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kingdom-of-peace · 24 days ago

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Spotlight. pt.2| N.R

Older!News Anchor!Natasha x Younger!Female! Professor Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, one of the most recognized faces in television, finds herself under unexpected scrutiny when a young academic’s lecture on media ethics gains traction online — setting the stage for an unlikely rivalry that blurs the line between enemies and something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (natasha late 30s, reader 27ish), cult mentions, language

Word Count: 6.5k+

A/N: Omg, thank you so much — I didn’t think this would be so well received! If you spot any grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know! FYI english isn't my first language.

You arrived at the university just before seven, coffee in hand, your scarf still dusted with the remnants of the city’s unpredictable weather, although in passing you had heard that the weekend would be sunny. The sandstone building loomed, as familiar and impersonal as always, but there was a certain comfort in its old bones—the worn edges of its stairwells and the quiet hum of thought that seemed to linger in its hallways. Maybe, had you gotten a more restful sleep the night before, you would have appreciated the stillness of the building. But instead, you'd spent hours at your dining table the pervious evening, preparing for today’s lecture, only to fall asleep in the unforgiving chair. You’d only been roused when the stabbing pain in your back sent sharp signals to your brain, warning you that if you didn’t move soon, you'd be crawling into work in the morning. You really hated that weekend lectures were a thing nowadays.

As you fumbled with your keys, trying to find the right one for your office lock, you heard footsteps rounding the corner, followed by Darcy's voice calling out to you with a grin. She jogged over, laptop tucked under one arm, her hair only slightly wind tousled.

“Professor Hot Take, fancy seeing you here in the flesh,” she said. “Good morning to you too. And what’s that supposed to mean?” you replied, sarcastically. Darcy rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with playful disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You haven’t seen?”. “Seen what? I’ve been going over my presentation for today all night.” you stated, still distracted by the lock. “Only a chronically offline person like you could miss it. You’re auditorium lecture from Thursday is all over the internet.” Darcy replied while leaning against the wall beside you, watching you finally fitting the correct key into the lock.

“The public’s calling it ‘the lecture of the century.” She continued, while you invited her in with a snort. “Ha, very funny. The auditorium was practically half-empty. And of the people who stayed, half were students sent there by Vision to write a graded essay on the topic, full-well knowing it would be recorded. He made it a requirement, just to support me for my first public lecture here. Looking at all those sleep-deprived faces made it painfully easy to assume no one cared to actually listen.”

“Well, I was there on Thursday, and like you know, I thought your talk was brilliant. Apparently, so does half the nation,” Darcy said as she began clearing a pile of books from the couch in your office, dropping them unceremoniously onto the floor before sitting down. You really needed to start organizing things, you thought, watching her struggle to carve out enough space to sit. At the moment, your office looked more like a battlefield than a workspace. But then again, after your abrupt appointment to a professorship last semester, you had barely found the time to adjust. You’d thought you knew the university inside and out but actually holding a secure teaching position was an entirely different story.

Darcy’s last remark yanked you out of your spiral. “Half the nation?” you deadpanned. She gave a nonchalant shrug, clearly far too pleased with herself. “Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating but it turns out one of the students actually paid attention. They put together a short video compilation of your lecture and uploaded it. From there, it sort of... spiralled. Nothing huge, but it was trending for a few hours yesterday.”. You blinked. “Trending?”. Darcy nodded, clearly enjoying your disbelief. “Yeah, people were talking about it—quotes, commentary, a few armchair essays. Sure, there were some superficial takes on your delivery or how ‘stern academia looks cool again,’ but overall? Some genuinely clever insights. Thoughtful discussion, even.”

She paused for effect, smirking. “Though I’m sure it didn’t hurt that you used The Hour’s host as a prime example. I swear, I don’t know a single person who doesn’t have the hots for Natasha Romanoff. And online? That gets dialled up to hundred.” You rolled your eyes, already regretting your rhetorical choices but also a slight worry settled in you that maybe it had not been a good idea to single out the news anchor like that.

You had used her because, quite frankly, everyone knew her. Billboards of her face and show were plastered across the city like a second skyline. She was the easiest, most visible example of everything you were critiquing. The redhead had practically presented herself on a silver platter to you. But of course, you were just an up-and-coming academic—a newly appointed professor, still carving out space in the university ecosystem. She probably didn’t even know about your lecture. And even if she did, she’d likely dismissed it without a second thought, laughing at your age and inexperience the way so many before her had.

“Well, I’m glad at least one student cared enough about the state of our modern media landscape,” you said with a tired smile. “It was probably just a one-time fluke. People will forget about it by next week. And, for the record—I don’t find her hot.” Darcy barked out a laugh, flopping back against the armrest, a few books threatening to fall over. “Liar. I’ve only known you for a little less than a year, but even I can tell—she’s totally your type. Athletic, mature, intelligent… I mean, come on. To this day, I’m surprised she’s still single. If you can believe what the gossip magazines are printing.”

You let her ramble, referring from making fun of her for reading those pretentious gossip articles. Once Darcy hyper-focused on a topic, she could go on for hours. You tuned her out gently—not unkindly—because the last thing she needed to know was that she was absolutely right. Natasha Romanoff was, regrettably, very much your type. But that wasn’t the point. To you, she represented everything wrong with the media landscape: curated personas, manipulated narratives, the illusion of authenticity projected through high-definition screens. You might find her attractive, sure, but that didn’t erase the fact that she stood for a system of influence you fundamentally distrusted.

“Anyway,” Darcy said, pulling you back to the present, “you know you’ve got that panel discussion tonight, right? I’ll probably come with you but no promises. I still have to finish grading those papers.”. “You’ve already had a deadline? It’s barely mid-October. Your students must hate you.”. “Oh, they do. But not me they hate Banner. It’s his class and essay, not mine. I’m just stuck with the grunt work since he’s supervising my PhD.” She groaned, standing and brushing off her jeans. “I look forward to the day you both have the same academic title, and he can’t boss you around anymore. He even tried pulling rank on me once—and he’s not even in the media department.” You smiled, watching her gather her things.

“Well, don’t tell anyone yet,” the brunette added as she reached the door, lowering her voice, “but I spoke with the dean. He’s agreed to let me begin drafting my PhD thesis this semester. So maybe putting Professor Banner in his place isn’t as far off as we thought.”. “Congrats! And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Message me if you want to go to the panel together tonight.” You replied to hopeful that Darcy could pull it off.

She gave you a playful salute before disappearing down the hallway toward her shared office in the far wing—one of the temporary spaces cobbled together after a burst water pipe had flooded the computer science building last winter. Until repairs were finished, a handful of displaced researchers had been housed in your department’s extra offices. In a way, the chaos had worked in your favour. You liked your colleagues well enough, but most of them were significantly older, talking more about retirement plans than publication deadlines. They had families, routines, lives you hadn’t quite stepped into yet.

Darcy was only a year older, working on her doctorate in computer science after returning from a few years abroad teaching children programming through a humanitarian education initiative after graduating from university with her master’s degree. You’d only met her thanks to that burst pipe—and honestly, you were glad for the accident. Though half the time, you had no idea what she was talking about, especially when it came to anything related to her field of study, but she made everything here feel a little less isolating.

While sitting at your desk, getting ready for your first seminar of the day, your mind kept drifting back to what Darcy had said. She was probably exaggerating “viral” she most likely just meant the lecture had sparked a thread or two on the university's public forum. Still, you were curious. Maybe there were some thoughtful comments, even a bit of useful criticism you could use to refine the talk if you ever revisited the topic in the future. You turned on your computer, already dreading the inevitable flood of emails that greeted you each morning. Lately, it felt like they multiplied overnight. And sure enough, the moment you logged in, your inbox pinged with new messages.

But what caught you off guard was the sheer volume. In bold red letters at the top of the screen: 1.356 new emails.

You blinked.

You didn’t think you’d ever received that many emails in a whole month, regardless a day—not even close. And as you began to scroll, it became clear these weren’t just from students or university staff. A few addresses stood out immediately—news outlets, academic professionals from other universities and just random people. Hesitating only slightly, you clicked on a few promising ones and began to read.

The first email you opened was from a student—one you vaguely remembered seeing in the middle row on Thursday:

Subject: Thank you for the lecture

Hi Professor,

I just wanted to say how much I appreciated your talk the other day. It was the first time someone actually articulated the dissonance I’ve always felt watching the news, especially when it comes to public image versus actual reporting. It helped me reframe how I approach media critique in my own research paper.

Kind regards,

Michelle Jones

You smiled. That alone might’ve been worth it.

The next email, however, took a sharp and unsettling turn. It came from a fringe news outlet you’d never heard of their logo a chaotic mix of all-caps slogans and shadowy graphics. The tone immediately set off alarm bells. Instead of engaging with the nuanced critique you had offered in your lecture, the message launched into a bizarre tirade against Natasha Romanoff. Not only did it ignore your actual arguments—it went so far as to accuse her of being part of a secret cult allegedly seeking immortality through occult rituals. You felt a tightness in your chest. This wasn’t criticism. It was delusion, cloaked in the language of dissent. And worse still, your words had apparently given them more ammunition—not to analyze media structures critically, but to reinforce their own conspiratorial fantasies.

A wave of guilt washed over you. That had never been your intention. You hadn’t meant to vilify Natasha Romanoff personally—only to question the media dynamics she, willingly or not, had come to symbolize. But judging by the next few emails, you weren’t the only one being taken out of context. Several congratulated you specifically for “finally taking her down,” painting her as emblematic of everything wrong with public media.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Perhaps you should’ve framed the critique differently—less anchored to a single figure. Maybe you should have cited several anchors, even ones you considered far more problematic. You hadn’t chosen the topic for your lecture to provoke anyone. Not really. The criticism had been sitting in the back of your head for years—accumulated slowly, not from outrage, but from exhaustion. Watching news programs blur into branded personalities, debates reduced to soundbites, tragedy wrapped in sleek graphics.

You remembered late nights during your master’s, sitting with a mug of cheap tea, watching segments not for content, but for structure. Timing. Tone. The way a camera angle could turn opinion into something that felt like fact. It wasn’t about one person. It was about all of it. And yet, now that it had a face—her face—you weren’t sure if the argument could remain purely structural.

Thankfully, the fourth email brought a welcome change of tone. It was from someone working with an NGO focused on media literacy in underserved communities. The person was interested in incorporating your analysis into a training module for younger audiences and new educators. You immediately drafted a short, polite reply, expressing interest and requesting more information. It wasn’t all noise. At least some people were listening with the right intentions. The final email before you quickly exited the mail tab read:

Subject: The one

Hi,

I don’t even go to your school, but someone posted the clip on online. Just wanted to say: hottest professor energy I’ve ever seen. Please tell me you’re single.

— Anonymous admirer 💌

You stared at that one for a couple of seconds, then immediately hit delete.

Still, you needed a moment to collect your thoughts. Apparently, it wasn’t just a couple of forum posts. Something had resonated, and that was a strange and humbling feeling. A quick search confirmed your suspicions—your name now appeared in multiple headlines, often in tandem with the ginger woman. Some articles offered praise, others criticism, their tone ranging from thoughtful engagement to blatant sensationalism. Maybe Darcy hadn’t been exaggerating after all. You could only hope that this unexpected attention wouldn’t carry unforeseen consequences.

---

On the other side of town the first light of morning filtered through the sheer curtains, slicing across the polished wooden floors of Natasha’s apartment. She was already awake. Sleep had not been a reliable companion for some time now—something she had long come to accept.

By 6:00 a.m., she had finished her run—five miles through the quiet of the city’s pre-dawn streets, the air sharp against her skin, her breath steady and measured. She liked the silence. It kept her focused. Running, gave her a clarity no editorial meeting or studio debrief ever could. Back in her apartment, she worked through a set of circuits—push-ups, planks, shadowboxing—barefoot on the mat in her sunlit living room. The rhythm of it all was familiar. A discipline she had taught herself long before television studios, prime time shows and the expectations of millions. The kind of discipline that didn’t depend on whether the headlines liked her or not.

Liho, stretched luxuriously by the window in the morning sunlight, tail flicking in irritation when Natasha exhaled a little too sharply during her last round of burpees. “You’re welcome to join,” she muttered, towelling sweat from her neck as the cat narrowed his eyes at her before resuming his nap.

After a quick shower, she moved into the kitchen, the scent of dark roast filling the space as the machine hummed to life. Waiting for the coffee to brew, Natasha crouched down by the kitchen counter reaching for the familiar tin of cat food. Behind her, Liho let out a sharp meow—half impatient, half theatrical. “I know, I know,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder. “You act like I forget every morning.” Liho trotted closer, tail flicking, and let out another insistent noise. “Yes, your suffering is very real,” she added dryly, scooping the food into his dish. “I was five seconds late. Call the press.” He immediately dove into the bowl, purring with self-satisfaction. “At least one of us gets what they want without a fight,” Natasha muttered, standing back up just as the coffee machine let out a final hiss.

With one hand she sipped from her mug; with the other, she scrolled through her inbox. She had received far more emails than usual overnight. Most were flagged by her assistant, but a few had slipped through the filters—some congratulatory, others speculative, and a handful vaguely threatening in the way that people with too much time and an internet connection could be. It wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. But there were also mentions of the university lecture, snapping Natasha back to the very thoughts that had consumed her the night before. It was enough to sour Natasha’s mood for the rest of the morning— not even her sacred PB&J sandwich could redeem it.

After breakfast she dressed in her usual subdued layers: tailored black pants, a crisp charcoal blouse, soft makeup, hair in a loose braid. She never dressed to impress. She dressed to control the room before she even stepped inside it. By the time she left her building around midday, Liho was curled up again in his favourite spot by the radiator, and Natasha had already planned three responses to three different questions that might come her way on today’s editorial meeting.

She didn’t believe in being caught off guard.

Luckily during the car ride, she had already forgotten about the social media dilemma involving you. Entering the network building on a weekend felt like stepping into a mausoleum—quiet, cavernous, and absent of its usual pulse. The lobby was nearly empty, save for Charlie, the elderly security guard who had already been something of a relic when Natasha was just starting out. She greeted him with a familiar nod, a rare warmth softening her expression. He had been one of the reliable figures those early, unforgiving intern days—offering quiet comfort after her first professional humiliation, when a superior had reduced her to silent tears. Charlie never said much, but he’d slipped her those strange old-fashioned sweets only grandparents seemed to know existed. It was a small gesture, but one that had kept her from walking away after week one. And for that, she never forgot him.

When Natasha reached the newsroom floor, it felt just as quiet and lifeless as the entry hall. She made a beeline for the meeting room, where Maria, Pepper, and a few other familiar faces were already gathered. People who kept the gears of the operation turning behind the scenes.

The weekend was reserved for planning the following week's segments, as her show aired during the weekdays. Natasha entered the room, a few tired "good mornings" greeting her as she took her seat. “So, who wants to start?” Maria took charge, her voice cutting through the room with authority. Immediately, Thor, a muscular man and one of the senior technicians, launched into a passionate discussion about new gadgets that could be useful for Wednesday's show. Natasha didn’t pay much attention, her focus instead on her laptop as she typed away, trying to catch up on the flood of emails she hadn’t had time to respond to at home. She drifted in and out of the conversation, nodding occasionally when she found herself agreeing with a point.

Finally, the conversation shifted to the actual content of the show, and Natasha straightened up in her seat, her attention fully snapping into focus. Now, it was time to weigh in. “I think we should consider, trying to get an interview with the person replacing Senator Rumlow, maybe on Tuesday?”. On it," Pepper replied, her attention already snapping back to her phone. Despite being Tony Stark’s personal assistant, she played a pivotal role in managing all the major programs. Natasha couldn’t help but think that Tony better be compensating her properly. Pepper Potts was indispensable. In her eyes, there wasn’t a person more reliable or capable in the network.

“And the segment for Wednesday needs to hit harder. We’ve been playing it safe lately, and honestly, the audience can tell. We need something fresh, something real. So why not send somebody over actually reporting on the ground about those protests in France.”. "I could ask Loki or Bucky," Maria suggested, jotting down some notes. "I already know Loki will say no," Thor replied with a sigh. "Our sister Hela just bought a new house downtown, and we promised her we'd help with the move next week." Natasha often wondered how the three of them were still on speaking terms. If you believed the office gossip, their family history, especially the sibling dynamics, were filled with intrigue and backstabbing. But, as the saying goes, blood is thicker than water. Natasha, however, had never put much stock in that notion. "Then it's Bucky," Maria decided, tapping her pen thoughtfully. "His French is better anyway. Anything else? Or can my team go over the final script for Monday?".

The room fell into silence. “Alright, that’s it for today. See you all on Monday. Natasha, I will send you the final draft by tomorrow morning.” Maria announced, dismissing the team and getting an approving nod by the news-anchor. As Natasha stood up to leave, she was called back by Pepper. “Natasha, wait... I hope you didn’t forget about tonight’s panel discussion at the old theatre.”

Natasha let out a frustrated huff, recalling the event she had noticed in her calendar during the drive to the studio the previous day. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck there this evening. She was long overdue for a quiet weekend with Liho, curled up on the couch with a few old Hollywood classics. But the panel host was a renowned publishing house, where Natasha had published her second book last year— a book that had held the number one spot for months and, as per her contract, she still had to promote it the following year.

“Tonight’s panel is the last event on your promotion schedule, you’ll only have to got to their annual Christmas Party after that.” Pepper said with a sympathetic smile. Natasha let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. Any idea who else is on the panel?” Pepper pulled out her phone, looking at her notes. “Let’s see… Carol Danvers is on the list—she’s wrote something about media portrayals of the military. Then there’s Steven Strange, the famous internet doctor. He’s apparently talking about social media and its impact on medical diagnosis.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a circus already.” Pepper laughed. “Wait, it gets better— our Wanda is on there too. She published some kind of modern guide to witchcraft. Although it also addresses the portrayal of witchcraft in the media. No idea where she comes up with this stuff, but it’s selling.” Natasha shook her head. “Of course it is.”

As one of the hosts of the network’s morning show, Wanda and Natasha often crossed paths in the early hours—just as Natasha was leaving and Wanda arriving. Despite the chaos of the network, and the constant shuffle of faces moving in and out of meetings, studios, and green rooms, Wanda had become something of a quiet constant in Natasha’s mornings. Their shifts occasionally overlapped just enough to form a rhythm of casual exchanges and unspoken camaraderie. It wasn’t unusual for Natasha to catch the scent of peppermint tea and hear Wanda humming some old folk tune just as she was packing up her things. There was comfort in it.

Wanda, in all her colourful scarves and slightly chaotic energy, always seemed to see right through the practiced edge Natasha wore like a second skin. They never talked long—ten minutes in the hallway, maybe fifteen in the makeup chair if timing allowed—but Natasha valued those moments more than she let on. Wanda never pushed, never pried, just offered easy conversation and a smile that made the end of a long night feel a little less heavy. She didn’t have many friends in the building. But she considered Wanda one of the few—or at least someone she could confide in, to some extent.

“There’s also someone new—they added another name last week. Some academic who just published their PhD through them. I haven’t looked them up yet, but I can if you’re curious,” Pepper offered waving her phone and pulling Natasha out of her trip down memory lane. “Don’t bother,” Natasha said, brushing it off. “Anything I need to prepare for?”. “Not really. Karen Page is moderating, and I’ll send Peter to film some clips for socials. Just try to look like you don’t want to escape five minutes in.”. “No promises,” Natasha muttered with a smirk. She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Alright, see you on Monday. And Pepper—try not to live here over the weekend.” Pepper waved her off. “My home is where my phone is.”

—

You glanced at the time again and exhaled sharply. Still a few hours left until the panel. Part of you wished you could simply email in a cancellation—make up something vague about a personal emergency or a scheduling conflict. You’d never done anything like that before, but the idea wasn’t as unthinkable as it should’ve been.

You hadn’t expected anyone to care about your PhD thesis—it was never meant to ignite anything more than a few nods from graduate students and, if you were lucky, a polite citation in someone else’s paper. And yet, here you were, suddenly part of a public conversation about media, far outside the safe confines of academia.

Your gaze drifted to the file folder still sitting at the corner of your desk—the printout of your thesis proposal marked up by your supervisor, the final version that supported your Thursday lecture, the research that had consumed most of your adult life. You had always believed in the value of distance. Of analysis without personal entanglement. But maybe that wasn’t an option anymore in today’s world.

You didn’t even know who else would be on the panel. You hadn’t looked. That had been a deliberate choice—or an act of denial, depending on how generous you were willing to be with yourself. Still, you told yourself, it would be fine. Two hours. A handful of questions. An audience of people who would forget your name by next week. With a sigh, you gathered your belongings, preparing for your second seminar of the day.

A few hours later a sharp knock rattled your office door. You looked up from your screen, blinking in surprise. The person outside didn’t bother waiting for an answer—pushing open the door with the urgency of someone used to dragging academics away from their desks.

“Seriously?” she said, hands on hips. “We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago. I waited. Like an idiot. In heels.” You squinted at the clock in the corner of your screen. Shit. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. “I lost track of time,” you muttered, standing up and hurriedly grabbing your coat from the back of your chair.

“Obviously. Come on, we’re late and not fashionably.” As you followed her down the hallway, your thoughts were already spiralling. You didn’t want to be doing this. A panel discussion on a weekend evening? These kinds of public-facing events were supposed to be for pop-scientists, TED talk types, the ones who made flashy graphs and dramatic pauses. Not people like you, who spent nights buried in literature reviews and fought imposter syndrome on a rotating basis. You didn’t know how to perform. You knew how to write. And there was a difference. The thought of sitting on that stage, surrounded by people who breathed publicity like air made your chest tighten. What if you said the wrong thing? What if someone asked a question you couldn’t answer? What if they laughed not out of amusement but condescension?

“I still don’t get why your publisher made you do this,” Darcy said, holding the door open for you as the two of you stepped out into the brisk evening air. “Like, since when is academic critique mainstream?”. You shrugged. “I guess it is, when it intersects with media. Everyone has an opinion on media, even if they’ve never read a single study about it.” Darcy gave you a sidelong glance. “Still. I hope they’re paying you. Or at least giving you some expensive alcohol.”

You didn’t reply. You were too busy calculating how long the panel would run, and whether anyone from the faculty would be there to judge your every sentence. And somewhere, beneath all that, you were still hoping—irrationally—that it would all go by fast. That you could say your piece, disappear quietly, and maybe even catch up on sleep after. But you understood how these events operated, once the discussion ended, it was customary, almost expected, to mingle with the audience and engage in polite small talk. You still hadn’t looked up the other panellists in your office—doing so would’ve only added to your anxiety in the final hours. But maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have ended up late, which somehow felt even worse.

To make up for lost time, you and Darcy made a valiant attempt spiriting toward the nearest underground station. Proving to be significantly harder for your companion, her heels transformed her stride into something resembling a deer taking its first steps. Breathless and slightly dishevelled, you managed to squeeze into a train just before the doors closed. Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded for a Saturday evening. You caught sight of your reflection in the window and immediately tried to make yourself look remotely presentable—adjusting your hair, fixing your collar—the little things you had meant to do in the staff restroom, had time been on your side. As you mournfully remembered the change of clothes left behind, tucked away beneath your office desk.

During the short ride, the two of you exchanged updates about your day. Darcy, as usual, launched into a semi-dramatic retelling of her ongoing war with Professor Benner’s unreasonable workload. Halfway through, she leaned in and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I may have told him I finished grading everything… I skipped a few just to be here for you tonight.” Her grin was sheepish, but sincere. In that moment, your irritation about running late softened. You really were lucky to have her.

Soon enough, you arrived at your stop: The Old Theatre. True to its name, the building had once stood at the very peak of the city’s cultural life nearly a century ago. You remembered coming across references to it in some research papers—how it had later served as the city’s first television studio, one of the early strongholds of a big national broadcasting network. If your memory served correctly, Howard Stark one of the city’s most well-known historical figures had been the visionary behind it. He bought the building when it faced foreclosure and later gifted it to the city, which to this day uses it as a kind of civic venue available for rent.

You and Darcy approached the side entrance at a brisk pace, having noticed the unusually long line forming at the main doors from a distance. Ticketing had already begun, and the crowd seemed larger than anticipated for an event so rooted in academic and media theory. The popularity of the discussion appeared to have outgrown its niche origins, you thought. Missing the crowd at the main entry doors, primarily consisting of younger and middle-aged women, many of them holding merchandise and printed photographs of a striking redhead, suggesting that the panel’s appeal extended far beyond academic interest and had drawn in a dedicated fanbase cantered around a particular media personality.

Inside, you were met by a woman whose name slipped from your memory almost as soon as she introduced herself. Her tone was curt, her posture rigid with barely concealed disapproval as she gave you a sharp look—first for your lateness, then for your choice of clothing, which her eyes seemed to assess like an item in need of return. She informed you, in a clipped voice, that the organizers had attempted to reach you multiple times. You offered an apology, explaining that your phone had been on silent—a habit born more of disinterest than oversight, as you rarely used it, even in your personal life.

Without much pause, she added that there would be no opportunity to meet the panel moderator or introduce yourself to the other speakers. Time was short. You still needed to pass through hair and makeup before the event began in half an hour.

---

Natasha was seated in the guest lounge, the scent of setting spray still faint in the air. She had just finished with hair and makeup and was, for once, pleasantly surprised—the stylist had known exactly how to work with her features, accentuating rather than masking them, a rare positive occurrence.

Across from her sat Carol Danvers, a fellow network colleague she occasionally worked out with at the private gym in their building—Carol lived just a few floors below her. While their shared discipline fostered a kind of mutual respect, their conversations rarely extended beyond reps, sparring and workplace discussions. Carol’s interest didn’t exactly align with Natasha’s, adding to that both women seemed to be in different stages in life, Carol had just recently welcomed her first daughter with her wife, Maria Rambeau—a renowned photographer in the city.

Next to Carol was Dr. Stephen Strange, unmistakable even out of his clinical setting. Natasha had interviewed him once for a special segment on digital misinformation in medicine. Though they hadn’t spoken much since, she had followed his occasional op-eds and lectures from a professional distance, intrigued more by his shifting media persona than his actual subject matter. Wanda Maximoff joined them a few minutes later, her energy softer and more eclectic than the others.

“I thought I was the last one out of make-up,” Wanda said, settling into one of the lounge armchairs and glancing around. “But I only see four of us—shouldn’t there be five?” Strange, still sipping on a coffee that had long gone cold, gave a nod. “I heard the last panellist is running late.”. “Oh, I hope they made it,” Wanda said, her tone genuinely concerned. “I think I saw someone rush past a few minutes ago,” Carol chimed in, glancing up from her phone. “Could’ve been her. Don’t really know what she looks like”. “Oh good,” Wanda said with a soft smile. “I’m really curious about their take. The publisher sent me a draft of her thesis before the release. I would like to put a face to the name.”. Strange gave a quiet hum of agreement. “I only skimmed the opening chapters, but it’s definitely got something. She’s tackling some uncomfortable truths.” Carol replied, munching on a few cashews.

Natasha, leaning back on the couch, recalled a few weeks ago when a heavy box had shown up at her apartment—one of those promotion deliveries from her publisher, stacked with new releases and promotional materials. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, just scanned the covers, noting that one book stood out for its stark, minimalist design. The presenter vaguely remembered finding it odd to have an academic paper included in a promotional package. She’d set the box down in her office and forgotten about it, buried beneath a growing pile of scripts and scheduling notes. She tried to recall the author’s name but came up blank. Just as she was about to ask Wanda for confirmation about the title of the book and author’s name, a crew member entered the lounge, brisk and all business. “They’re ready for you on stage. Walkout in five.”. The four panellists stood, smoothing jackets and crew checking microphones, conversation cut short as they filed toward the wings.

—

You barely had time to catch your breath as you were ushered down a narrow hallway and toward the right wing of the stage. A production assistant guided you with a practiced urgency, headset crackling with cues from the control booth. You were late, underprepared, and not even sure why you had agreed to this in the first place—except, of course, for the obligation to promote your work, as the publisher had insisted. You silently hoped Darcy had managed to get a good seat as she had been quickly pushed towards the audience seating upon your arrival, a swift "break a leg" slipping from her lips as she was escorted away.

The stage lights spilled into the side corridor, casting long, warm beams across the narrow passage just as Karen Page’s voice rang out clearly from centre stage, conversing with another female voice. As you reached the curtain’s edge, you found a woman already standing there. She turned at the sound of your hurried steps, her warm expression tinged with curiosity. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, recognition dawning. “Wait… I’ve seen you before,” she said, her voice low enough not to carry. “You’re the one from that lecture about media and public perception. The one that’s been all over social media.” You gave a small, breathless nod, not sure how to respond. Recognizing Wanda from brief glimpses of a morning show you’d seen in passing, though you couldn’t quite recall which network it belonged to.

Wanda smiled, a little wider now. “I hadn’t connected the dots. I read your thesis when the publisher sent it over—but didn’t have a face to match to the fire behind those words.” Natasha had to know about your lecture, Wanda thought. Nothing ever slipped past her. But the real question lingered: did she know you were going to be here tonight? She tilted her head slightly, her voice thoughtful. “This is going to be interesting.”

You furrowed your brows, unsure if that was meant as encouragement or a warning. Wanda glanced subtly across the stage toward the opposite wing, where Dr. Strange and another figure waited in the shadows—someone tall, poised, arms crossed. The studio lights obscured the face, but the silhouette felt familiar, almost instinctively recognizable. You hadn’t looked up the other panellists. You hadn’t had time. “She’s not known for pulling punches,” Wanda added, casually. “Especially when she feels attacked. Just… be prepared to hold your ground.”

Before you could ask who, she meant, the stage manager signalled. Wanda gave you a quick, reassuring glance, then disappeared behind the curtain. A few minutes later, Steven Strange was called onto the stage. You remembered attending a few of his guest lectures back during your undergraduate years at university. Your cue was only moments away when the name of the familiar-appearing person was announced. At first, you weren’t sure if you’d heard it correctly—the audience had grown noticeably louder, a subtle shift in energy rippling through the theatre. But as Karen Page began to read the brief introduction, the words confirmed what your instincts already suspected. There was only one person that description could belong to Natasha Romanoff. The face of The Hour. A few seconds later, Natasha would be experiencing the same rush of recognition and disbelief upon hearing the name of the professor who had occupied her thoughts since the night before.

A/N: Revelations. Revelations. Things are about to get heated next time around. Thanks for reading, and Happy Easter to everyone who’s celebrating! :)

Tags: @nebthetautora @womenarehotsstuff @caramelcat123 @doddledoo @jassgunner

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonova #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #the avengers #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #nat x reader #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff

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starsinthesky5 · 10 days ago

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thinking ab how Joe doing the archer pose is how everyone knows whether song bird is at the game or not. Like the bengals posting a compilation of him doing the pose or like the commentators saying the First Lady of Cincinnati is here when they see him do it 🥺

a/n: back to my usual posts!

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

them and the archer pose is so :( aghhhh.

joe always had a way of tuning out the chaos of the stadium. but when she was in the stands, it was different. there was something about her presence that shifted his focus, he could feel her even when he wasn’t looking. she always tried to blend in, tucked in the private suite with a cap on, sunglasses in her hair, a drink in her hands. trying to be as invisible as possible. but joe? he felt her. and when he did, it was like a signal.

right after the tunnel runout, when the stadium roared with anticipation and the lights blinded him for a second, joe would glance up toward the suite. if she was there, he’d feel it, the pull inside him, like he was meant to find her, like she was the reason he was running. once he stepped onto the field, he’d slow his pace just enough, his eyes sweeping the crowd until they landed on her. that’s when it happened. he’d drop to one knee, steady himself for just a beat, and with one smooth motion, he’d raise his right arm, as if drawing an invisible bowstring back.

for a split second, he’d hold it there, eyes locked with hers across the field, as if aiming right at her heart. and then...he’d release the arrow. his arm would drop slowly as he rose back up, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. he’d get back into position like it was nothing, ready to play. but that moment, that archer pose, was all for her.

it wasn’t anything anyone else noticed at first. just a small, subtle gesture. but when the bengals caught it on camera one game and posted it with the caption “target locked. 🎯”, fans started connecting the dots.

“wait…he only does that pose sometimes. that's weird, right?”

“isn't it funny how that's the same pose his girlfriend does sometimes when she's preforming. doesn't she have an unreleased song called the archer too?”

“wait. what if he only does the archer pose...when she's at the game. since it's her pose and he does it for...oh my GOD,”

“he didn’t do it last week. she must’ve been out of town,”

“archer confirmed. first lady of cincinnati is in the house!”

“i don’t even watch football (only here for my girl), but joe doing that pose when he sees her in the stands? i’m sold,”

soon, even the commentators picked up on it.

“and there it is! the archer. you know what that means,”

“looks like songbird’s in the building tonight,”

“he doesn’t do that pose unless she’s here. when she’s here, it’s like he’s a different player. unstoppable. moving with a different kind of edge. truly remarkable,”

“you can see it in his eyes when he looks for her. nothing else matters when she’s in the stands,”

the guys on the team picked up on it, too. “hey, is she coming today?” tee would ask before every game, and ja'marr would laugh, “you gotta hit that pose, bro,”. it was a whole thing.

but on the nights she wasn’t there? joe would still play hard, but there was this quiet feeling in the air. he’d still lead the team, but without her, something felt…incomplete. no archer pose. the cameras would linger, waiting for it. but it never came.

and when she was there? when he found her, her eyes locked with his from her seat, his heart racing just a little? that’s when he did it. every time. he’d raise his arm, letting everyone know. she was there. he was playing for her. the stadium would erupt, but to joe, the world would fade away. it was just them. his eyes locked on hers, and when she pressed her palm to the glass, smiling like it was just the two of them, he couldn’t help but feel it. like that arrow he just shot? it was for her. and no one else.

it wasn’t just a move. it was a promise. his way of saying i’m here. i’m with you. every step, every throw, every win.

it's for you.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #yail asks #yail #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joey burrow #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine

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kaiserposting · 3 months ago

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My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

#kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x you #blue lock x you

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scenesniper · 2 years ago

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☆ "fool's gold" | norton campbell ; general nsfw headcanons

pairing / "fool's gold" norton campbell x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / possessive, jealous themes, suffocation, overstimulation, mentions of being passed out, "hunting"

word count / 869 words

⭒ fool's gold is, as we can all tell, towering tall so we know damn well he's packing down there. 8.5 inches and i'm not exaggerating, i am a high believer of 8.5 inches fool's gold.

⭒ fool gold looms over you and is mostly seen being next to you no matter where your destination may be. he follows you like a lost puppy that other survivors and hunters can't help but be galled that this unapproachable man could be so soft hearted.

⭒ fool’s gold simply fucks you like an animal in heat. he isn’t passionate more so, selfish and possessive over you. he’s quite rough, especially forgetting about foreplay at times and just goes down on you. please remind him! he isn't intentionally attempting to hurt you (most of the time). fool's gold isn't the most meticulous of lovers, but what he loves the most is listening to you.

⭒ at first, when giving foreplay, fool's gold would have his finger deep in you. however, it didn't felt right so he started to just eat you out right then and there. and when i tell you, fool's gold eats you out as though you're his last meal. he's a starved man for you. his tongue deep in you and knowing just where the right places are that'll have your toes curling.

⭒ kissing fool's gold is always a battle, a battle that you'd never win no matter. he'd always have you deprived of oxygen by the end of it and yet, each kiss is like no matter you've ever experienced.

⭒ fool's gold loves your chest. he loves to flick it with his fingers or run his cold, pointer finger down on it just to see the way your face contorts with shivers running along your body. and god, does he love to suck your nipples dry (yes i'm serious. this man pretends he's drinking your breast milk).

⭒ fool's gold loves to mark you in any way possible. a visible place where everyone could see his marked treasure. your neck, chest, hips, thighs. he completely marvels at his work after, you will never not be reminded of that love experienced that night every time you see your littered body.

⭒ he loves to bite you (yes, biting). he has a scary set of sharp teeth but rather, don't worry as it's mostly a nibble. however, fool's gold is easily and naturally jealous. he has a keen sense of smell and so, when he picks up a scent that seems to be too close to you, he'd absolutely start biting your neck until it starts to bleed with no hesitations. he loves to give you love bites, yes, but those times of frustration.. he just had to let it out at these kind of moments😪.

⭒ fool’s gold loves to receive rather than give. just stuff your entire mouth into his cock and he’d instantly fold for you. grunting, as he roughly guides you by the hair as he looks down on you taking in all of his length. your head, bobbing up and down, he’s completely entranced by your saliva streaming down your mouth.

⭒ fool’s gold isn’t verbal. if anything, the most you’d hear out of him are his occasional growling and animalistic grunts. despite that, he'd muster out some degrading name calling remarks to you that are compiled with loving praises as well. whether it be praising you for taking his dick, he'd manage to throw in some degradation as well (slut, whore, messy).

⭒ fool's gold loves to experiment with his positions. his one hand tightly binding you above your head while the other hand is completely exploring your body. or your body backed into a surface as he completely fucks you from behind. even the view of your back arching for him as he watches your head buries itself more and more into the pillows. he's completely lost for you.

⭒ fool's gold stamina is endless. once he starts, he can't stop. he fucks you endlessly, his cum deep inside your mouth, everywhere on your fucked face, your body sticky and drenched with his cum. even if you pass out from the overstimulation, fool's gold would continue going.

⭒ he loves your mouth. your lips around his cock, your mouth full of his cum, he can't help but tell you to open your mouth to spit in it. "open your mouth." his voice striking venomously. "now swallow." "good job baby.."

⭒ definitely into the "predator, prey" roleplay. he'd hunt you deep in the forest, giving you a multiple of minutes head start only to catch up to you in mere seconds and taking you right then and there in the forest. your fear draws him in more in which he'd have you backed up against a tree or rather, fuck you as he holds you around his body.

⭒ fool's gold always seems to have his hand around you which would always be a tight grip. fool's gold wouldn't think much of it since in his eyes, you're practically "his" all inside and out. once you've captured his attention, he has no plans of ever having you run from him.

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jihyoruri · 1 year ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CHANEL GIRLFRIENDS kim minji x fem!reader

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ yn of lesserafim and minji of new jeans, both are ambassadors of the worldwide known luxury brand chanel, they’re also known as the chanel girlfriends.

a series of short oneshots and compilations that convinced the world that the “chanel girlfriends” are definitely not just two girls who are friends.

PARING — kim minji x lsrfm!reader

minji pulling a reverse card on yn for five minutes 987k views

previous. masterlist. next

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip one

"I honestly don't know why filming tiktoks is taken so seriously," yn remarked to the camera as she strolled through the bustling halls of hybe. "filming behind-the-scenes for it seems a bit dramatic, don't you think?" she chuckled, her playful demeanor momentarily halted when her manager shot her a scolding glare

"I think you guys will be happy with who I'm doing this trend with," yn continued, her tone laced with mischief. "on weverse, I mentioned seeing natty and julie from kiss of life do this, and I wanted to try it too, but not with my boring members," she teased, fully aware that her bandmates would likely come for her for the comment later. "so, I asked who you wanted me to do this with, and I'm fulfilling your wishes."

as yn continued her walk, the oldest member of new jeans came into view, waiting for her with a warm smile. yn reciprocated the smile as she introduced minji to the camera, the latter waving in acknowledgment.

“minji will be doing this with me.” yn smiles as the girl waved at the camera.

"this might take a while since I fluster minji a lot," yn remarked to the camera, earning a playful scowl from minji. "anything I do, she will mess up."

“what are you even talking about.” she says yn’s pushing yn’s shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes when yn dramatically throws herself back, “that’s not true.”

after bickering, the girls set up the phone before filming, the audio of the song played and they start, minji points her fingers towards yn keeping her gaze on the girl waiting for her to dance but all yn does is turn away.

“don’t look at me!” she says covering her face and walking away only to be pulled back by minji, “why were you looking so intensely?!”

"I have to look at you, I need to face you, that's part of the trend," minji explained, trying to coax yn’s hands away from her face, chuckling at yn’s visible fluster as she backed away.

"I need to go on a walk," yn declared, feeling overwhelmed by the situation as she dramatically tried to exit.

“what?! no come on let’s do this.”

it took them five times to get in right all thanks to yn, but hey it was worth it in the end the fans loved the video.

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip two

yn, completely immersed in the music and the interaction with her fans, spun around in her chair with enthusiasm, belting out the lyrics, the room echoed with her joyous singing as she twirled, lost in the moment.

unbeknownst to her, the door creaked open, revealing minji's arrival. With a mischievous grin, minji grabbed the arm of yn’s spinning chair, abruptly halting its motion and causing yn to let out an unexpected scream of surprise.

"you scared me!" yn exclaimed, hand pressed against her chest as she shot minji a playful glare, though her heart was still racing from the sudden interruption.

minji chuckled at yn’s reaction, unfazed by the accusation. "all I did was stop your chair," she retorted casually, shrugging off yn’s accusation of sneaking up on her.

"no, you snuck up on me!" yn insisted, turning back to face her live audience, who were now buzzing with excitement at minji's unexpected appearance. "she's so obsessed with me that she couldn't wait until after the live to see me."

a blush crept onto minji's cheeks momentarily before she scoffed in disbelief. "what are you even saying at this point?"

"I'm saying you're obsessed," yn teased, continuing to ramble and poke fun at minji, who tried her best to maintain her composure despite the girl's relentless banter. with a sigh, minji glanced at the comments scrolling by, standing behind yn’s chair and wrapping her arms around yn’s shoulders from behind, resting her chin on yn’s head.

"why'd you stop talking?" minji asked, unable to see yn’s face directly since she was now positioned behind her.see.

"you're being touchy,"yn responded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to regain her focus, flustered by minji's unexpected affectionate gesture.

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip three

minji smiled when yn sat beside her waving to the live, “I came to visit!” yn exclaims.

“it’s been a while since yn has been with me on live right?” minji says while the fans on live comment about how long they’ve been waiting for yn and minji to do a live again.

“you guys better be grateful I’m here.” yn says pointing at the live, “chaewon unnie almost didn’t let me go because it’s our day off.” in reality that wasn’t the reason chaewon almost forced yn home at all, as soon as she heard that yn was going to hang out with a certain new jeans member she flipped, especially after last time.

minji sent yn and alarmed look before reading the comments, “yn tell us about meeting jennie in paris.”

yn’s face lit up and she immediately got into the details of meeting the blackpink member and like always once you get yn to talk about something it’s hard to stop her.

minji, fully engrossed in yn’s storytelling, suddenly noticed how the girl was slightly not in the frame. without missing a beat, she smoothly adjusted, tugging YN's chair closer with a casual, nonchalant gesture, ensuring the girl was perfectly within the frame.

yn paused for a second, obviously feeling slightly flustered by the action.

"what?" minji inquired innocently, her gaze fixed on yn, unwavering and intense.

all yn did was shake her head and get back into her story, while yn was talking to the live, it was like she could feel minji’s gaze on her causing yn to fidget uncomfortably in her seat. finally, unable to ignore the scrutiny, yn turned to meet minji's gaze, only to find the other girl still staring back with slight intensity.

the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, yn quickly averted her gaze, focusing once again on the live broadcast. "stop that!" she blurted out, hoping to distract herself from the overwhelming feeling of minji’s stare.

#new jeans x reader #kim minji x reader #kim minji #minji x reader #minji #minji new jeans #lesserafim #girl group imagines #new jeans #new jeans imagines

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shantechni · 6 months ago

Note

Related to your post about Mikey "accidentally delivering low blows when stressed" (Aug 2023) would you hc that it's related to his emotional awareness of his family? Like when he blamed Splinter for letting them go up to the surface, he would know Splinter was already questioning his decision to let them do that, or he calls Splinter out on not being affected by his mutated appearance (when Splinter looks uncomfortable being seen by humans/Shredder)? Basically, what are your further thoughts on it? Has he done this elsewhere?

The post in question for the curious cats

This compilation video as well because my big brain remembered me doing that and it's related to this topic and I meant to do a part 2

Oh, that behavior is 100% related to Mikey's emotional awareness. I'd hardly even call it a headcanon, it's just canon lol.

After not only botching their first fight above ground but failing to stop two kidnappings on their watch, the boys immediately start playing the blame game by pointing out each other's rash decisions and dumb mistakes that led to such an outcome. Obviously, the idea of Splinter's decision being yet another mistake of the sorts was hanging somewhere in the air waiting to be grabbed at, but no one readily went for it as something that needed to be acknowledged as a mistake. That's why it's so fascinating to see the writers establish Mikey right out of the gate as someone who isn't afraid to comment on Splinter's decisions and his emotional state when he's making those decisions.

He was certainly aware of their father's doubts concerning them going above ground for the first time because a comment like that doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Granted, this instance was him speaking his mind in the heat of the moment and only realizing how much his words would sting after the fact (especially since they're the ones who convinced Splinter to send them off with their begging), but this becoming a continuous trend of his throughout the series further proves the fact of him being more aware of things than a lot of people pegged him to be.

In Mikey Gets Shellacne, his remark about Splinter telling him not to fret about his appearance when he could hardly bring himself to do the same can be interpreted as a more apparent example of him knowing more than he lets on. It's made rather obvious from the start of the series that Splinter wasn't keen on roaming the streets looking like a giant rat, but that's more of a "show and don't tell" deal where both the audience and the characters are left on their own to pick up on such an important yet minor detail. Splinter never tells anyone about his insecurity, nor does anyone in the series talk about it amongst each other, so a moment like this can be a bit jarring when it's framed as Mikey calling out Splinter's opinion on his own appearance.

Though the intent of his comment was to simply call Splinter old, the underlying insult is there and Mikey regrets saying something like that to their father of all people.

Other than letting his frustrations get the better of him and unintentionally plucking at Splinter's insecurities, Mikey is greatly in tuned with the emotions of those around him and will usually pick up on any changes rather quickly. Take these two moments with, funnily enough, him and Splinter near the start of Serpent Hunt.

I previously posted the first clip as a funny little observation, but the scene is more intriguing than my jestful sentence made it out to be. Mikey's attention is split between hanging his goofy pieces of artwork on the wooden boards and listening to April as she announces how the restaurant is starting to look like a makeshift home. It's not until he turns around to joke with her about his drawings that he finally has Splinter in his sights, and his attention evidently begins to drift to Splinter as April is responding to his question (you can literally see his head following Splinter's movements while April is speaking to him😭). And just look at how taken aback he is by Splinter's melancholic expression being on full display:

While Splinter answers Mikey by stating that he's concerned for Casey, Leo and Raph because they've been gone for a while, it's pretty obvious that's not all he's bothered by, and him not being subtle about his troubled mind like usual had enough flags raising in Mikey's mind for him to hop up from his spot. Once the scene transitions to the second clip, Mikey lingers with Splinter in the front of the restaurant while April ventures to the back in search of Donnie to check on his progress with the retro-mutagen, as well as to see if the others made it back yet. Mikey and Splinter decide to follow April as soon as Donnie utters Karai's name, and Mikey is visibly bracing himself for another look of heartbreak on their father's visage:

Splinter moments aside, Mikey recognizes when something is up with his brothers and friends, as well as whether or not he should step in. Of course the prominent moments of him demonstrating his ability to calm Leatherhead and Raph down count among the times when he steps in, but the times when he chooses not to step in shouldn't be understated either.

Take the pre-intro scene in The Cosmic Ocean for example, when April breaks the silence and questions where Leo ran off to. We understand where Raph is coming from when he says that it can't be healthy for Leo to confide in a simulated version of Splinter since it could just make him miss their father more than ever, but Mikey suddenly pops from his laid back position off-screen and joins the conversation:

He's knows as well as Raph that speaking with a simulation of their father isn't exactly ideal, but he also knows that Leo is used to coming home to confide in Splinter for advice whenever he feels his confidence as a leader beginning to waver. The whole gang knows all of this, but once again, Mikey's the only one to verbalize it. Sometimes people need to hear something so obvious outloud to really understand or remember its importance, and Mikey seems to know that best.

I don't really need to mention how his emotional awareness extends far beyond simply knowing when someone is down, or when he is or isn't in a position to help them, but it makes for a decent epilogue to this analysis so-

Him being the least (read: least) temperamental of his brothers automatically puts him in the position of a mediator when there's tension in the group, and it's common knowledge that he'd often go out of his way to ease that tension in his own ways. He sometimes makes jokes, both corny and intelligent, just to get everyone's minds off of the heaviness of a situation, even if that moment of reprieve only lasts for a minute. He attempts to break up fights before they get too far, which sometimes doesn't work because they're a stubborn bunch of turtles (literally the entire first five minutes of New Girl in Town lol), but his efforts are commendable and genuine.

He's exceptionally conscious of changes in the atmosphere and a swing in someone's mood, which could go hand in hand with his sixth sense for weird Kraang stuff if you think about it. But all of this comes together to paint an undeniably clear image of Mikey having a great amount of emotional awareness, and just all around being one of the most emotionally intelligent characters of the series.

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hotvintagepoll · 1 year ago

Text

Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

We are in the quarterfinals of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Propaganda is not my own and is on a submission basis. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Rita Moreno propaganda:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

youtube

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

youtube

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

youtube

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

#marlene dietrich #rita moreno #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies quarterfinals #Youtube

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v1si0n · 5 months ago

Text

ch.6: since we’re lying now…

The slight creak of the dance studios door pulls Jeno from his focus and he scowls, turning his head to see you standing like a deer in headlights at the entrance.

“Can I help you?” He grumbles, returning his attention back to his phone where he compiles a series of tweets on his private account.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” You coo sarcastically, walking into the studio and shutting the door.

“What are you doing?” Jeno asks as he watches you put your bag down in the corner and take your sweater off.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You quirk a brow at him, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied moan. “I’m in a dance studio with athletic clothes on. What else could I possibly be doing?”

Jeno ignores the way his eyes almost instinctively flit down to the exposed skin of your waist, and he averts his eyes to the wall. He feels a twinge of annoyance bubbling in his chest at your snarky remark, and he scoffs. “Can’t you see I’m already in here? Go somewhere else to practice.”

“Is there some sort of rule that says I can’t practice at the same time as you?” You ask rather nonchalantly, the steadiness in your voice driving Jeno up the wall as he continues to look everywhere else but you.

“No, jackass, it’s just common courtesy to respect each others space,” He huffs.

“I’m not even in your space, or remotely close to your space. I’ll stay on this side, so you can stop your bitching and whining so we can both lock in, deal?” You counter, putting your Airpods into your ears before turning your back towards him and facing the wall of mirrors on your side.

Jeno stands dumbfounded for a moment, slowly processing your words before turning around to his own wall of mirrors. He clears his throat and stretches, cramming his headphones back into his ears and letting the beat of the song flood his eardrums.

For the next hour, you’re both in your respective zones, and while you’re effortlessly moving through the choreography, Jeno was struggling to even remember the moves to his own routine. He loops the song once, twice, then by the eleventh time he’s cursing under his breath out of frustration that he completely believes is your fault.

With both of your mirrors facing each other on opposite ends of the room, Jeno could see your every movement despite having his back towards yours. His eyes trace your figure as you move to the music blasting in your headphones, his breath hitching every time the hem of your shirt rides up at the slightest movement of your arms.

Despite the booming bass that occupies his ears, he’s almost certain the erratic beating of his heart is louder, and he doesn’t know what comes over him as he surges forward and forcefully turns you by your shoulder.

“Dude! I was so locked in, what the hell are y—“

“Get out,” He barks, his jaw clenched as he keeps his fists balled up at his sides.

You let out a short laugh, partially in disbelief and partially because of the way his cheeks were tinted pink from dancing.

“No. Anything else?” You reject, looking up at him and beckoning for him to continue.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Get out. I don’t want you here,” Jeno snaps, and you let out a long sigh.

“Listen, buddy—”

“I’m not your buddy.”

“We have been peacefully coexisting in this studio for the past hour, and not only have you just physically harmed me—”

“I grabbed your shoulder?”

“But you are now telling me to leave for no reason. Tell me Jeno, is it fun?” You probe, your arms crossing over your chest.

“Is what fun?” Jeno buffers, his eyes finding it difficult to tear away from the way the light sheen of sweat makes your skin glow.

“This one sided beef you have going on. Is it fun to hate someone for no reason?” You question further, stepping closer to him.

“I have my reasons,” He mutters under his breath, refusing to tear his eyes away from yours in fear that they’d wander to places that he should definitely not be focused on.

“Please, share with the class,” You gesture for him to continue.

“Well, you’re extremely loud, thats one,” Jeno scoffs, his hands on his hips as you continue to stand in front of him tauntingly in your absurdly tight top and dangerously low waisted sweats.

“Amazing, next?” You count off one finger, sticking up the next as you wait for his response.

“You’re…you’re always off beat!” He calls out pathetically, his brain short circuiting as he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Not true. Hyuck messes up more than I do, but go off. Three?” You stick up another finger.

Jeno racks his brain for any sort of insult he could hurdle at you but begins to find it impossible as you stand less than two feet in front of him, your head tilted to the side as you regard him with a hint of challenge in your eyes.

“You’re too energetic, you talk too much, and you…you’re always taking up too much space!” He blurts out all in one breath, his chest heaving.

In the midst of his fervor he hadn’t realized that you had started to step closer to him, and he balks at the way you practically have him backed up against the wall of mirrors. You, on the other hand, sport a wicked, almost knowing, smile, and you clear your throat to speak.

“You know, for someone who hates me so much, it sure was hard for you to come up with five simple reasons for not liking me,” You feign a pout, tilting your head in mock sympathy. “Was that hard for you, Jeno?”

His face hardens at your mocking tone and he mumbles out a quiet “No.”

“Alright, well, one, I do have a lot of energy, but don’t you think we need that to dance?” You question him gently, a satisfactory smile spreading on your face when you see the way his jaw clenches.

When he doesn’t answer and opts to narrow his eyes at you, you continue “Two, even if I do talk too much, it’s almost never to you so why do you care? Are you paying that much attention to me, babe?”

He doesn’t want to admit it but his heart nearly lurches out of his throat at the pet name, and he takes a deep breath to ground himself.

“Do you even realize how loud you are?”

“Oh, please. You can’t be friends with Chenle and Mark then call me loud,” You scoff, poking his chest with your finger. “Can I be real honest, Jeno?”

“I guess,” He digs his nails into his palms to distract himself from the feeling of your finger gently tracing shapes on his chest.

“I think you have a little crush on me,” You smirk up at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” He says through gritted teeth, “I don’t like you at all.”

Theres a moment of silence as you look at each other, fire burning behind both of your gazes as you let out a breath of laughter.

“‘Love and hate are visceral. Your stomach twists at the thought of that person. The heart in your chest beats heavy and bright, nearly visible through your flesh and clothes. Your appetite and sleep are shredded. Every interaction spikes your blood with adrenaline, and you’re in the brink of fight or flight. Your body is barely under your control. You’re consumed, and it scares you. Both love and hate are mirror versions of the same game.’ Sally Thorne,” You let out in one breath.

“I did not understand a word you just said,” He deadpans.

“It’s a quote from a book. And it’s basically saying theres no real difference between how you feel when you love or hate someone. So how sure are you that what you feel for me is hatred?” You prod at his chest again.

“You’re an idiot. Stop that,” He pushes your finger away from his chest.

“An idiot you might just be in love with,” You continue poking at his chest.

“I said stop, Y/N.”

“Or what? Is little Jeno gonna do something bad-”

Your words die in your throat as he grabs the hand that has been relentlessly poking his chest and swiftly spins you around. Your breath hitches when he presses you against the cold surface of the mirror, and your eyes widen as he peers down at you.

His breathing is heavy as he keeps a firm grip on the hand that you used to prod at him, and his eyes study your face before trailing up to your eyes.

“I told you to stop.”

The silence that fills the studio is enough to make your ears ring as you two stare at each other. An unwelcome thought pricks at your brain and your gaze falls to his lips, your eyes following his tongue as it darts out to wet the surface.

The jingling of keys breaks you out of your reverie and you gasp, your head snapping towards the door before you shove Jeno away from you. He stumbles back with a grunt, his gaze still lingering on you as you watch the door open.

“Uh, sorry kids. Time to go,” A janitor stands in the doorway as he taps at the watch on his wrist, “Nightly roll call is in like ten minutes. You better head back to your dorm.”

Your feet move quickly to your side of the studio and your frantic hands grab at your belongings. You hug your bag and sweater close to your chest before scurrying past the janitor, who watches you with mild concern as you leave.

Jeno doesn’t move from his spot in front of the mirror. His eyes are trained on the spot you were standing not long ago, the image of you shamelessly staring at his lips burned into his memory. He groans, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he mutters under his breath.

“Idiot.”

wc: a little over 1.7k im SORRY

ch.7: odd…peculiar even…

masterlistΣ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

TAGLIST: @sunghoonsgfreal @jenohyun @n0hyuck @tywritesstuff @dinonuguaegi @slayhaechan @botchedbrat @nayulvr @jenoleeaesthetic @ldh0000 @nctrawberries @meowtella @insaneanddrained @blamingontheboogie @jich3nle @flamingi @mmjhh1998 @byeonwooseokabs @qiankunslove @conwunder @sunflowerhae @lotties-readings @keeryverse

NOTES: this writer does not know how to stfu im sorry. but i hope you guys like this chapter bc i sure enjoyed writing it ;) i promise it wont take two weeks for the next one💗

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svtminji · 1 year ago

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𐙚 ‧ jeongmi ─── scenarios

╰ anon request: Your recent blog was so sweet!! It kinda shows us their relationship dynamic with each other. Maybe for another blog it could be “fan favorite moments” with them — ⭐️ anon

I 𝓲. I request ୨୧ jeonghan x oc

❪ 🏹 going seventeen ❫ as always, going seventeen provides the viewer a comedic setting of seventeen and their idol personas. in this fic, you'll be able to read the jeongmi moments/cuts caught by carats. this is just a compilation of my favorite gose episodes 🥲 not proof-read 😞

﹙ INSOMNIA-ZERO I ﹚— with seungcheol still in his hiatus, minji was the first person up and she had no clue what she was getting herself into. although there were a few remarks about her snarky behavior when she gets mad and her constant fights with s.coups, she had a clean slate. most of the members mentioned how she was quite literally their mother since they spent most, if not all, their time training. after her time was over, minji had left the mattress with a heartbeat of 98, which was not bad compared to the rest. minji handed jeonghan the heart monitor and sat herself next to wonwoo.

as many might notice, the 95 line are quite stuck to the bone and minji was not afraid of spilling some secrets about jeonghan. the female member began talking about the "oppa" situation and jeonghan turned to the side trying to forget it. the members, who had already heard this story, continued it with jeonghan's prior remarks about how she would never have a clue. all of the chatter about the two later transferred to jeonghan's more devious plans towards the members; minji sat there in silence just montioring the members. once jeonghan's time was over, his first instinct was to look at the cause of the chaos: minji.

"jeonghan-ah, remember. once your time is up, you can't defend yourself~"

[forced to be silent]

he gave her the stink eye and handed joshua the monitor. minji scooted to give him space, which he gladly took. the pair sat in silence for a while until he started to open his mouth about joshua. in the camera shots, you could see the small little heart eyes minji gave jeonghan whenever he spoke and would lean into him. it was the small signals that would drive shippers crazy.. though it would soon end after jeonghan was part of the three members that would go home early, minji being tied with another and turned her attention to joshua c:

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀정한

﹙ TTT 2020 ﹚— this was the "going seventeen" episode that basically comfirmed the dating rumors between these two. minji, jeonghan, hoshi, and woozi were all in the same car on their way to the rented house. while woozi and driver jeonghan were in the front seats, minji and soonyoung were in the back having fun and giggling to each other. this led to frequent checks from jeonghan through the rearview-mirror only to spot minji looking at him and smiling :3. at their stop to get food, the "woozi cam" captured the pair walking together with jeonghan's arm around her. during the cuts of them eating, a slight drunk minji was basically all up on jeonghan. it got so worse the editors had to cut so much of the footage.

while being on the losing team during foot-volleyball, minji made her way to the alcohol stand where her worst enemy laid, the vodka mix. offering to drink the member's shots, minji knew she wouldn't remember a thing tomorrow. before she started her third shot, jeonghan looked at her questionably and asked if she was okay doing this.

"are you sure you're going to be okay? i don't want you throwing up on me later tonight."

"relax babe, i'll be fine! i used to go band for band when i was a teenager, it'll be alright~~"

[. . . . “babe”?]

noticing her slipup of the word "babe", jeonghan knew it was too late. the members just stared at her and hoped it wouldn't make it to the final cut (it did). though like the self-proclaimed pro she is, she raised the shot glass to her lips and threw her head back. the bitter aftertaste of whatever was in that container had left her feeling a little silly, which had meant the real fun had started to begin.

joining soonyoung in the fanatic drunks is minji. as stated before, minji becomes up and personal with the people around her when drunk. although she may have a high alcohol tolerance (thanks to her underage drinking), minji's affections become more and more affectionate when drinking way too much.

during this time, minji and jeonghan were first beginning their relationship and they did not want to be exposing it right away to the cameras; but pair minji + alcohol and you get a mess that is quite hard to clean up. after she had made dinner, she sat between jeonghan and seungcheol. many fans point out the difference in actions done by the two men. jeonghan was basically minji's headrest and seungcheol was just there to balance her out.

"hannie.. you look so pretty today.. like a cloud.."

"minji-ah, leave that poor man alone.."

"coups.. you look handsome too.."

coups + mizu + han + shua = the poly couple idc argue w the wall

the day after constant drinking and singing, minji was pretty much hung over #she threw up and spent most of her day taking things slow, especially when cleaning up the kitchen… moving into the car was the best thing she could’ve done. with hoshi taking the driver’s role on the way back, the '95 duo were left in the backseats and spent their time resting (cuddling eachother too bruh).

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀정한

﹙ AB-LIB GOING COMPANY ﹚— the first ‘gose’ episode after the news of the couple… so let’s say the members didn’t quite hold back. starting off with the ceo and the employee relationship ..

[before minji enters (on standby with the "foreign department")]

“have you guys heard the rumor?” seungcheol starts while leaning in to talk with the rest of the ‘employees’. some of them shook their head and leaned in to hear.

“supposedly the ceo and mizuki.. are dating.” seungkwan revealed it. “but that’s just a rumor..”

“isn’t that nepotism?”

“hyung.. that’s when your born into the company..”

minji’s reaction, while on standby, was just her eye-rolling at what they were doing. though as soon as minghao, jun, and vernon started walking towards the rest of the ‘employees’, she followed them.

[staff chwe hansol, doi mizuki, wen junhui, xu minghao come to work]

“oh! good morning mizuki!” seungkwan smiled as he spoke as if he wasn’t talking about her a second ago.

“good morning seungkwan, how’s the research going?”

“research about what…?” minji smiled about his inital confusion and began her snarky comment.

“about my relationship with the ce-”

[ceo yoon jeonghan comes to work]

though she was cut off by jeonghan’s entrance, she just closed her mouth and stayed quiet. after embarking in the classic “content is power!” “sleep when you’re dead!” chants, the day went pretty eventful. not much was spoken about the ongoing question at hand but that was until jeonghan stirred the pot.

“let’s see who hasn’t spoken in a while.” jeonghan scanned the room to which he laid eyes on her scribbling down doodles. “ah, mizuki.. why don’t you share what’s on your notepad?”

seungcheol, who was across from her, snickered then later shook due to the ‘coldness’. minji smiled, stood up, and cleared her throat. “well, it says i’ll like to go home.”

[not taking her job seriously.. pure silence]

“great! everyone clap!” jeonghan replied after a few seconds of silence and everyone had followed through.

“what a guy.. only excusing her just because they’re dating..”

“this has to be corruption..”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀정한

﹙ THE TRUMAN SHOW OF MR. SVT’S WE LIVE ALONE ﹚— placed into a small room was seungcheol, minji, jeonghan, wonwoo, and seokmin. they were all commentating and watching the “everyday life” of mr. svt, mingyu. soon enough minji’s turn would begin as the new “mr. svt”.

[a good morning for the new mr. svt]

with an airpod in one ear, she knew it wouldn’t end well, especially with that devil in that room as well. the female made her way towards the kitchen to figure out a small snack. although she had eaten prior to the shoot, she thought of her members first.

“make some beef and noodles, minji-ah” seungcheol’s voice spoke within the airpod. minji, in order to pretend she didn’t hear it, thought about what to make for lunch.

“hmm.. beef and noodles seem good right now. i should start making some before my time is gone.”

[4th wall breaker]

as she began getting the ingredients, she paid no attention to the conversation in her ear. though on the other side, the members were complimenting her cooking skills.

“wah, i know it’s going to taste good. who’s next after her?” mingyu asked the question that was lingering in everyone’s mind.

“s.coups is next so he’ll be eating whatever is left..” jeonghan replied as he sighed.

minji, who didn’t want to disappoint her boyfriend, started to placed more beef into the frying pan. she smiled and spoke out loud: “i’ll make more meat for hannie and the rest.”

[thoughtful girlfriend and member]

“oooh~~” seokmin pushed jeonghan slightly at the words that came from her mouth. “don’t pretend to be coy!”

jeonghan became silent for a while, looking down and smiling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀정한

﹙ CHRISTMAS IN AUGUST II ﹚— the episode loaded into with jeonghan in the middle of the set, using his food coupon. minji walked in with the rest of the members and managed to stand behind him. placing her arms around him, she whispered in his ear and to which he nodded. circling in the spaghetti with his utensils, he raised it up to her mouth and the female gladly to the bite.

[special privileges]

“wow.. you give her some but it’s the end of the world if you give us any bite huh?” dino spoke as he looked in disbelief.

“yah, she asked me politely. what type of man am i to deny her?”

minji just smiled and listened to the chaos she created. after the rules were explained once again, christmas in august had already begun (even if it wasn't even august 😞). she had small knowledge of horror games and the female would only play them with friends or family. considering this was a one time thing, minji didn’t mind at all. choosing the room that was the least scary led her to be in the room with seokmin, who immediately embraced her.

[a motherly aura enters]

“minji-noona~~ i’m so glad we’re together.” seokmin says as she sits down beside him.

“i was so scared, i didn’t want to choose a room that was all alone.” minji replies as she looks around the dark and empty room. in-front of them laid the gaming computer and she knew it wasn’t going to be an easy game.

after a while, the door opened once again and this time jeonghan entered. both seokmin and minji sighed in relief.

“a-yo, a-yo” jeonghan said as he broke up the silence within the room.

“i’m relieved you’re here” seokmin spoke as he motioned him to sit down.

[not lonely]

“i’m a spy”

“don’t lie” minji warned, she had enough of his shenanigans already.

“okay~~”

“just sit down and be quiet”

[jeonghan joins room 4]

after making jeonghan stay, they all waited for the next member to arrive.

“s.coups?” seokmin question as he saw a figure walk in.

“it’s s.coups? what is this?” jeonghan spoke as him and seokmin grabbed s.coups by the shoulders leading him towards the chairs.

[a full room: three ‘95s, and one ‘98]

“yay~~ it’s coups!! we’ll definitely beat whatever game we’re going to get” minji replied as she got up and hugged him.

“this is why i didn’t want to come.. to where you, seokmin, and jeonghan were” seungcheol finally spoke as he leaned away from the affections.

[sensitive eardrums]

minji pouted in response and got off of him, “you’re no fun at all.”

after the complaints, the group managed to make it throughout the game with barely any problems. although minji had barely touched the mouse and keyboard, she still managed to give in her in-put of where to go. though all that carats could see was her hiding behind jeonghan during the more graphic and intense scenes.

❪ 🐰 ❫ — an

this was originally supposed to be posted a LONG time ago.

i would add more gose but i haven’t caught up at all since the middle of 2023 and i would like to save some for the enlistment period 🥲

i decided to begin where it would signalize when they started to rlly like each other 🤞

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pukefactory · 1 month ago

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I was reading through your ENA writings, and I was wondering: Would you do headcanons or stories for a more angsty prompt? I was wondering how ENA might navigate the downs of a relationship. 'Cause like, ENA literally has a part of herself called her "meanie side". She'd definitely say something she regrets at some point. Doesn't help that she probably hasn't had very many relationships of this type.

Could you write some headcanons for what happens if ENA's meanie side says something... well, really mean, and how she navigates the aftermath of driving her partner to tears?

It's fine if not! That definitely seems to be a little outside the general vibe with these. Plus, I even have some ideas of my own for this, too!

(For example, maybe her partner gains a bit of a phobia of her meanie side's voice, so she forcefully tries to change it into her more friendly-sounding salesperson voice, but that's really hard because it seems like her meanie side talks when she's distressed in general, like her PTSD-like response to the vending machine refusing to sell her stuff, or when Froggy calls her when she arrives at the Purge event.)

Sorry, you're making my own creative gears whirl, lol! All that to say, it's cool if you'd rather do more wholesome stuff.

•☽────✧˖°˖ I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson Ena Trying To Make Up To The Reader After Saying Something Hurtful

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ The words are out before she even processes them. Ena’s Meanie side, fueled by frustration, sharpens her tongue like a blade, and the moment your face crumples, her geometric form glitches. “Oh… Oh, WAIT.” The red side is already scrambling to take control, but the damage is done. A hard swallow, a glitchy stammer, and her face flickers between a grimace and a forced salesman’s grin. “A-alright, that was a limited-time offer of cruelty—uh, poorly advertised, terrible customer service. I’d like to issue an immediate recall—”

☆ The realization sends her into a spiral. She grips her hat, her polygons jagged, her expression contorting between stiff remorse and an agonized smirk. “No-no-no-no-no, I-I, um—LOOK OVER THERE!” (There’s nothing there.) “Uh, NO NEED TO CRY, HAH, IT WAS A JOKE! …A bad one, really bad, I mean, did you get it? No? Not funny? Oh. Ohhh, geez.” Her hands wave wildly, like trying to physically catch her mistake midair, but all she’s doing is digging the hole deeper.

☆ The Salesperson side desperately tries to salvage the situation, slipping into her usual corporate babble as if she can sell her way out of emotional devastation. “I have an INCREDIBLE deal for you today! A fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime, super-duper-special ‘I’m Sorry’ package! It comes with—uh—regret! Profound self-loathing! A, uh, complete reimbursement of all emotional damages! Act now and receive bonus guilt!” She grips her hat. “That… that didn’t help, did it.”

☆ The Meanie side hunches forward, knees drawn to her chest, voice quieter now, almost trembling. “I—I didn’t mean it like that…” The weight of the moment presses down on her, cracks spiderwebbing along her skin. “I say stupid things. Mean things. I-I don’t even think before I—” She hiccups, trying to contain the mess of static in her chest. “I just wanted to be heard. Not… not this.”

☆ The second you leave, the performance is over. No business chatter, no outbursts—just silence. Ena folds in on herself, static fizzing at her edges. Her polygons warp and distort, a physical manifestation of regret. She hugs herself, claws digging into her polygonal sleeves, whispering, “That was so, so stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” The word repeats until it’s nothing but glitchy noise.

☆ Ena isn’t great at this. She tries every trick in her book—witty remarks, elaborate business metaphors, even writing an entire jingle about how sorry she is (it’s terrible). But when all else fails, she just slumps forward, hands clasped, voice trembling between glitchy laughter and something achingly real. “I really don’t want to lose you. Not over my dumb mouth. Not over me.”

☆ She leaves gifts that make zero sense—a business card that just says “SORRY” in bold letters, a rock painted like a sad face, an actual coupon that reads, “Redeem this for one (1) unfiltered Ena sincerity session.” Eventually, she just shows up, staring, fingers twitching. “So, uh… did you use the coupon yet?” A pause. “I-It’s refundable.”

☆ Eventually, she cracks. Underneath the layers of glitchy bravado, underneath the business-talk deflections, she’s just… scared. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this right,” she admits, voice warping between pitches. “I don’t know how to be—uh—soft. Or gentle. Or—consistently good. I just—” She wrings her hands. “I never meant to hurt you. But I did. And that—it—it sucks. And I suck. And I wanna—fix it. If—if you let me.”

☆ The Meanie side knows she’s the problem. Always the one who pushes too hard, who says the wrong thing. What if this is the time she can’t fix it? What if she just… loses you? That thought alone is enough to crack her voice into something unsteady, her edges blurred with static. “You… you don’t have to forgive me,” she murmurs. “But I—I really hope you do.”

☆ When you finally—finally—lean into her, still sniffling but not leaving, Ena’s entire form stabilizes. No more warping polygons, no more distortion. Just a deep, shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispers, almost afraid to move. “Okay. This is still a disaster. But, uh… I think I can work with ‘disaster’ better than ‘gone.’” A small, wobbly grin. “Let’s… let’s fix this together, yeah?”

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pinkcreamypeach · 10 months ago

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Clémentine the prettiest bell ringer ❤🔔🐐

They're simply delightful! Clémentine's design feels like a royal fairy tale with a touch of circus elements. The little goat-like features, such as the hook nose, are an added charm. The silver eyes and Filipino accent are a bonus. As for Clémentine's backstory, they are the child of an unnamed father who was a doll maker and a baroness named Enaïs. Furthermore, a baron was present in their life, but he was unfortunately beheaded. In short, Clémentine's history is fascinating.

Colentine🐰🐐

(Cole x Clémentine)

God, they are just so perfect for each other: The Storyteller and Bell Ringer. Their sweet, harmonious relationship is a true delight! Yaelokre's art style and storytelling abilities are truly remarkable, and their fandom has produced some truly unique and beautiful OCs. Despite some bad elements in any fandom, we shouldn't let that spoil our love for a show, series, songs, or anything else. Even with the bad, there is still so much good to focus and enjoy.

Certain songs remind me of Moominvalley, particularly the "Snufmin" ship between Snufkin and Moomintroll. The vibe feels similar, cozy and sweet, and it brings me back to my childhood watching the series and enjoying fanfiction. When I listened to "Cole's Response 2/12/2024", it reminded me of watching Moominvalley compilations in 2019, specifically the sweet moments shared by Snufkin and Moomintroll. I really appreciate Yaelokre's art and storytelling, especially "Colentine". Their style truly captures the warmth and charm of Folk Fantasy.

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aspiringsophrosyne · 7 months ago

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The Mighty Nein: Weird Coincidences.

I've been compiling these here and there when I've had time, but there was a particular reason I wanted to get this post out of the way now. And it's this.

There's been some nervousness surrounding this, and I'm of two minds about it. On the one hand, people overstate just how hard the Nein's story would be to adapt and how much it would need to be changed for another medium. Can it be one-to-one with the original? Absolutely not. (Just as TLOVM couldn't be one-to-one either.) But the main issue is editing; the content is fine on its own.

And if this is the CRew themselves thinking the same thing, that's a little troubling, because it makes it sound like they might be changing more than they need to out of that unfounded fear.

On the other hand, all they might be talking about here is hindsight. The Mighty Nein's Campaign had a lot of strange coincidences, fortuitous thematic consistencies, and one-of-a-kind moments. The CRew is poised to reap the benefits of having these in mind ahead of time. This allows for some remarkable set-up and payoff if those involved are up to the challenge. Which, in the end, could be all they might be augmenting the story to do.

So maybe it's a good time to get into those weird coincidences, huh?

(Spoilers for basically all of Campaign 2 below the cut.)

Names

Veth Brenatto, her alias Bren, and Caleb’s original name: Bren. (This may have been inspired by the German word "Brennen", which means “to burn”. Thanks Liam.)

Fjord Stone. Cad’s families: Clay, Dust and Stone. How the Wild Mother fits the story of an orphaned sailor like a glove. And how Cad, his family history, and likely the Wild Mother herself never would’ve entered the story if Molly hadn’t died.

A Mollymawk (spelled with a w instead of a u) is a type of albatross. Albatrosses are supposed to be unlucky, but only if you kill one. Per the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, everything goes to shit after a sailor kills an albatross. Molly’s death is just as unlucky, as it paves the way for Lucien's and Cognouza’s return. (In a meta sense, it’s also unfortunate for Matt and Taliesin, as it derails whatever plans they might have had for the character.)

Nine

Whelp.

Nine. Lots and lots of nines. And while Nein doesn’t mean nine in German/Zemnian (it means no), the wordplay works.

Nine schools of magic.

Nine people killed in Obann’s attack on the Cobalt Soul in Zadash.

The three titans (Uk’otoa, Quajath, and Desirat) collectively have nine eyes and nine crystals to unlock them and set them all free.

Nine hells.

Nine betrayer gods as of Vecna’s ascension.

Nine eye tattoos on Molly, each a mark of the Somnovem, the sleeping nine.

And of course, eventually, nine members of the Mighty Nein.

(Just for fun, Tharizdun’s sacred number in its premier in Greyhawk was 333. [3+3+3=?].)

Nein and its actual meaning work thematically as well. The Nein repeatedly clashes with forces and entities that want to mold them against their will into vessels they can use for their own purposes. And the group repeatedly says “Nein!” to that.

Tarot Readings

Molly deliberately pulls specific cards for his readings. Taliesin makes that explicit. However, some folks have pointed out that you can interpret his original reading for Jester where he tells her “You’ve already found what you’re looking for,” to be true in a few different ways. (She’s already found the people who will help her find her father. She’s discovered the company she sought that she only ever had with her Mamma and the Traveler prior, etc.)

But once we get to Jester’s readings, things really pop off. (Pop-pop off?)

Fjord's Reading

In episode 110, Jester draws two cards for Fjord: one for his present and one for his future. His present card is the Eye, which has two hands holding an eye above a restless sea.

There’s no need to elaborate on how that relates to Fjord’s then-present.

His future card is the Home And Traveler. This card could work for all the Nein if you interpret it as someone who will find or reach their home after some travel. But it hits especially hard for Fjord, who finds a home with Jester, the devotee of the Traveler, on a ship that travels up and down the coast.

And then...

Lucien's Reading

The three cards Jester pulls for Lucien are his past, present, and future. Even at the time, they seem pretty fitting.

His past: History and a Dream, which Taliesin clarifies as depicting the Calamity. This fits perfectly with the Tomb Takers’ previous job for DeRogna and their coming into the Somnovem’s patronage.

His present: the Tyrant. We don’t know either Lucien or his goals too well at this point, but we do know he and his troupe kill indiscriminately and he holds an unnatural sway over the other Tomb Takers.

His future: the Death Card. You can attribute that to the upcoming fight between him and the Nein.

But in hindsight...whoo boy. In hindsight, not only do we know of Lucien’s plans to dispatch the Somnovem and become the Tyrant king of Cognouza and all its lost, broken souls, but we know of his fall. More specifically, who he falls to.

Jester, sitting across from him, pulls his last card and tells him “Facing you is Death.”

And then it’s Miss Lavorre who ends him for good.

Divine Intervention

Generally, a Divine Intervention is a Hail Mary. You roll a d100 (or an equivalent combination of dice) and only if you roll a number below your level do you trigger it. Logically, this gets easier the higher your level gets, but you can’t rely on it until level 20.

Taliesin rolls three of these for Cad in the last quarter of the Campaign. And that’s cool enough. But what’s even better is the Wild Mother’s Grave Cleric rolls successfully for Divine Intervention every time he makes a request (knowingly or not) relating to Cognouza. The city that's coming to swallow Melora's Exandria whole.

The first successful roll comes when Cad seeks info about Vokodo, the pseudo-god of the island of Rumblecusp. Vokodo, it turns out, punched a hole through the Astral Plane to escape the hunger of the lost ward of Aeor. And upon its death, it gives a vision that sets the Nein on Lucien’s trail.

The second success comes when the Nein is attempting to uncover the Tomb Takers' secret entrance to Aeor so that they can use it to set a trap. Cad’s success tells them exactly where they need to go. This allows them to get Zoran, Otis, and Tyffial out of the way early, even if it doesn’t stop Cree and Lucien from continuing towards the city.

As for the third, well...we all know what the third does. That it prevails after Critical Role’s first Resurrection Ritual failure, (due to a natural 1 no less!) is just the icing on the cake.

Caduceus even makes the point that Cognouza had functionally become a corpse that was unable to die and that he was uniquely called upon, given his family’s business, to put it down for good.

Odds and Ends

Nott distracts a Manticore from killing Fjord by killing its baby. Her own child ends up in need of a resurrection later on in the story, during their trip to the Fire Plane. Speaking of which, a painting of said Plane can be observed in Trent's house. You know, the one he would end up chasing the Nein to?

Fjord loses his chance to break the first seal to Avantika; he lands the first attack on her Revenant incarnation when the Nein catches up to her after she escapes with his orb, and he gets the final blow on her there, recovering said orb as he does.

Yasha and Caleb are the most susceptible to the Succubus/Incubus mind control. In the former's case, this could be chalked up to her low Wisdom score...but it also serves as some neat accidental foreshadowing for her time with Obann. And for Caleb, it can be a callback to his time learning under Trent.

The Circus Kids' stories sync up perfectly. Both of their bodies end up puppeteered by someone from their respective pasts. Both of them are used to try to end the world. And, probably once Matt noticed this synchronicity himself, both are revealed to have fallen under the sway of the Chained Oblivion. And their stories didn't have to go this way. Molly didn't have to die, and Matt revealed that Yasha could've theoretically made that wisdom save against Obann's control in the King's Cage. But that's not how things turned out.

Accidental foreshadowing:

Episode 19, Molly and Yasha, after acquiring an item from an Orc hermit living somewhat off the side of the road:

Molly: We made a friend. Jester: Did you kill someone for that? Molly: Yes. Yasha: He’s dead. Molly: He’s very dead. And then he rose up from the grave again and we had to kill him again. Twice. Same man.

Also, in episode 23, after meeting the Syphilis Bandits again and leaving one of them out cold:

Jester: What if we put some flowers in his hair; so when he wakes up, he looks really pretty? Beau: That’s good. Let’s do that. Molly: There’s nothing better than waking up in the morning with no pants and flowers in your hair.

In episode 48, Yussa and Caleb have a conversation:

Caleb: Sometimes I follow my friends places I shouldn’t. Yussa: That might someday get you killed. Or may one day get you what you seek.

Following a certain Tiefling up to Eiselcross got him both.

Nott also asks Caleb in this episode if he has an eye on his forehead. This is probably a callback/joke about Scanlan’s blessing from Ioun, but it foreshadows what happens to Veth much later.

Episode 49, about Ludinus Da’leth and in particular, Vess DeRogna:

Fjord: Then we kill the two elves. Jester: Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Maybe we go up into their room at night or something and just, you know... Stabby stab.

Episode 70:

Jester (to Essek): Maybe you’ll like us so much you’ll just hang out.

Dramatic Irony:

Everything the Nein say about Molly after his death and at his grave is, in hindsight, an awful twist of the knife, as his body's former life is far from finished with him.

Episode 41. The Nein learns Orly can make magic tattoos. Beau talks about getting an eye tattoo on her back to mirror Molly’s:

Jester: I mean, I don’t know, maybe it was really sacred to him and he would be really super offended by it. Beau: Oh, yeah, maybe it would, like I stole it from him? Jester: But it’s fine, I’m sure. Beau: Yeah, you know, he’s dead, so, what’s he going to do?

Almost a hundred episodes later, Beau's new tattoo gets a little addition...

Episode 65

Jester: Are you nervous? Yasha: Yeah. Yeah, I’m nervous. I just don’t know what we’re walking into, you know? Jester: Yeah. We’ve got your back though. That guy isn’t going to do anything bad to you.

Episode 91

Veth asks Essek at dinner if he’s heard of a Nonagon, or someone named Lucien. Essek says he hasn’t. This won't be the case for long.

Episode 95

Jester, talking about Cad and the Wild Mother:

Jester: Yeah. So like, when he asks her questions, you know what she does? Artagan: “Nothing?” Jester: She blows the wind. Exactly, she does shit. So and he’s like, “I sensed, you know, I understand what she’s saying.” She’s not doing anything, but he thinks she is.

This commentary is particularly delicious, considering which Cleric's Divine Interventions end up working.

And there's probably some I've missed! These are just the little bits and pieces I jotted down during a rewatch. It wouldn't surprise me if there's more.

But that's to say, just what we've got here is a monumental amount of things to build off of and play with. The Mighty Nein's animated series has the potential to be something extraordinary if the CRew can make use of all these little gifts deftly and with subtlety. There's power and potential here, and I am nervous as hell about whether or not they can tap into it successfully.

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