#i will never forgive them for what they took from us

[studyinglogic]

SIMPLICIO: Indeed, what god could possibly forgive a duck eating a duck?

PROTAGORAS: Could be a chicken. Also you don't know if he's going to eat it. Maybe he's plotting revenge on the person who cooked it. Assuming it was a person.

ALCIPHRON: That it is a duck about to eat a duck is evident. But considering what ducks do, that's probably not the biggest concern of the gods. Assuming the gods have meticulous providence and hence pre-ordained what Moeliker saw.

SOCRATES: Here you are anachronistic, my dear Alciphron, for you have brought in Calvinist notions of a Christian God into your previously Greek notions of gods. In any case, the question is not whether a god could forgive a duck eating a duck, but whether a god would forgive us for imagining a fictional duck about to eat a non-existent duck. Are we not the guilty ones?

NIETZSCHE: You seek the flame outside yourself while simultaneously extinguishing it within. Fools and slaves of long-defunct theologians, do you not see how crooked and warped your thoughts are by this focus? If you wish to speak about morality, do so honestly and without hypocrisy, rather than pretending to the divine and assuming that you know the nature of God.

KEYNES: Did you anachronistically steal my line about economists?

NERO (with FAT TONY): Economists schmeconomists. This is the ludic fallacy times twenty. If you like watching ducks, enjoy ducks. If you like watching cartoon ducks, enjoy watching cartoon ducks.

DORFMAN and MATTELART: A ridiculous notion, and one that could only be put forward by a caricature of a caricature. It used to be that ideology was spread by education; now it's spread by cartoons. In the Donald Duck comics, "all objects arrive on parachutes, are conjured out of hats, are presented as gifts in a non-stop birthday party, and are spread out like mushrooms. Mother earth gives all: pick her fruits, and be rid of guilt. No one is getting hurt." No wonder people act like nature is inexhaustible.

TOLSTOY: I am a writer who enjoys polyphony, but let me tell you, this dialogue is a mess. No repeating characters, no chiasmus, no arc---how could this end well?

WITTGENSTEIN: End? Those are the words of a writer detached from a reality they can control. The riverbed of thought in which we carve our grooves never ends. We are caught in a language game about ducks, cartoons, and morality. The question of forgiveness presupposes rules about what requires forgiveness, and even presupposes a setting in which the concept of forgiveness makes sense. But can a duck transgress against these rules if it does not participate in the language game that created them?

LAOZI: Speaking about language games misses the point, for the duck that can be named is not the eternal duck. To put it more bluntly, to pin down a concept of a duck is to impute to it a stability that does not exist. When we cease trying to categorize the duck as eater or eaten and instead see the two as intertwined, we may glimpse the true Dao of duckness.

SANKARA: I may agree with your Way; I cannot agree with Duckness as primary, for to speak of Duckness is misconceived. The duck, the meal, and the eating are all maya, mere appearances. In ultimate reality, Brahman alone exists. The wise one sees through this illusion to the underlying unity.

ZHUANGZI: You speak of unity; I speak of change. Once I dreamed a bird became a fish which became a human who became an ambiguous poster on social media, for just as a fish spawns roe which may be birthed or eaten, these humans spawn ideas which may be neglected, or take on a life of their own, or be eaten themselves. The posts written by this human took on lives on their own. This is called the endless transformation of discourse.

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

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

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 spoilers⚠️

i just saw someone say "vi put on a uniform for caitlyn but caitlyn never took hers off", even going as far as saying that caitvi shouldn't have ended up together bcuz they have the dynamic of "oppressor and oppressed". tell me you've never paid attention to a single thing caitlyn's done or said in either season without telling me😭😭 (this is my nth post abt this bcuz it pisses me off when ppl mischaracterize her so when you see underlined text, it's linked to a more detailed post)

are we forgetting when she traded her weapon, her gun, her only protection away for a shimmer/medication/potion thing w/ that fucked up undercity dude with the glasses (the one who became the first of the glorious evolution) for vi and hugged him as thanks?

when she saw ekko's commune, his tree, and validated ekko's feelings about piltover and enforcers but also told him the cycle of violence needs to be broken because the undercity needs healing - something ekko could understand even in his anger and hurt.

when she confronted her own parents abt how the government doesn't care about zaun and the situation there, and then took it straight to the council. when jayce, her literal childhood best friend and basically a brother to her, now a councilor, ASKED HER IF SHE KNOWS WHO MADE ONE OF JINX'S BOMBS AND SHE WENT "no, well, uh-" because vi held her hand. she asked him, in front of everyone, "what happened to you" when he suggested using hextech to invade zaun.

even when vi got sick of trying to change things through the council, caitlyn kept telling her there must be another way and they just needed to make a new plan. oil and water, vi said, and that she was stupid to think it would work, but caitlyn's response was, what about us? what about the actual people, not their value as representatives of a group, a stereotype, one of many indistinguishable units? we aren't oil and water.

ppl say she used to view zaunites as just "creeps, crooks and villains" and after seeing more from them through vi, she changed it to "innocent helpless victims", which obv is dehumanizing since you don't recognize a person's capability for both good and evil and only see them as a stereotype. but she's always recognized both kinds of people exist in the undercity and that being "good" or "bad" isn't that simple. ppl seem to be mad she didn't try and dismantle piltover's entire police force like that would be possible or a solution to zaun's problems. she has a strong moral compass and a sense of justice - innocents should be protected and criminals prosecuted, zaunites or topsiders. if you steal, you should go to jail. but when you come from the dark alleys of zaun and poverty and deprivation is all you know, you're way more likely to steal, and when enforcers are prejudiced against you, you're more likely to face excessive violence and maybe serve a longer sentence. and this is why she tells the council that there are good people down there, that there is rampant poverty, famine, a drug problem, etc. her focus is on the daily humanitarian struggles of the average people.

you guys will twist yourselves in knots to make excuses for jinx, justify her actions and forgive her for what she's done (when she literally, aside from murdering a bunch of people and destroying a fuckton of stuff because she was insane, unstable and uncontrollable, literally directly prevented zaun from getting sovereignty by blowing up the council) but you don't recognize caitlyn's entire change in character started when jinx tried to blow her up multiple times, kidnapped her, tried to get vi to kill her, blew up the council killing her mother and then (this wasn't jinx but caitlyn doesn't know that) turned the councilor memorial statue reveal to a massacre. see: this very accurate post.

"caitlyn never took her uniform off" well maybe because she was scared of jinx, paranoid, angry, grieving her mother, seeking justice and buckling under the pressure of becoming head of house kiramman. perfectly normal reactions considering the circumstances. she even acknowledged to jayce how upsetting it was to realize this hate she harbored for jinx had started to undo a lot of the work she did towards understanding the undercity and zaunites better and seeking to help them. but i believe she thought jinx was a hazard to them too.

i have a whole other post diving into this, as well as why she wanted vi to "put on a uniform" (temporarily until they caught jinx, and not just bcuz she thought vi was "one of the good ones" but bcuz she wanted her close, under her protection and equipped w/ all resources and privileges available to piltover, not to mention ppl are seriously undermining the fact that vi played a role in that conflict too) and why she made the mistake of going too far in her pursuit of jinx - most notably becoming rougher and jailing people, poisoning the air as a battle tactic, endangering isha, hurting vi, assuming the commander position and pursuing jinx even harder. but this post isn't about that, it's about other ways in which she metaphorically took off her uniform, and even the way she wore it.

caitlyn wasn't happy as a commander, she wasn't going on a power trip, she didn't "become a dictator all too willingly" like ppl are saying. and yes, that doesn't mitigate the damage she did to zaun but she had clear goals she was pursuing, none of which involved harming innocents (but protecting them), and she even confronted ambessa when she thought her right hand was out of line, which caused tension between them. though blinded by a desire for revenge, she remained concerned with the undercity's state and realized ambessa was manipulating her, even saying something like "why is peace always a justification for violence?" to her. the cost of what she was doing was too much for her. all things considered, commander caitlyn wore her uniform in the best possible way.

and she took it off as soon as she saw what was on the line. vi's father turned monster would go berserk when injected by singed, innocents would be ripped to shreds, and he'd be captured and used as a weapon by ambessa (against the undercity or whomever). for all of these reasons, caitlyn betrayed ambessa. she double crossed her, and the way she acted it out matters, not just because vi, who she'd decked the last time she saw, called her "cupcake". but because it was the right fucking thing to do.

i have a separate post about caitlyn's implied guilt about the things she'd done, about her knowing she couldn't undo those mistakes. this is what made her so desparate to try to make up for them that she not only send the guards away so vi could free jinx (another brilliant analysis here), but it also resulted in the way she fought ambessa tooth and nail alongside mel - like she had a death wish. she, a sniper, sacrificed her eye so she could remove ambessa's talisman by cutting it free with the dagger she took out of her own side. and even in the very end, when she asks vi if she's still in this fight, it could be interpreted as the fight for zaun too since she gave sevika, a zaunite, an ally of jinx, her mother's councilor seat.

so don't fucking talk to me about how she "never took her uniform off" for vi, when she's done that so many times metaphorically (and their last scene is literally one of the very few in the entire show where she isn't wearing any insignia), and she's done it for zaun too. and maybe even more so than that - it's how she wore it that matters. what she did with her privilege and her power - her character and agency.

season two is at fault for mismanaging the piltover/zaun conflict and not focusing on it enough in its latter half, as well as also not showing any proper longer caitvi conversations that might've taken place, in favor of... glorious evolution alien robots??

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 8

Writer's Note: Short and Sweet this evening! One final shot - Don't forget to submit your answer for our poll Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear // Mild violence // Mild kissing // Mild indications of sleeping together (nothing overly descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Readers over the age of 18 only please

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

Geta turned over from his side to meet Aurelia’s face, only to find she wasn’t there. Perplexed, he got out of bed and put on his robe to go and find his wife. On walking out the door, he found Alba attending to basic chores around the hall.

“Alba, where is she? Where is Aurelia?” he was growing concerned as she never left without letting him know where she was.

“Ah my Lord, someone came to fetch her this morning? Macrinus, I believe was his name?”

Geta breathed in deeply and straightened his posture. He and Aurelia had a long discussion last night over her stance on Macrinus and his leering way of imposing on their household.

“She left unaccompanied? You let her?”

Alba didn’t know what to say. She knew Aurelia was a woman of her own right, taking little heed of any advice she was give. “Sire, I-”

“Enough Alba. Where did they go?”

“To the Gladiators.”

***

“You put great work into your men, Macrinus, no?”

“Oh yes, Empress. Great work indeed. These men came from nothing. I have made them into the stallions they are today.” Aurelia tried her best to hide her disgust at the lack of empathy that this man had.

“Tell me, Empress, if you will. Do you trust your husband?”

Aurelia stopped walking and stared at the man, “Why do you ask such foolish questions? Of course I trust him.” Macrinus nodded his head, “Why, do you have concern that I should not?” She knew his game. She was much more intelligent than these men give her credit for.

“Well my Lady, it is just that – ah, forgive me, I should have said nothing.”

“No, no, Macrinus. Tell me now. I demand it.”

“Do you know of his plans for Ostia, your hometown?”

Aurelia furled her eyebrows, “No, I do not. But you have began, so you will finish.”

Macrinus sighed, taking Aurelia by the arm, walking further. “He wishes to build a further palace, right by the water. Great fortresses to blockade and guard Rome’s great land. It means that all who live there will be displaced. I wonder what will happen to your dear Mater and Pater. It’s all very sad. I’m surprised he has not discussed this with you, after all you are the Empress and have a right to know.” Aurelia nodded her head, why did Geta not tell you of such plans?

“Thank you for your kind service Macrinus.”

“Anytime, my lady.”

They walked further down the hall before they were met with a searingly angry Geta. His long cloak swept in the wind, with each thunderous step he took along the uneven tiles. He bit his lip as hard as he could in a bid to contain his emotions.

“Macrinus, I see you have found my wife. How are we seeing today in so?”

Macrinus grinned at the Emperor. He could see he had gotten under his skin. “My Lord, I have a meeting with your brother – I think it best for you to join also. We have good news for the future of Rome!” He clapped Geta on the shoulder, to which Geta grimaced at his wife, grabbing her by the arm. “Let us meet Caracalla, and hear this good news.” He leant down and growled into Aurelia’s ear, “Never leave me again without telling me where you are going.”

Aurelia looked up to him to see him extremely angry, she curtly nodded and carried on walking to meet Caracalla in the main event space. However, she was as equally angry with him and would discuss the matter later.

***

Caracalla stood entwined with several people, all kissing various parts of his body. He shooed them away once Macrinus and Geta entered. He didn’t notice Aurelia behind but once she emerged he announced, “Ah brother, good to see you have brought your dog with you, yet again.” Geta looked at Caracalla with only fire in his eyes, “Brother, it would serve you well to keep that mouth of yours shut and stop with the degradation of my wife.”

Caracalla laughed, “Oooh brother please, calm. It was merely a joke. Anyway, it is good she is here. She needs to know of the new and good news!”

Geta questions, “What good news?”

“Macrinus is eligible for Senate promotion.”

“Excuse me?” Geta exclaimed. “Brother, may I speak with you a moment? In private.”

The two took themselves off to the exterior balcony, while Macrinus announced to Aurelia, “Some people just don’t know when to stop, Aurelia.” She perked her ears to this, “Yes, I would agree. I have seen so much destroyed from people not knowing their boundaries. But, do tell, how have you experienced?”

“Ah I shouldn’t say,”

She interrupted him, “Yes, as you keep alluding to Macrinus, yet spill all. Do tell.” She affirmed confidently.

He smirked at her, “Senator Thraex. He is a man who, let’s just say, has a want. A problem. He borrowed quite a bit of money off me, but cannot pay it back.” Aurelia was about to speak before Macrinus began again, “You see we found a solution – I now own his home. He has nothing. That’s what we need in Rome, Aurelia. Men who get what they want, and ensure nothing in their way stops them.” Aurelia narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth before the loud clashing of voices and objects stopped her. She rose from her seat to walk over to where Geta and Caracalla were. The door suddenly flung open with Caracalla rushing out, tears streaming his face, “MACRINUS, COME NOW. WE’RE LEAVING. GAMES ARE CANCELLED TODAY. YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING BROTHER!” Macrinus rose, bowed to Aurelia and followed Caracalla.

Looking into the room she saw Geta like she had never seen him before. Enraged. Red faced. Veins popping out in places where she never thought a vein would run. He roughly took her by the hand, muttering words to himself that Aurelia couldn’t make out. Geta took her to his quarters rather than hers. He sent all hands away, he just wanted the space to him and Aurelia.

As soon as they were on their own, he sat down on the large seat in front of him and broke down to cry. Aurelia knelt before him.

“Dear one, what is wrong?” Aurelia asked softly.

He looked to her with such sorrow in his eyes. “I thought something happened to you this morning, when you weren’t there. I am sorry for the way I acted toward you earlier. I was rushed.”

Aurelia took his hands, “Geta, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left without saying anything but I didn’t want to disturb your slumber. You look very sweet in your sleep.” She giggled to the Emperor, to which he wrinkled his nose in return and kissed the back of her hand. “I promise, from now on tell you everything and even bring you with me if I must.”

Geta nodded and continued, “Now I have Caracalla to worry about…”

Aurelia sighed, “Only now you have to worry about him?” she jibed.

“Aurelia, this is serious. I fear the disease my brother has of the loins has spread to his brain. He is saying the most ridiculous things, and agreeing to the most ridiculous ventures. I really think that Macrinus has had a helping hand here. My brother is very impressionable.”

Aurelia paused then began, “Speaking of Macrinus, he was telling me of your venture you want to see through for Ostia.”

Geta looked at her with a puzzled look, “What plans?”

She relayed what Macrinus had told her. Geta began, “Aurelia I have never said such things – why would I want my palace at sea level anyhow? Surely that would entice more to invade Rome if they knew the leader was there at such easy access?”

Aurelia paused to think. He had a point. Until it clicked, “He’s trying to drive a wedge between us. He wants me to think ill of you.”

Geta was to begin again before they were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Marcus Acacius busts through, “Emperor, Empress, forgive me for the intrusion, but something has happened at the Senate. It’s Macrinus. He has been appointed in as Senator over Thraex. He is the new higher power.”

Aurelia’s eyes shot wide, with Geta clearing his throat.

“We must discuss how we are to solve this problem. Immediately.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think that Ms. Bustier is overhated?

Not particularly. I don't have any strong feelings about her, but she's clearly a terrible teacher who is in way over her head. I totally understand why she sets some people off. If she was a real person that I actually had to deal with, then she'd probably set me off, too, because she so perfectly encapsulates toxic positivity. If you're not familiar with that term, then here's a quick definition:

Toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead. Although setting aside difficult emotions is sometimes necessary temporarily, denying negative feelings long term is harmful because it can prevent people from processing their emotions and overcoming their distress.

Read that definition and then look at this scene from Zombiezou:

Marinette: But Miss Bustier, it's so not fair! It was Chloé, pulling another...Chloé! And...I'm the one who's getting in trouble?! Miss Bustier: Of course you're not in trouble, don't worry! As the class representative, I want you to set a good example for your classmates. Don't give into feelings of anger. Try to forgive Chloé instead. Marinette: I don't get it... Chloé is the meanest person I've ever known. Miss Bustier: Come on... There are much worse people in Paris right now than Chloé Bourgeois. I'm sure people like Chloé are capable of great things. The problem is, they only think of themselves. They don't understand the meaning of love, and we can't force them to change. But perhaps we can show them by setting a good example. That's why Marinettes are so important in today's world; because they have a lot of love to give. I'm counting on you. Marinette: Yes, Miss Bustier.

This is toxic positivity in action. Marinette is told to set aside her extremely valid feelings as if anger is a terrible thing, but it isn't. All emotions have their place and ignoring them can do real harm, a lesson that Miraculous really struggles with. It seems to see "negative" emotions as bad and they're really not. What matters is how we express and address our emotions, not that we experience them. If you want to see a family friendly piece of media do this topic right, then go watch Pixar's Inside Out.

There's also the fact that Chloé is never punished for her actions in this episode. She ruined a gift that probably took Marinette hours and yet Miss Bustier puts the onus to fix things on Marinette, blaming the victim and doing nothing to actually fix the situation. Canon mildly complicates this with Chloé's father's willingness to meddle, making punishing her apparently impossible, but Miss Bustier doesn't even acknowledge that here. The stated logic is that you need to be nice to your bully and that will hopefully magically fix things, which is a terrible lesson that I don't want any kid to learn! What kind of logic is that?

I'll admit that I'm a big fan of "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind," but that doesn't mean that you should never acknowledge harm or fight back. It just means that you need to be measured in your responses and pick your battles wisely. If this episode was about that, then I'd be fine with it, but that's not the lesson here. There is no point where the wrong done to Marinette is even mildly acknowledged. Miss Bustier's initial reaction to seeing Marinette's ruined gift is:

Miss Bustier: Well, I think this present is wonderful. It'll be my new cosmetics bag! Then I'll be able to think of both of you every time I use it.

And we go straight from that to the toxic positivity.

Something is wrong with this woman. You shouldn't even take this approach with preschoolers! While I could see this being a good final solution to something like Chloé scribbling on Marinette's drawing, Chloé's behavior still needs to be addressed. She is still the one in the wrong here. The one whose behavior needs to change.

This is one of many cases where there are two paths to take with this character. The writers clearly want Miss Bustier to be a wonderful teacher, but they wrote a victim-blaming disaster who shouldn't be in charge of anyone. If you're ever adapting her, then it's up to you if you want to redesign her into her intended self or if you want to lean into the bad writing. I think both paths have merit because the writing is so bad that there is no way to make canon Caline work as a good teacher. She's too fundamentally flawed so you either acknowledge how awful she is or do a major overhaul where she's much less forgiving and actually acknowledges things like the Chloé problem.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Ok I do actually need to work on assignments, but here's a short little thing I wrote about aro Jon. Hopefully later I can come back to it and add a few more scenes and give it a good polish (it's a tad rough lol) but for now enjoy. Fic under the cut.

Warnings for: descriptions of burning (about on par with what happens in episode 67 in terms of severity (w/ Jack and Agnes))

“Oh are you working on- er, is that the statement with Agnes?”

Jon leveled a cold, flat stare at Martin. The kind which, in a better world, would be capable of wiping people from existence. Martin failed to dematerialize. Jon rubbed their forehead.

“Case #0071803, yes. What about it.” It should’ve been more of a question, really, but they just couldn’t be bothered with the inflection. They were too exhausted, and quite frankly Martin wasn’t worth the effort.

“Nothing! Nothing! Just…” Martin trailed off for a moment. Jon briefly entertained fantasies of him turning around and leaving. As per usual, Martin failed to meet expectations. “It seems sort of romantic, doesn’t it?”

What? “What?”

“Well… you know… I mean it was horrible, obviously. But… at the same time it was sort of- was sort of sweet? I mean, he must’ve really loved her.”

Jon took a brief moment to compose themselves, “Martin, that’s-” then another one, for good measure. “She-” The memory of scalding heat, of liquid flesh flowing between their teeth, a searing agony they had never experienced and yet knew intimately-

A deep breath. “Forgive me if I don’t see what’s so ‘romantic’ about receiving third degree burns just for a kiss.”

Martin looks hurt, maybe. Or somehow upset. And like maybe his hurt or upset or whatever else is somehow Jon’s fault.

“But… haven’t you ever-”

And wherever Martin was going with that particular line of inquiry, Jon didn’t need to hear it.

“No, I have not. Now if you are quite finished, I need to get back to work.”

They stared him down with as much ice as they could muster, and at least this time, it had the desired effect of encouraging Martin to remove himself from their office.

***

Somewhere in Jon’s flat, tucked away in some crevasse or fallen behind the sofa, there is a flag. On it, there is purple, fading to white, fading to green. A reckless purchase made upon the news of their promotion, when they thought it might just be them and Sasha and Tim, and perhaps it would be alright, if a few other people knew.

It had arrived in a small package on the first day of their new position, when Jon had learned that it would be Sasha and Tim and Martin. They had considered putting it there anyway, in the little clay pencil-holder shaped like a cat (apparently it had been Gertrude’s, and it was quite possibly the only useful thing she had left behind).

They thought about unknown eyes measuring it. Measuring them. They thought about questions, and unwanted comments, and all the opinions people liked to have about love and sex and abstention from either.

The flag never made it out of their flat.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

Geta drabble

Not sure where I'm going with this. Just some meandering. No warnings. Mildish spoiler for G2 and absolutely no historical accuracy at all.

The fury of the populace raged just beyond the protective wall around Palatine Hill. The light from their torches illuminated the night sky, and the sounds of shattering marble and angry shouts filled the air. Rancid smoke rose above the rubble of a few burning buildings.

Geta stood at the window, staring in horror as the Praetorians beat back at the scattered mob below. Soon they would be overwhelmed, and then what? Caracalla had vanished and most of the servants were either in hiding or had joined the restive crowd. Geta clutched the gold curtain in his fist. He was truly afraid for the first time in his life. 

He glanced about the atrium, but he was alone, temporarily forgotten as the guards rushed to defend the entrances. Oddly, his gold stola helped him blend into the opulent surroundings. A loud crash sounded near the gardens, and Geta heard shouts from below. He quickly walked in the other direction towards his quarters. His slaves had fled, so he lit a candle using one of the wall torches. Entering his bedchamber, he sat heavily down on his bed, unsure of what to do next. 

A small sound came from the corner and Geta whirled around to face it, his dagger at the ready. Lifting the candle, he saw one of the concubines huddled in the corner, her makeup streaked with tears. Geta recognized her as one of his regular visitors. She was young and had been in the city only a few months. 

For a moment they stared at each other, until the woman swallowed thickly and blinked her eyes. “Forgive me, my Imperator, I didn’t know where else to go,” she said.

Geta let out a whoosh of air, lowering the blade. “Don’t you have a family?” he asked, unsure of what to do about this unexpected development. The concubine shook her head. 

“Not near here.” she wiped her eyes and hugged herself, looking up at him. Her gossamer stola, designed to allow access at any opportunity, wafted in the draft. Geta could see that she was shivering.

“Come here,” he commanded, gathering a blanket. The concubine tentatively rose and padded over to him. She was barefoot and free of any adornment. Geta awkwardly placed the blanket around her shoulders, and she hugged it around herself. 

“Where do you…” Geta hadn’t the foggiest idea where the concubines dwelt in the palace. All he knew is they were summoned when asked for.

“We reside in a villa near here, Imperator,” she said, answering his unfinished question. “But it has burned down.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I ran through the kitchen. I forgot my shoes.” 

Geta looked down at her bare feet, which were covered in dirt. Suddenly, shouts could be heard in the hall. Two guards rushed in, their swords drawn and braced themselves against the door. Geta was dismayed to see that one of them bore a gash on his arm.

“What has happened?” he demanded.

“They have breached the palace,” answered one grimly. “We will defend you with our lives, Imperator.” They held their swords at the ready. 

Geta choked on his own breath as he drew his dagger and took his place behind the guards. Both he and Caracalla had been trained in the martial arts, though he’d never thought he’d have to defend his own life. But he would be damned if he decided to run in fear. The concubine whimpered and Geta turned back to her. “Hide behind the curtain,” he said harshly. “Make no sound.” The girl nodded and shedding the blanket, quickly obeyed.

The men waited as the sound of shrieks and crashes grew louder. Eventually, a knot of men burst through the archway, and the fight was on. Geta managed to grab a sword and hold his own, but the two Praetorians were eventually overcome, and he was quickly surrounded by five grubby men, all carrying bloody weapons. 

“Stand back!” he screamed, flailing his sword as he turned in a circle. “Stand back!”

The men silently closed in, trapping him completely. They had him like a butterfly on a pin, yet still hesitated. Geta pressed with every ounce of authority he had left. “If you take the final blow, your name will be cast in the mud for eternity!” he screamed. “My guards will hunt you to the ends of the empire!”

The men paused at his words and looked at each other uneasily. It was one thing to enter the palace, another to murder Caesar. These were simple folk, not smooth politicians. The moment was tense as Geta bared his teeth and braced himself. He had just given himself permission to hope when one of them stepped forward and savagely shoved his blade into Geta’s stomach. 

Geta collapsed, blood quickly staining his gold robes. He curled up into a ball and waited for the others to fall on him, but his threat apparently still lingered in their minds, for they hesitated.

“We should flee,” one of them said. “He’ll die slow, and then it won’t be on us.”

“No, finish him,” said the other. “He’ll remember our faces.”

They stared at the young emperor, who had wet himself and was making a gurgling sound in his throat. “He’s done for,” said one. At that moment, a rock crashed through the window and broke the spell. One man reached down and grabbed several rings from Geta’s fingers before running off. The smell of smoke wafted into the room. 

Geta lay clutching his middle, lost in a haze of indescribable pain. He could barely see, and his mouth tasted metallic. It hurt to breathe. He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring at the corpses of his guards, when he felt the arrival of someone behind him. A pair of dirty bare feet appeared, and then the concubine was kneeling in front of him. Her small hands touched his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I will get help.”

Geta wanted to say there was no one who could, but he blacked out before the words could leave his lips.

[ubeb0nes]

Gen. Sevika HCs (& Romantic!)

Brainstorming little thoughts on big mama to help me characterize her for a story i wanna write!

She is actually very slow to anger, it’s just that Jinx is very gifted at pushing her buttons and she’s been dealing with Silco letting it slide for years. It’s part of what makes her such a scary opponent in a fight, she (usually) never loses her composure.

And on that note, i feel so bad that poor bbg had to lose most of her fights for the plot, especially in S1 😭 she definitely helped train Vi a little when she was younger

She's Silco's right hand in all ways. Whether someone needs to be beat down or a hand needs to be shook, Sevika is equipped in body and mind. Her physical presence lends itself well to subtle intimidation when she's cutting Silco's deals. Her default isn't to direct, brutish threatening actually, she avoids fights where she can especially as she gets older.

She's a very thoughtful person, spending a lot of time within her own mind or picking apart other people's. She's not as direct as Silco, who pushes people's buttons to get a sense of how their mind works, she just intently observes them. Honestly, she gives me similar vibes to Arthur Morgan in temperament the more I think about it. Honorable version, of course.

Continuing on her thoughtful trait, she had to learn to be very intuitive about people's emotions to avoid the wrath of her step-father. She appreciated her dad too late, spending more time butting heads with him than realizing how alike they truly were; so goes the theme of eldest daughters, though.

I imagine her as being very timid as a child. Not quite meek, but she wasn't as brash as teen Vi. She toughened up out of necessity, per the usual for kids growing up in Zaun, in order to defend her younger siblings (she has two) from her step dad once her father died.

Her father died in a mining accident. They never found his body, and even now sometimes Sevika hopes that he'll walk through the door and just… forgive her, for everything she has and hasn't done.

She was also pretty slight as a kid until about seventeen, where she proceeded to shoot up to 6'1" and started putting on muscle when Vander took her in under his wing. Her step dad never put his hands on her or her younger siblings again.

She was always closer to Vander than Silco. It truly did hurt her to turn her back on him, but she couldn't live with the slow death of complacency that he'd chosen for Zaun. She never goes through the process of fully grieving him, she simply pushes forward and carries on.

Romantic

Loyal to you like she's loyal to Zaun. Seriously, this woman doesn't know how to cheat. Not that the other women of Arcane are 'more' likely to cheat, but Sevika is the least likely imo. If she doesn't want you anymore she'll just break it off, anything less is cowardly and she is anything but.

She gets very cuddly and needy when she's tired which is often. She never asks for cuddles, just kinda uses her size to her advantage and pins you on the couch while she squeezes you like a stuffed toy.

"Mm… stop whinin', just five minutes…" She'll relent if you actually don't wanna be smothered, but unless you express that, you're hers until she says otherwise.

Calls you 'baby', 'sweetheart' and 'princess' the most. The last one started as a jab for either giving her attitude or being prissy, until she realized the flush on your face wasn't from anger. To others, she refers to you as her girl or says things like "no, me and the lady got plans" or "i promised the lady I'd be home on time Silco, you wanna piss her off too?"

Definitely got more where these all came from, lmk if you'd like me to continue!

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader prologue

Origins

Your parents, not unlike a certain Dark Knight, were killed when you were young

Unsurprising given you were born and raised in Gotham

You were then taken care of by distant relatives

Though "taken care" is a generous term

They offered next to no affection nor attention in general, and with no friends your age you were rather isolated

This gave you time to develop the unique hobby of tinkering

Perhaps it was due to the nature of your parents demise (an explosion caused by a fight between the Bat and Bane) but you'd always had an interest in explosives

A morbid curiosity that only further fueled your guardian's distaste for you

And the direct cause of their other child's (your foster sibling) death

Unlike their parent your sibling was warm towards you, always encouraging your talent

The day you finally succeeded in your endeavors turned out to be the worst day of your life

You hadn't intended to hurt anyone

At the very least not them

Your guardian arrived home after work that day, greeted by a pile of rubble where their house once stood

And a corpse where their child once was

Your cries for forgiveness fell on deaf ears as they beat you, afterwards abandoning you in the remnants of your now decimated home

You'll never forget the look in their eyes

Nothing but pure hatred

You spent a few weeks on the streets after that

You survived on dumpster scraps and slept in alleyways

That was until you made the mistake of breaking into an abandoned warehouse

Piles of metal were strewn about, an old metal working mill you concluded

Your morbid fixation only seemed to worsen with the recent incident

You found yourself once again building your dangerous devices

Even more macabre, part of you hoped to go out in the same manor

Then one night, while you were finishing a grenade, you met them

A large group of muscled men filed into the building

They pointed their weapons at you, some guns, others baseball bats, but all directed at you

You should have been scared

But you were too numb to fear

You pulled the pin and threw the grenade as far into the crowd as you could

Blood

And flying limbs

You pushed past the remaining men only to be pulled back

"Just wait till the boss gets a hold of ya"

After a few moments of regrouping what was left of their forces the men greeted their 'boss'

"You mean to tell me this little runt killed a dozen of my men?" ... "Hahaha!"

That laugh

Everyone knew that laugh

Before you stood none other than the Joker

All smiles, he looked down at you

In one hand he held the remnants of your grenade

You could just barely make out the sharp toothed smile you'd doodled onto it

"This is far too crude to be mass produced. You wouldn't have happened to built this yourself, did you?"

You nodded

"Hahahaha!" He continued to laugh with unrestrained joy

"Harley, get a load of this!"

Out came Harley Quinn, the Joker's right hand

She gawked down at you

"This shrimp caused all this damage? Talk about an explosive personality!"

"Yes, precisely." the Joker kneeled in front of you, offering you the scrapped pieces of grenade "Not every day you see a gift like that."

His smile, albeit menacing, brought you a strange comfort in that moment

You took the offered scrap metal

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

"Oh? No siblings?"

"Dead."

"Them too, huh? And how did that happen?"

You looked down at the device

You didn't have to speak for him to understand

Another cackle sounded from the man

"Ha! You're quite the jinx it'd seem."

"Hey that's not a bad name, Puddin'!"

He stroked his chin in thought "It does have a certain ring to it, doesn't it?"

Joker stood back to his full height, looking off in thought

"You know, Harley. The Bat has his little protege, so who says I can't too?"

"Oh, Mistah J! You mean it? I always wanted us to have a little Joker!"

"Not a Joker, Harls." he turned back to you with a wide grin "A Jinx."

[zzombiegrrrl]

Jontim kinda has me rethinking everything i know about love. Like you're going to tell me the coworker duo of the century features a lonely guy that uses his body and his sharp wit to get the things he wants AND a ex-smoker who has witnessed more horrors than he can recall when put into his new job position who ARENT in love???? They literally "hate" each other? And when one dies trying to save everyone, the person who was mildly the cause of it all going to shit was completely traumatized but this and didn't realize he was dead after being in a COMA???????? Literally some type of tragic lovers in history that people regard as "close friends"..

[skelebab]

Kon El my beloved 🥰

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

.

[quff]

did any of yall ever actually have a birthday party where people showed up and gave you gifts? or was it always sitting down to have a nice dinner with parents at a place they have to approve of.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

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[haunted-house-heart]

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