#the spaces were all fucked up for some reason

[mxflowercheck]

Not sure i can consider myself exactly bilingual, i didn’t grow up in English speaking setting, i learned it as a second language. But than i was in boarding school for two years and well, firstly a lot of terminology about school life was from English. Secondly our boarding staff used English with us on a daily basis. This resulted in almost everyone in school speaking runglish (russian + English) + casually switching to English because why not

So! Things that i and my friends have done / still do / have witnessed

• Often switch to English to talk about heavy topics or feelings. It’s a second language for all of us, so it kinda puts some..distance from all the emotions

• On multiple occasions i caught us all writing messages, where we spell an english word in Cyrillic and then switch to English fully

• Generally we often write English words in Cyrillic for various reasons

• We don’t notice that we code switch. On multiple occasions i said a very common for me phrase and my mother was just starring at me until i understood that the phrase was in English and i needed to translate

• Forgetting a word in both languages NEVER GETS OLD. BELIEVE ME. But usually it’s not something complicated, no, i can remember how to write deoxyribonucleic acid in both languages but forget the word “early”

• two years ago i tried learning Spanish. When we were writing essays in English class i wrote “trabajador” meaning “hardworking”. I knew something was wrong with it but i didn’t know WHAT. I didn’t understand until my teacher pointed it out for me

• I personally do not analyse English abbreviations. Sometimes i forget it has A TRANSLATION. Or a full version. Once i said “wtf” in front of my boarding staff and well it took me three shocked stares and a “ Valery!” to realise it’s not just a phrase with “what the hell” meaning but a swearing.

• *tries to speak English but fails because it’s too early* *tries to speak Russian but fails because brain demands that this setting needs ENGLISH*

• My first sports club, where not only the coach counted, but also the kids - aikido. We counted in Japanese. i haven't practiced Aikido for about three or fours years, but every time i do sports, i count in Japanese to myself

• Grammar? Spelling? Vocabulary. Oh no, what IS confusing IS PUNCTUATION. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE CODESWITCHING.

• at least one of my friends also spells difficult words while writing, but not with the correct pronunciation. we read them as if they're written in Cyrillic/pronounce every letter. It helps with not messing up the letter (for example when I write various i read it as ВЭРИОУС in my mind because I'm a) silly b) ADHD and often mess up the order of vowels when typing fast)

• OH ALSO - some of us (including me) don't have a stable accent. You watch Shelock - you''re British, you watch TikToks from a South American - you're South American. Or! Sometimes accents sticks to phrases and words :D. So it goes like

*speaking with one accent/neutral accent* *uses the Britishest accent in the world for ONE PHRASE* *continues normally*

• Dialects are the Death Of Us. My guy, i have NO fucking idea which pronunciation of "dance" is for UK and which is for America AND I LEARNED THAT WORD WHEN I WAS SIX!!!!

• interjections and sounds are ALSO confusing! You'd think we make similar sounds of surprise or joy or sadness. WE DON'T.

i keep adding things god help

anyway

• people can have different names for different languages! I don't consider my legal name (Lera) to be my deadname, i like it! but don't usually use it in English speaking spaces because...English doesn't have the sounds (it has similar sounds but still)...that are in my name...and it sounds VERY STRANGE

• same with pronouns btw! English doesn't gender verbs, adjectives, nouns, your way to point out gender is simple - pronouns. But in Russian words change depending on a gender ( he is clever - он умнЫЙ, she is clever - она умнАЯ). And the way words change for they/them pronouns doesn't sound right to me, so I don't use they/them for myself in Russian, only she/he! But i don't mind in English, because verbs, adjectives and etc don't change :)

im going to have a stroke

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.2

AN: this is still being edited and I'm not entirely sure if it'll be everyone's cup of tea. it'll be a slow burn, and a long fic but I have an idea laid out! each chapter will be around 3k just to keep things spaced and easy. Thank you for reading!

warnings: i'm putting these here for future chapters too, and ill sprinkle some in as I go. I want to make it clear, there is no underage sex, but later on there will be some more raunchy shit. this is somewhat non-canon compliant-make it up as I go

-ok for the real warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build. I'm already 20,000 words into this shit so if your ready lets ride.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

Lets Begin

Your arranged marriage with Toji Fushiguro had been quick and unexpected.

The black sheep of the Zenin clan wasn’t exactly known for his well-rounded reputation, teetering on the edge of severing all ties to his family. He hadn’t been in contact with them for years, and financial support from their end was nonexistent. He was constantly broke, especially after Megumi was born. He assumed it was retaliation for marrying outside the clan—without their approval. But when his late wife passed, he had already taken on her surname, somewhat severing himself from the dingy clan he had once called "family."

After her death, he picked up side gigs, earning just enough to provide for the two of them. Megumi was older now, around thirteen, which made it easier to leave him alone for longer periods. Toji often took days-long "business" trips. He’ll admit he wasn’t a great father, but he had kept his promise of keeping Megumi away from the Zenin clan and that sorcerer bullshit.

That was until he received an official notification from the Zenin clan head.

He hadn’t heard from the bastard in years, only to be met with a request—a demand—for his compliance in an arranged marriage. Initially, he planned to refuse. He wasn’t interested in an arranged marriage, wanted nothing to do with the sorcerer world, and even less to do with the Zenin clan. Hell, the only reason he bothered showing up at the clan house that day was to set that fucker straight.

Then he saw you—a pretty little thing. You couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than him, likely just turning seventeen, maybe eighteen. He couldn’t say for sure. But you were just too young for this shit—he knew that much.

They’d already brought you along for the proposal, as if they knew it would change his mind when he saw you. And, fuck, if they weren’t right.

You were beautiful. Polished and respectable, speaking in low tones like the proper little housewife he was sure they’d trained you to be. He could see the endgame here—the reason they were pushing this arrangement on him. It wasn’t subtle.

The higher-ups likely wanted a presence in his home—someone to keep tabs on him and Megumi, no doubt. They hadn’t explicitly stated as much, but Toji had caught whispers through the grapevine about their interest in his son’s cursed technique. And with his own tendency to remain elusive, it wasn’t surprising that they’d want to keep a closer watch on him, too.

The thought of them using someone barely older than Megumi to achieve their goals left a bitter taste in his mouth. The arrangement reeked of manipulation—a calculated ploy to plant a spy in his home, someone to funnel information back to your clan, his clan, and the higher-ups that were still keeping tabs on him.

Toji didn’t give a damn about his reputation, but it was clear they were fishing for confirmation, likely hoping to uncover whether some of the rumors about him were true. No matter how much he tried to brush it off, the whole setup just didn’t sit right with him.

But then he caught the way your eyes stayed steady, resolute. You looked indifferent to the situation, but he could tell this wasn’t what you wanted. It couldn’t be. You were really just a child. And yet, that unwavering expression of yours sealed his decision.

He accepted.

Another mouth to feed, another brat to deal with, no doubt. But maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to help keep Megumi in line while he was out working. Better that than leaving you to the wolves. He understood the clan system all too well—how they saw their women, how they treated them.

He’d seen how young brides were shuffled like pawns, paired with whichever man could best serve the clan’s interests. The thought of you being handed off to some pathetic bastard made his stomach churn. At least here, under his roof, you wouldn’t have to endure that.

Call it generosity if you wanted. But if he were honest, it wasn’t that. You reminded him of his late wife—the fearlessness bordering on defiance in your eyes, the sheer willpower it must’ve taken to show up in the first place. Most girls in your situation would have cried or begged, pleading not to marry some old geezer, especially one infamous in the community as a Sorcerer Killer.

But you didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. You just stood there, composed, unshaken. Bored. 

He could respect that.

And like that, the black sheep of the Zenin clan would become your husband. Your family. And your sole protector. 

He remembers the quiet way you stepped into his apartment for the first time, your gaze sweeping the room with a calm, measured air. There was no hesitation, no unease—just a quiet assessment of the space, as though you were cataloging everything in that sharp mind of yours. The look on your face didn’t suit someone your age. You carried the weight of forced maturity, a burden that stirred an old, painful memory he immediately shoved back down.

He could tell you were judging, though you didn’t say a word. It was in the faint crease of your brow, the almost imperceptible way your lips tightened. It sparked a flicker of irritation in him, the kind he couldn’t entirely shake. If you didn’t like it, you didn’t have to stay, yeah? 

But Toji was surprised when you didn’t say a word. Finding your way to his bedroom, You set your things down without complaint or hesitation. Then, as if you’d been living there for years, you got straight to work. No requests, no questions—just quiet purpose.

It was like you’d already claimed your space, like you’d accepted the role handed to you without a second thought. Color him impressed. He wasn't necessarily gonna ask you to do all that, but hell he wasn't going to complain. 

Your former clan must’ve trained you well. He could see it in the efficiency of your movements, the way you moved through the apartment as though it were second nature. No hesitation, no asking for instructions, no unnecessary chatter. Just straight down to business.

Toji didn’t linger.

He slipped out quietly, already lost in his thoughts about the job he had to handle. He’d be gone for two days—maybe one, if he played his cards right. Not that he needed to tell you. You didn’t need to know the details. You were here to stay put, to take care of things while he was gone. Simple as that.

As he rounded the corner outside the apartment, that nagging feeling crept in—a vague itch at the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something. He paused mid-step, frowning as he patted his pockets. Wallet? Keys? No, he had those. His smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly shrugged it off, muttering under his breath.

"Can't be that important."

Megumi had taken the long way home today.

Several boys in his class had been pissing him off to no end, and he’d been itching for a fight. He needed a distraction—something to cool him off. He really couldn’t afford to get into another school fight. The pitying looks his teachers gave him felt degrading, especially when Toji never bothered to show and pick him up.

The long way home was scenic, at least. Trees and plants lined the path, offering some peace as he trudged along. He wasn’t sure whether Toji would even be home when he arrived. He never really knew for certain. And honestly, Megumi wasn’t in the mood to hear his dad’s loud TV shows or his obnoxious phone calls. If he wasn’t, then the apartment would just be empty, cold, and silent.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

What Megumi really cared about was dinner.

The fridge had been empty for weeks, and his deadbeat dad hadn’t bothered to restock it. Megumi had been scraping by, finding ways to earn enough cash for food. Sometimes he’d deliver things for the neighbors or help them with spring cleaning. Those odd jobs usually kept him going, but lately, there hadn’t been any requests. The lack of work only adding to his frustration.

He didn’t interact with Toji much. Their relationship walked a thin line between hatred and indifference.  Most of the time, Megumi ignored his father, much as Toji seemed to ignore him. On the rare occasions Toji remembered Megumi existed, it always ended in chaos—loud arguments, dismissive grunts, or worse, painfully awkward attempts to act like a parent.

It had been that way ever since Megumi turned eleven. And today, more than anything, he was just hungry. Too hungry to fight with his absentee father, even if he was home. Too tired to care.

Walking up the stairs to his apartment, something caught his eye. The kitchen window was open. That stopped him in his tracks.

Toji wasn’t the kind of guy to leave windows open, even in decent weather—a weird thing to notice, but Megumi was always acutely aware of his surroundings, always attuned to his father’s patterns.

Megumi made his way inside, creeping slowly and so, so quietly. Peeking around the corner, he froze. Someone was in the kitchen—a girl. No, a woman? Your back was to him as you worked at the counter, slicing onions with quick, precise movements. He blinked, his sharp eyes narrowing. You were young—maybe just a few years older than him.

Younger than Toji’s usual type, that was for sure. You didn’t fit. Toji wasn’t a stranger to bringing women around the apartment, but they never looked like you. And they never lingered. Most were gone by breakfast, hurrying out with an awkward smile and a strained “bye” when they spotted Megumi at the table.

He watched you chop onions, noticing the glint of a ring on your finger. So, you were married—

“You can come out from there, y’know.”

Megumi flinched slightly, caught off guard. For a brief moment, he felt the sting of embarrassment—spying and getting caught wasn’t a good look—but he quickly reminded himself this was his home. He had no reason to feel embarrassed. Straightening his posture, he stepped out from behind the doorway, his sharp eyes fixed on you as you casually wiped your hands on a towel.

You turned to face him, a soft smile playing on your lips. The first thing he noticed was how pretty you were. Tall and poised, you stood at least a head above him, dressed in modest, traditional clothing that seemed entirely out of place in this shabby apartment. There was something elegant about you, a kind of refinement that felt worlds away from the usual chaos of his father’s one-night stands.

“Who are you? Why’re you here?” His tone came out sharper than he intended, huffy and childish, and it made him bristle. He hated how it sounded.

You studied him for a moment, his scowl almost endearing, before introducing yourself and explaining, simply, that this was now your house.

Megumi’s brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, his voice defiant. “You don’t live here. Leave.”

The attempt at a threat would’ve been more intimidating if his stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to growl, breaking the tension. You bit back a laugh, quickly covering your mouth, but it was hard not to find the situation entertaining.

The way he stood there, furrowed brow and stubborn glare, reminded you of a fussy kitten—all bristling fur and misplaced bravado. It was clear he wasn’t used to strangers lingering in his space, and his defensiveness only made him seem more adorable. Still, he was serious—you really shouldn’t laugh.

He looked so much like Toji—same sharp features, same brooding energy—minus the flat hair and scar. You’d heard about him before coming here, mentioned briefly by your clan head, but the reality of meeting him was different. He was much cuter than you’d expected, truly embodying the “fussy kitty” vibe, and you had to resist the urge to tease him outright.

“Ah,” you said lightly, your tone soothing, “but I’m in the middle of cooking. Why don’t we eat first, and then we can talk?”

Your tone was gentle, your smile genuine, and Megumi couldn’t sense any malice from you. Besides, whatever you were making smelled incredible, and his stomach had been growling from the moment he walked in. His gaze shifted to the counter, where ingredients and half-prepped dishes were laid out. He hesitated. Sure, his dad had brought women home before, but none of them ever bothered to cook—especially not for him. Against his better judgment, he gave a small, reluctant nod.

Before long, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, three plates set neatly in front of you. It was late, but you still held onto the hope that Toji might come home. You made light conversation with Megumi, trying to get a feel for the boy you now understood to be your stepson.

You’d been briefed by your clan about Toji and his son—vague instructions to “watch Toji” and “get on his son's good side.” They hadn’t been specific about why, but their motives were never selfless. Still, you had no intention of playing into their games. Not fully. What you wanted was to build an honest connection with your new family, especially with this grumpy, sharp-eyed boy who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder as big as his father’s.

As the meal went on, you began to learn little things about him. He remained distant, his responses clipped and matter-of-fact, but the warmth of a good meal and your gentle smile seemed to soften him, even if just slightly. You managed to coax his name out of him, and though he said it without much fanfare, it felt like a small victory.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

It was a Friday night, and you figured Megumi would be around the house tomorrow. As you finished the surprisingly comfortable dinner, your eyes lingered on the third, untouched plate at the table—Toji’s. You wondered, briefly, if he’d show up at all.

“He probably won’t be back tonight,” Megumi said, breaking your train of thought. His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he had long since grown used to this routine. He shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth before adding, “Probably be gone for a few days.”

This surprised you, sure, but you weren’t going to complain anytime soon. As long as you didn’t have to go back to that horrid clan house, you could put up with a missing husband. In fact, you kind of preferred it this way.

You laughed softly at Megumi’s puffed-up cheeks, making him flush red as he swallowed quickly. Your smile still seemed to throw him off guard. The conversation flowed easily—a mix of lighthearted bickering and probing questions on both ends.

“What’s the ring for?” he asked suddenly, his sharp gaze flicking to your hand. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity, as if he hadn’t noticed the simple band until now.

Your fingers instinctively twisted the warm metal as you glanced down at it, the question catching you off guard. “Ah, well, I’ve just married,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a faint melancholy despite your attempt to sound neutral. You hadn’t meant to let that slip, but the truth clung to the edges of your words. Quickly, you smiled, lightening the moment as you reached over to ladle another spoonful of food onto Megumi’s empty plate.

“Arranged marriage? With who?” he asked, the concept not foreign but undeniably unsettling. You seemed like such a nice person, except for the fact that you were sitting in his kitchen—someone he’d assumed was just another one of his father’s passing flings. But unlike the others, you’d cooked for him and his father, cleaned the kitchen until it looked better than it had in weeks, and now you were sitting down to dinner with him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Though he’d only known you for a few hours, he didn’t think you’d be the type to cheat on your husband or worm your way into their lives without cause. His mind caught up to him, the pieces falling into place.

“…Not Toji. Right?” His voice faltered, and you couldn’t help but think how strange it was to hear him refer to his father by his first name.

You let out a soft laugh at his shocked expression, shaking your head before nodding. “The one and only,” you admitted.

The look on his face was almost comical, his brows raised high, his mouth slightly agape. But beneath the initial surprise, there was something darker—an unease that settled into the lines of his frown. Wary, guarded. He didn’t like this, not one bit. 

After dinner, you sent Megumi off to bed, tidying up the plates left behind. He didn’t wait for you to finish cleaning, retreating to his room with his thoughts spinning.

As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head. His father was married—to you, of all people. And for some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It was weird. Megumi had left the house empty and returned to find you. If what you were saying was true, you were about to take over as his stepmother. He wouldn’t put it past his shitty father to pop up suddenly married—it was exactly the kind of thing Toji would do.

Still, the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. An arranged marriage wasn’t out of the question. You seemed way too sweet and proper to have chosen someone like Toji willingly. Megumi’s knowledge of clan life, hierarchy, or how arranged marriages worked in the sorcerer world was frustratingly limited, thanks to his father’s insistence on keeping him far removed from all of it. 

Then there was your age. You were young—too young for his dad. Closer to his age than Toji’s. The thought churned his stomach. Was Toji an even bigger pervert than he originally thought? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to want to settle down. What was this about, then? Did he just want a housemaid? Someone to clean up after him and Megumi while he went off on his “business trips”?

It didn’t seem fair to you. What were you getting out of this arrangement? What could have possibly led you to agree to marry someone like Toji?

The more Megumi thought about it, the more wrong it all felt. You seemed too kind, too proper, too... normal for this situation. Surely there was more to the story. Were you being forced into this? Did you have your own reasons that you weren’t sharing?

But then again, there was always the chance you were lying.

People lied all the time. You could be some psycho ex-girlfriend worming your way back into his father’s life. Or worse, a manipulative stranger with motives that had nothing to do with Toji at all. You might’ve seemed nice now, but Megumi wasn’t about to take anything at face value.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what to make of you, couldn’t figure out whether to trust the calm sincerity you projected or to see it for what it might be: a well-crafted facade.

One thing was certain—he wasn’t going to let his guard down so easily.

He’d just have to wait it out, keep an eye on you, and see what happened when Toji finally dragged his ass back home.

p.2?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

[s4bbatical]

My Love | Declan O’Hara x Reader (One Shot Fluff)

Summary: You and your husband Declan have been feeling the weight of Venturer begin to affect your relationship, causing strain on you both. You eventually break down after Declan snaps at you, causing him to comfort you because he just loves you so much. (Kept this one gender neutral, every declan lover deserves a little fan service. <3)

Requested by Moon~!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

It had been a long, dreadful day for you and Declan. The morning started off argumentative, and your team meetings were just the same. Declan was unable to agree with anyone’s suggestions, even your own. His poor attitude was upsetting to everyone around you.

You found yourself arriving home a bit earlier than your husband, as Venturer was getting under your skin. You had only hoped his mood would turn around before he returned to the house within the hours of your absence, although you had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

After making dinner and some tea, you found yourself cozied up by the fireplace, reading a book from your personal library. You feel a cold breeze as the front door opens then closes, Declan muttering harshly under his breath as he places down his briefcase. You stand up as he takes a step into the kitchen, already pouring himself a glass.

“Declan,” You say, walking over. “How was the rest of the day?” You ask, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

He begins to laugh dryly, setting down his glass. “What a great fucking question that is.” He retorts, taking off his blazer and tossing it over a dining chair. “Fucking bunch of idiots with their heads cut off! No one knows how to do their job.” He sighs heavily, placing his head in his hands. “I feel like the only one who knows what the fuck I’m doing, y/n.” He says, his voice muffled by his palms.

“I hardly doubt they’re purposely doing so, we’re all trying our best.” You reason.

“Oh, is that why you left early then?” He quips, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Declan,” You slowly walk around the counter to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder cautiously. “It’ll be okay–“

“Like fucking hell it will be.” He chuffs, pushing your hand away. He grabs his glass and moves over to the living space, sitting down in an armchair before continuing to wallow in his anger.

You stand there in dismay, your mouth slightly agape. You hurriedly walk over to your husband, hands on your hips. “Look, you need to tell me what has put a stick up your arse because I don’t understand why you’re acting like a child. You’ve been short with me all day Declan.” You say sternly.

“Just leave me alone, y/n! I’m fucking exhausted and you nagging at me is not going to make a difference!” Declan yells at you harshly, causing you to retract. His face drops as he realizes how critical he’s being. He watches as your eyes well up in tears.

You knew the stress of his work was always going to cause inner turmoil for himself, but he had never yelled at you like that before.

“I’m sorry.” You say flatly, walking away from Declan.

“Y/n, wait.” He says, getting up from his seat to follow you.

“I can’t deal with your fucking poor attitude, Declan!” You yell, facing him as you stop him in his tracks. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks, out of anger more than being upset. “I have been trying so hard to make sure I’m doing my part by taking care of you and making sure you’re not upset all the god damn time. But you always are! There’s always something wrong!” You exasperate, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “Ever since you left The Corinium to do Venturer you’ve just been pissed off all the time, I can’t stand it.” You add bitterly.

“Y/n–“ Declan tries to interject.

“No, it’s fine. I’m going to bed. You just go sit down.” You mutter, unable to make eye contact with Declan.

“Y/n please, I didn’t realize how much of a toll this has taken on you. I’ve just been so stressed, I-I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m so sorry.” He whispers, stepping forward and placing his hands on your cheeks to help you look up at him. “I love you, so much. Please forgive me.” He says, looking at you with sorrow.

“I’m just trying to help you.” You say softly, placing your hands overtop his. “I feel like a horrible partner.” You whisper, trying not to cry again.

“Y/n, god no!” Declan exclaims. “Don’t ever say that. It’s bollocks.” He assures you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I couldn’t ask for anything more from you, you’re incredible my love. This is my fault.” He whispers, holding you tight as you begin to calm down. “You’re one of the few good things I’ve got left, I’d be damned to screw that up too.” He sighs, stroking your hair.

“I know.” You try to jest, earning a small laugh from your husband. “I forgive you Declan. Just please, don’t ever yell at me like that ever again.” You request.

Declan nods. “Of course, never again my love.” He says.

“And,” You pull back to look at him. “I love you too.” You say, pressing a kiss on his lips.

Declan smiles into it, peppering your face and neck with more kisses as you giggle.

“You’re such an idiot.” You say, causing him to laugh again.

“I’m your idiot, y/n.” He replies, sliding his arms around your waist. “Fancy watching some telly with me?” He asks.

“Only if you rub my feet.” You grin widely, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Declan scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Yeah, sure my love.”

-

Moonnn i hope you enjoyed this one shot! it’s actually my first one ever so that goes for all of you hehe. my requests are open so don’t be afraid to tap in :-))

as always,

isabel

[bludermaus]

I'm not as angry as some folks for Swansea not killing Jimmy early

Okay so hear me out:

We know that Anya told Swansea about the things that Jonah has done (the game doesn't specify, but let's presume it was everything) and, in turn, Swansea becomes more rude and antagonistic towards James, as well as being even more protective of the Utility Room.

We don't fully know the contents of the conversation between them. Jimbo interrupted both of them, they could've continued talking about it afterwards or maybe they were at the tail end of it. The matter is, they talked about the remaining cryo pod and - from my interpretation - collectively decided to give Daisuke the cryo pod if a time for it came. Anya crying could be either because she was opening up to Swansea about Jimminy's crimes, the fact that she was going to stay behind with Swansea for Daisuke's sake, or a combination of both.

So... who knows if Anya even asked Swansea to do something about Jerry. For all we know they decided she'd just lock herself in the med room every night away from Jonathan while Swansea kept guard of the Utility Room. Maybe she asked Swansea to do something and he - like Curly - failed her. Or maybe she even told him not do anything hasty... which sincerely I feel was the case.

Hear me out hear me out! I think there are two reasons why Anya would ask Swansea to just keep it between them for now and not do anything harsh/violent against Jeremiah:

1) People don't just think about murder as their first response, it's *hard* to decide to kill someone, even if they are deserving considering the circunstances and how they reject any and all accountability;

2) As a nurse, I think Anya is well aware of what could happen by killing Jambalaya. There are mental effects that could happen, morale would go down from the loss of human life, killing someone is not an easy thing to do and their minds have already been stretched thin from the whole crash situation. And also, imagine they killed Jamboree... what now? They can't just dispose of the body. What happens after some time when the body decomposes? What happens when the putrid air takes over the ship? What mental and physical consequences would that bring to the rest of the crew inside such a closed space with that smell? What if it's very hot inside and now you're stuck with that smell?

I just think that they decided it was better to just cope with Jizzy for the moment - handle him very carefully - because the moment they decided to kill him it'd signal the beginning of the end, their already stretched-thin mental states wouldn't hold much longer. I *GUESS* they could've killed him, put Daisuke in the cryo pod, mercy killed Curly, then Anya could've OD'ed on the pills and Swansea could have drunk so much Mouthwashing that he expired... but like, who goes for that as their first option?

Anyways this was long enough! I could be super wrong, this is just my interpretation of things, what matters is that we all hate Jimmy, fuck him. Also do not defend Curly, I feel bad for all the ordeal that he had to deal with post-crash but man you really fumbled the bag when taking responsibility was most necessary. Even if he hadn't done anything immediately, at least tell Anya that she had his full support and that Jinny would pay for his actions and that he needed some time to think of what exactly to do but that he WOULD actually do something, not just push away to the back of his mind

[currentfandomkick]

It is very important to me that Dan casually comments about how he killed them prior everytime they break ghost ettiquette as summoners and that slowly find out Dan is the Royal Wraith, while Danny is a guardian of boundaries and entryways due to what he chose to focus on in his afterlife.

Make it worse with Dan’s commentary of ‘aw, i was wondering when you’d pull this fuck up again. Always reap what you sow Batshit. Think thats why i took the metal keeping your spine intact last time. Your horror was tasty, especially when you were cut off from all tech to warn your kids. Oracle was a bitch to find, and the mute on guarding her was a fun fight too!’

Just let Dan trigger everyone’s fight or flight every time they make demands for anything by bringing up what they realize he did on another earth, in explicit and excruciating detail.

Hell, you can have had the Green Lanterns getting help from Oa and not getting back in time with the energy from the rings being akin to ‘takes up space but nothing of substance’ version of ectoplasm as its pure will not emotionally charged.

Dan is just matching energy on his side. He’s been bored and these fucknuggets made a point to have his ‘got the better timeline’ self relive their fucking death as the first question post semi-botched and painful summoning. And then tried to force that out of him with haphazard runes that ran on the summoner’s world view? They are getting trauma in return for doing the equivalent of throwing a steaming pile of shit at his face on top of jumping him in a back alley mid-panic attack.

He was enjoying reminiscing.

Important note: every JL member present gets similar responses no matter the question. Dan ain’t saying g shit but dishing out truama.

It is important to me that Martian Manhunter is exempt as he would have stopped this when Danny came in and was Distressed from haphazard summoning and in Pain. So he’s on earth or offworld, just not in the JL tower this is happening in.

If a JLD member catches them while they are midsummon interrogations, let it be Zatanna (was a JL pre JLD in the cartoon, so why not?) and have her be the one to silence the JL and ask Dan what caused him to be sent when the summons asked for the king.

And this? This is where JL get context for the degree of how badly they botched any relations with GK!Danny.

Zatanna is pissed they did this sans JLD member to keep their manners in check, and makes apologies and asks what type of reparations would be accepted by the Ghost King Phantom, watcher of the veil, patron of the Veilborn and reborn, and he who holds the line.

Dan straight up says SHE is allowed to summon himself again after they handle the Ghost Investigation Ward, who are kidnapping and tormenting Infinite Realm denizens, forcibly making vielreborn (liminals) and overall using them as experiment fodder with the intentions to destroy the IR and will take out the mortal realms with them.

The silence from the JL is loud.

Zatanna asks if that issue is why Dan hasn’t left the summon circle, given he can leave as it was not made for him.

“My baby bro asked me to handle this. These assholes went after his death, and the Realms are still out for more than blood after the shit that’s been pulled. I don’t care if this mortal plane goes, but for some unfathomable reason, he does. I’m still team obliteration beforehand and let the vengeance-centric and those who lost fright-mates do worse than take back a pound of flesh for each drop ectoplasm they spilled.”

“That is understandable once and no longer ghost king,” Zatanna phrased carefully. “I am glad you have given us an avenue of actionable apology within our means. Are there any you wish to exclude from this mission?”

“Martian Manhunter—he doesn’t need to see that shit. The rest better get firsthand of what was going down, and better get now why i was sent after these fuckers ignored every diplomatic rule. If anyone else tries to summon my brother that isn’t you, i’ll be coming and i won’t be staying in the circle.”

“Understood!”

prompt for dcxdp fic

GK!danny meets the JL and (due to magic users not being in the room) they offend him by threatening/patronising him or asking insensitive questions like how he died. Danny still wants some contact/alliance to help deal with the GIW, but doesn't wanna deal with mortal idiots rn. So he sends Dan in his place for his "community service" aka redemption arc.

Basically I really wanna see Dan dealing with the magically incompetent league and scare the shit out of them.

Bonus if Danny sends a letter along the lines of "Due to negative prior relations and differing priorities, all further communications will be conducted via my brother, as part of his mandatory community service. I advise against angering him, as he is on probation for genocide of a mortal realm. Good luck."

I just think it would be funny.

[artemx746]

Do people not realise that a person doesn't suddenly gain full maturity and knowledge of everything when they turn 18?

[jupiter--dream]

(cw vent, sorry it's just been A Couple Of Days)

Not really having many irl friends comes at the price of feeling so terribly lonely, I feel like I have no one to talk to because I'm not close to enough people, or maybe I am and I just haven't talked to them in a while and I don't want this to be our first conversation qwq

I'm honestly just. Tired, tbh qwq

[survivalxofxthexfittest]

He laughed softly at the tease as he sat up and leaned back against the headboard, giving Devan the space they seemed to need. A low hum in agreement and raise of his brow was the only response when he mentioned his leaving. Which they had in fact done. Devestatingly so. Without notice. They'd just ripped themselves from John-Paul's life with seeming ease. Not even so much as a goodbye or a note ala Roman Drake. The time period following immediately after wasn't one JP cared to reminisce about too often. If at all - Mal being the only other sould who knew how hard Devan leaving had been for him. And it certainly wasn't something he'd expected to be talking about so soon after their unexpected reunion.

Yet here they were.

He dropped his gaze momentarily as Devan spoke, the difficulty of their words filling the space between them. His fingers fidgeted with each other anxiously, his mind already preparing itself for another round of rejection. This time however, where would Devan go? JP would be forced to see what he'd lost every single day and he had no idea how he could possibly handle that.

But when his eyes found Devan again, John-Paul caught the apprenhension in their face. He shifted to face him fully, watching in silence as they seeming searched for the right words. His hand instinctively found its way to theirs and squeezed it gently in assurance. A soft huff escaped him with a shake of his head and a slight purse of his lips, dismissing his confession JP hadn't been the reason he was there.

The thought that Devan had come to the Wexley for him never crossed his mind. It wasn't even remotely a possibility. Not unless Devan developed some sort of psychic powers since they'd last seen each other. JP hadn't so much as mentioned where he lived before, let alone shown him. Although surprising, he'd assumed they'd been looking for the same as any of the others when they stumbled upon the Wexely - shelter and safety.

As Devan started to backtrack, JP scooted closer, unable to fight the tug of a smile or the soft huff of a chuckle when he admited being fucked up over him. That was a first, but so was how fucked up he was over Dev. Of course he's never spent more than a few nights, maybe a week tops, with someone. John-Paul was never looking for anyone to become a permanent fixture in his life - no matter how lonely he felt at times. He wasn't ever keen on letting anyone in far enough to really know him, firmly believing that once they did, they would leave just like his mother. So he never gave anyone the chance to feel anything other than lust for him. That was until Devan. And they still ended up leaving which made him realize it hadn't mattered if people saw him or not, and that he'd wasted a lot of opportunities being so afraid.

"Guess I should cancel the caterer then huh?" he joked if for nothing else then to break the growing tension. He held onto Devan, his fingers dancing through his hair as they came to rest at the nape of his neck. His eyes locked onto theirs affectionately.

"Dev, I hate to break it to you but that means we are something," he told him honestly. "And what that might mean scares the shit out of me, so I'm in no rush to find out," he admitted openly with a soft, nervous laugh. "But whatever we're meant to be, I'm here for it. I'm not going anywhere," he continued in promise with a small shrug, his grip gently tightening in added confirmation before pressing a kiss to their lips.

His focus broke when Devan finally broke the silence, shaking his head gently. John-Paul's embarrassment over this still being such a big deal flared up. He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have said anything. He fucked up. Already. He knew it. How could he have thought someone as open as Devan would be okay hiding? He continued to silently chastise himself for the assumed failure, slowly blocking out everything around him.

But then Dev was making his presence known and John-Paul's worry began to slowly dissipate. His hands easily found themselves resting at their hip and sliding along their arm to hold onto their wrist. "Don't. It's not the same with them," he said of his siblings, shaking off their perceived ignorance of his 'love' life. "I know they wouldn't care. It's just never come up, so I never said anything," he explained it away. "It's everyone else that worries me. Not to mention there's alot of baggage behind why I've kept it to myself."

John-Paul's brow furrowed in worry when they admitted it was going to be a problem, he really didn't want that, but his expression turned to one of confusion as he went on. The knit in his brow softened as they continued, realizing they weren't leaving. That they were choosing to stay. Each kiss sent a chill up his spine. Each compliment stole his breath away. Self doubt clenched at his chest. He feared he wouldn't be able to live up to the image Devan had of him - his talent to screw up even the surest of shots undeniable.

It was Devan's value of him that nearly sent him over the edge. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the tears now threatening to dampen his eyes. He didn't know how to handle all the praise. All of Devan's wanting of him. That they were on his side. Other than his siblings, who he still sometimes believed felt more obligation by blood to be there, no one willingly made his protection a priority. And not his physical protection, he could handle himself without a doubt, it was his emotional insecurities that need the helping hand. But it was overwhelming to actually find it (in the apocalypse no less) and his words refused to form. He leaned them up just enough to press a kiss to their lips after the promise to defend his honor.

"I don't think you'll need to do that. At least not yet," he finally managed to choke out, swallowing back the lump forming in his throat with a small, nervous, short chuckle - joking in the face of seriousness his usual coping mechanism to break the weight of his anxiety. "Just give me a little more time, okay?" he asked genuinely, a thumb caressing their cheek. "That's all I need. And I promise it won't be long. It's hard to hide how much I like you," he admitted with gentle teasing in his voice before pressing another kiss to his lips.

[jinstronaut]

this is also why i stopped using my tracked tag for a while tbh

[july-19th-club]

met my coworker's big boy huskydog today and he IMMEDIATELY tried to get his whole nose in my mouth . white fang ass

[savage-rhi]

Cue the pink!

[musical-chick-13]

ANYWAY, the moment when Amy asks the Teselecta to turn into River, and Mels/Melody/Not-Yet-River realizes that the person everyone has spent this entire episode talking about with care and fondness is actually her, they were talking about her, and then she just stands there tearing up and immediately decides to change the course of her entire life >>>>>>>

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[pepprs]

hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol

[legionofpotatoes]

can't believe I just spent three hours watching a movie about masculine anxiety in the nuclear family model, told through cartoon alien tribes wearing Mãori tattoos

[heartyearning]

the way i live my life is LIDORALLY just like doing whatever’s gonna make my friends have a laff. have a good chuckle. no matter how stupid the thing is or how silly it’s gonna make me look to other ppl if it makes them do a little snort come hell or high water i will do that thing