#but she didn't because she has come too far and they are NOT in the wilderness anymore

[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.

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie hasn't answered the phone in nearly two days which, post Chrissy, post Vecna, post end of the world (averted), post every thing, is a wholly unacceptable amount of time.

Steve does a round robin on the walkie; everyone suddenly realizes they haven't heard from him either. Steve volunteers to go over.

He raps on the front door of the little two bed place Wayne owns now, a little government recompense after they took the trailer away to study, or whatever. Also quite a bit of 'take the house and keep your mouth shut,' kind of thing, Steve figures.

Wayne looks tired when he opens the door, kinda droopy, which Steve knows means he's really tired. Like, holding form is becoming a smidge difficult kind of tired.

Steve slips in fast, 'sorry Wayne, Eddie's van wasn't at his place so I figured he was here,' which he must be, because Eddie's van is here, and not outside his shiny new trailer, 'he hasn't been answering the phone.'

'He's here kid but he's kind of...having a rest day?' Wayne hedges. He's bad at lying, just like Eddie, Steve knows something is up.

'Can I see him, just for a second? Just check all is good?' Wayne gets Steve's protective nature, after everything that happened, he knows Steve likes to look after his people. He also knows Steve can keep a secret, only Steve and Robin know about Eddie and Wayne's shape shifting ability - carrying Eddie out of the upside down, convinced Eddie was about to die, only to have Eddie's glittery insides do something wholly unexpected was...well, Steve knows, is the thing.

Eddie also wins at doing impressions, since he can actually turn into movie stars, and that's kind of cool. Steve always likes watching Eddie turn back into himself though, maybe because of the crush he's been nursing.

Wayne caves, and Steve knows it's bad when he finds Eddie in the bin. He's shimmery and silver, and nearly tipping out the edges. He sloshes a little when Steve walks in, 'hey man, you didn't even make it to the bath? You want me to tip you out?'

Nothing, but the overhang wave of Eddie goo turns, hanging over the far lip of the big trash can. Like Eddie just turned his back.

'Uhm. I just. I just wanted to check you were okay? You know? Everyone's kind of worried.'

Eddie ripples. Like a sigh.

Eddie sloshes out of the bucket, his form building upwards until Steve is standing in front of...Nancy? Wearing a torn Dio shirt and plaid sleep pants.

'Eddie...that's kind of weird man.'

'I know!'. He waves Nancy's arms around, ' I know okay! But I can't stop it!'

'What...you're stuck? As Nancy.'

'Kinda', Eddie hedges, his ability to lie as bad as Wayne's.

'What does that mean?'

Eddie huffs, and shifts again...into Farah Fawcett. He crosses her arms over his now ample chest.

'Eddie...what is going on?'

Eddie shifts again, the hot brunette from the horror movie they watched two weeks ago, Steve can't remember the actresses name. He remembers saying she's hot though.

'Steve just...I'm having some kind of crisis, okay. It's just a bit of a...block. Just give me a few days and I'll be right as rain.'. Heather Locklear explains.

'Eddie...come on man, there's clearly something up.'

'This is so embarrassing.'

'Just tell me, okay? It can't be anything that bad, I won't judge.'

'It can be that bad,' Michelle Pfeiffer whines from behind her hands.

'Eddie...I'm not leaving until you spill.'

'I really...like you...' which, coming from Olivia Netwon-John, probably fulfils some sort of fantasy for Steve, but he has to remind himself he's thrilled to hear it from Eddie, too. 'So now I'm stuck, trying to be someone you actually want.'

'I...oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I really want Eddie. So does that fix it?'

Brooke Shields cocks her hip and rolls her eyes, 'Steve, I'm not doing this on purpose, I don't have any control right now, so I don't need an empty platitude-'

'Its not. I've had a crush on you for ages. I'm not going to kiss you when you look like someone whose not Eddie.'

Eddie slowly melts back into himself, 'you're not?' he asks weakly.

'Nope, I can now though-'

'I'm back!!!' Eddie runs his hands all over himself, disappearing into the bathroom, checking the mirror he shouts, 'it's me! I'm me again! Oh thank fuck! Do you know how stressful that was! Having big tits is hell on your back-'

Eddie rambles, and Steve waits patiently for him to remember they could be making out right now.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[evieelyzabethh]

"what dreams are made of"

⭒"sunsets or something, aren't you lovely" ⭒~ crush phase Arcane head cannons {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw fem!reader, massive amounts of fluff, slightly pervy jayce, not beta read

an ☞i know this blog has been very Buffy related for a bit but i wanted to try something new. Not that Buffy is abandoned forever, i just wanted to write for more than one fandom

♞Vi ♞

♞Vi tells herself she doesn't have a crush on you, nay, she doesn't even believe in crushes. She thinks they are childish and beneath her and would never even admit she has one. That being said, she is definitely "sweet" on you as Vander would've called it. Vi when having a crush would be an absolute disaster, and this she would be more than willing to admit on her own. Her words never seem to come out right, and even when they do, they're never taken the way she means. She said it herself, when presented a set of options, she somehow always manages to chose the wrong one. For a relationship with Vi to work, you would have to be patient.

♞She certainly doesn't know when enough is enough. She will hang outside of your place of employment, be it the Last Drop or Babette's and insist you allow her to walk you home. Her fists are the one thing she's confident in because there is no nuance in fighting. She doesn't think it's possible for you to be upset with her for beating the shit out of the guy who looked at you funny and would be confused when you get mad at her for this. It's not even that she thinks you are incapable of taking care of yourself, that's just the only way she can think to protect you without it going wrong (and it sometimes still does)

♞She would be into old school chivalry. In a modern, less serious AU, I think she would be the type to stand outside your house with a boombox to apologize because she accidentally shrunk your favorite expensive sweater in the wash. Even within Arcane, I think if she was feeling soft and comfortable enough, she would be the type to carry you over puddles so your shoes didn't get wet or throw stones at your window to get your attention. Not even to go on a big adventure, just to sit on a rooftop and to listen to her hum.

♞I don't think she'd be into getting her crush flowers. She's one of those types who is already hyper exposed to death and wouldn't want to get you anything that has the potential to die. She's not above having Jinx make you some trinket and trying to lie that she made it to impress you, but you know that it's not her handiwork. She does try, though, her and her sticky fingers. Anything your gaze lingers too long on somehow finds its way into your room with a handwritten note from her (her handwriting is shit by the way)

♞As stated above, she is terrible with words yet is most romantic in the most unexpected moments. She is totally the type to hang around doorframes just to lean on them and subtly flex. Does this work? No, but it's funny to see her try and be suave. She succeeds in smaller ways. She is always watching. She notices the small changes in the ways you look at her, knowing when you're trying not to laugh or need her to rescue you from a terrible conversation. The slightly deeper baritone she puts on when she asks, "you alright, pretty?", the way she guides you by the small of your back on instinct. She one of those people who is naturally hot and doesn't realize she doesn't need to try (and don't let her find out she'll be insufferable).

♞I don't think she would confess on her own, it's far more likely you'll have to do it yourself. She would get in her head too much, and her communication skills are awful. She worries that she'll hurt you and won't know how to fix it. She knows relationships are harder work than friendships and she is not confident in her abilities to handle all the responsibility that comes with that. She's reckless with her livelihood, but never you and your wellbeing. Even after a confession, it would take a lot of reassurance that she wouldn't destroy everything.

✭Ekko✭

✭I don't think a crush phase with Ekko would last all that long, especially if it's developed after the Firelight society. I think he's far more self-assured than Vi is and wouldn't see the point in dancing around a relationship. If he wants you and you want him, why make things complicated if they don't need to be. For these reasons, I think he would crush from a far rather than it being a friends to lovers type relationship.

✭Ekko is sappy, let that be known. The first time he sees you time stops. If he's figured out his machine, he may just rewind time to stare at you for a second longer. He becomes a mini-stalker, not breaking into your house or anything, but slyly asking if anyone knows you, where you came from, why he's never seen you before, if you're single? Scar makes fun of him for this, of course, but encourages and indulges him with all he knows

✭The glimpses he sees of you make his whole week. Those short moments you pass by him in a crowd, or he sees you playing with children or passing around food, and he curses himself every time for freezing instead of taking action. And when he does take action, Scar is somewhere around the corner eavesdropping on the conversation and nearly choking on his own laughter when he hears Ekko's opening line, "Tree." Just "Tree". He had meant to say more than that, but when you looked at him, his mind went blank and all he could manage was "Tree" and died inside as you looked up at him confused. Like Vi, he too would stumble over his words at first, or even worse, fall victim to a terribly timed voice crack. He tries to cover it with a cough, but there's really no coming back from that.

✭Lucky for Ekko (who still lays awake at night because of your first interaction), you liked his tree a lot and you talked for hours under it. He walked you home like a gentleman after and shows up the next morning to give you an exclusive tour of the entire place and treats you to lunch

✭After that he pops up everywhere. You need company on an errand, he's some how at your door, checking his watch trying to look nonchalant when he is one of the most chalant people to walk the earth. You get caught in the rain, your eyes aren't deceiving you, that is indeed Ekko in the misty distance with an extra umbrella he 'found' lying around somewhere. You wanna go out one night, that's hilarious because Ekko had the exact same idea and if you're both going out might as well keep each other safe at night.

✭Don't be mistaken, he allows you space. He himself is a man who enjoys solitude, but what is the point of a commune if not community. He can do things alone, and he does, but if he's craving company and you are too, why bother with it. Being together isn't often a big ordeal anyway, sometimes its lounging around in his lab reading a book while he's tinkering away with some good music playing in the background. And sometimes, if the stars align and the moon allows, you slow dance to whatever's playing while talking about your day, even if you spent it together.

✭Ekko can certainly cook. He got quite good at making something out of nothing before his tree, but after, you try convincing him every day to open a restaurant should he ever need some cash on the side. He likes his kitchen a lot, actually, its his private sanctuary. A place where his love of the arts and science come together. In a modern AU, he would totally be on the track to have a degree in biochemistry and plan to open his own restaurant.

✭You two would hang out in his kitchen a lot, and out of the kindness of his heart, he would allow you to lick the spoon anytime he bakes something. It would also be where he confesses, a candlelit dinner for two already set up while both of you prepare what will be your first meal together as a couple.

❂Jayce❂

❂Probably the only one (and Mel) who can pull of being suave. Though he can pull it off, it is not authentic at all. He certainly woos you with it though!! He is a very classic romantic, buying you dozens of roses and wine-and-dining you with fancy champagne and furry rugs, but it's all a facade. He's a really big dork. Unlike the previous two, being suave is the defense he plays rather well. He's a bit scared that when you realize he's really pathetic deep down, you'll be disappointed. He's the man of progress and built like a brickhouse and he is slightly very insecure that's not his personality deep down

❂He enjoys walks in the gardens once you get a bit closer to him. Usually you two will talk in his lab or in your place of work and he'll drop a few cheesy pickup lines with a charming smirk and you'll both laugh it off. You think he's just a flirt for a while and he's really trying to work on you (just very unsuccessfully). It's not until he (very inorganically) tells you he's tired and wants a change of scenery and asks if you'll accompany him to the gardens. For the first time ever, you get one of his toothy smiles instead of those stupid forced smirks and you're really fond of it.

❂From then on, things start progressing much faster. He starts to tell you about Hextech and his theories about the runes and how it all works and babbles about scientific drivel until the sun goes down and, unless you're one of the sciency-types, it goes through one ear and out the other. He's ok with this, he likes having a sponge around to talk things through with, but if you can actually engage, he'd probably get a boner.

❂I feel like out of everyone, after you got close enough, he would do relationship things, creating a very vague space that can leave you questioning whether or not you're together or if you're reading into things too much. This is entirely because he wants to ask you out and he is like 90% percent sure you'll say yes but he's worried about the slim chance you won't and wants you to take the leap for him because he's too scared to.

❂He's a big physical touch guy. Like the type to leave his hands in your back pocket, not even because he's trying to grab your ass, but because he wants to touch you (and your ass). He likes hugs!! He gives such good hugs. While it's usually him leaning on you for touch, placing his head in your lap, grabbing your hands, or letting his hands linger on your hips to rub little patterns, he is beyond excited when it's you are initiating. What do you mean you want a hug from him!!! What do you mean you want to hold his hand!! He is so over the moon excited.

❂Slight side tangent, but if you went out in something low cut he would constantly be staring at your chest. Not even in a perv way (most of the time), but to make sure it doesn't fall down. He has gotten very sly at pulling it up for you in an unnoticeable way. There are a lot of similar acts with him, casual touches here and there. Unsticking your hair from your lip gloss, pulling stray leaves or flower petals out of your hair, making sure the clasp of your necklace stays in place at the back of your neck.

❂I know he smells nice. Dior Sauvage warrior right here!!! He would go slightly overboard with it on the day he confesses just because you said you liked it. He would plan everything to an absolute 't'. A walk in the gardens where you had what he considers your first date, a written speech that become illegible because his hands were sweaty while he was holding it, a specific spot to eat dinner so you got a perfect glimpse of the stars. He would even wait for the day that a specific constellation was in place to perfectly set the mood. He asks you to be his girlfriend like he's proposing, with a single rose and matching bracelets to commemorate the occasion.

☽Viktor☾

☾Viktor is another one I don't really see having a crush just because he is so busy all the time, but I don't think you'd need to work in the lab to catch his attention. I think simple things, like kindness, would really be all he needs. He appreciates someone who doesn't coddle him or look at him funny because he's from Zaun or because of his leg. Someone who is considerate to his disability while also treating him like a person, not like some porcelain doll

☾I think once he found you, he would find it slightly hard to know what to do next. He likes your banter when you come around and he knows he likes you, it's the pursuing part that gets him tripped up. He is someone who likes to have it planned out and he has no idea where he would take you on a date or what you enjoy or who you are really

☾Every hang out would eventually turn into a game of 21 questions. What's your favorite color? What do you like to do in your free time? What's your least favorite chore to do? It all seems very random you two jump from topic to topic when the conversation stills. He also just adores hearing you go on and on about things. They could be the simplest of things, like going into very heavily deep detail as to why your favorite colors purple, or something more substantive, like a full and deep analysis of your favorite book, or just gossip. This man is a D-1 gossiper!!

☾He likes having you around in general. Like Jayce, he enjoys having someone to bounce ideas off of or just being able to hear them out loud. He also feels more at ease around you. Unlike pretty much everyone else, he wouldn't freeze up around his crush. If anything, he's more prone to fault without them there. He gets too wrapped up in work, he forgets to take breaks, he forgets to eat. You're always there to remind him to do what he forgets to the point that you don't even have to say it anymore. He's gotten so good about it, sometimes he makes lunch for the both of you.

☾He absolute adores your banter. He's not as serious as people think he is. He can crack a joke or two. He's sarcastic and witty and a leader of the sassy man apocalypse. He would absolutely die without hearing your laugh at his stupid jokes.

☾On a different note, he would start using pet names so smoothly. It would start slowly with a simple nickname and then eventually progress into one of those old, classic nicknames. Dear or darling would definitely be his go-to's and he would only get bolder as you start to blush more. He's cocky too, he is very aware of the effect he has, and he likes pushing your buttons. It's like a game, the more he picks and prods, the greater his reward is.

☾I also have a feeling he'd be a slight neat freak. Like his lab is a different story, his work is chaotic, but he cannot come home to chaos. I think if you let him into your space, he wouldn't definitely tidy it up subtly. Wiping dust off books and slightly moving objects on your desk so they look more orderly. I feel like this carries over to appearance too. He has a specific way of tying his shoes and he's very meticulous about what ties he wears and knows how to do like every type of knot.

☾He also definitely smells good. You can't convince me he doesn't have like a 12-step shower routine and takes advantage of all of Piltover's fancy soups and colognes. In contrast to Jayce, however, his smelling good is him smelling super clean. Like it's not a scent out of a bottle or anything, nor does he smell exactly like soap, he smells distinctly like himself and very clean.

☾I think he would confess very simply and nonchalantly. It would be a late night in the lab by candlelight or some sort of low lighting has him feeling romantic and bold. He peppers it into conversation smoothly, something like "It's too late tonight, but tomorrow we should go on our first date." And you are taken aback, which he knew you would be. You do ask if he was officially asking you to be his girlfriend and he tells you "he doesn't really like labels", but the wide smile and kiss he gave you said otherwise.

☼Mel☼

☼Probably one of the smoothest talkers out of everyone here. She would have absolutely no problems charming anyone into a relationship. Similar to Jayce, it would be a bit superficial at first. Feeling like she would need a relationship to feel complete, not in a self-esteem way, but rather in an aesthetic way. She is always trying to look very put together and like she has everything under control, and the "complete" life looked like one with a significant other. She eventually realizes a complete life doesn't need a partner, but her complete life wouldn't be complete without you.

☼Mel would feel like she's being obvious towards her crush when she in reality is not. She has this very professional tone about her, and she eventually has to learn that even the sweetest things sound manufactured in that manner. She would talk very softly with her crush, a lot of whispers during council meetings and sweet mutterings while it's just the two of you. This reminds me, if you're shorter than her, she has the very attractive habit of leaning down to speak to you.

☼Big on eye contact. She could talk you unto circles, your pupils dilated and just nodded at anything she says. She finds this very amusing. She is aware of the effect her voice has on people, and she would be lying if she said she didn't put into hyperdrive when it came to you. It's not even a different voice she put on, it's just the way she speaks and looks you in your eyes that's so captivating. She also gives it right back when it comes to listening to you. Though she has the habit of wanting to fix your problems for you, she's gotten good at asking if you even want her advice or just want her to listen.

☼She would love matching with her crush. Once again, someone who visuals are very important to, she likes the idea that you look together, even if you aren't. This also applies to her finding any way for you to be together at public events. Inviting you as her date to a gala or not wanting to do a grocery run alone, she would ask you to come with. She loves looking like you two are dating.

☼Gossip sessions would go insane. It's definitely a scheduled weekend event with face masks and nails, she'll braid your hair and in return you'll pick out new charms and styles for her to put hers in. Part of it is because she likes being well informed about what everyone is up to and part of it is bonding over despising the same people in the council (this is directed at Salo). Her favorite part of it is being around you; it's a very intimate activity that she can't get enough of.

☼I feel it in my bones that she's the type to open doors for you. Car doors, carriage doors, your hand will not grace a single doorknob or handle around her. She would also be on top of the weather, festivals and fun events happening, and things concerning to your interests. You will never regret not wearing your rainboots because she would've told you the forecast the morning. Your favorite music artists are coming soon, good thing she told you like a month ago so you could get tickets before everyone else.

☼She is another chef, but of the comfort food variety. Her food just tastes like a warm hug, and she is the first you go to when feeling under the weather. She takes great pride in this. She doesn't cook often and she doesn't even enjoy the activity that much, preferring to eat out or have a private chef, but she likes that she has something that she can do for you.

☼I don't think it would take her very long to ask you out, especially if she felt like the feelings were reciprocated. To her, there's no point in prolonging the inevitable and she really likes the way your names sound together. I think she is also sappy; she is just incredibly well at hiding it. All of the acts of service mentioned above are usually done casually. She wins the nonchalant Olympics even when she's not trying to. She thinks it's incredibly clear, but the way she comes across doesn't convey that. Thus, her sappy moments are few and far between and she gets very bashful when they're mentioned.

☼Definitely has a scrapbook of your times together as well as a diary where she talks about you for pages on end. The discovery of this would lead to the confession. It would be uncomfortable for her just because it would be so impromptu and that is not how she likes to do things. She would be very vulnerable and honest about her feelings and would call this your "unofficial" confession. She would later go all out as she had always intended during her confession

[zaine-m]

I like to think that Jayce and Viktor get a happy ending in the other universe too

Jayce feels awful that hextech took a life. Especially seeing powder (who is around the same age he was when him and his mom were saved by hextech) holding her dead sister's body

He says similar things as in the start of the trial but now fully meaning them and never mentions trying to create magic

Vander comes to Jayce's trial and stands up for him, saying he's just a stupid kid with a dream to help people who didn't know what he was doing

"Vi's with her mom now, let Jayce go home to his"

He does still sneak into his lab to attempt suicide but this time Viktor's "am I interrupting?" doesn't do anything, Jayce just turns back around and jumped, not being able to handle the guilt of accidentally taking a life while also realizing his life's work only caused harm

He survives the attempt and wakes up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down with his mother crying next to him

Viktor comes in a bit later while his mom is out making some food for him

His tone is completely too cold for the situation. Jayce is in complete despair and Viktor refuses to match the mood

He says most of the same stuff about how hextech can change people's lives but Jayce responds "yeah, well so far all it's done is a take the life of an innocent child"

"ehh, she was from the undercity. I grew up there, many children did not live to see adulthood"

"How does that make anything better?"

"Because this has the potential to change that. One explosion? There are toxic fumes and polluted waters slowly killing hundreds of children each year"

"Even if I wanted to I'm banned from the academy and ..." *waves at legs*

"pshh, you think trenchers are supposed to be at the academy and everything I did in my life I did while being disabled"

"Listen, I can't help you"

Viktor leaves Jayce's bracelet by his bed and heads towards the door. Jayce takes one look at it and throw it across the room in anger. "you probably shouldn't throw that", "GET OUT!"

A while later Vander comes to invite Jayce to Vi's memorial at the last drop

Jayce feels so guilty when he first comes into the last drop, everyone is staring at him

He sees Ekko, the kind little kid who had sold him such reasonably prices wares just days before his experiments accidentally killed his friend

Powder just starting going at him when she first sees him, her weak child-who-has-never-punched-before fists do very little damage especially because she's going so fast she doesn't fully pull her hands back

Jayce just lets her at it, crying and apologizing between the blows

Vander comes to pull Powder off of him, "it wasn't his fault, he didn't know how dangerous the materials were" she just looks back and screams at him before going back to her bedroom

Vander takes Jayce on a walk through the undercity to talk,

"Everyone in there knew what I did?"

"huh, no?"

"they were looking at me like I was a monster"

"yeah, that's cause you're dressed like a piltie"

"ohh, ha... I'm so sorry about what happened to Vi"

"It's a shame, but she's with her parents now"

*Jayce looks down, only feeling worse finding out the girl he killed was an orphan*

"You want to know how her parents died?" *they arrive at the bridge* "I thought I could help the undercity, create a better world by fighting for sovereignty. I led us across this bridge and lost so many people in the process, the undercity is still recovering"

"I'm so sorry"

"I was like you, I was young and ambitious and I wanted to help people. But you know what I learned. You don't need to make giant leaps to help the people around you"

On the way back Vander points out all the ways he's helped different people in the undercity, helping them make a business plan, caring for their kids when they were sick, helping them find a community at the last drop

He also points out all the things that could be helped like roofs with holes in them and cliffs that should have railings

"You don't need hextech to help the world, Jayce"

Jayce spends his time between his family's forge doing hammer work and around the undercity working as a handyman, building what he can to help people

Eventually he tracks down Viktor, hoping to find ways to make a more systemic change for things like the dirty water and polluted air

Viktor works on studies surveying the living conditions of those in the undercity and seeing what affects it has on expected lifespan and the likelihood of developing different diseases to present to the council

That along with the more pro-Zaun push that's been happening since Vi's death he gets quite a bit of work done

While he's doing this Jayce does what he can to start implementing changes by making water filters and distributing masks to those in the slump levels

After a few years Jayce petitions to be let back into the academy to help Viktor with his work on a formal level and with outstanding testimonials from many people in the undercity he's let back in

When their work making the undercity safer is done they move onto studying how to treat the various illnesses people in the undercity have suffered from living there

first starting with Viktor's various physical health issues and finding that a lot of his issues come from it never being studied how to use mobility aids and how improper use can put a strain on other parts of your body so he switched to a forearm crutch to help his back

I'm gonna say in this universe Viktor just has severe asthma which they're able to find medicines to treat so he still has issues breathing in a lot of the undercity, he just wears a mask most of the time and keeps his medication with him

Viktor and Jayce end up dating but it happens to slowly that it's hard to realize, they just spend all their time together working on their research and then they get an apartment together because they were both looking for roommates

Jayce stopped looking for people to date after the accident because he was going through a big life change and never got back in the game and Viktor always rejected anyone, saying he was too busy with his studies

Jayce is just physically affectionate in a way where hugging Viktor a lot turns into Viktor sitting on his lap whenever his leg is sore turns into Jayce playing with Viktor's hair when he's bored turns into them cuddling on the couch turns into them cuddling in bed turns into kisses on the forehead when one of them is sick turns into kisses when they're not sick

They're at the last drop one day and Viktor gets up off Jayce's lap to use with washroom and Vander asks Jayce, "so you think you'll propose soon" Jayce almost spits out his food, "what, what do you mean?"

"I mean you've been dating for like what 5 years now. You gotta pop the question sooner or later"

"umm... yeah" wait fuck are we dating, have we been dating for 5 years, what

In bed that night: "Viktor, I... I think I might like you... like romantically. I guess I never thought about it but I was talking to Vander and... and you've been the most important person in my life for the past like 6 years"

"Jayce, I thought we were dating? How are you only realizing this now"

"ohh"

"I called you my partner"

"I thought you meant like research partner"

"we kissed a lot"

"I thought those were like just for comfort... between friends"

*Viktor kisses him passionately but not the most passionately they've kissed before*

"Does that seem like it would be between friends?"

"heh, now that you mention it I guess not"

[kirain]

Rook/Emmerich fic Rook/Emmerich fic ROOK/EMMERICH FIC!

Lmfao! Here you go, anon.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth and the scratching of Emmrich's quill against parchment. His study was dimly lit, the warm glow of candlelight dancing across his cluttered desk, laden with books, maps, and papers detailing plans too dangerous to speak of. Though nothing was more dangerous than the journey he was about to embark on, the reality of death pervading his mind.

With a dejected sigh, he dipped his quill one last time, the ink glistening as he signed his name with a flourish.

"Darling!" he called as Vae entered, her cerulean eyes grabbed his attention. "I'm just finishing reviewing my bequeathments. It made me consider… a topic I must broach." He stood to face her, nervously rubbing his hands. "The eve before we kill a god, my thoughts turn to mortality. And what we are to each other."

Vae tilted her head, her smile laced with curiosity. "All right."

Emmrich paused, his expression uncertain, as though balancing on the edge of a precipice. "Even under the best circumstances, you will outlive me, Rook. You've… grown to mean much to me and… I care for you, Rook! Deeply. But there are such years between us, I shouldn't heap you with that burden."

Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, more sincere. "I get it. You're scared because you love me."

"What?" His voice faltered, betraying his usual composure. He could sense she was teasing him, despite the gravity of his insinuation.

"It's fine to say it," she pushed, searching for something he wasn't ready to give.

"I can't… at my—"

"You're older than me. I get it." Her words were firm but devoid of judgment, though Emmrich still thought she was joking.

"I'm perfectly serious," he replied, his tone heavy with exasperation.

"So am I!" she snapped back, her patience slipping. "Why are you making this such a big deal?"

"One of us has to pay attention to these things," he countered, his words coming out sharper than intended.

"One of us needs the guts to say how he feels!" Vae's voice rang out, rousing and raw. There was no anger in it—just frustration born from longing.

Emmrich froze, his eyes widening, a flicker of shock breaking through his unflappable facade. For a moment, it seemed as though he had something to add; some rehearsed reply teetering on the edge of his lips. But then, as if overwhelmed by Vae's very presence, he looked away, his shoulders sinking.

The silence that followed stretched on for far too long, thick and uncomfortable. Vae stared at him, willing him to speak, to mend the gap he'd suddenly torn between them. She could feel her pulse quicken, her anger rising with every second that passed without a response, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

His refusal to meet her gaze, to give her the acknowledgment she so desperately craved, stung more than the words he hadn't said. But soon her anger crumbled into something worse—disappointment. She could feel it welling up inside her, making her chest clench against her ribs as the realisation settled: he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to do anything.

A sharp ache pierced her wounded heart, but she couldn't force him to speak, and she didn't want to. Slowly, she let her arms drop to her sides. "Look, I... let's pack. Eve before we face a god, right?"

The older man straightened up. He wanted to apologise, but amidst his creeping guilt all he could muster was, "As you say."

The look on Vae's face mounted his guilt tenfold. He could see the hurt in her eyes, much to his dismay. He caused it, and for that he'd never forgive himself.

As she turned away, he lowered his head in shame, every nerve ablaze. He knew he should say something, but for once his extensive vocabulary failed. So many words, so many meanings, and yet none seemed sufficient. Fear, degradation, the weight of his deepest insecurities, and the thought that Vae would one day have to mourn him, alone and heartbroken, chipped away at his sensitive soul.

He kept quiet, even as his inner voice screamed for her to stay. Only Manfred's inquisitive hiss jolted him from his stupor, earning him a rare look of reproach.

"Don't start," he grumbled, his eyes drifting back to Vae.

The further she moved, the more every instinct screeched at him to call out, to bring her back, to make things right. But the words stuck in his throat, his feet rooted to the spot. He could taste the cowardice in his hesitation, and the helplessness of watching her saunter away, but he convinced himself it was better. For her, it was better. His desires didn't matter.

"Actually... no," she whispered, stopping just shy of the door. "No, we're not leaving it like this."

He flinched as she marched back to him, her expression indomitable. "Rook?"

She raised a respectful hand. "Emmrich, do you really think I never considered your age?"

His fingers twitched. "I..."

"Because I did. Of course I did."

"Darling—"

"My parents were murdered, Emmrich. Right in front of me", she said quickly, causing him to wince. "My poor, sweet baby brother, too." She looked away, her brow arching. "I watched them die. I watched..." Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she swallowed loudly, forcing them down.

"Oh, Vaelyn..." Emmrich struggled. He reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it, worried she'd recoil in disgust. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you relive that awful memory."

She shook her head, meeting his gaze once more. "I know what it's like to love someone and lose them long before you should. But I've chosen to face that pain again... because it's worth it. You're worth it, Emmrich." Her words were like a physical blow, but she wasn't finished. "Not having you in my life, not because of the inevitable, but because you're too scared to share the time you have... hurts more than I can bear. Worse than losing you naturally."

Emmrich stood speechless, struck by the depth of her confession. He knew there was nothing he could say to undo the pain he'd caused her, but Vae wasn't looking for an apology. She was telling him what she needed, what she wanted. The truth.

"If you think you're the only one tortured by the concept of time," she added, her voice faint, "you're wrong. I think about my brother every day. About the time he lost. He was so much younger than me, Emmrich. So full of life he deserved to live." She took a breath, a brief respite. "But I also think about the time we had together, and that makes me smile. I'm glad I had him, for however short or long it was." Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. "If you care about me, then stop hiding behind your age. Because you're right—we don't have forever. We only have the here and now, but that's enough for me."

Emmrich remained silent, his heart pounding like a drum. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, more wild and unpredictable than he'd ever allowed. He hadn't known the full weight of what she carried—the profound, unstoppable pain. Yet there she was, choosing him despite it all.

The guilt he felt for holding back, for trying to reject her in the coldest way, washed over him like a ruinous flood. And in the quiet aftermath of her words, there was a part of him that felt something shift; a crack in the armour he'd built for himself.

Suddenly, before Vae could react, he pulled her into a tight, penitent hug. His arms wrapped around her with a force that conveyed everything he hadn't been able to say, his face burying itself in her lush, floral-scented hair.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I've been such a fool. I never wanted to hurt you. Never." He squeezed tighter, as if trying to make up for the rift he'd thrust between them.

At first, Vae didn't respond, her body stiff in his embrace, but being held with such genuine remorse, his arms trembling with self-condemnation, shattered her resolve. The fight swiftly left her mind, her hands riding up his back as she melted against him.

"Emmrich..."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "You were right, I was scared. Unfathomably scared."

Vae shook her head, clinging to his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. "Don't apologise for being scared. Just... don't shut me out. Please."

"I won't," he said, his bare hand moving to cradle her head. "I won't shut you out. Not again. I promise."

[destinygoldenstar]

TRAILERRRRRR!!!!!

Okay, so Netflix DIDN'T lie. Confirmed.

I'm NOT as scared about the release date as others. I'm still worried. But I can also see it because from what I've heard, Episodes 2-4 were being made around the same time. So, by that logic, the quality should be similar.

"But why was there such a gap with 2 & 3 then?" MURDER DRONES WAS RELEASING ITS FINALE IN BETWEEN. THAT'S WHY. Some of the animators for Digital Circus work on Murder Drones too. So OF COURSE, to avoid overworking them, there'd be a gap for Digital Circus content.

And now that Murder Drones has ended, there's not that issue anymore.

That's the logic I'm going with, anyway. I would wait to raise the red flags till AFTER this episode comes out and we hear Episode 5 comes out in, like, a month or something.

I HOPE TO GOD THAT LINE AGES HORRIBLY.

Also, um... an episode about working minimum wage labor.

These episodes are built for me, I swear.

We also have the characters in different outfits, which is neat. Clearly just for this episode. Still.

I NOTICED THIS POSTER.

"Customer is always right! Serve with a smile!"

THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I HAVE BEEN TOLD THIS IS INSANE AND DRIVES ME ABSOLUTELY NUTS.

I WOULD GET SCOFFED AT AND SCREAMED AT BY PEOPLE, AND I'M THE ONE THAT GETS IN TROUBLE.

We also have Ragatha and Gangle interacting.

I wonder why they're playing with a baseball specifically.

Because in the last episode the leisure activity played into the adventure.

JAX'S NAMETAG SAYS "I DON'T CARE"

LMAO

Gangle looks like she's been possessed by Monokuma.

This is DEFINATELY a new mask.

Here's my prediction:

Gangle has a background actress-related. (Comedy & Tragedy Mask Duality) And she is bullied CONSTANTLY in the previous episodes.

So when she's given the role of manager, she creates a new mask for herself, A NEW CHARACTER. One that gives her confidence and a character so ruthless that she can't be pushed around.

It's her spotlight. It's her time to shine.

So is the comedy&tragedy duality bipolar disorder?

We'll see. I got Kinger's mental issue wrong.

It could also be that Gangle is autistic. I KNOW AS AN AUTISTIC PERSON MYSELF. It's pretty easy for autistic people to latch onto a character they can bring to life in order to interact with people. But when provoked as themselves, confidence can easily break.

So no, I don't think she's being psychotic. I think she's putting on an act for her self esteem.

And I think whatever damage she causes in the episode will not have malicious intent from her.

I say this because we ALSO see her looking at herself in the mirror.

THIS IS ZOOBLE'S ROOM BTW. THAT'S INTERESTING.

Did Zooble loan Gangle this?

Assuming they did because we have THIS hand reach out to Gangle.

So what I'm thinking the start of the episode is: Gangle and Ragatha are playing baseball, by accident, the ball breaks Gangle's masks.

She's crying, she's writing, and then Zooble eavesdrops and offers to help.

And we know this is Zooble's hand because they're participating in the adventure with that hand.

YAY!

This guy is so stiffly animated. Or maybe it's just me.

Maybe there's a story reason for it. Idk.

They advertised this guy awhile back, said "He's everyone's favorite character".

I'm calling Glitch's bluff. I'm gonna say this guy is going to be VERY INTENTIONALLY written to be UNLIKEABLE, ANNOYING, AND MISERABLE.

And it's gonna be COMEDY GOLD to have Caine and the Circus go around exclaiming how he's the best.

CAINE GETTING THIS SUGGESTION BOX IS SO INTERESTING.

I THINK this is from Zooble.

After their therapy session, and Zooble saw first hand what could happen if Caine cuts adventures altogether, I can see Zooble making adventure suggestions that would be comfortable for them to participate in. To please Caine and to protect the circus from collapsing.

We're also getting Caine lore. BECAUSE WHERE IS THIS ROOM SUPPOSED TO BE? THIS LOOKS FAR TOO NORMAL.

AND WHAT IS POMNI DOING HERE CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR?

First off, I'm okay with her taking a backseat. She's the main character so obviously she'd get the lionshare of screen time. BUT there are other characters in this show and the show knows that. So as a Pomni Stan, I'm completely okay with this.

BUT is she snooping on Caine???

Two possibilities: One, this is just the burger place. Which is likely.

OR this is where Caine is, and she dips from the adventure to eavesdrop and figures out some lore stuff.

Not seeing her doing much else this episode anyway.

CAUSE LOOK AT THIS. SHE'S TRYING TO THROW AWAY SOMETHING AND GETS CAUGHT BY GANGLE? SHE HIDING S&#T DOG.

THE GLOINK QUEEN IS BACK.

Probably as just a cameo. BUT THE GLOINK QUEEN IS BACK.

Hmmmm... if the Gloink Queen is coming back, I wonder if someone else could show up...

[elebicheee]

Insecure Attraction- X-MEN 97!Logan X F!Reader

A/N: I had to exorcise this from my system sksksksksksk. Might make a part two if anyone wants it.

Wordcount: 2142

Summary: Feelings grow like plants, and with plants come weeds that hinder that growth. After a close call on a mission Logan takes it upon himself to train you, and for a fleeting moment you think maybe your one-sided crush isn't as one-sided as you thought. Then you're interrupted, and jealousy rears its ugly head.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Unrequited love but is it tho? Reader is described as taller than Logan and is referred to as she/her but no physical descriptions are used. Lowkey Jean Grey slander but its due to jealousy and misunderstanding.

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

To say you'd spent most of your time in the mansion praying to whatever gods were out there that the telepaths on the property couldn't hear your thoughts was an understatement. Since you moved here everyone has been very welcoming and accommodating. And though you'd been a mutant your entire life, this was the first time you'd ever had to deal with mind readers. And that made you nervous.

Not because you had any sort of nefarious plans or dark treacherous secrets. But because you had a crush. A big one.

And you really, really, wanted to keep it under wraps because the thought of it ever turning into anything seemed so preposterous and far-fetched that your own feelings made you embarrassed. 

It started very slowly, your crush on Logan, so slow that by the time it had blossomed completely the roots were too deeply bedded to simply rip out. You didn't like him at first, he was brash, stubborn and pretty rude. And, not to mention, short. All things that you didn't like, at all. Surely. You'd entertained enough assholes in your life to want anything to do with him at all, and standing at almost six feet you knew how men reacted to feeling ‘lesser’. And by all accounts, you should want nothing to do with Logan-fucking-Howlett.

But here you were. It was strange how people's roles in one's mind changed without notice. 

Your powers were simple, being able to conjure panels of energy that you mostly used as shields for yourself or others. You had a pretty background position on the team, which you didn't mind at all given that before this you'd never really fought much. This relegated you to work on more ‘search and rescue’ missions after the big fights. Your panels allow you to keep buildings steady to give first responders time to get people out or keeping them safe during combat while they did their jobs. It was during these tasks that you saw the cracks in Logan’s gruff facade. 

It wasn't a secret that he all but ran towards the battlefield as soon as a skirmish started. But what most people didn't know was that he stayed, long after the battles ended. His body still healing from the damage, suit torn, he’d help anyone stuck under rubble, he'd take hits from falling debris in their place knowing that he could heal but they couldn't. 

“Fuck!” You heard his gruff voice nearby after the unmistakable sound of falling rubble and a fragile scream. You turned from the pillar you were holding in place to see Logan crouching over an elderly woman, a partially destroyed wall crumbled over his back.

“Logan!” You made sure it was safe to release your hold on the pillar before making your way to him carefully. There was some blood on his part but nothing he wouldn't walk away from. Making sure there was nothing stabbing him, you created a panel between his back and the shattered wall, keeping it firmly in place allowing him to move freely and carry the old woman to safety. Despite the obvious pain he was in he moved carefully, mindful of the old woman's fragility. You stared as he handed her carefully to the paramedics nodding wordlessly at her teary thank yous and walking away. It was only when you heard Scott call for your help that you released the wall you were holding in place, its impact on the floor waking you from your dazedness that you tore your gaze away from Logan's wounded back and continued to do your job. 

That was one of many moments that slowly chipped away at your crude first impression of him, and built something more for him inside your heart.

For the most part, you just observed from afar, convinced that this was enough for you. Because his heart already belonged to someone else. Because men don't like taller women. Because he wasn't the relationship-type unless it involved a certain redhead. Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

Every small act of kindness offered or thoughtful gestures that were meant only for those on the receiving end and no one else made the feeling in your chest tighter. Saving civilians, despite the very real possibility that they were mutant-hating bigots; Or offering reassurance to Morph when they were having a bad day. Every action just crushed your little heart bit by bit.

You wanted to bash your head against a wall.

Once you knew that Logan could be kind, it was impossible to not see every little act of kindness hidden beneath layers of brashness and sarcasm. Like right now.

After a particularly difficult mission you were overwhelmed by the amount of rubble and buildings you had to keep together as first responders cleared the area. Too overwhelmed to notice a rogue sentinel. Which would have gotten you killed, had Logan not been there.

Now you made your way through the simulation currently running in the danger room, dodging and redirecting attacks and falling debris thrown your way from the simulated sentinels. Logan though you didn't get enough time in the field, which made you rusty. And being rusty could mean death. Even though you knew this impromptu training session came from a place of care, you were perfectly fine with your rust. 

“This is so not necessary!” You yelled at him while taking cover behind an overturned vehicle, “I'm not a fighter, I'm a first responder!” A blast shot near your head and you turned and ran further away from the approaching sentinel.

“The Friends of Humanity and the sentinels won't care ‘bout that bub.” Logan answered sharply through the P.A. system, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You're a mutant, that's all they'll see. They'll take any chance they can get to kill ya.” Blocking a direct shot from the sentinel you gasped in exhaustion and ran into an alley. “You're not gonna give em’ that chance.” 

Fuck. He definitely wasn't gonna let you out of here unless you took down that sentinel or you were too wounded to continue. And you preferred it be the former rather than the latter. Partially because the latter came with a scolding, but mostly because you didn't want to break anything during a training session of all things. You took a breath. You weren't great at attacks, mainly because you lacked the control it took to make a plan and then move it, but you could do them. You crouched and looked back at the sentinel, it lost sight of you but it was coming closer, scanning. If you could line your shot just right, you could probably take it down in one shot. You needed to move in close, your focus, or lack thereof, wouldn't allow for any sort of long range attack.

You sighed deeply, feeling the burn of exhaustion in your lungs, and ran out and towards the thing. It was scanning a nearby building, and so long as you didn’t make too much noise you'd have a few precious seconds to get close enough to decapitate the thing. But luck was not on your side since a car you jumped over decided to blast it’s alarm. Great, you'd definitely have to try launching a plane from much farther than you anticipated. The sentinel turned to face you, standing at attention it raised an arm and shot a beam in your direction. You got low, dodging as you rolled in its direction. You focused the shape of the plan in your mind, raised your hand as you ran in the machine's direction and similar to a pitcher, accumulating all the force and focus you could, you threw the thing in its direction. 

Your knees buckled under you, they hit the simulated pavement. You looked up to see that your plane had left a cut on the sentinels face, it was deep enough to incapacitate the thing, but not the decapitation you were planning. But it worked the same. The thing fell forward, debris piling around it and in all directions. But before it could reach you the simulation disappeared. You sighed in relief and sat back.

Logan entered the now empty danger room and approached you. He kneeled in front of you, a smirk on his face.

“Now that wasn't so hard, was it bub?” He asked sarcastically, making sure you weren't seriously injured, but aside from a few knicks and scratches you were fine. Content with that knowledge he offered a hand to you. “Next time we'll try two.”

“Hilarious.” You deadpanned, taking his hand as he hauled you to your feet. You took in the feel of his calloused hand in yours, and for a moment wondered how many times of hurt it took for someone with a near perfect healing factor to have hands as callous as his’. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and ignored the heat crawling from your hand up to your neck. “I am never doing this again, thank you.” You continued letting go of his hand, you looked down at him desperately hoping he couldn't tell how you were feeling inside. With his enhanced senses, you could never know, but you schooled your features.

“C’mon kid, my teachin’ aint that bad.” He chuckled looking up at you. The way he never hesitated looking up at you, never took a step back to measure your height against his, even the first time you met, always added fuel to the fire in your heart. Men were always weird about you being taller than them, but never Logan. Sometimes you wished he would, then maybe you'd be able to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

“It's definitely intense.” You averted your gaze and bussied yourself with checking where you needed to have your uniform mended. Honestly unnecessary since Hank seemed to enjoy those tasks, but anything that could keep your gaze away from him was welcome. 

“You can handle it.” His voice was deep, husky. And for a single delusional moment you wondered if he was actually talking about the training. 

No. Surely not.

“Well, I'm glad one of us thinks so.” You tried to sound sarcastic, not flustered. You went to walk past him but he stopped you with a hold on your arm. You looked back at him, his gaze was serious, you ignored how it felt to have those eyes on you.

“I'm serious.” His voice was firm, his hand firm on your arm, not letting go. “You can handle this, you need to. You could've died out there.”

“I didn't, I'm fine.” 

“You almost weren't.” He grit his teeth, he brought up his other hand and held your other arm. Now you faced him fully. He was not letting you go. “I can't always be there to keep you safe, I need to know that you'll be okay even if I'm not there.”

“I-” You gaped at him, your face was so hot you feared you'd combust right there. You tried to squirm out of his grasp, but his hold was firm, the more you tried to escape him the firmer his hold became. “I appreciate the concern, but I promise I'm fine!”

“Listen-” The sudden swish of the entrance to the danger room cut him off. Both of you turned to face the door to find Jean Grey standing there. Instantly he dropped his hands, leaving you colder than you were before his touch.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, a hint of amusement on her face. “I can come back later.”

“No.” His answer was so immediate it felt like you'd been shot in the chest. “What do you need Jeannie?” He walked over to her, back to you. 

And there it was. 

She was his Jeannie. His everything. The girl he'd wait forever for even when she's clearly never looking his way, not really. For a moment you just watched them. The way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. Whatever they were saying was completely lost to you. The few feet between you and the pair felt like miles.

The other root took hold. Green and ugly. Jealousy. Was it fair to be so jealous over someone that would never be yours? The warm feeling in your chest turned cold, gripping and painful.

It wasn't fair. She has Scott, why was she still stringing Logan along?!-

Her gaze shot towards you, eyes wide.

Oh no.

no , no, no!

You'd thought too loud. She’d definitely heard you. Logan looked between the two of you, confused. He hesitated, but took a step towards you. 

You pushed past the pair, ignoring both their protests, heart hammering in your ears. If Logan called after you, you didn't hear him. 

You really hated living with telepaths.

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience

[fragmentedblade]

Also, Ruan Mei was the one who lent the Phase Flame to Ratio, wasn't she?

[lingeringscars]

i just think there is something about how nat could never forgive herself for javi sacrificing himself for her. she was worse than all of them because she let this kid, her somewhat boyfriend's brother, her own family, her friend, die in her place. it was supposed to be her, she heard the cries from javi and watched him die nonetheless.

but now she didn't watch. she didn't watch at all when it came to lisa. she stole the fish. she intervened with her family. she died in her place. nat healed a part of her when sacrificing herself for lisa. it wasn't right. it wasn't her time. she didn't want to go, but she got to finally pay forward javi's sacrifice in a way that she's never been able to do and always been punishing herself for. she got to heal her inner child by saving lisa. ( the irony is that it may not have happened had she not gone to try and save lisa to begin with. not tipped her off to something happening. these are the consequences of the girls actions. they wanted a hunt through the woods, they got one. they went after shauna and called off services, nat pays the price. misty tries to solve the problem the way she has been but she's not a perfect serial killer and she missed. they covered up the wrong guy at the end of last season. they killed the wrong person at the end of this one. ).

travis didn't break the pact, but neither did she. she did better. (btw travis was on the plane <3)

[omarwolaeth]

thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks

[wetbananapeel]

First gourd (and radish) I carved in my life 31 October 2019

[non-un-topo]

There are so many lectures and panels I want to attend in the next few weeks, but god am I just completely sapped of energy. I’m falling asleep on my feet.

[reginrokkr]

◜According to the records I was able to access, your sibling suddenly appeared in Khaenri'ah... After the Khaenri'ah disaster, she began her journey through the seven nations of Teyvat. But just as the journey was about to reach its conclusion, the Irminsul records on her suddenly become fuzzy... [...] All I know for sure is that somebody, for reasons only they can know, is deliberately obfuscating her fate... And whoever it is... if they can do that, who knows what else they're capable of.◞

Not me being like after revisiting this and seeing Nahida not having a peep to say about Dain. I've long since resigned to the fact that the treatment HYV is giving him is because of what he has to offer lore-wise and as to not rush things before time when it comes about him. But if there is an explanation to this (I hope), it's very mysterious that she wouldn't see anything in him when she was able to extend her knowledge about Descenders through Irminsul or the Heavenly Principles. Or the prospect that she has limited access to the information stored in Irminsul considering who she is and what Rhukkadevata represented— which is still quite confusing as she's still able to know about the nature of Descenders and know things about the Heavenly Principles which... we've seen in multiple instances that their information tends to be blurry. That is, unless Dain never existed in the first place in Irminsul's records because he may be one said Descender himself.

[angel---eater]

Being consistently misgendered in DBT is slowly driving me insane.

[mc-critical]

Once again, the way S02A adds new plots and new characters and they all struggle to contend for screentime in each episode, is palpable.