#so this description is loose for now

[adventures-written]

Nai regression AU; July goes badly

v;; forgotten pieces of a shattered mind (side; knives millions)

It was all setup to be the perfect rebirth for his brother. That was the plan; Save his brother, save the Plants, destroy humanity. Unfortunately for Knives, the plan did not go quite as expected. Somewhere caught in the mix of it all, he had used too much of his own power. In the aftermath, Millions Knives was not his former self. He was regressed, thrown back in time like some cruel irony. He was a child, lost and afraid, without his memories. He is aware of his brother, Vash, and he knows of Rem, but any memories he has of the crash, of being on this planet, of the things he has done, are all gone. He is alone with nothing to do but fear.

(A verse in which Nai could have a second chance. Vash would still be older obviously, but I like the idea of Nai being able to be changed and have something happy for once....Verse items may change depending on what happens in Episode 12 of the Dub.)

[chick-it-out]

if you had to pick... top 3 favorite pokemon? or more if you can't narrow it down that much (like me)

made em a team of 6 (plus one mistake missing no. in the corner):

:)

[captainclickycat]

Me: So basically it's a bit like the sort of dream you might have if you fell asleep watching Muppet Treasure Island while Flight of the Conchords were playing in the background, in a living room whose decor was like 75% Pride merch. But it's also a really tender romance and a commentary on toxic masculinity and the boxes society and the people around us try to forcibly cram us into and how we don't have to be stuck in them forever. It's great, you'll love it so much.

My past self, who somehow retroactively invented time travel to come talk to me: That's wonderful, but I was really hoping you'd tell me how we're doing careerwise and stuff.

[justaz]

s1ep13 merlin, believing he will be dead by morning, goes to say goodbye to arthur and he leans against the door of arthur’s chambers and watches the glow of the fire light his skin golden, full of color and life that it had been sorely lacking while the prince was injured. he stares at the softness of arthur’s features and pressed the line of his profile into memory for while he passes he will wish for nothing more than to see arthur one last time, his smile and blue eyes one last comfort before he passes on to the otherworld. arthur turns to stare at him and frowns at whatever expression merlin is making. the prince kicks a weak foot out at the chair next to him and motions for merlin to join him. merlin slowly shuffles over but ignores the chair completely. he stops in front of arthur who watches him with wary confusion. the tug of his lips and the furrow of his brow sickeningly endearing and merlin allows himself to be selfish and leans down to press his lips to arthur’s.

the prince is sat frozen under merlin’s touch but he can’t find himself to care much about that, not when he finally knows what it feels like to kiss arthur. he hopes that will be his last sensation before the ever consuming nothing, he hopes he will close his eyes one last time only to find arthur grinning at him and calling him an idiot before leading him into paradise where he can watch arthur smile, hear him laugh, and feel his touch for all eternity. he pulls away and leaves before arthur can gather himself to form a response, dropping the letter explaining everything on the table as he passes. so he allows himself to be selfish twice - to take from arthur and to give, to let himself know what is feels to kiss the man, to embrace his feelings for him, and to have the man know him for who he truly is. he wishes to pass peacefully with no regrets. somehow that revolves entirely around arthur.

only…he survives the whole ordeal and yeah has a gnarly scar on his chest but is otherwise fit to return to his duties. which include taking care of the prince. of arthur. who he kissed. and who most definitely know about his magic by now. yeesh.

[uncanny-tranny]

In my quest to be a mediocre knitter, I started with twenty stitches after my cast-on and ended with twenty-two

[dizzybutterflyanons]

Someone: hi

Me: I’ve never seen darker times, and I’ve covered the protest live, at the Hatchet Kennel. I am Dan Reynolds....with Action News, weekdays at 10 PM (/lyr)

[billyloomisisarat]

i just wanna say i feel so satisfied and so comfortable after discovering this new writing format i am using for billy... like this whole movie narrator pov that's actually coming from his little, twisted mind as an opener that allows me to delve into details about a specific scenario with ease—— it's so refreshing to me i swear

[diabeticgirl4]

Just realized I lost one of my cat keychains off my backpack and I'm v sad about it :(

[teaboot]

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

[thatdeadaquarius]

👀✨️ U CANT HIDE THESE GEMS IN THE TAGSSS

So like I just went through almost all your language posts and I was wondering what if like the creator sometimes just switches languages out of no where and everyone is just like:😃. Cuz like they don’t understand what they mean and it happens randomly too or when they’re irritated and they just start cussing in like 3 different languages at once

IM SO SORRY TO DO IT TO YOU-

but i think ive written some stuff abt this before?

u know what tho.

ive got an even better idea. my “go-to” if you will.

Torture Alhaitham.

>:)

^^^ ALHAITHAM RUNNING U DOWN AFTER YOU SAY EXACTLY (1) WORD IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE HE’S NEVER HEARD-

☆

Sun: Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT headcanons-ish?, Language shenanigans!

Stars: Alhaitham (suffer lol)

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: None Known & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

he’s watching you. constantly.

he’s always writing about you.

he’s following you around Sumeru City.

he’s following you around Port Ormos.

he’s at your house-

Alhaitham learns you speak multiple languages before any other akademiya schloar, and he’s submitting a thesis about “the Greatest Lords languages from their home world”

before you can even say “I’ll think about it” in any language u know lol

people have definitely mistaken him as your favored acolyte (not that he does much to deny it)

and talk to him like he’s your secretary?? …oh, welp.

Alhaitham knows your schedule for the next month within a week of following you

mans is willing to do the MOST to get you to sit down and just start talking in a language at him

want food? his specialty dish ingredients are always at the ready at his house

want literature? he’s offering to literally break into the akademiya (or giving you a copy of his house key to have access to his personal library all the time)

(tho kaveh is practically hugging you to his chest as you walk around perusing as he talks ur ear off lmao)

Haitham (he sometimes insists you call him when it’s just you two) wants to singlehandedly be the first person who understands every word you say when u coo at dogs in another language

or cuss out a fictional character for being stupid

CRYING U CANT EVEN GET MAD AT HIM BC

every time u get pissed he’s interrupting every other word you say to ask for definitions/clarifications of slang 😭

send help he’s made a red string theory board of all the languages you’ve used to try and just- make sense of all their rules and when you use them and how to tell the difference and oh no-

Alhaitham’s hanging pictures of you mid-sentence with ur mouth open or even worse when ur yelling.

…u know maybe its not for an akademiya project, maybe he’s just trying to humble you. 💀

☆

thanks again for sending this ask in!! :D

language sagaus my beloved <3

tbh i have likeeeee 54 things in my drafts rn? so needless to say im slow, BUT IM SO HAPPY U GUYS GAVE ME THIS MUCH TO FAWN OVER, REQUESTS OR NO <333333333333

:]

an iced coffee? for me?? :O

☆

Safe Travels Ariasdream,

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[coles-scythe]

Love how the day after I posted the promo saying I wanted to be more social with the self ship community, I get swamped with work stuff, tv repair people, and family visits back to back and can't do shit :')

[ilookattextile]

I got a job at a Ukrainian museum.

On the first day someone asks me if I have any Ukrainian heritage. I say I had ancestors from Odesa, but they were Jewish, so they weren’t considered Ukrainian, and they wouldn’t have considered themselves Ukrainian. My job is every day I go through boxes of Ukrainian textiles and I write a physical description, take measurements, take photographs, and upload everything into the database. I look up “Jewish” in the database and there is no result. 

Some objects have no context at all, some come with handwritten notes or related documents. I look at thick hand-spun, hand-woven linen heavy with embroidery. Embroidery they say can take a year or more. I think of someone dressed for a wedding in their best clothes they made with their own hands. Some shirts were donated with photographs of the original owners dressed in them, for a dance at the Ukrainian Labour Temple, in 1935. I handle the pieces carefully, looking at how they fit the men in the photos, and how they look almost a hundred years later packed in acid-free tissue. One of the men died a few years later, in the war. He was younger than I am now. The military archive has more photographs of him with his mother, his father, his fiancé. I take care in writing the catalogue entry, breathing in the history, getting tearful. 

I imagine people dressed in their best shirts at Easter, going around town in their best shirts burning the houses of Jews, in their best shirts, killing Jews. A shirt with dense embroidery all over the sleeves and chest has a note that says it is from Husiatyn. I look it up and find that it was largely a Jewish town, and Ukrainians lived in the outskirts. There is a fortress synagogue from the Renaissance period, now abandoned. 

When my partner Aaron visits I take him to an event at the museum where a man shows his collection of over fifty musical instruments from Ukraine, and he plays each one. Children are seated on the floor at the front. We’re standing in a corner, the room full of Ukrainians, very aware that we look like Jews, but not sure if anyone recognizes what that looks like anymore. Aaron gets emotional over a song played on the bandura. 

A note with a dress says it came from the Buchach region. I find a story of Jewish life in Buchach in the early twentieth century, preparing to flee as the Nazis take over. I cry over this.

I’m cataloguing a set of commemorative ribbons that were placed on the grave of a Ukrainian Nationalist leader, Yevhen Konovalets, after he was assassinated. The ribbons were collected and stored by another Nationalist, Andriy Melnyk, who took over leadership after Konovalets’ death. The ribbons are painted or embroidered with messages honouring the dead politician. I start to recognize the word for “leader”, the Cyrillic letters which make up the name of the colonel, the letters “OYH” which stand for Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN in English). The OUN played a big part in the Lviv pogroms in 1941, I learn. The Wikipedia article has a black and white image of a woman in her underwear, running in terror from a man and a young boy carrying a stick of wood. The woman’s face is dark, her nose may be bleeding. Her underwear is torn, her breast exposed. I’m measuring, photographing, recording the stains and loose threads in the banners that honour men who would have done this to me. 

Every day I can’t stop looking at my phone, looking up the news from Gaza, tapping through Instagram stories that show what the news won’t. Half my family won’t talk to the other half, after I share an article by a scholar of Holocaust and genocide studies, who says Israel is committing a genocide. My dad makes a comment that compares Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto. This gets him in trouble. My aunt says I must have learned this antisemitism at university, but there is no excuse for my dad. 

This morning I see images from Israeli attacks in the West Bank, where they are not at war. There are naked bodies on the dusty ground. I’m not sure if they are alive. This is what I think of when I see the image from the Lviv pogrom. If what it means for Jews to be safe from oppression is to become the oppressor, I don’t want safety. I don’t want to speak about Jews as if we are one People, because I have so little in common with those in green uniforms and tanks. I am called a self-hating Jew but I think I am a self-reflecting Jew.

I don’t know how to articulate how it feels to be handling objects which remind me of Jewish traumas I inherited only from history classes and books. Textiles hold evidence of the bodies that made them and used them. I measure the waist of a skirt and notice that it is the same as my waist size. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Jewish homes during pogroms. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Palestinian homes during the ongoing Nakba. Clothes hold the shape of the body that once dressed in them. Sometimes there are tears, mends, stains. I am rummaging through personal belongings in my nitrile gloves. 

I am hands-on learning about the violence caused by Ukrainian Nationalism while more than nine thousand Palestinians have been killed by the State of Israel in three weeks, not to mention all those who have been killed in the last seventy-five years of occupation, in the name of the Jewish Nation, the Jewish People — me? If we (and I am hesitant to say “we”) learned anything from the centuries of being killed, it was how to kill. This should not have been the lesson learned. Zionism wants us to feel constantly like the victims, like we need to defend ourself, like violence is necessary, inevitable. I need community that believes in freedom for all, not just our own People. I need the half of my family who believes in this necessary “self-defence” to remember our history, and not just the one that ends happily ever after with the creation of the State of Israel. Genocide should not be this controversial. We should not be okay with this. 

Tomorrow I will go to work and keep cataloguing banners that honour the leader of an organization which led pogroms. I will keep checking the news, crying into my phone, coordinating with organizers about our next actions, grappling with how we can be a tiny part in ending this genocide that the world won’t acknowledge, out of guilt over the ones it ignored long ago. 

[murdrdocs]

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan doesn't trust you.

he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.

you won't be here for long.

he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.

gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.

you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.

logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.

he finds himself wanting to find out.

he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.

“what’s your problem with me?”

logan shrugs dismissively.

apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.

but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".

logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.

his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.

he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.

the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.

your competence is hot.

by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.

you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.

"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 

the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.

"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.

logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.

he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: New Management

It starts off small, in controlled, barely noticeable areas of Gotham.

Over days, the litter and trash vanish, the sidewalks are washed and cleaned, and even building yards long since abandoned are trimmed. No one notices at first because Gotham is so used to ignoring how dirty everything is until Poison Ivy makes a public announcement thanking the person who cleaned up Gotham's parks.

You know, while she was tearing up that one street with her vine monster.

After the Bats had her locked away pending a trial, they stopped to look around and realized, yes, someone had been cleaning house. No one really knows who, but things have started to change. Streetlights are replaced, graffiti is painted over, and cracked windows are fixed. It's a nice thought, but all this had the gangs up in arms, especially when their tagging disappeared.

To control the goodie-two-shoes, a few gangs burn down a few local parks- mostly the ones near or around Crime Alley- and they also loot the smaller businesses. It's a warning that the mystery housekeeper should be reminded of their station, but- well, it's all for nothing because, like magic, the following night, the damage is repaired and somehow better than before.

What's crazy is the water change. Everyone notices that right away.

Gotham's water system was just as corrupted and descriptive as its class system. If you were one of the elites- your water was clean and crisp- if you were one of the poor- your water was practically tar with how contaminated it was. Anyone in between got a fifty-fifty chance of drinkable water, depending on what side of the city they lived on.

It became an identifier, really. Depending on how often you were seen at stores buying bottled water, people could tell how well off your family was.

That's why, on a random Wednesday, Gotham lost their collective mind that the entire water system was fixed. Regardless of class, every household had clear, scent-free water from the tabs.

The few who wandered outside trying to figure out what in the world was happening were left stunned at the sight of Gotham's surrounding bodies of water.

They were clean.

All the rivers, the harbors, the silly little fountains found around Old Gotham- everything. It was safe to swim in them now. That was just wrong.

"What's happening?" Jason growls, crouching at one of Wayne Manor's main windows. His eyes are barely visible over the edge, allowing him to peek out into the yard, but he must not be fully visible, lest he become a target.

"I don't know," Tim hisses, taking a similar position on the second floor. He grips the communicator with a white-knuckle grip, trying his best to ground himself. "I just don't know. There are no witnesses, no evidence, no clues whatsoever on who's doing this to the city!"

"I don't like this!"

"No one does, Jason," Bruce intervenes; the accompanying sound of keys typing is familiar background noise. He's still in the cave, attempting to run through all reports of horrified Gothamites on social media, trying to find a pattern. "Babs? Do you have any new updates?"

"No!" She hisses, her typing sounding far more aggressive. "I can't find anything on those responsible. Nothing on the internet, nothing on public camera feeds, and nothing on rumors through dark web chats. It's like I'm trying to track a ghost!"

"This isn't natural, B," Steph cuts in. She's hiding in her bedroom closet, voice low in case her mom hears. After they realize some new lunatic is running loose in Gotham, her mom calls her back home to barricade them. If they had a bomb shelter, they would have been in it long ago.

"It's worse than we think," Duke huffs. He's somewhere near the top floor, having chosen a higher vantage point, hoping his meta powers would spot someone coming towards the manor. "I think I see glimpses of blue in the sky. If this continues at this rate, we'll have a clear blue sky in about two hours."

Multiple gasps of horror are heard throughout the communication lines. Bruce starts to type faster, barking orders for everyone to remain where they are and not go gather information. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

Damian stands with a confused Cass, Dick, and Alfred. The only bats not originated from Gotham, so while they can claim to have years in the city, none of them truly know. "I do not understand. Is this not beneficial to Gotham?"

"It may be too much at once, Master Damian." The Bulter tells him carefully. He only speaks that slowly when Alfred thinks of every word before saying it. "Whoever is behind this must not be from Gotham. If they were, they know that people would lose their collective minds upon the improvements."

"But who could be responsible?" Cass asks, watching Jason duck and army crawl to a new window once some sunlight manages to break through the clouds where he was originally hiding.

"I wish I knew Miss Cass."

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton leans back in his computer chair in a dimension of hope and a skip away. He laces his fingers together, bending them until satisfying cracks are heard. It was a productive hour of work, but he thinks now that his virtual city had cleaner water, his NPCs should start healing and developing better.

He was suspicious of Madam Gotham—a new ghost that appeared within his territory of the Ghost Zone—but after a quick conversation, he decided to befriend her. Danny is glad he did, seeing as she was in danger of fading away. Her core had suffered severe damage due to denying her obsession for so long.

Danny could do nothing for her. Madam Gotham needed professional help that only certain Yetis could offer. Although the Yetis usually turned away anyone not of their kind, with Danny backing her up, they had been willing to take in Madam Gotham.

She had been stubborn, though, refusing to get help because she was too busy playing her silly little game. The computer she played it on was unique to her realm and could not withstand the cold temeture of the Far Frozen. Danny was literally watching her melt—a horrific reminder of Dani and her siblings' disabling—before he could take it anymore.

Only after agreeing to watch her video game did she decide to be moved to the Far Frozen to receive medical treatment. Now, Danny never really liked those farming simulator games, but this was different in the sense that the city was already there.

His job was to further develop the city into a utopia. It was interesting to learn what modern issues the city had and how he could make decisions based on point costs on what to fix.

He gained points from making his citizens happier, supporting the Bats—the city's defenders—or choosing to develop options that significantly raised the value of his city.

It was rather addicting, really. He could see how Madam Gotham got so sucked in, even though it didn't really have much action for him to make. Mostly, he would let his citizens react to his new choices and use his points to delete trash and gunk.

There were some side quests he liked to work on, too, like helping certain citizens with drug addiction, depression, anxiety, or anger issues. Danny has no idea why Madam Gotham allowed so many to develop so badly, so every day, he would give them all one good luck point to brighten their days.

He had three full tabs of characters, a brief explanation of their lives, and whatever issues Danny could make them go through. He would tackle the number of homeless youth next by fixing up the city's affordable housing and infrastructure.

It was a bit narcissistic of Madam Gotham to name her game town "Gotham City," but it's better than any name Danny could have come up with.

[ghostfacd]

KISS AND MAKE UP ; CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: when coriolanus and you argue over the sudden closeness between him and lucy gray, all hell breaks loose. but he’s reminded that in the end, it’s you who he chooses, and it’s you that will stay.

warnings: reader and coryo have a toxic relationship (are we surprised?), mentions of cheating (no actual cheating involved), fighting and yelling, some ooc!coryo, descriptions may be inaccurate ‘cause i read the book like 2 years ago 😭

“I hate you!” You scream, thrashing in Coriolanus’s threshold. “Let go! Let go!”

“Oh stop making a scene, will you?” He growls out, not appreciating your lack of awareness of the eyes that were currently watching. “She’s fine, she’s fine.” He reassures the staring orbs of eyes, “stop it now, Y/N.”

His tone makes you shiver, and you stop trying to kick yourself out of his grip. He smiles contently at this, finally letting you go, but not before shoving his hands into yours. “See, wasn’t that easy?”

“Oh fuck you.” You say, but both you and Coriolanus know that you’ll be back at square one by tonight, kissing and telling him that you love him.

“Thought I'd have to drag you away and shut you up." He mutters, clearly unimpressed with the way you acted earlier. “Maybe get your shit together, L/N.”

“I would if you’d just act like a decent boyfriend for once!” You say, throwing your arms out in the air. “You know what? I don’t care; I don’t care what you do—go get close to your tribute! Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!”

You yank your arm away from his, stomping inside of the Academy with a scowl plastered on your face. Sejanus is only a few steps behind the two of you, and was going to open his mouth to say something when Coriolanus places his index finger in front of him.

“Don’t.” The boy says. “She’s just being dramatic.” He fixes his uniform, a lavish shade of red, as it was crinkled from the way you had tried to escape his hold earlier.

The next time he sees Lucy Gray, he thinks of your little upset pout and face, your yelling ringing in his ear.

Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!

“Are you alright?” Lucy Gray was cautious around Coriolanus, he was unpredictable, and scarily cunning. She had no idea what was even one of the million thoughts that ran through his mind

“I’m.. fine.” Coriolanus says, giving her a meek smile that almost makes her feel sick. Although she had to admit he was fairly handsome and she had somewhat fell for his charm and face, he still scared her regardless.

“Coryo.” Your voice makes Lucy Gray and Coriolanus both look up. You look like a looming dark figure compared to her, towering over. “We should talk later.”

And Lucy Gray watches as Coriolanus’s once emotionless face turns into a sly grin. He nods, not saying much, which was something Lucy Gray had came to learned these past few days after he had first met and given her a rose.

“Snow always falls on top.” Coriolanus whispers underneath his breath, and Lucy Gray doesn’t question it, only continuing what they had been doing earlier.

When the two of you were walking out of the Academy, you placed your hand in Coriolanus’s. It had gotten colder than it had in the morning, and you were freezing under your uniform.

He carefully caresses your hand, looking up to watch as snow slowly fell from the sky.

“So, you’re gonna tell me what you wanted to earlier?” He asks, still looking at the sky.

“I’m sorry Coryo,” you reply meekly, feeling small under his frame. “For causing a scene earlier. I was upset.”

“Upset at me getting close to Lucy Gray?” He questions, now finally glancing down at you.

“Yes! But you can’t blame me Coryo, you don’t see me getting close with my tribute.”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, the blue orbs bore into yours. “What did I tell you? I would never cheat on you, silly girl. I’m not a monster.”

If only he knew.

You look down, embarrassed that you two were even having this conversation in the first place.

“I know you wouldn’t, which is why I’m apologizing in the first place.”

The two of you stop abruptly, your eyes reaching his despite the obvious height difference.

“I love you, okay?” Coriolanus breathes out, you can even see his breath, the temperature dropping even lower than it was before.

And although you don’t know the extent to which exactly the words coming out of his mouth are even true, you still go on your tippy toes, shivering as you give your boyfriend a kiss on the lips.

“There’s my smiling girl,” he says as he watches your eyes twinkle. “Now let’s go, I have some ideas of ways to warm you up.”

That night, snow truly, did fall on top.