#all this would be really easy to either show or imply without taking too much time

[curtins]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[zoomzooml]

Redesign concepts of Webmaster and Feathers

After a year

WEBMASTER

My biggest problem with the Webmaster design is how cluttered it seems; there's just a lot going on here. So I tried to calm it down a bit; I took away one pair of legs to make him less cluttered but keep (more or less) original body lenght. And I know that in his episode Jun says “if something has eight legs, she doesn't like it,” refering to spiders, but I think eight limbs works too.

I also played around a bit with his colors and markings. As well as body structure and proportions, noting this dragon's show-off skill - spinning webs.

When he puffs up his “cheeks” just before he spits, you can hear a sticky, mushy sound - you know that something is going on inside. The muscles are moving and pushing something with a sticky, gluey consistency. I would like it to be somewhat repulsive.

When he spits silk in attack it does not come out as big ball of burning web. It's more like net in "V" shape, in form of many separate threads of silk shooted at the same time. Similar to actual spiders, but on the bigger scale. His webs also don't burn; I feel like it's an overkill.

I changed the arrangement of his forelegs slightly. I know it's not quite in line with the style of HTTYD (see Speed Spingers' front limbs) but in his case I think arranging his hands in a similar way to therizinosaurus gives him a more menacing look.

Deadly Spinners are dragons that give a very unpleasant first impression. They are not the most beautiful dragons around (at least not by the standard) and their behavior can be repulsive to some. The type of dragon that people are willing to pin an unfriendly, sometimes unfair patch on more easily than on other dragons - as many people do with spiders or snakes and other similiar animals.

Deadly Spinners don't live in large groups - either small groups or solo. But when they are in a group they have very close bonds and spend a lot of time socializing among themselves.

FEATHERS

She is a challenge to me, not gonna lie. She definitely is the most changed among my redesigns so far. She just seems very basic to me.

The most bothering thing to me about her are those "feathers". Because, Alex in s1ep3 calls these "feathers", as well as Olivia in s5ep2, wiki calls these "feathers-like scales", but they can move and are thick what implies they are more like Furies'/Night Light's head numbs? I absolutely can pass the crowns as feathers, but Queen's horns and holes in her meaty tail were here the last straw to not to

And yes, I made a shitty video because I'm really confused and wanted that confusion express lmao. I hope Tumblr won't take it down.

So idk, I wanted to clarify what the frick those things are and go from there. I had two main ideas - either give her actual feathers or quills similiar to those of Bewilderbeast. When drawning I wasn't sure about either idea but finally decided for the latter one. Feels more HTTYD-like I think? And very flammable feathers don't seem like the best survival choice when almost every other animal around can spit fire.

I reimagine Featherhides as way more nervous and skittish dragons. Changewings were mysterious but usually seemed calm and strategical. Featherhides' nature is more in type of "flee" than "fight" (tho they can get so smoke when needed, they are not defensless or smth). They are very easy to spook and sometimes will flee in panic from something very trival just to return seconds later when they realise there was no danger at all, or are curious of whatever scared them. They often make rapid little movements, much like birds - especially if something catches their eye and they are not sure what it is.

Featherhides also live in large flocks without a complex hierarchy. If they can - they run, if any of them can't - at least some of them also stay behind.

Once Feathers bonds with Alex she would be very protective of her little human.

When Featherhides mimic sounds they do not do weird things with their faces like in the show. It looks much more like like some birds do that. But that's just a sidenote.

[chaotic-mystery]

Dark Angel | J.M.

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel's too soft on you and he finally let's you see the real him.

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! porn w a tiny speck of plot, implied age gap, unprotected p in v, vanilla sex gone bad, choking, spitting, oral (both m & f receiving) loads of pet names (you and Joel both refer to him as daddy, pet, baby girl, little girl, slut, stupid, etc etc) playing with rope, bound to the headboard, breath-play, begging x100, rough nasty sexy time, slight arguing, nipple play/smacking, possessive!Joel, face fucking, cum eating/play, swearing, dirty talk, no physical description of reader other than having hair Joel can grab a fistful of and yank. NO USE OF Y/N (let me know if I've missed any.)

| word count: 2.5k | notif blog | main masterlist |

Getting it through Joel’s thick head that you weren’t made of glass and he could be a little rough on you was a job cut out for you. He was always gentle, too gentle at times. Like one time, you had to beg him to spank you while you were on top riding his cock, and he fought you so hard on it. He was scared he was going to hurt you, his sweet baby. Joel always asked if what he was doing was okay, if you were in pain, and as always you had to respond upset at the fact you weren’t in a little bit of pain. 

With the growing frustration of not getting handled how you wanted, you figure now was the best time for you to get your way, to see what he was hiding deep inside himself.  As usual, Joel was on top of you between your legs with his arms on either side of your head to hold himself up, trying to get inside you just right so he didn’t have to contort your body so much. “God, baby I missed you so much.” He panted as he slid inside you, slowly thrusting and asked if it felt okay. 

A grin grew across your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, looking him deeply in his eyes. “Baby, would you maybe choke me? I like that, ya know. I think it’d feel go-”

“No, sweetheart, I-I don’t wanna hurt’cha. A pretty lil angel like you is into that kinda stuff?” Joel’s caught off guard but not enough to stop moving his hips back and forth. 

“Yeah, honey. I like that, it’s easy…see, I’ll show you..” Your hand moves down to his neck, giving a tender squeeze, the thrill of maybe getting somewhere with him had rushed straight to between your thighs. 

Joel groans in irritation, grabbing your wrist to pin it above your head. 

“Baby, c’mon, don’t ruin what we got goin’ on right now. I’m sorry I just don’t wanna hurt you.” He protests and stops his hips from moving but doesn’t take himself out of you. 

You roll your eyes at him and shake your head, groaning to cut him off. 

“Joel, all I’m asking is for a little bit of a squeeze, not for you to take the air from my windpipe…you did it once before and you’ve never done it again. Why?” 

An aggravated sigh falls from his lips and he sits up on the corner of the bed with his hand running along the nape of his neck. “Can we not talk about it, please?” 

Why was he running away from talking about this? He wouldn’t even have a conversation about it without shutting down on you. 

“Why, Joel? Why not? Stop running from this and just talk to me, I’m not made of glass you know.” 

The room falls silent and you tug the thin grey sheet up under your arms, your eyes grazing over Joel’s naked back, his muscles flexing every few seconds. 

“I did it once, I was a little rough with you, seeing how much you liked it…it scared me. It scared me knowing how much I liked seeing you whimper and cry, beggin’ me to stop spankin’ your ass because it hurt.” 

Joel’s back tensed as he finished muttering his sentence. 

This whole time he’s been burying who he really was inside, not wanting you to see how fucked up he really is.

“Jus’..unlocked a whole new way for me to imagine you. Absolutely hopeless and willing to do anything I say or want.” 

Hopeless and willing to do anything. 

Sitting up and pressing your chest against his back, you hooked your arm around his neck and hugged him, kissing the nape and crook of his neck slowly at first but it turned hungry and desperate in a matter of moments. 

“Would you like that, Joel? Clawing at your body to get your cock inside me like a needy little slut?” The words purred against his soft skin made him groan in excitement. 

He turned to you, cupping your face gently as he spoke calmly, “do you want me to show you that side of me, baby? I just need to know you won’t hate me afterwards, especially if I hurt you a little too much..” 

With Joel’s thumb rubbing your cheek softly, you turn to kiss the inside of his palm.

“Joel, I could never hate you. Show me the real you, daddy.” The words poured from your lips and they were like beautiful string ballads to his ears. 

“Are you 100% sure?” 

You place your hand on his and nod softly.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything until you.” 

Joel gave you a warm smile and without any hesitation, he grabbed your neck roughly and tossed you on your back, sinking into the sea of pillows and blankets.

With every harsh grab at your legs to get you right where he wanted you, he grunted lowly and soon enough he had that devilish smirk you once knew. 

“Stay there, be a good pet for me.” A sloppy kiss was pressed to your cheek and Joel dips out of the bedroom, going downstairs for what felt like forever. You could feel your thighs collecting your sticky arousal and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to touch your aching cunt. 

He was back before you could act on your thoughts and in his hands was a bundle of rope, worn and tattered but still strong enough for what he needed it to do. 

“D’ya know how many times I’ve thought about tying your ass up and just takin’ you however I wanted? Punishin’ you for that smart fuckin’ mouth you got on ya and the way you think you can talk to me sometimes, the way you wanna argue  when you think you’re right and you aren’t.”

Joel’s hands carefully tie your wrists to the headboard and he pulls hard when he makes the knots, small groans escape from him as he does. 

He leans back down close to your face as he holds himself up above your body. You can feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh and all you can think about is how you need him inside you before you explode. 

“I know I’m gonna enjoy every single second of this sweet girl… just like I know you will too.” Joel grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back so you have no choice but to look him in the eye and he grins at your slight pain, kissing your forehead before he trails down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin to elicit whimpers from you. 

Joel’s mouth finds your left nipple and like a magnet he takes the hard bud in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue against it roughly. Your eyes watch him the entire time and your brows furrow in such pleasure, meanwhile Joel’s are peacefully shut as he’s groaning against the pillowy flesh of your tits as he swirled his tongue around your overly sensitive nipple like it's a toy. 

Fuck. You were his toy until he was done with you. 

“J-Joel-please I need you baby, please.” You were lifting your hips up in his direction to try and get any sort of friction you can against his cock. 

Joel’s eyes shoot open and his strong hand snatches your jaw tightly, your nipple popping from his mouth as he squints at you. 

“You need daddy’s cock in you that bad, sweetheart?” He coos at you, shaking your jaw a little. 

With furrowed brows you nod eagerly at him, muttering yes over and over again.

A glimmer in Joel’s eyes makes your heart race even more than it was, you could practically feel it in your throat. 

“Beg for it, little girl.” 

Whimpers fly from your parted lips as you muster enough energy to beg him, your wrists tugging harshly at the restraints. 

“Please, fuck me-ah-I need you, I need you to fill up my tight pussy and have your way with me until you’re done using me, daddy.” 

You swear Joel’s brown eyes shift to pitch black as you whine more and squirm. 

“Mmmm, you make it hard to say no to you.”

Joel reaches down and takes two of his thick fingers and forcefully rushes them inside your dripping entrance, looking for your g-spot he was no stranger to. 

His eyes fall heavy as he watches your face flush with ecstasy, your mind seeing stars and planets and everything else he was keeping you from for so long.

You were stuttering and moaning for him to go faster and instead, he replaced his fingers with his cock, hitting that spongey piece of flesh harshly. 

Your back arched off the bed and he chuckled at you, wrapping his arm around you to hold you against him. Your top half draped over his arm and his mouth finds your nipple once more, lapping at it while he pounds into you. 

“Fuck baby-ugh- you feel so good wrapped around my cock like that, stretchin’ your tight little hole out. Tell me who this pussy belongs to, honey. Go on…say it.” He growls and bites your nipple, his groans vibrating on your skin.

“I-it belongs to you, daddy. Fuck- this is your pussy I swear, no one’s ever fucked me the way you have, never. I’m all yours daddy, always.” You could hardly get all your words out before Joel laid you back down, grabbing your hips to lift you up a tad and ram his cock right into you. 

With the bed frame bumping the wall, it only made him want to go harder and faster to see if he could put a hole in the spot it was hitting. 

“No one is ever gonna fuck you again, you got that? You are mine. Once I’m done with you, you won’t be able to even think about anything else, just worried about the next time my dick will be buried in this sweet little pussy that belongs to me.”

No one had ever been this possessive with you before. Joel had his moments of the occasional man looking at you and him threatening to beat the guy up, but it didn’t even come close to this.

“Daddy I’m-ooh, ssshit-I love y-”

You were cut off by Joel’s hand letting go of your hip and gripping your neck roughly, squeezing so hard you had to stop talking to focus on breathing correctly. His hips pound against the back of your thighs as he squeezes tighter, chuckling lowly as he could see the air slipping further and further from your lungs, the vein in your forehead protruding the harder he applies pressure.

“My sweet little slut, beg me for your life.” As Joel’s eyes look into yours, the corner of his pink lips curl into a sly grin, what a sick fuck. 

The tightness on your windpipe made it damn near impossible to choke out the words he wanted to hear, the sobs he was impatiently waiting on. 

With tears in your eyes you were so fucked out and unable to glue words together that there was not a syllable coming from your windpipe, just raspy squeaks and moans. 

“Didn’t think you could, stupid little girl. Look at’cha. So willing to get this old man to do whatever he wants, don’t even care if you fuckin’ pass out.” A harsh slap to your nipple with Joel’s freehand was enough to make you gasp deeply, your lungs puffing up again. 

The burning ball of pressure was deep inside your stomach and you wanted to come so badly, to scream his name so loud everyone would know who was fucking you. 

“Fuck baby, you squeeze me so good, makes me wanna come inside ya. Would you want that, honey? Full of my cum to the brim and make you carry my babies?” Joel’s balls smack against you and his groans almost cover the sound but it's still faint and noticeable. 

You stopped struggling to get your arms free and your legs wrap around Joel’s waist as you start to shake and come all over him. You sob as your orgasm makes you feel so animalistic, like you can’t control yourself. 

All Joel does is go harder, forcing you to feel everything inside and out. His hands run all over your body while his cock rams into you. He’s amazed by you, so enamored the way you sob and shake and beg for him to stop. 

“What’s that baby girl? You want me to stop?” He rhetorically asks before slipping out of your pussy with a groan and his tongue latching onto your clit instantly. He sucks your clit into his mouth and moans as he shakes his head from side to side.

“Joooel! Ple-ase please please st-top!” You cry out, your throbbing clit so telling you’re about to come again. Joel licks your clit mercilessly before spitting on it and comes back to your lips, his beard coated in your sweet slick.

Wet kisses of slick and spit cover your mouth and tongue and you can’t get enough. You lick inside his mouth and all over his tongue, getting every last bit of you from him. 

“Open your mouth.” He murmurs on your puffy lips and gets off you, standing on the side of the bed, grabbing the top of your head forcefully to turn your face towards him. 

“Fill that smart ass mouth with my cock, since you always wanna run it. Well now I’m gonna fill it.” His hands on his hips await you to put his cock in your mouth without hands and the growl Joel lets out when he feels your lips wrap around him. 

You moan on him and move back and forth causing his knees to lock and move closer towards you, slightly fucking your face. 

“Such a pretty baby while you suck on me like that- fuck, sweet girl.” Joel sucks in air through his teeth as his cock twitches, his hips dip slightly and before you can pull away, Joel’s coming in your mouth. The slightly salty liquid pooled in your mouth as Joel jerked himself off until every last drop was gone. He bends down slowly and closes your mouth for you, pressing your jaw up so you can’t open it. 

“Swallow it all like the good girl I know you can be for daddy.” He gets close enough to lick what little was dribbling from the corner of your lips and with watery eyes you look at him and swallow hard. 

Joel’s hand pulls down your jaw slightly and you smirk as you stick out your tongue to show it's all gone. His tongue finds yours once more and you moan in each other's mouth, so drunk on lust and love. 

“You’ve been holding all of that back from me?” You joke and Joel’s head drops with a chuckle. 

[ms-fade]

how about jealous kaz brekker with breeding kink???

Eyes on me, all eyes on you.

Kaz brekker x fem!reader. +18 Drabble

The last sentence is cringy, but my mind went blank at that moment. This is also really short, I’m writing this tired and about to head to sleep.

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, breeding, jealousy, oc kaz, not my best work.

Kaz was always the jealous type, either it be before he was not ready to touch you. And how others could do it without a thought, the way you would hug or touch someone. Then there was who you smiled at, you threw everyone that damn smile and it made him sick to his stomach. And then when he had gotten passed his demons with your help, he faced them head on. Kaz was now not afraid to touch you, fuck you, love you the way he had always wanted. Now he had you in his claws, only for him to cherish.

You where his diamond, his shiny gem in the ruff. Ketterdam didn’t have many good things but you were the most beautiful thing in this damn place. And he should have known when he gifted you that drees you would wear it out, oh he should have burned the damn thing before you had the chance.

How your waist looked, so easy to wrap his arms around. How your breast looked in it, the cut low and the corset made your breast pop. He watched as every man in the place looked at you like meat on a stick, how their eyes wondered and how their minds couldn’t help but picture you naked. And that angered him to the ends of the damn earth, because no one should think of what’s his.

“Don’t take your fucking eyes on me.” He demanded as you tried so hard not to close your eyes. “Did you enjoy all that attention you got tonight. All those eyes on you?” You whimpered out to tell him no.

“No- I don’t.” You managed to say but it was just sobs coming out your mouth as his cock enter your pussy at a fast speed. “Oh, no? The dress you had on tonight said different. Everyman in there wanted to see underneath.” He leaned down to bite your lower lip and pulled on it. “I was going to kill them all, take their eyes for daring to look at you.” He roared the truth.

All you could do was look at him with frowned brows as you moaned. “Next time you decide to show more skin, I’m fucking you in front of them all. To show that only I can get the slut out of you, make your pussy leak for me.” He smirked at your expression, he knew how much you loved it when he called you names.

“I’m sorry. Only yours” you reached up and wrapped your hands on his shoulders. “My body is yours.” He laughed, “I already knew that.” He leaned back up and rammed into you, his hands pushing your legs back to open you up more.

“Maybe if your belly was swollen they wouldn’t look.” Your head went fuzzy at what he was implying. “I’m going to stuff you so full tonight, over, and over again until you can’t take anymore.” He reached one of his hands to touch your stomach and pushed down on the right spot.

“Get you pregnant with my child, my cock will give you what you need. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He asked like it he was teasing you. He knew you couldn’t say no to that, him claiming you more then he had already. To have his baby inside you.

“Yes, saints, please kaz.” You screamed. “I love you.” Smiling up at him sweetly but it broke often because he never stop thrusting. “I love you too, darling.” He groaned and you looked at the sweat on his skin that made him shiny and look sexy.

“Now let me fuck a baby into you.”

[oleander-nin]

Horrotober Day 14- Stockholm(Yandere 2012 Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, blood, broken nose, implied death, battery, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 1404

Summary: April tries to save you just a little too late

You sit in silence on the lab table Donnie left you on, swinging your legs back and forth over the floor. Your eyes were glassy, a thousand yard stare overtaking the once intelligent look you carried. You looked vacant, like you had been stripped down of your old personality. April watches you from behind the door, frowning. It hurts to see you like this, to see you so broken. She could barely remember the last time you had an independent thought, couldn’t remember the last time you smiled over something that wasn’t related to Donnie.

Sure, your smiles seemed real, but they were all child-like. Wide and forced, with teeth showing while you laughed. Not how you used to smile at all. You had forgotten so much of yourself, and April was tired of seeing you wither away. Donnie’s brothers obviously weren’t going to help, so it was up to her alone. The ginger breathes in and out, trying to gain some nerve. She knew Donnie was probably watching you through some camera, but she didn’t care. She refuses to let her friend be hurt any longer.

April walks into the lab, making a beeline towards you. She stops in front of you, waiting patiently and worriedly for your eyes to drift over to hers. A lump is stuck in her throat as she takes you in, Your face sunken in and doll-like from the years of torment Donnie had put you through.

“Hello April.” You greet softly, your voice airy. She sucks in a sharp breath at the sound, tears gathering in her eyes. She couldn’t believe this was what you sounded like now, so small and diminished. You were so confident before Donnie’s obsession changed to target you. April couldn’t help but feel at fault.

“Hi (Y/n). Where’s Donnie?” She tries to keep her voice even and soft, not wanting to scare you or make you feel uneasy. She wanted to make sure you trusted her. Trying to save you would not be easy if you found her threatening.

You shake your head at the question, your eyes already drifting to look at the walls behind her. Your focus was even worse than before, and your eyes were dull. It was like you couldn’t even see her anymore, like you were drifting through the world in a void that only kept you and Donnie in its clutches. It made her sick. April lets herself calm down, nodding slowly as she grabs your hand. She doesn’t miss how your eyes immediately snap over to the touch, your body shaking slightly.

Your hands were freezing despite the warm clothing you wore. The lab wasn’t all that chilly either, so April couldn’t understand why you felt like frost. April shakes her head. It wasn’t important. She could help get you back to health later, after she had gotten you away from Donnie. He was bad for you, and it was like April was the only one who could see it. Even Casey stopped caring once you seemed to reciprocate Donnie’s affection, the mutant's eyes filled with smug satisfaction.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” She mumbles, squeezing your hand in hopes to bring some warmth to the skin. It was tragic to see you like this. She couldn’t help but compare you to a corpse in her mind, something that had been dead for a long time. “I know, I should have helped sooner, but Donnie… He tricked us all. I'm so, so sorry.”

You don’t react to her, still sitting numbly on the table with your legs swinging back and forth. You pull your hand back, moving the cold limb to the inside of your sweatshirt’s pocket. “I don’t want to go.”

April stares at you in slight shock and wonder, her face crumbling into a look of pity. “Oh… Oh honey. I really am too late. Well, that’s fine. I’m not leaving without you. My dad’s a scientist, he can help. You’re going to be okay.”

She doesn’t take notice of the frown that pulls your lips, your face stretching into a more unnatural look for you as of late. April tugs lightly at your sweatshirt, trying to get you to come off the table. You may be smaller than you once were, but April wasn’t positive she could carry you. She needed you to walk. You don’t move despite her tugging, your legs no longer swinging as they try to clamp to the table your hands holding back.

“No! No, I’m not going!”

You push April back, your eyes cloudy and dark. April takes a step back, surprised. She didn’t think you were able to react at all anymore. She hovers just a few feet away, unsure how to move forward. She needed you to understand she was helping. She needed to get you out.

“(Y/n), I know it’s scary,” She starts, her voice gentle and smooth like she was talking to a wild animal. Maybe that’s what you were now. Something skittish and feral, only responding to your owners whims. “But you have to come with me. I’m going to get you out of here.”

April reaches out and tugs on your clothes again in an attempt to pull you down from the table, but you just simply push her back again. You look distraught, your face puffy while you start to kick and thrash whenever she comes near. It was annoying, but manageable. All April had to do was dodge your flying limbs. She shoots her hand out and grabs you by the collar, tugging you down from the table in short succession. You fall off and stumble forward, catching yourself enough to keep yourself from falling. 

April looks pleased, her face smug as she nods. She doesn’t see how blank your face was or the way your hands shook. She doesn’t care about the swirling fear and anger in your eyes. She never noticed how upset you were until you opened your mouth, and screamed.

Immediately, April starts to panic. She moves closer to you and tries to cover your mouth, hushing you and trying to get you to stop. It only makes you scream louder, your voice making its way through the lair and alerting every occupant. The door to the lab opens, and in comes a panicked Donnie. He assesses the situation in seconds, his eyes dark as he rushes over to you and shoves April to the side. He scoops you up into his arms with ease, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist as your arms loop behind his neck.

“What are you doing?” He hisses at April, taking a step towards her. The red-haired girl stutters as she steps back, trying her best not to trip over anything. He stalks towards her, forcing her deeper into the lab before her back hits the wall. Donnie stands over her, his red eyes covered in full white as he looks down at her. April shrinks back, patting her pockets for her Tessen. 

Her heart drops as she realizes she can’t find it, her stance slowly changing into one for fighting. She was unbalanced and unsure, not at all prepared to fight. Donnie snorts at the poor form, shifting you in his arms. April ducks at the punch Donnie throws, realizing a second to late it was a feint before Donnie’s knee crashes right into her nose. She crumples over, a gargled scream coming from her lips as blood pours down her face from her smashed nose. Tears spring in her eyes, the pain from her broken face making her sob. She didn’t even notice when Donnie brought his foot down on her head, her vision quickly going black.

Donnie steps back, adjusting you to fit in his arms better. He walks backwards to his room, not wanting you to see the mess he made on his lab floor. He grimaces, knowing he’d have to clean it up later. It was a miracle his brothers were out still.

“Thank you, love.” He mutters, kissing your temple as he crosses the threshold of his dim room. You mumble something he can’t quite understand, but Donnie brushes it off. You had done what you were supposed to, and he was forever thankful. He leaves you on the bed, making sure you are comfortable before heading to the supply room. He had a mess to clean.

[draculasfavoritewife]

I'd Give Up My Spot In Heaven (For A Moment In Hell With You)

Summary: Being the Devil's partner is more difficult some nights than others, and no one makes it harder on the both of you than Lucifer himself.

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief depictions of smoking and alcohol use, themes of depression and self-hatred, guilt; discussions of death (but a good ending, never fear). And of course implied smut because this beautiful man has me constantly thinking some very unholy things.

If I had to choose one single TV show that changed my life and has so powerfully influenced my recent adulthood, it would definitely be the Lucifer Netflix series. I could write semesters' worth of essays on just how beautifully crafted the character is and what a stunning actor Tom Ellis is. Someday I really need to write more fic for him because truly, in my opinion Lucifer is one of THE Characters of All Time and I'm so utterly in love with him it makes me look stupid.

*I wrote this with the thought that it takes place sometime during the events of Season 2, definitely before the return of his wings

The flutter of uncharacteristically cold silk sheets brushing across your flesh wakes you with a silent gasp. Frowning, you grope blindly in the darkness, reaching out in vain for your usual heat source but grasping only more folds of empty, luxurious fabric.

You’re alone.

And the bed feels suddenly far too vast and lonesome for one body to occupy. 

After a few heartbeats of mildly distressed thrashing about, you finally open your eyes and sit up, pulling the unmoored sheets up around your bare chest and searching for him in the dark. The penthouse is quiet, full of shadows draping languorously across the furniture and expensive art, hiding the familiar contours of his elegant bedroom from view. 

He’s not there. 

He’s left you alone in his bed, something he really only does when his mind is torturing him too much, so he resorts back to his oldest tried-and-true method of dealing with pain — avoidance. 

Which means he’s in pain out there somewhere. Your beloved fallen angel is afflicted with some hurt that strikes too deep for him to rest tonight.

And you don’t want him to remain like that until morning. 

With a sigh, you rise from the empty bed and shrug into the button-up shirt he tossed onto the night table only several hours before. Though he often offers the whites to you, you always prefer the black ones instead, these garments that seductively wrap your form like soft night shadows, the scent of his cologne heavily amplified without a light to distract your other senses. Your bare feet make hardly any sound on the cool floor as you stumble your way into the main living area, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim. 

There he is. 

He hasn’t gone far, sitting slouched forward at the piano, a nearly empty whiskey tumbler within easy reach and soft smoke curling upward from the lit cigarette held between his long fingers. By the array of still-glowing stumps littering the nearby ashtray, it’s not his first one of the night, either. He only chain-smokes when he’s really worked up, so you approach him cautiously, halting a couple of feet from his left side.

His endless dark eyes are focused impossibly far away, haunted and cold, and they don’t so much as even flicker in your direction as you hover there, uncertain of how to catch his attention. 

“Go back to bed, Darling. I’ll be along eventually.” 

His voice is as smooth and lovely as ever, but the detached undertone running like bitter poison beneath sends a tiny shiver up the back of your neck. 

“What’s wrong, Love?” 

He doesn’t reply, and you would almost wonder if he didn’t hear you at all, save for the agitated clenching and unclenching of his chiseled jaw. Restless fingers tap a dusting of ash from the end of the cigarette, shoving it back between full lips for another irritated drag of smoke into his immortal lungs. 

He did hear.

So you choose to wait, settling on the end of the piano bench beside him, though not quite close enough to touch. 

Smoke jets from his nostrils, its acrid scent burning the back of your throat. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Just up for an impromptu nightcap, Sweetheart.” He immediately contradicts his casual claim by abruptly tossing back the rest of his whiskey and rising for a refill. You watch his silhouette as he looms over his private bar to replenish his drink.

Even when all of the details are hidden, he’s still utterly captivating, the sleek planes of his toned body sharply outlined by the faint light bleeding from the windows. 

“You don’t drink like that for a nightcap.” You absently brush your fingertips across a simple chord on the piano keys. “You can talk to me, about whatever’s on your mind. You know that.” 

“Did I ASK you to play the part of my therapist?” his dark shape snarls, another billow of nicotine smoke accentuating his sudden anger. 

You turn so you’re facing him, though you still can’t make out his face.

He feels safer that way, hidden in the dark. 

The Devil may be an excellent actor, but those damned beautiful eyes have always given him away to you, and he has the nasty suspicion they’re a bit too glossy at the moment for his comfort. 

You sigh softly. “Don’t think of it that way, then. I’m not here to analyze and dissect you. But you haven’t been sleeping well lately.” You hold up your hands to stall the protest you know is coming. “And I know you probably don’t need it the same way I do. But you hold everything in, and you bury it so deep, Lucifer. There will only ever be more and more piling on top if you don’t let it out sometime.” 

He huffs, a harsh burst of scornful laughter. Drawing closer again, he towers over you, tall and forbidding, eyes briefly flashing crimson through the shadows cast across his face.

“And just how do you suggest I go about that, hmm? I don’t exactly have my trust in others positively reinforced that often.” 

You’re very well aware of his profound trust issues, but that one hurts. “That's not fair, Lucifer. When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? When have I ever done anything except stand by you?” 

“You haven’t! But that’s the lovely part about you humans, isn’t it? I can watch and listen and taste and think I’ve figured out exactly how you work, and then every single time, something extraordinary happens and I realize I’ve predicted wrong again! There’s no rhyme or reason to you!” He tears away from you, pacing and agitated. “And bloody Hell, I’m TIRED of finally letting down my walls for you people only to be trampled upon again and again.” 

No knife blade could cut quite so deep and sharp, and for a moment, you’re left completely speechless at the implication that you would ever betray him. But you heard the way his voice broke at the peak of his rant, the shuddering sound of his ragged breaths, so for the moment you swallow your own hurt and focus on his.

He needs you right now, whether he recognizes it or not. 

“Okay. You're right. We have been — we still are — so very unfair to you, Love. I know that. I’m sorry you’re still seen as the villain; I’m so sorry for all of it. And I know your own family only continues to betray your trust as well. I am —” you clear your throat, your own voice wavering slightly now. “— I am sorry you never had anyone truly on your side, Lucifer. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” 

His frenzied pacing stops; he approaches you again, footsteps suddenly tentative. “Why do they all do it?”

You’re not sure you’ve ever heard his voice so soft, so uncertain.

“Why, after all of the chances I give them, does everyone still think it’s such a grand time to undermine and manipulate me whenever they get the chance?” 

You stand, and ever so slowly bring your hands up to cradle his handsome, angular face. “They all have their own reasons, my Darling. Please….” 

You’re not quite sure what you’re pleading him for, but the utter despair overflowing from those fathomless eyes twists your heart even harder than his outburst from before. 

“It isn’t you,” you whisper fiercely, recognizing the all-too-familiar desolation of his intense self-hatred surfacing. “Luce, Angel, it’s never been you. I promise.” 

“Why can’t I make anyone happy?” he asks in a broken whisper. He’s letting you closer; you can feel his smoky breath ruffling your sleep-tossed hair, and the heat rising from his bare torso in front of you.

Your hands hesitantly drift from his face, caressing the smooth expanse of his chest before trailing around to his back. He flinches, a minuscule twitch as your fingertips gently find their way to catch in the wide, roughened furrows there — the enormous crescent scars that are all that remain of his beautiful wings. 

You order your thoughts, taking a breath to let your own inner tumult dissipate, and inhale the scent of him, that blend of too-expensive cologne edged with just enough of the whiskey and smoke to be enthralling and not overpowering. It reminds you once more, in this moment, of just how deeply you love this tortured angel, your King without a crown, and how you chose to do so even knowing there would be nights like this, times when he tried to push you away. 

He deserves to have someone on his side no matter what, even when he’s difficult. 

“You make me happy.” 

His mouth opens, no doubt to argue that, but you press on before he can speak. “Do you remember the night you finally took the chance and showed me your devil face?” 

He nods, reluctant and suspicious. 

“Do you remember what I did?” 

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head to one side, thinking. “I remember…what you didn’t do. You didn’t scream. Or try to run away, or just sit there staring at me like you were going to explode. You were…startled, of course, but you…accepted it?” 

“I did. I do. Do you know why?” 

He shakes his head mutely, those eyes wide and glimmering with interest now as he stares back into yours, searching for the answer. 

“Because it’s you. Devil, angel, man, monster, whatever you want to call yourself — none of that matters to me, because all of it is just names, decorations over the Lucifer I fell in love with. And that…being…cares — so deeply — about people, even though he claims he doesn’t. He sacrifices so much for others, even as he calls himself selfish. And —” you gently shush him so you can finish before he tries to deflect, “— the way others treat him does hurt him, though he puts up a good act. I know that’s why he tries to push away the people who love him. I understand.” 

A barely perceptible shudder runs through his skin, and he looks away from you for a moment. He’s still not always used to anyone but Dr. Martin being able to read him that well, but he’s relieved that you can. Anyone else in this close of a relationship with him would have probably thrown in the towel long before now. 

After a moment, powerful arms pull you in tight to his body, solidly encircling your form. His breathing slows; the comforting sensation of his agile hands stroking your back brings a smile to your lips. 

“Now, what else is wrong?” you whisper. 

A long sigh rocks you against his chest. “I saw their faces in my dreams again. Relived their pain…. I’m left wondering again if there wasn’t anything I could have done to — well. I suppose I’m saying I still feel responsible.” 

You let your eyes flutter shut against him, soothingly massaging his scars and feeling the tense muscles in his back let go one by one.

“Who, Luce?” 

He swallows hard above your head, allowing himself a moment to compose his voice before speaking their names aloud. “Delilah. Jana. Father Frank.” 

People who once meant something to him, people who died violent deaths that he wishes he could have protected somehow.

Or had maybe never met in the first place.

His fingertips dig into your skin through his shirt, and you know exactly where his tormented mind is going, the fear that everyone he cares about will end up hurt or dead eventually. 

He can’t have that happen to you. 

“They all made their own choices, Love. Delilah and Jana were attached to their lifestyles and knew it might catch up with them or go wrong someday. Father Frank loved so fiercely he would have chosen the same fate for himself a hundred times over. I know it’s…difficult, for you — for any of your family — to comprehend, but we 'insignificant humans' do have things in this life we are willing to take risks for. Even die for.” You huff a quiet laugh, burying yourself even further in the warmth of his skin. 

“What would you die for?” 

The honest, blunt question takes you by surprise. There’s none of his usual banter or teasing preceding it. When you pull back to meet his eyes, you see the look of earnest interest on his face, his dark brows drawn together with the force of his desire to understand. 

It’s not a difficult answer. 

“You, Lucifer. What we have. That’s what I would die for.” 

His gaze feels like it’s piercing all the way into the most vulnerable parts of your soul, searching for any sign of why you would do so. 

Then his focus suddenly flits away again; for a heartbeat, pain settles into the lines of his face before it clears as quickly as it appeared. 

“I was thinking about Uriel, too.” 

It feels like there’s suddenly no air in your lungs. He hasn’t really brought up what happened with his younger brother to you except in passing. You know how much that whole situation wrecked him, but though you ached to let him know he could talk to you about it, you also knew it hurt far too much, so you merely supported him silently through his despair-fueled run of alcohol, drugs, and raging parties, hoping that one day he would realize he could trust you with the full weight of it. 

Perhaps he finally has. 

“I was thinking about him, and how I — I killed my brother, Darling. I took the Blade of Azrael and plunged it right into him without a second thought. What kind of —” he takes a choppy breath, swallows again; when he continues, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

“What kind of monster does that make me, Love?” 

You ponder your reply as your fingers travel up to his face once more, feeling the well-loved scratch of his perpetually perfect five-o-clock shadow as you caress his jaw.

He leans ever so slightly into your touch as he waits for your next words, somewhat reassured by the intimate contact that they won’t be damning. 

“Uriel would have killed the detective. And he would have killed your mother.” Your own voice is firm, certain in your assessment. “You looked out for your own. You gave him so many chances to back off, and he didn’t. In a way, even Uriel made his own choice in the end.” You gaze back up into his eyes, noting how vulnerable he looks here in this moment through the shining veil of tears that even now refuse to fall.

“Don’t blame yourself for your brother’s death anymore, Lucifer.” 

“But I’d never taken a life before.” His lips press together into a hard line, their sweeping curves disappearing momentarily into grief. “And to have my first be him?” 

“I know.” You push yourself into him again, trailing soft kisses across his collarbone. “And I’ll never know what you’re going through. But I’m here. I’m always here. And we can talk all about it whenever you need. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” 

You can’t quite tell if he’s crying or not as he fiercely folds you into his grasp, as close as the two of you can possibly hold each other. But you stay like that for a very long time, swaying gently back and forth, no sound audible save for the breaths and beating hearts of the Devil and his human lover. 

Eventually, he is the one to pull away, retreating back to the bar and picking up his drink from where he set it down before. His cigarette has long since gone out, but he makes no move to light another. You can tell by the loose set of his shoulders that his self-inflicted torture is easing for now, and as it passes, your own body wearily reminds you of how late — or early? — it is, and that it would much rather be in bed. 

“Go back to bed, Darling.” There’s real warmth in Lucifer’s voice now as he repeats his words from before.

“I’ll be along eventually.” 

So you do, still wearing his shirt, and drift in and out of lonely dreams until the mattress finally dips beside you, heralding his along-waited arrival. 

“Still awake?” He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “My scintillating company has ruined you for ever sleeping alone again, hasn’t it?” 

“Maybe.” You roll onto your back to smile up into his face. “The bed’s so cold without you.” 

He smirks, runs a teasing finger down from your lips right up to where you left the top couple buttons of the shirt strategically undone. “Well. I was a bit of an ass to you earlier, Love, and I do want to make it up to you. So.” He leans in close, that familiar look of utterly seductive, wicked mischief crossing his face.

“Tell me, what is it you want from me right now? What is that sinful, naughty little desire of yours that’s just waiting so patiently on the tip of your tongue? Go on, Sweetheart, don’t be shy.” 

“Lucifer!” You glare up into his expectant, dancing eyes as you struggle to resist his persuasion. “I’m not going to say it out loud.” 

“Oh, so it’s REALLY awful then!” He sounds shamelessly delighted as he traps you in place so you can’t possibly elude the inevitable revelation of what’s on your mind. “And how should I punish my favorite little sinner, for thinking such deliciously dirty things?” 

Unable to hold on to your resolve any longer, you pull him down over you so that you can feverishly unload your demented fantasies into his waiting ear. 

“Well, well, well.” A low chuckle vibrates deep in his chest as he kisses you, scorchingly slow. “How DO you manage to go about your day-to-day life as a seemingly normal human when your innermost thoughts are so sordid, Darling? Tell me, is it terribly difficult keeping your wicked side under wraps during daylight hours?” 

You sigh in pleasure as his mouth moves to your throat and his talented fingers start to smoothly undo the buttons of the shirt. “Only when you’re around.” 

“Is that so?” He rests his forehead against yours, a hand sweeping under the curve of your back and lifting your body up to meet his. “They do call me the tempter, I suppose. Ah, Darling, you can bet I’m going to do my very damndest to break that flawless self-restraint of yours in public one of these days. Whatever do you think people would say if that were to happen?” 

“Just shut up and punish me already,” you murmur, shivering as your skin is exposed to the chill air once more. “You’ve tortured me for long enough.” 

“Really.” He grins devilishly, sharp eyes glowing like hot embers in the dim.

“I do believe I haven’t even started.” 

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I don't really see how "i'm your first, i'm not your last" implies that buck's endgame is a man? (i mean of course i hope it is with eddie but if they don't go there,) buck could have other boyfriends, and then have an endgame with a woman. And his last boyfriend would still be his last, as in his last boyfriend ever, but with him still having a girlfriend afterwards. Just like tommy was his first in the sense that he was his first boyfriend, but he was not his first meaningful relationship 🤷🏼‍♀️

Hey Nonnie

I admit that on its own, it may not be enough of an implication, but there is a lot of other choices being made that shows this one line is part of a bigger narrative - and that is why it is relevant. It’s all about the language being used - because this is a television show and language is intentional in every scene - not just the actual words, but body language costume and colour, the setting, the lighting etc - all of it is a language that conveys meaning. There is also the context of where we are in the show’s timeline - we are closer to the end of 911 than the beginning (my guess would be we’ll get to s12 at most - which is an incredible run for a show in this day and age), we don’t know how long our mains will continue to stay with the show, it is usually at around this point you start to see cast changes happening, and this is also the point when your big slow burn romance has to come to some sort of fruition because otherwise you run out of time to give the resulting relationship time to be an actual relationship - which is the big pay off of there being a slow burn relationship on your show.

I’m not going to go into all the other aspects of the show that are playing into this same concept - I don’t have the time and it is stuff we as a fandom talk about a lot so its already out there on tumblr to read!

With the script specifically, choices to include or exclude words or phrases are intentional because they are telling a story and time is of a premium so getting you intention across with the words being used is important - you only include something if it is relevant. Scripts go through a lot of edits and revisions - even during the filming of the scene - if they decide that it isn’t providing enough intent - they may add in something or if it reveals too much they might take something away or change it.

In the real world, yes, if someone said that to you, it wouldn’t have any implications attached to it, but this is tv so it is important. The fact that they chose to have the line not include any connection to gender that is important. It would have been very easy to add a boyfriend into that sentence and have its meaning change. In fact there are many words that could have been included in that sentence to have the meaning change.

If Tommy had stated ‘I’m your first, but I’m not your last boyfriend.’ Or ‘I’m your first boyfriend, I’m not meant to be your last one.’ Or even ‘I’m your first, I’m not your last relationship. The implication is very different in each one of those. The first two are gender specific - they are clearly stating that Tommy won’t be Bucks last mlm relationship, regardless of endgame. The third option wouldn’t have worked with Tommy because he wasn’t bucks first relationship regardless of gender but I have included it because I wanted to show how the use of relationship implies either gender as well, because it does imply that Buck will have more boyfriends but that his last relationship could be with either gender.

So the fact that Tommy states he’s Bucks first but not his last without any of those qualifying words only highlights the implication that the show is trying to point out with all aspects of film making - that Bucks last will be with a man- the implication that there is only one more relationship in his future on the show (by relationship I mean long term relationship - not a fling or hook up or something that lasts a couple of weeks at most) and that relationship will be with a man.

I may not have explained myself espeically well (I’m struggling with brain fog today - yay AuADHD!), I’m sure others will hop in with their explanations and expansions if needed, but hopefully it makes some sense!

Thanks for the ask 💜

[popculturebuffet]

Seeing your posts on how you've despised the way season 6 handled the Mordecai/CJ/Margaret love triangle, did you read about writer Matt Price's posts on a Reddit AMA regarding why Mordecai didn't end up with Margaret or CJ in the end?

He said "We felt like the Margaret/CJ story was complete, and they were both on their own path already. We also felt like Mordecai had moved on in his life. He finally left the park to pursue art, and we thought it'd be cool if he met someone while doing that. But we love Margaret and C.J., and we're sure that they're happy without Mordecai! He was too wishy-washy with them!!"

To make things worse, Matt said that Rigby's Graduation Day Special planned to have CJ react to the Park crew going to outer space with an annoyed look implying ""Whatever, I'm glad that guy is in space."" Really feels he was trying to push the "CJ hates Mordecai and Margaret after their breakup" thing way too hard (glad it didn't make it to the final cut).

He also said that CJ apparently cut off all contact with Mordecai, Margaret, Rigby, and Eileen, which is a contrast to him confirming Margaret still keeps in touch with and remains friends with Mordecai, Rigby, and Eileen. Would you say this is kinda sad knowing CJ never got to even reconcile with Mordecai as friends like Margaret did in season 7? Plus making Eileen's sadness on not being able to hang out with both CJ and Margaret in I See Turtles even sadder with the implications of CJ cutting off contact with her in the end (likely just because she associates with Margaret) too.

Nope. I don't really keep up with regular show news. I still like the show and I loved close enough (RIP), but I just don't. But since CJ is near and dear to my heart as a character this does intrest me so let's get into it.

On not having Mordecai get with either of them: It was the right call. I didn't really mind when I saw the finale and time, maturity and what have you have only made me like the decision more. Part of it is where the series was at: The "Mordecai nukes his happy relationship arc" was a mess i've still only barely watched and plan to cover someday, but so far haven't gotten to. It was easily the worst thing the show's done and made me stop watching it for a season.

It was absolutely the right call to instead have him conciously take a break from dating, work on himself. He didn't do much of that before they got shot up into space, but it was a good effort. He burned that bridge with CJ the second he kissed Margret and them getting back together was a huge mistake: Mordecai never really found the right way to apologize and CJ clearly never got over the betrayal or her paranoia he'd do it again. Instead having the major arcs be "setup for next season" and "Rigby tries to better himself by going back to school' were a better choice, as was just.. putting the final season in space.

With those arcs it also meant there really wasn't room to speedrun a new relationship fans woudln't want. It makes more sense that after finally deciding to focus on his art, he grew up, had some time to mature and THEN met the love of his life. Margret had moved on with her life, Mordecai moved on with his. I do think the show fucked up with the love triangle, but this is the only move they could really make and I support that. It may blow a little Mordecai and Margret seemingly ends with a whimper.. but it's what the show and the character sneeded. Sometimes... life and cartoon shows dont' work out. People drift apart.

On the deleted scene: Seconded bud. Seconded. I do think the show REALLY fucked up with how it treated CJ during season 6, and really underestimated how attached fans had gotten.. which itself is baffling. She was part of the main cast. She took Margret's spot. She was in a decent chunk of episodes. Fans liked her and took her side in the breakup, and while she was super paranoid with mordecai, it's really hard not to blame her. Less easy to forgive the attempted murder but what can you do. So having her just go "Whatever I dont' care" feels wrong. Her not carring MOrdecai got shot up into space? In character, she dosen't have to care about her ex anymore. he fucked the relationship up beyond any hope and she made a mistake taking him back as she clearly coudln't forgive him. But her not having the slightest horror at Rigby or Eileen getting shot up , her friend and her best friend, feels so wrong it hurts. Eileen was the only thing that got her to actually be around margret and not fly into a jealous rage. What the fuck.

On the cut off thing: that just feels sad.. but i've come to accept it more. I DO think her cutting off Eileen is dickish and like to think she at least parted as amicably as she could.. but I also get it. Eileen is with Rigby, marries rigby, has his kids. The two are in a fantastic supportive relationship that shows how far he's come as a person and how far out of her shell she's come. It's adorable.. but it also means being around Eileen runs the risk of seeing Mordecai. Being Eileens friend means a pretty solid chance of running into her ex any time Eileen has a party, at the wedding, at the birth of her kids etc.

Being petty about Eileen being friends with Margret is one thing. margret fucked up.. but geninely tried to back off after making a heat of a moment mistake she clearly regretted deeply, and only told the boyfriend lie to save herself from a helicopter crash, an entirely fair reaction. Being shoved on a double date with her ex and his justifably jealous girlfriend who not so justifably tried to unalive her was not her idea. The two could manuver around each other, maybe awkwardly say high, I See Turtles proved they could at least be civil for Eileens sake.

But seeing her ex every time her best friend had a huge life event... that's a lot to ask. Eileen would be heartbroken.. but would understand why CJ had to break off their friendship and while I See Turtles was a good ep.. it WAS a lot to ask CJ to be around Margret right after what happened. Personally even if it's not how the creators see it I see the two reconnecting with time. CJ's moved on with her life, maybe gone pro with dodgeball, Eileen's a professor with a loving stay at home husband.. thier in a place they can be friends again and CJ, while not necesarily ever forgiving mordecai, can stand being around him. I could see her holding that grudge for a while, understandably so and people CAN hold onto grudges forever if they want.. but it just dosen't fit here. CJ grew up, and while she dosen't really keep in touch with her ex.. I like to think she got her friend back. Maybe her and Margret even become friends

Hell honestly I just had the idea margret and CJ eventually hook up: Margret genuinely apologizes for everything, CJ does the thing, one thing leads to another. I mean they do kinda fit: CJ's mordecai with his shit together, Margret is kind and empathetic, and I did really like it the last time an asshole's exes had better chemistry with each other instead of him.

SO TLDR: there honestly isn't anything that obnoxious in this. I don't like the idea of CJ cutting eileen off.. but most of it fits and the one part that didn't was cut out as they realized it didn't. For how badly the crew fucked up that love triangle.. they recovered fine.

[theenemyod]

Not feeling good more angst based on my(past)self

Tw: attempted vomiting, mentioned self harm, mentioned/implied eds (idk it's never called that but yeah), mentioned suicidal thoughts

Aaron paced around his bedroom on his 79th lap (counting), feeling sick and weird and wrong wrong all wrong.

This wasn't what it was supposed to look like. When someone's struggling aren't they supposed to lose weight and get plaler and stop eating and hurt themselves and sleep too much or stop sleeping or even think about killing themselves. That's what it's supposed to look like when people are struggling, right?

Aaron looks down at his own wrists. Clean, his tan having faded slightly because of being underground and dotted with a few freckles. Somehow it makes him feel slightly sick.

If it was as bad as his mind seemed to be making out to be there would be cuts. He would be bleeding. But the thought of hurting himself scared him. He'd never had a deep cut before. The scars from Drew's chains have faded on his wrists. Not his ankles, he's pretty sure those ones are permanent. He'd seen his own before, of course. It would be hard to grow up as part of sports teams and playing outside and never have. There are marks on his knees from the amount of times his fallen over and hurt himself and a slight dent in his shoulder where he was hit very hard with a tennis racket once.

Aaron wasn't new to pain or blood. He wasn't new to the concept of self harm either. He'd more than once helped treat a cut on one of his foster siblings, or hide it with makeup. He was quite good at hiding things with makeup, usually bruises but cuts are quite easy too.

And of course, staying at the Rajavis all summer it would be hard not to notice Alex's wrists. He doesn't think no one else saw it, he thinks they're all ignoring it on purpose. He wanted to ask or comfort him but he doesn't know him much and doesn't think Alex would really want it, so he didn't try.

But the idea of Aaron hurting himself was out of the question. Just no. Never ever in his life would he cut himself intentionally.

He thinks of other things he'd seen from Alex. That was how hurting is supposed to look. When the cuts would show up in his arms and Aaron would hear him forcing himself to vomit in the middle of the night and how he'd cry afterwards and he'd get paler and thinner and Aaron was pretty sure he'd tried to eat food he's allergic too even though he knew it'd kill him... Compared to that Aaron was going through nothing.

Without thinking Aaron attempts to put two of his fingers down his throat, something he knew was supposed to make him vomit. It didn't, just made him gag slightly and take his fingers out of his mouth, feeling sick. Why the fuck did he just do that?

He sighs and sits down on his bed tiredly. Maybe he'll talk to Call when he gets back. Until then he wants to rest.

He closes his eyes to sleep but ends up staying awake pretending to sleep until Call gets back from whatever he was doing.

[hologramcowboy]

So I decided to look up the Family Business brewery Jensen owns and noticed several things lacking. I apologize for the longer ask but I wanted to see what your thoughts on all this are, as it seems to line up with the fact Jensen's image is a bit allover the place (not really authentic and unique like he was when he was younger), and seems like this translates with how his brewery is being run. 1) I noticed that their menu doesn't really have any standout items, merely pizza joint type food. Every restaurant I've ever dined in had some kind of standout food item or a "signature dish" if you will. As of today, if I were to place an order online all they have are pizzas including a build your own, salted pretzels, a couple salads, and cinnamon sugar pretzels and chocolate chip cookies for desserts. Seriously, where are the pies, cheese burgers, and other SPN influenced food items on their menu? Oh and they need to fix the inconsistency for their hours of operation between their online ordering site and what their website says are their hours for take-outs and such... 2) I did some research for the top rated breweries in Austin and noticed something curious. The Family Business brewery (which was not on any of these kinds of lists) is open only 4 days of the week, yet most of the top rated breweries in Austin are open either 6 or 7 days of the week. I remember in one interview more recently Jensen admitted that they were struggling from the COVID shutdowns and implied they are somewhat struggling still. I did some reading and learned that some restaurants choose to stay closed on Mondays due to lower traffic and therefore potentially costing more to stay open than staying closed. So being closed on Monday with this in mind I can understand, but why also Tuesday and Wednesday? They also are open from 3 to 9 Thursdays and Fridays and 12 to 9 on Saturday and Sunday. Are they hurting for cash so much they can't afford to stay open the other 3 days of the week, or are these people allergic to the idea of working a 40 hour work week? Unless Danneel and crew are using Jensen's name to lure in customers and essentially getting rich off Jensen's back barely putting in any hours to show for it... 3) Based on the photos I've seen of their merchandise, inside of the brewery, etc. I see nothing related to SPN even though this brewery's very name is SPN-related. If I were to walk into this place tomorrow with no knowledge of who owns the place, I would have no idea Jensen Ackles owns the bar nor would I know the influence or story of how the brewery came to be (and the name too). If Jensen's name and SPN career is supposed to drive traffic to their brewery, why does the menu, decor and merchandise they sell not reflect this at all? Literally nothing stands out about this place, it looks like a "normal" brewery or bar to me honestly. The image, the decor, the merchandise, the menu, even the outside of this place, nothing about it would pull me in to walk in and eat and drink. Where's the uniqueness, the authenticity, the story?

There's no uniqueness and targetted branding because Jensen started this venture as an easy cash cow. He could have created exclusive experiences for people and made a name for himself but instead he just invested as little money, effort, planning and energy as possible and relied on his name to draw people in. Thatis a very, very poor business strategy.

As for the pizza, as someone who has quite a few friends with deep Italian roots, please let's not call that pizza. Real pizza is a whole different universe and experience and I highly recommend ordering from an authentic Italian restaurant instead.

The food in general takes a long time to reach the customer and that's an extremely bad customer experience, one of many, just check out the reviews and how poorly FBBC answers them without actually resolving the quality side of their attitude OR services. His business is struggling because instead of honoring customers he is all about himself and not focusing on delivering value but rather on what he can easily take with the least money and effort invested.

I 150% with you, he could have created a legacy brand but that would have required quality and soul, something he seems to sadly lack as he is unable to touch upon authenticity.

[frostyreturns]

Frosty Ruins Glass Onion

It's a fairly recent movie so I avoided spoilers best I could but I recommend just not seeing this movie altogether because it was cancerously bad.

Now I'm not advocating we forget what happened in 2020 at all, I think we need to remember what they did to us,how retarded it was and how insane people behaved…however I don't want my entertainment to begin with reminders. This came out December of 2022 we've barely just gotten past this shit... I'm more sick of hearing about covid than I ever was from covid…so when something that's supposed to be entertainment begins with someone covering their face because a package is delivered to their door it fills me with rage and I already hate this movie. We went 2 years without a movie where everyone was wearing face masks why the fuck are we starting this horseshit now? Then for it to immediately cut to a CNN segment where the character is ranting about climate change I'd already be asking for my money back if I paid for this.

5 minutes in and we've already hit covid, climate change and feminism and I can already tell this is a Rian Johnson movie. I have no idea what's going on, who anyone is, why I'm supposed to care and the dialogue is weird and unnatural.

I get the sense the director is trying to be funny but I'm not sure because there's no actual jokes. Like there's a group of old people playing among us and the one guy is in a bath and someone asks him if he's in the bath again and he says no…get it because he is. It has the cadence and delivery of a joke but it's just nonsense.

I don't know if Batista is just the worlds shittiest actor or if Rian Johnson was just too much of a human vagina to ask him to redo a single line because there is better acting on a 90's cable access show. When he's playing a socially retarded alien its not as noticeable but when he's just playing a guy you notice how bad he sucks. Also his character is there to just be a caricature of what they call mens rights but based on how they portray him he's a caricature of just anyone who has a male audience because they don't actively shit on men and denounce masculinity. So from the acting to the heavy handed and out of place feminist strawmanning I hated this character. Makes me wonder if Rian Johnson has ever had a single miligram of testosterone in his body.

There was a moment that implies there was an easy covid cure that they only gave to a few small elites and friends. Now was this a moment of honesty masquerading as fiction from hollywood…or was it just a stupid plot device to reconcile that he decided to make the plot happen during covid without having the actors wearing masks the whole time. It really would have overshadowed everything else.Remember how insane people were about covid in 2020 and then imagine those people found out there wasa simple one dose cure...they thought thisshit was killing billions of people nobody would have given a shit about anything else. You're telling me the social media influence, the politician and the scientist just had no interest in a cure for covid in 2020. Either way Rian should have all his cameras and pens taken away from him forever.

Also what the hell happened to Edward Norton? Maybe it really is just Rian Johnson…because in this Norton sounds and looks like he's never been filmed before. I think of Edward Norton as making goofy movies he's in better and more professional, like he made the second iteration of Hulk watchable but here he looks like a lesbian they just pulled off the street, threw him into the movie and did all his lines in one take. He was terrible and when a good actor is terrible you have to look at the script and the director.

Nortons character goes on this rant about disrupting the system and calls everyone at this murder mystery thing a disrupter. A mainstream celebrity, a typical politician, a social media influencer, and a tech billionaire…these are all people he's saying disrupted the system? No these people are the system, these people are the system, getting fat on the system. He even says none of them want to disrupt the system…but then says right after that they are all disrupters of the system. It's the kind of pretentious, contradictory self congratulatory bloviating I'd expect from this douchebag directors dialogue.

The movie is so hard to watch because all the drama is contrived and irritating because none of the people are interesting or likeable. Not to mention that its a murder mystery movie where it takes an hour into the fucking thing for somebody to die and there's already been an annoying Rian Johnson "subversion of expectations" which is ironic because at this point nobody is expecting there to not be some gay twists.

This movie combines everything I hate about the director with everything I don't like about murder mysteries. They make the plots convoluted and use misdirects to keep you from guessing the outcome to the point that the outcome loses believability and it's sense of a cohesive plot. Writers go out of their way to ensure everyone is in some way a suspect and then the premise is made ridiculous. If you host a party of all your closest friends and someone tries to kill you there's no world where every single one of your closest friends is a suspect with evidence and a motive against them. It ruins my suspension of disbelief and comes across as contrived sloppy writing. Rian Johnson takes this weakness in the genre and amplifies it by a hundred because even in other genres he likes to throw reason and comprehensive writing to the wind for the sake of tricking the audience. Ironically knowing this going in I knew who the killer was going to end up being the whole time, so congrats Rian you wanted to be so unpredictible that you're predictible.

He does things like has the investigator say "only you can give me the last piece of the puzzle" right before that character is shot…but the audience is not given any of the information the character is supposed to have. The entire story is one big web of deus ex machina And delivered with the ham fist of paroxysms like a character shouting "What is reality!" after a reveal that the audience was already privy to. More wooden half asses attempts at infusing this train wreck with the semblance of comedy.

And after the reveal they somehow let the killer get close enough to destroy the only evidence they had. There's no way... they had to use a camera trick to make it more believable that someone they thought was a killer could close the gap quick enough and destroy the evidence that quickly because its just another impossible thing done for story convenience.

Also the story resolution was so stupid… nobody will testify for the murders for plot convenience but at the end they all suddenly change their mind for absolutely no reason…except that now is the time the director wants story resolution. He comes up with this convoluted way to get the murderer their just desserts but nobody thinks that they're just now casually rubbing elbows with someone they just all watched proved to be a murderer, nobody grabs a weapon nobody thinks oh they might try to kill again now that they were found out…they just carry on like they're all about to move on since they can't prove anything to the law... even though every single one is an eyewitness. Then instead of the next rational step being a violent solution nobody even thinks of it. What they did do was a crime anyway choosing to assassinate a reputation…which only might happen theoretically, just like them being found innocent in court is theoretical. Nobody behaves rationally, everything is contrived everything is stupid… this movie was fucking terrible. Rian Johnson is the worse director in the world.

0 stars

[heretherebedork]

Thank you very much for your in-depth response! (Looks like I can't comment on the post, so I hope you don't mind me sending another ask to respond back. :) ) I thought about it some more, and IDK, maybe I just read and watched too much Japanese media when I was growing up, haha. Because (at least at that time, not sure about nowadays) even so many canon straight couples in J-fiction never showed much, or any, physical evidence of their partnership (sometimes even barely any verbal evidence either, TBH), especially in works where the plot was the main focus (as opposed to works where the main focus was on the romance itself, of course, because usually there was at least some in those haha!), so granted I likely have a large bias/skew on the shapes that fictional coupleship can take from all of that. The heat level itself wasn't really my point though (as I certainly am not expecting heat out of Museum's main pair either haha), it was just that for me it's still possible for characters of any gender(s) to be in an obvious canon relationship/partnership in-story even without any onscreen/on-page physical stuff being necessary (again, though, I admit that that probably includes a lot of my old-J-media bias talking :) ). I understand your discussion on all of that, though, as well as your point that in the current day, being super vague about relationships (particularly non-straight ones) doesn't really cut it. As for Midnight Museum, IDK, to me there just seems to be way too much obvious romance coding being used in everything to do with the main pair (both in terms of cinematography cues as well as all of the classic tropes present in the physicality they do have so far as well as the dialogue and script overall) for them to just end up explicitly passing it off by the end of the show as a 'Nope Not Any Kind Of Partnership No Way They Were Just Good Friends Y'all' or something, haha (especially with it being a Thai show, instead of, like, The Land Of Censorship Of Which We Do Not Speak or something, you know? :P ). Anyway, I love reading your thoughts on things, so thank you for the good discussion on this! :) <3

Glad to see that my response did speak to most of it.

But I still don't think there's going to be any romance. I don't think they're going to be brothers, I just think the show is... never going to touch on the idea of romance with them. They will be Something Important but not romance.

Yes, Thailand does produce queer shows and lots of them but I would not expect them to do a queer show without any kind of advertisement or mention or showing of it, even now. That doesn't feel like the GMMTV style, honestly. Maybe I'll be wrong. But who knows?

No idea why you can't reply to the post, my replies are definitely turned on.

Anyway, I get the idea of an implied relationship but I think it shows where the whole of their relationship involves lots of Mystic and Fated and Time Travel things like Midnight Museum it'd be very hard to just kind of do an implied vague romantic relationship if they were going to do that way.

I also get that a lot of more plotty shows can have background barely-there romances and that Japanese media definitely

I definitely look forward to it but I am very much in the 'this show will not be queer' camp just from the way the show has been teased. I suspect the romance is just a tease, a bit of baiting, them playing with Gun's typical roles.

Honestly, I'll just be happy if neither of them has a full on female love interest through the show. That's my entire hope. Just leave it vague enough that I don't have to fight canon. I mean, not like I haven't fought canon dozens of times before but, you know, I just want it easy this time.

[livia-dovehallow]

how do you think the events of chot affected Anna later on in life?

Although I think she was severly ooc in all the saga but well

**SPOILER WARNING!!**

Well, there's how **I** think it should have gone/should go and then there's what it implied in the coda and epilogue.

The coda and epilogue really imply heavily that Anna was relatively fine for the rest of her life and I think that's a load of bullshit.

SO. I shall tell you the proper course of events.

Let's start with the fact that she was there for her baby brother's armed kidnapping and subsequent rescue. She saw her estranged aunt carve a rune on her three-year-old brother and was the person who jumped in at the last moment to save him from irreperable harm from a finished rune.

Then there's her not-so-strange-but-still-kind-weird evolving relationship with Ari. She's 19. Relationships are chaotic. Especially when your family is also going through a lot and your sort-of-ex-girlfriend shows up at your door saying she can't go back home. And then your own parents basically immediately fold her into the family.

But, the big one you probably specifically meant for me to address: her brother died.

Anna had to watch her brother die in her arms despite trying over and over again to save him with what resources she had at hand. And she couldn't even find solace in her family because she's trapped in London away from her parents--the people she probably wanted to be with more than anything. Anna acts tough, but we know she deeply cares about her family and she has always been protective of Christopher.

That has to mess you up. Yet the only canonical aftermath we see of Anna's grief is her crying at night and Ari hearing it and trying to help. Can we take a moment to consider how she had to have felt when she finally did see her parents? Having to face them when she knows that Christopher died in her arms and she couldn't save him? No matter how much she logically knows she isn't at fault, she probably felt some level of guilt and pain about it.

Then there's the hypothetical funeral we didn't get. It can't be easy to hear your mother scream in that kind of pain when the pyre is lit. Or to watch your dad, who you've also looked up to your whole life, repress his own grief out of pure concern and love for you, your brother, and your mother, knowing full well that he is grieving too.

And at that point, Christopher's absence has to be felt hard by her. She spent, what, 16 years of her life as Christopher's big sister? She had to have been so used to the smell of burnt clothing and random chemicals. Used to hearing a million facts about things she hasn't a clue about. Used to hearing a random explosion every now and again. But now everything smells unburnt and everything is silent.

I don't think Anna would just pick up and travel halfway around the world less than a year later and leave her parents. I completely understand her wanting to visit India with Ari and appreciate her own family heritage, too, but I think Ari would have understood Anna wanting to stay a little longer to make sure they would be all right.

Later on in her life, I definitely think there are some things she smells or hears that instantly trigger a wave of sadness because it reminds her of Christopher. "He would have loved this," kind of emotion. The rapid advancement of technology during what should have been his whole lifetime? Christopher would have been fascinated with all of it.

She, like I imagine Cecily, too, develops an almost trigger-like response at seeing throwing knives. I don't think either of them ever touch a throwing knife again. Which probably proves difficult for Anna given she is a Shadowhunter and has to cross paths with other Shadowhunters who use throwing knives. She just can't see them without being reminded of seeing her brother die with a throwing knife in his shoulder.

One thing I am grateful for is the establishment of various kinds of afterlives in the Shadow World. I am glad that eventually she does get to see her brother again. I imagine Christopher is so happy to see her. (Not to mention how their parents probably felt seeing him again. I won't get into that. It makes me cry, for real.)

So, yeah. I think the pain eases with time, as it does with most things, but she never, ever forgets about him and probably finds herself talking aloud to nobody pretending she's talking to him.

NOW I REALLY AM CRYING. I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH AND I HATE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM GOD DAMN IT.

[petalsmooth]

I mean Colin won't "kiss" his fiancé but Pen he holds hands with without gloves, and consistently takes her to rooms with closed doors EVEN IN SEASON THREE no less. I will admit he seems to understand it's inappropriate since when they hear voices in that clip of Eloise and I dunno whom the other was he moves toward the door, but that just solidifies when it's Penelope he doesn't give a damn really. There is no other girl he would do this with and he KNOWS this behavior if caught leads to the expectation of a proposal but he keeps doing it. The other brief clip looks like him following her into a garden which yeah...ALSO YOU DON'T DO as see Simon/Daphne. Colin KNOWS all of this, he does.

Then he gulps when she is staring at him and short circuits after Pen's pick up line, when he is used to women everywhere fawning over him and flirting right back. In the background of those ball scenes there is always Colin dancing or talking with a woman at ease. Pen? Downs whatever is in that glass two seconds later as he's overheating.

No one will convince me the feelings weren't there before this season. When it moved to love is a debatable point, but on a level this man has been entirely too easy about the idea he could be caught in a compromising position with his "best friend" and expected to marry her. He has given her suspect looks and touched her arm and written letters and been alone with her and Colin is not stupid. Because if he WERE he'd have done this with other women but he KNOWS the consequences of that and avoids it.

The other idea is he has so "friend" zoned her doesn't even cross his mind could lead there because doesn't see her as a "woman" but rather some sexless companion but again...I don't buy that. He jumps immediately to interrupt Portia and Lady Featherington end of last season when found alone with Pen because he knew what they were implying and here is obviously sneaking Pen into his own house and hiding her whereabouts from Eloise. If he was so oblivious to how inappropriate he would do neither.

Personally I look at it as he has her in a "box" as someone he "should not" think about that way for a variety of reasons. She was younger than him, much younger at one point. His sister's best friend, then HIS best friend and he was so devoted to THAT narrative wouldn't entertain when his feelings started evolving even though unconsciously it shows up in how he reacts around her. SO I don't know when he fell in love, he probably doesn't either, but I think this season is more about unlocking that box and letting himself acknowledge she's not a little girl. It doesn't matter if she and Eloise played as girls, and she is a perfectly appropriate person for him to court/pursue and marry. AT which point when his mind finally makes that realization....

But think about it. Colin hurts her feelings and we know initially she is cold to him while everyone girl in the ton is fawning over him. SO he latches onto the idea of helping her find a husband to keep her by his side, even though if she DID find a husband she would NOT be allowed to continue at his side. All under guise of tutoring her how to romance a suitor...by teaching her to romance him. You just have to wonder at the gift of compartmentalization he has to not realize what he is doing. lol He's teaching her how to land someone like HIM and putting them in situations where caught she would be OBLIGATED to be with him out of societal pressure. But also in a position of some authority to guide or direct her with her suitors (his competition). This is why it's billed as a comedic rom com of a season and I rather love it. They don't make many good rom coms anymore so I'm enjoying this.

[lgbtlunaverse]

You know, when i walked into the wider mdzs/cql fandom 4 years late with starbucks in my hand i was generally expecting that the character i was gonna have to bat horrible takes away from me with a hockey stick was gonna be jin guangyao. Maybe jiang cheng. Complex characters in an antagonist role whose complexity tends to be ignored because people want an easy bad guy to point at so they can prop up their own blorbo.

But no! There are so many rancid takes about both of them but it has become startlingly easy for me to avoid them once i knew what to do. I nestle myself mostly into the 3zun/yi city niche of the fandom which are generally (fictional) murder-friendly. Be careful when treading wangxian-only pages. Don't even come near either of their character tags. Avoid the "canon jiang cheng" tag like the plague. (I gotta hand it to 'em calling your character negativity tag canon is a ballsy move.) And. Yeah. Sometimes I can blissfully forget wider fandom has bad takes about these dudes.

No. No the character i have to slap away bad takes from left right and center is fucking nie mingjue.

You wouldn't expect that from a source material where he spends 90% of them time being a corpse. But here we are!

(To be clear everything under this cut is me being extremely salty if you don't want that in your life scroll away! read something else! smell a flower! eat some ice cream! Have a better day than i did! You deserve it)

I understand that it's because i took primary measures to avoid bad takes about jgy that i ended up in the jgy apologism pit and i do really quite like it here, you're all very lovely. But I guess the fandom impulse to need a big bad guy so blorbo didn't do anything wrong propped up and jgs on his own wasn't enough for everyone, and so the reading that nie mingjue is a selfish entitled privileged brute who wanted nothing more than to beat jgy until he acted grateful or subservient enough for his wishes without ever actually trying to empathise with him emerged in a few corners.

I've seen cql and book canon warped and mixed together to perpetuate the worst reading of him possible that would, in either canon taken on its own, look downright ridiculous. (I've often seen people say cql softens his character, but it notably makes him look like a way worse sect leader to jgy because the jin captain harassment was moved to qinghe, where in the book it is basically established that while people still look down on jgy the outright harassment has stopped because they can't get away with it anymore, and only the most subtle gestures of disrespect slip through. People will just move the alternate reality from cql to novel canon with no regard for how it makes several plotbeats no longer make sense. Don't even get me started on the differences between book empathy and show empathy and how they are ignored because one framework lends itself easier to character bashing.)

I've seen claims that killing him was good and a kindness actually, because he was just too bad and dangerous to keep on living. Who knows who he'd have killed if left on his own!! He'd have died in a few years anyway, who cares.

I've seen an offhand assumption from xue yang that the bruises madam jin leaves him with come from nie mingjue being misquoted as some kind of canon hard proof that nie mingjue is physically abusing jin guangyao during their entire sworn brotherhood multiple times in discourse now and it makes me want to start chewing on human flesh. (Also the lan xichen character assasination this implies??? Apparently lan xichen is just standing there while his eldest sworn brother beats the younger one up and, what? Thinks it's a good idea to make them spend long periods of time together ALONE? Tells jgy after the stairs incident that he "shouldn't provoke" mingjue- An actual thing he says!!! Which becomes much worse if this isn't an isolated incident in a tense but otherwise wanted relationship but instead one iteration in a long history of abuse!! So lxc is just doing abuse apologism for years on end here? Ok.)

And the frustrating thing is that, unlike with characters like jc or jgy, who have solidly sized fanbases built up specifically to defend and discuss them with nuance in part as direct reaction to abysmal takes about them, the equivalent for Nie Mingjue is a lot smaller. Wider fandom takes on him tend to vary from a casual shrug of general disinterest to "oohhhh jgy is so evil for killing him i feel so bad 😞" followed by. Very little actual exploration of what makes his character so interesting and tragic. And so I am left with??? Almost nothing??? Most people actually TALKING about him are doing so wrongly and even if they are defending him they are! Doing It Wrong! This sucks! I don't like any of it!

[shylemon0]

Geralt dating an Autistic!Reader would include (Headcanons)

Hehe

Warning: implied violence, Autism things, hinted (?) autistic Geralt, judgement from ignorant people, meltdown

(Gn)

———

· The few people you knew would probably be worried about you and the Witcher being a thing, and they’d think that maybe he was using you in some way, but you’d shut that down quick since you know the stigma Witchers get for simply just living · Him not caring if people think he’s rude so he’ll just grab you (or notion with his head) and leave any conversation if they are making you uncomfortable in any way

· Even though generally Geralt isn’t a physically affectionate person, he always happily accepts your touch when you feel comfortable enough with doing that · He lets you play with his hair whenever you want, he loves how it feels having you braid and brush his hair(especially if you are gentle), it’s a way for you to let him know you love him without saying ‘i love you’ outright

· I think that either his eyes would be easier or harder to look into, if they are easier then you’ll probably just stare into his eyes without a bother because his eyes are just so pretty, but if they aren’t easy to look into, you’ll probably still try to give quick glances here and there and Geralt would understand the discomfort of having eye contact, he finds it uncomfortable sometimes too (though he is a glarer, sometimes he just generally doesn’t like it) · He loves traveling with you since you both are comfortable with silence, he just enjoys your presence, it’s pretty comforting to him

· If anyone were to threaten you to get to him he’d be pissed off, like really pissed off

· He’d be so concerned when you’re having a meltdown, especially if its a really bad one, he’d do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel safe, if it was in public he’d glare at anyone who’d give you a weird look before you two got to somewhere quiet and dark, he’d let you grab ahold of him and cry into his shirt if that’s what you needed or let you just sit curled up without him touching you at all if that’s what you needed, whatever you need he’ll do it, all for your well being · He understands finding it difficult to show people how you feel and being perceived as unemotional/apathetic but also feeling too much at the same time 

· Him constantly being worried about scaring you away whenever he has to do his work (you probably don’t even think about it as a ‘bad’ thing since it makes sense to you that he has to do things like that because he’s a witcher)

· As a way that you show him that you love him is, being caring and just generally helping him in any way (pretty much babying him lol), like you’ll wash his dirty clothes when he finally gets to sleep, you’ll take care of his hair, you’ll make him food sometimes, and just help him out when he’s exhausted after a long day · He loves listening to you talk about your interests and will listen intently, he loves to see how happy it makes you, and listening to you rambling is an easy way for him to get in a good mood

:)

(I have a taglist now! It’s on my pinned post if you want to know more about it!)