly of you to die without taking responsibility.

Azel: Cowardly, you say? Fine. I am a wicked God, after all.

Emma: A perverse, wicked God.

Azel: To think you would add to your debt with insults at the very end.

Emma: The compensation Prince Azel has to pay me is much higher, you know?

Our foreheads touched, our eyes locked, and our lips met again, though neither of us had planned it.

Azel: ………… Damn it.

(…I wanted to fall in love. I wished to love someone.)

(To think it would be like this…)

???: No matter how rational a person is, once they are driven mad by love, they can no longer live without it.

???: Just like a child.

.

.

.

Dramatic Ending Ch. 25

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[st-hedge]

I’m going to give no context and just post this shoddy comic strip about Ganondorf’s nightmare

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[puppppppppy]

I just skimmed through the art part of your blog and holy bajeebus your LMK art is so beautiful and the headcanon ideas you come up with are so good I wanna steal em-

Kinda wanna see like a part 2 of the little angst you did between MK and Macaque a while ago. It's so interesting and I wanna see Macaque's reaction in your art style. (You don't have to of course, it's just a suggestion [idk if i spelled that right])

Thanks for reading and hope you have a good day/night!

Hope this is to your liking ^^

Part one here

[ghost-bxrd]

ooh i’m now thinking about the court intrigue part of your dragon au, and dick and jason being smack dab in the middle of a power struggle. bc there’s a faction of ppl who don’t want dick as crown prince; he’s foreign opinionated, popular, and not as easy to control. and so when jason comes along looking like the spitting image of bruce, and seemingly shy and manipulatable, they seize onto him. and jason’s obviously super smart, but he’s not used to the underhand way the court works, and starts to trust many in that faction bc they’re kind to him( bonus points if they have some servants working for them, bc jason trusts the servants way faster as fellow common ppl)

and dick isn’t an idiot, so he sees what’s happening and sees his little brother who he loves but doesn’t know that well, start to befriend all the people plotting against him. and he can’t call him out on it and look jealous (even though he is super jealous bc here comes this adorable kid, who could be bruce’s real son and isn’t perpetually a foreigner, coming along and stealing his father’s love and trying to undo everything he’s worked for). so he instead tries to befriend jason more, while always half being on guard for a knife in the back. jason picks up on weird vibes but has no clue what’s happening bc he’s a kid and the court is filled with so many weird vibes lol.

and jason grows increasingly entrenched in that faction, and then dies in a way that looks like he turned traitor but it went wrong and he got killed (not what happened, but the evidence is very convincing) (the anti-dick faction is also upset bc darn there goes their heir). and bruce and dick are heartbroken (bruce especially since he was blindsided since dick never told him any of his suspicions since he didn’t think bruce would believe him). but they don’t spread the news of jason as a traitor bc he was a kid and they don’t want to do that to his memory, and there’s like a tiny kernel of hope that maybe there was a mistake. but then jason comes back to life on the dragon of the tyrant, and immediately begins gunning for the throne (via attacking the heirs to the throne, tim and dick). and dick is heartbroken all over again, bc his little brother really does want him dead and to steal the crown. jason has 0 clue about any of this and is hurt and confused why his brother is calling him a traitor. cue much angst

Omg the MISUNDERSTANDINGS I am THRIVING

Dick and Jason would inadvertently end up in a downward spiral of hate and betrayal, with Dick convinced Jason is trying to usurp the throne and Jason thinking Dick never loved him and took the first chance to get himself a new little brother. One that isn’t common folk 😭

But also, Dick could think that he could sacrifice himself to keep Tim safe.

Jason wants him after all, right? He might be angry at Tim, but it’s Dick who he wants dead. The crown prince. Because if he’s gone, Jason will be next in line for the throne. And if Dick is smart about this, he can strike a bargain that will ensure Tim gets to live….

[deliciousdietdrpepper]

Something painful I’ve realized about POTs is that it’s alienating. Specifically, when everyone else has a head full of thoughts, when in a episode, it’s as if when I talk to them I’m not there. Mental connections are few and far between, and when in an episode, I might say things and voice insecurities that I otherwise wouldn’t. So when I’m in that position, I just don’t talk to people anymore. In a group, everyone will continue talking, but because it takes so long to piece what I’m truly thinking together, and so much effort to say it, I won’t bring up my thoughts or opinions—and that’s Bad! For relationships! I’ve realized that I have an unhealthy well of jealousy for people who are able to connect to each other—the able-bodied and able-minded. It’s not kind, and it’s not sustainable. Yet, I have to continue living with this condition. No option there. No cure, just a million little micro-adjustments in the hope that they bring me closer to myself and others. A gallon of water, testosterone, adhd medication, blood pressure medication—none of it separates me completely from the struggle to think and speak and move. I’m divorced from my own intelligence and intuition.

At the end of the day, I’m responsible for the insecurities I bring to the table, and those are formed within a situation outside of my control, and so unique that it doesn’t relate with the majority of people. Built in neurosis. Maybe this is why disabled voices are so important. I don’t know anyone in my own life who struggles to participate the same way I do, or if they do, their struggle is as invisible to me as mine is to them.

[winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts]

THINKING ABOUT.

Universe contamination. WAIT before anybody says Oh doc’s gone off the deep end This is an oc project.

Kind of started as an explanation for why when my friends and I did crossovers it went off the rails? Also because of how my writing changed over time, ha. (of course you know you can’t have an adventure story without something going wrong but still.) Whenever somebody visits Jer, peoples around them are more… aggressive? Heightened emotions? (shoutout to Finch)

And on the other hand when Jer visits other people they’re able to calm down any situations very well, and just bring positive vibes! But it’s very exhausting for Some Reason.

I’m not sure how jer got the idea, probably a slow realization/looking back or maybe confirmation bias and none of it is real! Haha!

Contamination is a Major worry Jer has! They’re paranoid that outsiders staying too long and butterfly-effecting things/causing trouble could permanently ruin the timeline. (I think that’s what triggered him into uh shutting down his portal the first time) (and hearing about what JJ did was very worrying also-)

Lost my train of thought so I’m talking about another related idea. You know how in movies when a character is worried that Something TM is nearby but the other characters tell them not to worry because it’s not real? Irl we don’t have to worry and you can reassure yourself because Science, but in the movie they’re right to worry because the creature can be seen and really does exist. Jer knows the ‘creature’ exists, therefore that Threat is always there and nothing others say will fully reassure him, and he’s right to think that. Uh my thoughts. Losing my train of thought. [insert that meme of me by a conspiracy board]

(Orrrrr contamination isn’t actually because of universe magic but becauseeee of the way the worlds are slightly different and the way visitors act and talk are recieved differently? And when people are getting to know each other, first impressions do a lot? And what JJ did was an isolated incident that had a lot of warning signs beforehand? So he doesn’t have to worry? But too late, the idea’s in his head now.)

… uh oh, Jer’s trying to run an experiment by giving his friends ‘good luck charms’ and seeing if objects from their world could affect another’s if kept for a long time. Jer no!! Chill out!!

——

On a fun note though, I’m giving jer night vision. wahoooo :D I might make a cool drawing for it laterrr

And thinking on Rev- I think yeah, folks in Jer’s world think he’s some kind of creature or… maybe a film star? That’d explain why he’s most often at the studio and acting dramatic HAHA- but in all seriousness I think movies there would lean on the more action filled/ more violent side (and on the contamination thing- once people got to know Rev they mellowed out so. Jer, calm down. Jer of course people are going to act oddly your various friends from ‘out of town’ have fangs, claws, unusual eyes, and demon horns) (shoutout to Caedem)

(but. But. Potentially if some dangerous ideas were introduced to Jer’s city you can’t just… take them back- like Pandora’s box. If Something made people start acting more selfish and cruel it Could contaminate the supernatural good fortune of the city. Haha what who said that? I love ideas that could go either way, that’s my jam. Who knows. (But I wouldn’t do that to them because Id have to write something complicated And it would be very sad. But the worry is real to Jer.)

Related- thinking onnnn Jer’s rat! Randy’s doing a very good job keeping them calm- annnnd explaining out loud what you’re thinking (even to a pet!) can help you realize how over-worried you are. They’re having a Mental Health Moment but are holding it together on the outside so [thumbs up]

[pyroexcape]

when you draw something just for self indulgence but then go too hard on it and get mad that you made it too cringe to share. this sideblog was an attempt to not care about that and draw things without worry but apparently there is no limit to what my brain is embarrassed about

[metallteeff]

my laois rant is i hate when people call him a monster fucker. idk if anything happens later to make this like. a thing. but if people are doing it just bc of his special interest i will kill you all. just from personal experience i think its in awfully poor taste to make the joke of sexualizing something that’s clearly an interest like that

[tariah23]

Whoever keeps sending me asks about the anon post I deleted, it’s over.

[un-pearable]

not going to pester the mvp with a rb but with regard to the tone tags video + the bombardment of misali by people saying ‘it makes sense to ME it’s more important that i convey my tone not that you understand it’ i hate to break it to you but communication is a two way street. if the other person can’t interpret your meaning despite you using something that is explicitly intended to enhance interpretability that thing!!! is broken!!!!!

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

“The Captain’s beloved…wait, what?!”

Capitano x Gender Neutral Reader one shot

Work count: 2.2k

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship

Rating: General Audiences

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: The fatui discover that their Captain does, in fact, have a life outside of work and gossip between the ranks ensues. (Cue silly fatui shenanigans)

Ao3 Link

Capitano, the Fatui’s first lord and harbinger, contrary to popular belief, was respected and admired by his platoons rather than feared. There was a widespread misunderstanding both in and outside the organization that the Captain was a harsh and dangerous leader due to his mysterious nature. However, the people who worked under him knew better as they had grown to admire him the more they interacted with him.

He held himself with pride and treated his soldiers the same way he wanted to be treated: with respect and dignity. And in return, they learned the depths of this man’s strategic genius and strength. His strength was unmatched in combat and led his people well with good decision making and training. They could only hope to be as good as him in his various fields of expertise.

He was strict, and quick to discipline unruly fatuus, yes, but that did not stop others under his command from admiring him. And to emphasize this even more, it was clear that his fellow harbingers and even the Tsarista respected him, whether their goals and morals aligned with his or not. However, this made the people around him curious about aspects related to him outside of his work and title. He was a revered public figure and people were naturally curious about his personal life.

This is where you came in. You, his one and only beloved, the only person who held his whole heart in your hands. Not many people knew of this, but the Captain was a gentle man at his core, and you had somehow managed to uncover all of his being and see him fully as himself, without his title, without his strength. You knew this man inside and out, just as he had come to know you. It was a mutual love, one which even he did not know he was capable of feeling, and that made him all the more enamored with you.

This, however, people did not know. So you can imagine the surprise on their faces when you, an ordinary civilian, came to the Zapalyarny Palace and asked for directions to the Captain’s office. The clerk at the desk looked at you blankly, as if she were staring at an anomaly. This prompted you to try and explain yourself.

“..I’m here to drop off his lunch. So, if you don’t mind..?” You asked.

No response. The blank stare continued.

You already knew that you looked out of place in this grand palace with no Fatui uniform or mask on. But you were determined to make sure your beloved got his lunch, which you had specifically decided to make for him that day as a special treat for how hard he had been working while preparing for a business trip to Natlan.

“Excuse me..?” You said a little louder this time. That seemed to snap her back to reality.

“You cannot enter this place, only authorized personnel are allowed inside. If you’d like to meet our lord, please book your appointment accordingly.” She replied on autopilot, as if she’d rehearsed the same sentence multiple times.

“I’m sorry, I know you have your duties, but I’m here just to drop off his lunch. You can check with him yourself if you’d like..”

“He’s busy at the moment, please leave your package here and we will deliver it to him.” She replied. It seemed like you were being studied like a suspicious person who was attempting to sneak in.

Fair enough.. you thought. I was hoping I would get to spend a few minutes with him and see how he was holding up at work but that can wait till he’s home. And she’s not wrong, I did drop by without notice, so it makes sense for them to be suspicious.

Fatui soldiers passing by had also been glancing at the ongoing conversation at the front desk, eyeing the lunch box wrapped in patterned cloth in your hands with raised eyebrows. You decided to leave the food there, getting one last word in before leaving.

“If you could, please make sure it reaches him soon. It’s his favorite meal and I would prefer it didn’t go cold before he ate it.”

And then everyone watched as your ordinary self left, unaware of the number of eyes on you.

…

A pyroslinger skirmisher stationed near the entrance asked dumbfoundedly, “Did..did they just say that was the Captain’s favorite meal? Our lord harbinger?”

A cryogunner skirmisher who had also watched the whole thing go down as he clocked in asked another question right after, in the same state of confusion as the previous fatuus. “..Has anyone seen them around before? They don’t look like someone who would be seen standing next to Lord Capitano.”

And as the just as confused clerk left the scene towards his office with your goods in hand, excited chatter filled the halls.

Chaos would be the right word for it. You had left chaos in your wake with a simple visit to his workplace.

…

That night, as you and Capitano settled in to relax in your shared home after a long day of work, you asked him how his lunch was.

“It was delicious, my love.” He replied, gently caressing your face with his hands while looking down at you through his mask. “It felt like a treat to have your home cooked meal at work. You didn’t have to, but thank you. It made my day.”

You smiled and took his hands in yours as you nuzzled into his touch. “I’m glad you liked it. I was going to give it to you myself but I couldn’t enter the place.”

“You should visit more often. I’ll let the security personnel know to let you enter so you can come and go as you like.” He paused, clearing his throat. “..Seeing you in the middle of a long day would bring me relief.”

You felt slightly flushed at his straightforward choice of words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being so..open with me. But I like it, of course. I would like that as long as I’m not disturbing you at work.”

Capitano chuckled. It was like the angels decided to bless you today, really. “I will always make time for you, my love. Just as you do for me.”

You beamed. “Okay, okay, let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Loverman. We still have work tomorrow in case you’re forgetting.”

A kiss on the forehead and the rustling of sheets was all you heard before you were whisked away to dreamland.

…

Unbeknownst to you and Capitano, however, word about you spread like wildfire across the next few days between the excited fatui soldiers. Some from even the different departments under the other harbingers might’ve heard. The person who looked like a civilian, dropping lunch packed in pretty cloth for their Lord did not go unnoticed.

This was the only time someone unrelated to work had been seen asking for their Captain and questions about your relation to him were on the tip of everyone’s tongue during break times.

Two fatuus gossiped as they watched the Captain spar in training with his fellow soldiers, admiration evident in their eyes.

“Someone dropped off lunch for him? I thought he would be too busy having meals with high rankers from across Teyvat.”

And after a short pause the other replied, “Dude, hold on, does he even eat? I thought he was superhuman or something.”

“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were that dumb, my guy.”

“Hey! Just saying… anyway, are we even sure the people weren’t hallucinating when they saw the person drop lunch off for him?”

“I heard it was his favorite meal, freshly cooked, apparently. Who knows, man? Maybe it was a fan or something. Our lord does have a pretty big following, y’know.” The fatuus stated proudly.

Their lively chatter continued until they were called back into training.

…

A few days later, as soon as you found the time, you decided to visit Capitano at work with yet another home cooked meal. You wanted to make most of your time with him before he traveled to Natlan and having meals together would be a good way to wind down a little.

You entered the palace yet again, determined to meet him this time. It should be fine, right? He did say he would inform them..

And as you had hoped so, he did, in fact, inform them. As soon as the same clerk from before saw you, it seemed like her eyes were bulging out of her sockets. All you had to do was reach the desk and she confirmed your name and led you to the training grounds, where he was currently working. It seemed like some sort of training session was in the works, with all kinds of combat taking place between the soldiers in the distance.

Before you could ask her if you were even allowed to enter this place, she bowed and hurried back in the direction of the front desk. The strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you but now you had to find your way to Capitano across the opposite side of the field. Since you were here at last, why not just see things through?

The middle of the field was the most densely occupied with various people fighting in different groups, while what you recognised as skirmishers were practicing their aim at dummy targets on the right side. The soldiers were hard at work even in the harsh everlasting winter of Snezhnaya. The left side of the field, however, seemed less crowded compared to the rest as people seemed to be setting up their gear or resting. Your Captain, opposite to you across the field, was busy conversing with a group of soldiers who seemed to be listening to him attentively.

You decided your best option was to take the left side. It would be easier to walk through the calm atmosphere over there.

As you made your way through the crowd, people started to notice you. They were pretty intimidating with their weapons and muscled bodies at display so you decided to be extra careful to not bump into anyone and quickly made your way across, and as you got closer, Capitano’s voice became clear.

“The heat in Natlan will be unbearable. You will be stationed in the wild all day, so make sure you have the appropriate supplies to get you through the day. It is of the utmost importance that...what, what is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

The group’s attention shifted from him to you, as you stood behind him and tapped his shoulder.

“Capitano, do you have a moment..?” You asked as he turned around, his armor clinking from the movement.

“Oh, my love!” He exclaimed in a soft voice. “What brings you here? Hold on, let's get you back inside. You’ll catch a cold here.”

The group (and everyone nearby) watched in complete awe as his demeanor from before completely switched from authoritative to somewhat… joyfull? Was Lord Capitano being affectionate?

“I brought you lunch, but I can leave it in your office if you’re busy right now.” You said hurriedly, not wanting to keep him busy.

“No, that won’t do, my love.” He took the package from you and placed his hand on your back. “Eat with me inside.”

He then turned back to the group, who jolted straight up at his sudden change. “Finish the supply preparations once you’re done training. All of you are dismissed.”

“Y-yes, my lord!” They replied in unison and bowed. And yet again, they watched in awe as he guided you back inside the palace, ever so gently, one hand on your back and the other carrying a box wrapped up in a floral patterned cloth. A stark contrast to his all black and blue outfit.

…

As soon as both of you were out of sight, chaos erupted yet again, more loudly this time, with multiple voices talking over the other.

“”My love?” Did he just call them “my love?” Did I hear that right?!”

“What was that? What did we just witness?”

“That was so romantic, holy shit! Was that the same person we take orders from everyday? What the hell?!”

“DID THE LORD HARBINGER JUST… GET VISITED BY THEIR SPOUSE?”

“I thought that ring on his finger was for fashion…”

And that is how they found out that their beloved Captain, who seemed to have no soul outside of his work, was a married man with a loving spouse.

This proceeded to be the hottest gossip in the Fatui for the rest of the month, until they discover more about you from another future visit.

…

BONUS:

Sitting in the privacy of his office, you enjoyed your meal together.

“..You seem to work with very strange people, Capitano.” You said to him.

“Do I? How so?” He asked before you fed him a bite.

“Hm.. actually, nevermind. It would be even stranger if they weren’t strange, considering they work with you.” You chuckled.

You enjoyed your time together and went back home, leaving your beloved in confusion from your conversation, and the sight of you fondly feeding him for him to think about for the rest of the day.

[snowballseal]

How they react to you feeling insecure (LaDS)

Summary: How the Love and Deepspace boys react to you feeling insecure about various things. Includes Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier. Lots of fluff.

Word Count: they're all around 1000 roughly

Note: Warnings of different kinds of insecurity, ranging from physical to mental. I'm not sure of how well the Xavier one turned out, he's harder for me to write, but I couldn't leave him out!!! Anyways, hope yall enjoy!

Rafayel

His ended up being a lot longer, so it's posted separately.

here

--

Sylus

Being partners with Sylus is a…daunting position to be in.

You always considered yourself a fairly average person, more focused on who you are than what you look like. It’s not that you don’t like the way you look - you do - and you don’t like comparing yourself to anyone, but you don’t plan on being a model anytime soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Then you met Sylus, a man who looks like he was carved from the marble of ancient architecture. He could stand in a room of masterpieces and people would still look at him instead of the art. And since you’re by his side now, that means they’re also looking at you.

Being stared down by wanderers in one thing. Being stared down by the most powerful and prevalent members of the N109 Zone? You hate to admit that it gets to you. In fact, it gets so under your skin, that even when you’re dressed in the most extravagant dresses and decadent jewelry, you can’t help but feel…insecure.

Twisting in front of the mirror, you eye every detail of the dress Sylus bought you. It’s perfect, of course. The man has an annoying knack for getting you the most beautiful things and knowing exactly what fits you. The color compliments your hair and it’s comfortable to boot.

Still. You can’t help but feel like a kid trying to fit in at the adults table, wearing your mother’s heels even though they don’t fit. A bit ridiculous.

“Do you not like it?” Sylus appears behind you, dressed in a matching, lavish suit. 

You jump a little, eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror. His eyes burn into you, reading the hesitation on your face as you curl your arms around your stomach. There’s no fiery retort or witty comment like usual. You just look back at your dress, the tips of your ears tinging pink.

A frown pulls at Sylus’ lips, his voice softening, “What’s wrong?”

“...Do you really think people believe us? That we’re together?” You ask quietly, shuffling your weight back and forth. “That I’m a good match for you?”

You’re keenly aware that you’ve never had a conversation like this with Sylus. For the most part your relationship has been filled with teasing and playful bickering. It’s always light. Or about work. This is new, and while you trust him more than anything, you hate not knowing how he will react.

Sylus hums, low and thoughtful, as he curls his arms around you, “Does it matter to you what others think?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back into his touch thankfully. You want to say no. You want to keep up the air of confidence, but that quiet voice of doubt keeps worming its way through your thoughts.

“I just…I feel like I’m not what people expect. And…” you try to explain, hesitating. Sylus presses a kiss to your shoulder, offering a hum of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you add, “It bothers me. It feels like I’m being forced into the spotlight but I’m not meant to be there. Like I don’t fit.”

“Hmm, so you feel like an odd duckling.” You give him a small jab, and Sylus chuckles. “My apologies. I think you misunderstand the attention though.” He pulls you closer. You shiver as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder, pressing delicate kisses up the side of your neck, until he can murmur lowly into your ear, “You’re too humble, kitten. When you walk into a room, all eyes turn to you, not out of judgment, but out of jealousy. Afterall, you’ve tamed the leader of Onychinus. Even if you walked in with your uniform, they’d look at you the same. And I get the pleasure of walking around with the most powerful-” He presses his lips to your jaw. “-beautiful-” His lips trace against your cheek. “-woman of Linkon City. Don’t let the attention of those lesser than you make you doubt, otherwise I might have to find another way to show them just how well we fit together.”

Sylus’ eyes catch yours in the mirror again. They’re dark, like coals surrounded by flickering cinders. So intense you can almost feel the flames licking along your skin. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s being genuine. And that sets your heart racing. Along with the way he holds you so close, equal parts possessive and reverent. Like worship.

“Your devotion might scare some people, Sylus,” you whisper, glancing sideways at him.

He flashes a dangerous smile, “Does it scare you?”

You cast one final glance at your reflections before turning around in his hold and curling your arms around his neck. Sylus raises a challenging brow.

“I’m not. I like how you stand up for me, even when it’s against my own insecurities.” You draw him down, pressing a kiss to that carnal smile. Sylus softens immediately, cupping your jaw to draw you into a deeper kiss. The warmth that simmers in each and every touch leaves you a little breathless when you pull away. Pressing against his chest before he can drag you in again, you make sure to say one last thing, “Thank you, Sylus. I’ll make sure to remember all of that…especially the part about you being wrapped around my finger.”

“Hmm, such a cruel mistress, indeed.”

“And you love me.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “Yes, I do. So, will you accompany me to this auction now?”

---

Zayne

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going?” You ask, voice wavering with nerves as you straighten Zayne’s tie for him.

“Isn’t it natural to bring one’s partner to these kinds of events?” He tilts his head, brow perked ever so slightly.

You nod, but can’t seem to erase the frown on your lips.

A week ago, Zayne had asked if you would accompany him to his medical school’s class reunion banquet. He had been asked to give a special word, given the reputation he had developed in his time at Akso Hospital, not to mention winning the Starcatcher Award for his work.

At first, you were ecstatic to have an opportunity to learn more about his old life. He has such a thing about living in the present, you hardly get to hear any stories about his time in med school, or when he was doing rotations at the hospital. You were eager to meet the people who he used to spend time with and hopefully catch a few stories you could tease him with later.

But as the night drew closer, you started actually thinking about all the people you would be around, all of whom graduated from the same medical program Zayne did. You can only imagine how smart they all are. And how you’ll get lost the moment any medical jargon comes up. 

The more you think about it, the more nerves you feel buzzing under your skin. You know you’re not the smartest, not compared to Zayne at least. He’s a genius, after all, and could probably outsmart most anyone. You’ve always been better at the physical stuff. That’s what makes you such a good pair. 

It’s not like you can impress everyone by whipping your gun out and fighting, though. All you’ll have are your words, and you’re not particularly good with those…

You blink when a large hand suddenly circles your wrist. Glancing up, you find Zayne looking down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“While I appreciate your attention to detail, I believe you’ve been straightening my tie for five minutes now.” Heat creeps up your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had been lost in thought. Zayne’s eyes narrow inquisitively.  “What are you thinking about that has your mind so preoccupied?” 

His thumb brushes casually along the inside of your wrist, not so subtly checking your pulse. A strangely endearing habit of his when he’s worried about you. You let out a long sigh and hide your face against his chest, feeling the heat bleed across your cheeks.

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re insecure about how smart all his friends must be?

Zayne doesn’t push right away. He knows you’ll explain when you want to, and if you don’t, then he knows you’re not ready to. It was an unspoken rule between you, something you started with him because you noticed he likes to think his words out. It felt natural to offer you the same when you struggle to express yourself. Like now.

Ultimately, you figure it’s better to just be straightforward. That’s how he would do it, and it’s better than dancing around the subject.

“I guess I’m nervous because I feel like I’m going to be the dumbest person in the room tonight,” you mutter against his coat. Your fingers tap out an anxious beat against his abdomen. “It’s silly and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I just don’t want to make you look bad.”

Zayne remains quiet for a long minute. Your fingers move a little quicker, matching the stuttering rhythm of your heart. His hand slides up, gently trapping them against his body.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Physical tics are a common result of anxiety,” he hums dismissively, thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “As is your rapid heart rate. This truly bothers you.”

“Of course it does,” you sigh, a bit exasperated, ”You’ve worked hard to get where you are, Zayne. I love you so much, and I respect your work more than anything. I don’t, I don’t want to say something stupid and have it reflect on you badly.”

The doctor clicks his tongue, “First, I would prefer if you stop using that language to describe yourself.”

Your heart falters when his cool fingers touch your cheek, drawing your face up to his. He looks upset, but not exactly at you, the sharp line of his jaw contrasting with the softness of his eyes. Like it pains him that you think this way. Which it does.

“Those words don’t suit you. I wouldn’t allow another to call you them, so why would I allow you to?” He asserts, the corner of his lips twitching with distaste. “I don’t want to hear them again, do you understand?”

“Okay.” A thread of warmth curls around your heart when Zayne nods approvingly. His protectiveness really knows no bounds.

“Second, I do not agree with your diagnosis.” 

Your brow furrows a little. What? What does he mean, he disagrees? He’s literally surrounded by geniuses, you can’t match up to any of them if they’re anything like him. 

Seeing you start to overthink, Zayne shakes his head and gently pinches your cheek. You jolt back a little. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making you pout.

“Meanie,” you grumble, “Fine, explain your reasoning, Doctor Zayne.”

“It’s simple. Intelligence is made up of more than just academic knowledge, which, I assume, is what you are thinking of when you make such comments.” You nod. He’s not wrong about that, you guess. “Intelligence also includes the knowledge of how to use one’s strengths to achieve the best outcome. It is true that for some, this means using academic reasoning. However, it also includes those who develop the skills and discipline to maintain their bodies and fight for those who can’t, like…”

He pauses and gives you an expectant look.

“...me,” you finish slowly.

“Yes,” he hums, stroking the redness of your cheek, “I believe, under these standards, you are far more intelligent than most of the people you will meet tonight, darling. Though there is no comparison in the first place.”

His words sink in slowly but surely, filling in the cracks of your doubt. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he probably has some kind of healing magic, because you can already feel the burden of your insecurities melting away.

Leave it to Zayne to know exactly what to say, but in the most complex sounding way.

“You always know how to make me feel better, huh?” You ask, finally cracking that smile he loves.

“I am simply telling you the truth.” Zayne leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “There is not a lifetime in which my reputation will be more important than you. I would gladly throw it all away if it meant reminding you of that.”

You snort, “Don’t do that, please. I can only imagine the fit Doctor Greyson would throw. He’d be so mad at me.”

“I can handle Doctor Greyson, in the same way I can handle everyone tonight.” He slips his fingers between yours, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. You wiggle your fingers  happily and Zayne can’t help but grin to himself. “If at any point you find yourself uncomfortable, just stay by my side and I will act as your distraction. Though, I’m sure they will all love you, just as I do.”

“...Thank you, Zayne.”

“Of course, my jasmine.”

---

Xavier

Working with Xavier is a blessing, as much as it is a curse. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. Someone who you know will always have your back, who can handle himself completely, who is probably the most talented hunter you’ve ever met in your entire life. He’s undeniably amazing.

On the flip side of that, though, you often fall into the trap of thinking about how he deserves better. Wondering if, maybe, the only reason he chose to stay with you was because of the aether core in your heart. If that’s also the reason you’re in a relationship now…

And some days, these thoughts win out over the rest. Like today.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink, eyes flickering up from the bowl of ramen in front of you. Early on, you had started a tradition of eating a meal together after a successful mission, to just enjoy the peace of your home and each other. But today, you weren’t feeling that hungry, just…tired.

Xavier tilts his head, concern furrowing his brow - he noticed your mood start to shift days before, but didn’t want to push since you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. Now, though, it’s too obvious for him to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you sigh, flicking your chopsticks back and forth to watch the noodles swirl around in the broth, a small frown capturing your lips. It’s a horribly obvious lie.

“Is it something I did?” His voice isn’t accusatory or upset. It’s just a rational question to help him figure out what’s wrong. Still, you feel guilt tug at your chest, and you set the chopsticks down with another sigh.

You don’t want him to think that. You’d never blame Xavier for something like this. That would be like asking him to be a worse person, which is stupid. It’s just you. Your problem. Dragging him into it will only make you feel worse.

“No, Xavier, you didn’t do anything, promise. I’m not upset…with you.” 

“But you are upset.”

Chancing a glance up at him proves a bad idea, making it all that more difficult to keep your thoughts quiet. Behind his normal sleepy expression, worry gleams in the deep blue of his eyes, unyielding and undeniably calm, like waves lapping gently at the beach. 

The sight makes your heart ache and the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Do you think I’m actually a suitable partner for you?”

Surprise flickers across the hunter’s face. Of all the things he was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. He doesn’t laugh though, or take your question lightly.

“Do you mean, as a hunting partner? Or as a romantic partner?”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes falling back to your ramen, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He hums softly. You try to ignore the nerves fluttering in your chest as Xavier gets up, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he circles the table to stand next to you. The hunter drips his head, catching your gaze.

“May I see your hand?”

A small frown pulls at your lips, not exactly sure where he’s going with this, but you offer him your hand anyways. Xavier takes your wrist, touch featherlight, and moves it so your hand is held up flat, facing him. Your brow furrows.

“Xav-”

“Look.” 

Pursing your lips, you let out a little huff. He really hates giving direct answers, doesn’t he? Still, you’re in no place to really judge him, or expect anything for that matter. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to you.

You watch as Xavier places his hand against yours. His palm is warm and you can feel the calluses from who knows how many years of hunting. Your hand looks tiny in comparison, his pale, delicate fingers long enough to curl over your own a little. The sight makes your heart squeeze, fondness competing with the feeling of being so…small.

“They’re pretty different,” Xavier hums, voice still calm, his own eyes fixed on your hands. “Your fingers are always cold, and your hands are small. You have a scar here.” His free hand grazes the side of your palm, along your pinky. “And here” He traces another along your knuckle. Your breath falters at the tenderness behind his touch, like you’re delicate porcelain. “Mine are in different places. Yours are skilled at weaving silk balls and mine can…open jars.”

You snort. Xavier’s eyes dart up to yours, sparkling with humor, a brow raised. You try to smother your laughter, rather ineffectively, and motion for him to continue.

“They’re different, but-” His fingers spread apart, and you mimic him instinctually, only for his fingers to slot between yours in one fluid motion. You inhale softly, laughter dying in your throat. It’s like two puzzle pieces fitting together, a perfect embrace that washes over you with a comforting warmth.

Xavier watches you, keenly aware of the way you squeeze his hand tightly, desperately, like you’re worried it might disappear. He gives yours a tender squeeze in return, thumb brushing over your knuckle.

“I think they’re a suitable match. Don’t you?”

God, how could you go without this man? The worries that have been pricking at the back of your mind all week seem to melt away. It leaves you with that warmth, the kind that only comes from Xavier, that he offers you over and over again.

You give his hand another squeeze, finally smiling, “Yah. I do…Thanks, Xavier.”

The hunter leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “Let me know if you ever feel this way again, angel. I’ll be more than glad to remind you.”

“I will.”

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This was really fun to write!!! I really hope you guys like it! There are so many freaking tags on this puppy.