#and consider food stuffs for a bit

[skelingtonsderek]

🍫 Boyd Chowder I mean Boyd Crowder

Hiii! Thank you so much!

For this ask meme

🍫 A headcanon about food

Boy Chowder has no tolerance for spicy food. He likes it. He eats it. It burns so so so so so much no matter how much he interacts with it, he never builds any tolerance for it. He's sweating and trying not to cry and shaking over a two pepper on the menu meal and he loves every second of it.

It's like being a cheap date but for heat.

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[fullscoreshenanigans]

BIRTHDAY BOY........

Birthday boy with cake or present, such choices,,,

Another one of those situations where if the younger Grace Field kids present the crown to him he's on board with little to no fuss, especially if they frame it as a celebration of the day they started their path to freedom, or note it's the day where they first noticed where the way he carried himself was lighter and happier than how he was back at the house (but especially after Norman was shipped, although that's a sad time they all try to forget). And how can he say no to that when it shows how much they care.

(Norman being the one to originally find it while discreetly guiding Emma's attention toward it so she can throw 110% of her energy and enthusiasm behind him wearing it because "it matches your eyes when the sun hits them" and "they're happy every year they have a chance to celebrate it with him" optional.)

Pepe made the cake, but kept it a secret to pull a bit of a mini-prank on everyone.

He knew Ray would appreciate it after their many conversations in the quiet of the kitchen where it was just the two of them enjoying each other's company and getting lost in the soothing rhythm of cooking and baking.

[keeps-ache]

genuinely nothing like being just a Little Bit Hungry

[skrunksthatwunk]

it has just occurred to me that ive reached the point in my life where im enthusiastically looking at travel vlogs. idk how to feel about that

[hiccupbutpurple]

I just watched a video that told me I don’t actually have to finish the foods I put on my plate and,,,,wow, why have I never thought of that before lol. Like I would usually put 2-4 biscuits on a plate and then sometimes after 1 or 2 I felt full or sometimes sick but they were there so I have to eat them,,,,but I can put them back in the packet, that’s an option that’s available to me. Holy shit I feel like my entire life has been turned around lol why did I not think of that

Watch me forget it by tomorrow lol

[kazz-brekker]

it’s interesting to me that for a series that promises an unflinching look at the reality of a world where the wealthy have access to magic and don’t care about the negative impact that it has on other people (and i think does largely do a good job of showing that!), the ninth house series seems to sort of … pull its punches when it comes to the suffering the characters endure at the climax of each story? recently reread ninth house for the first time in years followed by hell bent, and the scene where the souls that marguerite belbalm consumed then consuming her felt sort of. ikd. optimistic? after all the emphasis on “consumption of souls” heavily implying the idea that those people had totally ceased to exist and had only become fuel for belbalm to draw upon it was a bit confusing to learn they were actually all still around and could take vengeance on belbalm. and then in hell bent tripp turns into a demon instead of completely dying which is probably not, like, a super fun experience, but he seems to almost completely maintain his personality from before so it almost feels like nothing major really happened to him, as opposed to linus reiter, who seemingly was utterly eradicated by the demon who took his place. idk. both of those things kind of made me go “this feels like it is breaking the established rules of the universe in order to make things not be as bad as they would actually be.” i don’t know if there’s a bigger conclusion from this, i’m just thinking about it since i recently finished hell bent.

[supernuttyninja]

So I recently got Stardew Valley on my computer and have been playing it. And I have been liking it, and I’ve just had some moments that have made me laugh and I wanted to share. It’s gonna be all over the place because I’m currently on year 2 end of spring and don’t remember the order; just the events themselves.

First off this farm is way too big for me. I am struggling with it simply because there are so many trees. It is literally a forest on the other side of my farm. I’ve kept the areas I move through and farm on pretty clean but the rest? A maze. Of trees.

Ok, The rest of this is kinda multitiered and the source of all my funny moments so far for the most part:

Linus was the first person I got to 10 Hearts. It happened very fast but I don’t mind I think he’s chill.

One of the earlier cutscenes you get with him involves you catching him going through trash cans

I triggered the cutscene when I entered the town, which surprised me since that was the first instance of the cutscenes in regards to character interactions popping up

Anyway. I went into town to rifle through people’s trash cans. I had been doing it since I started the game.

I literally couldn’t say anything bad about Linus’s habit because I was literally going in to do the exact same thing.

I continued in this and got a trash can lid hat, which I wear proudly. I looked it up and there’s like a .2% chance of getting that so I’m glad I have it. Getting it has not stopped my rummaging. Today I got it again. I now have 2 trash can lid hats. I’m very proud of myself

Anyway there has definitely been some other funny moments but it is late and these are the ones that run through my head every time I open the game.

I have been enjoying the game so far, considering this is my first time playing it

[celepeace]

My boyfriend caught covid, presumably from work, luckily at a time I was not around (which means I can't take care of him but at least I'm not sick), and so far the only really significant symptoms he has is migraine with light sensitivity, a migraine symptom he doesn't usually get. Very odd

[belligerentjingling]

Was starting to draft up a quick post for his sister, and trying to grab the spelling of their last name in abjad but uh

Legit didn’t ask for irony this painful @ 1 in the morning. Basically, there’s a massive falling out between all of them, but

…

Unintentional I swear

[cakesexuality]

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[rosesradio]

…

[skrunksthatwunk]

in the neverending tv series that is my life a season opener plot twist has just fucking. absolutely bodied me. my roommate for the next two semesters is the neglectful owner of rascal, that kitten i took care of off and on last year. What The Absolute Fuck

[arolesbianism]

Vibrates. Normal. I'm normal. I'm so normal.

[clockwayswrites]

Distracting Birb! Part 28

*throws this and runs* Masterpost

“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.

(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)

“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”

Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”

“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.

“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”

Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”

“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.

The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”

Jason nodded. “There’s a hero—not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”

Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.

“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”

“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.

“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”

“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.

Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’

“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”

“Cass?” Dick asked.

She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.

Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”

“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”

Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”

“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.

“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.

“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”

None of them had an easy answer for Tim.

All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.

“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.

It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.

“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.

“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”

“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.

Duke stepped closer to the screen.

And went alarmingly still.

Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”

Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

“What?”

“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.

Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”

Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

[madebycloud]

You're here that's the thing

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: home isn't a four walls and a roof nor the material things that fill in it. it's the warmth in jinx's eyes whenever she smiles at you, it's the little hands clinging to your shirt as they cross the street. home is right here. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: FLUFF!! domestic ig, vulnerability (???), slight angsty at the end but happy ending <3 words: 5.5k notes: i'm glad nothing bad happened at the ending and they all live happily ever after :D

You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. Every bite is a savory delight, justifying your claim that this is Zaun's finest eatery. 

A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you, revealing familiar blue hair when they pull their hood back. Unfazed, you continue eating.

“Bad day?” you say, and the blue-haired person helps themselves to a seafood from your bowl without a word.

Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What's new?

Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx. “Who's that?” You nod at the kid in the far corner. 

Jinx, casually munching on your seafood, just shrugs, “Dunno. She's been following me.”

You stop eating and look over at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine,” before taking another bite of seafood.

You roll your eyes at Jinx and then turn to the kid. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.

She hops up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.

“So, kid, where's your parents, guardians? Shouldn't you be with them?” But her silence persists, her big, curious eyes locked onto yours.

You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, walking out into the bustling lanes with the young girl in tow. Turning to Jinx, you shrug. “Can she stay with us?” 

Jinx looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”

Weighing your options, you consider the practical aspect. The answer is likely a ‘no’, but with the environment of Zaun, leaving a child alone on the streets seems far from safe.

“She could use your room,” you suggest, glancing ahead. “I mean, you found her first.”

But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”

You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.

“It's my house.”

“Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means–”

“By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?” Your brow furrows as you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare at her.

Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk still present. “Finders keepers.”

You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument, especially not in the middle of the street with people starting to watch. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

You crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless, those big eyes staring back at you.

You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”

The kid wrinkles her nose at the idea.

“Or maybe Pinky?” Jinx continues, grinning. “Or Sparkles!”

“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.

The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.

“Isha it is then.”

Jinx, a bit pouty, muttering under her breath, “She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh? Figures, it came from you.”

“What? It's a nice name,” you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”

Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx. “More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.

—

It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof.  You catch Jinx making her hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, Jinx?”

Both Jinx and Isha look up at you, equally undeterred. “What? It's a fake gun,” Jinx defends herself.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “That's not the point, Jinx. She's just a kid.”

“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly not understanding your concern. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”

“If you're looking for something fun…” You reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.

She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention quickly shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But…” Jinx starts. 

“No buts, Jinx. She's coloring now.”

Jinx lets out a sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts, leaning back against a wall as she watches Isha happily coloring in.

You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her young hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors.

“Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

Isha nods, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.

Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.

“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”

 Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too.

She leans in closer, “Why are my eyes so big?” She snickers, pointing at the comically large eyes drawn on her figure.

You laugh along with Jinx, pointing to a comical squiggly line drawn below your feet in the picture. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?” Isha giggles, a blush creeping up her face.

“It's your shadow, duh,” Jinx quips back. 

“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”

“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.

“You know, I think this is wall-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. “What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the wall?”

You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together. 

You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the wall. You follow her, lifting her up slightly so she can stick the drawing against the wall. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.

“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the walll.

“Not too shabby, squirt”. She glances at the drawing again, and then her gaze shifts towards Isha. For a moment, a soft expression appears in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover's museum, valued at a million golden hexes.” 

“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”

Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.

“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”

“Come on, Jinx.” You nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to paint more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”

—

You meant ‘place’ not your face.

Laying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her. 

“Hey!” You sit up, a chuckle rising in your throat. “You little rascal, come here!” 

The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

A snicker escapes Isha's lips.

“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”

“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Silence.

Jinx looks at your face. Isha's hand. Finally placing her own hand on her face. Wet mark on her face. Smear of color on her hand.

“Isha.”

You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.

Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.

While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face. 

“Hold still, you little gremlin!” Jinx says, struggling to keep her marker strokes even while Isha wiggles and giggles. She manages to add a few squiggles and dots before Isha's laughter becomes uncontrollable, disrupting any further attempts at ‘decorating’.

“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants. 

Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror, who is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she takes in her reflection. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha. 

Idiot, you silently scold yourself.

But your lips still curve into a small smile. 

Damn it, you silently curse to yourself, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.

But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, the gears in her young mind turning, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.

Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.

—

Isha's been down with a cold.

Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.

You stand at the stove, stirring the simmering porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You carefully ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.

You glance down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.

You head towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. You can hear the sound of soft coughing coming from inside, along with the rustle of blankets.

Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is flushed from the fever, and she looks tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.

“Here's your porridge,” you say softly, setting it down on the bedside table. 

Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, plopping down next to Isha and gently placing a cool hand against her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”

Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.

“But that porridge should help,” you add, settling on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? Don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”

Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully. 

“There you go.” You smile, watching as Isha continues eating. Jinx grabs the glass of water, holding it up to Isha's lips once she's taken a few spoonfuls.

Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.

—

It's late evening. 

Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.

Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.

When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. Instead, she lies there and watches Jinx.

Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper to Jinx. 

“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”

“She's just like you.”

“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.” She turns back to Isha, who is still awake and watching both of you.

“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”

Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story. 

“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”

Isha's pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.

You stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.

You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.

“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover. 

Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.

“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”

“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy little squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.

“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, frantically searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.

“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”

You turn the page again. This time, the picture shows the rabbit coming up to the squirrel, a nut in his paw. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”

“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. “The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”

You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow and a smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.

You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder. 

Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your neck. Her eyes closed. Her mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

Still as a statue. 

You find yourself staring at the soft curtain of blue hair, your fingers itching to reach out and push it aside. 

But you don't. You can't. You don't want to wake her up. Don't move. 

It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment. 

But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close in until they make contact with her hair, brushing it back over her ear. 

Jinx lets out a sigh, her head leaning into your hand as if aching for your touch.

Her face, now with her bangs brushed aside, shows her features—so fine, so distinctly her.

Your eyes trace her face. You want to hold her in a way that you'll remember forever. You want to know her in every way possible, to learn every inch of her, to understand every thought and feeling she's ever had.

Her arms are the only chains you'd gladly wear. Her eyes in which you'd forever be lost. Her smile is the one you can never say no to. Her voice is the song that you could listen to for hours.

You wonder if she would lean into your touch, if she would arch her head into your palm. Would she let you caress her face, your fingers tracing the slope of her jaw and the curve of her cheek? Or would she pull back, pushing you away?

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

You pull your hand away. Your fingers clenching into a fist and returning to your lap. The memory of her hair against your skin remains, burning at the edges of your thoughts.

Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.

You saw her throat move. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You can't tell for sure. You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.

Her eyes linger on your face, tracing every contour, every feature.

Your heart is in your throat. You can hear it pulsing in your ears. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. You try to hold her gaze, but your own eyes are drawn to her lips, soft and slightly parted.

Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring,” she murmurs.

You blink, her words snapping you out of your trance. “I–” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounded. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”

She chuckles, her hand pushing your face away from hers. 

“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.

You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you. 

“Good night,” she says, eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.

You catch a glimpse of a smile forming on her lips as she disappears through the door, leaving you sitting there with a palm still on your cheek.

You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin. 

“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”

—

“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.

“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”

Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”

“No idea what you're babbling about.”

“That wasn't you?” She scoffs. 

Jinx pauses, realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.

The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.

You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.

“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don’t wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.

—

It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.

Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx. 

After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.

Finally, when perched on the edge, you spot Jinx. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.

You gently place Isha down on the rooftop, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nodding quietly and slowly approaches Jinx.

Isha carefully settled herself down beside her. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.

You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric. 

Jinx continues to stare out at the city, her chin resting on her folded arms. “You guys found me, huh?”

Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her small head resting against her arm.

Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.

“Couldn't stay away.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”

You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop.

Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lay down.

Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, clearly beginning to tire.

Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours.

There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.

Her hand rests on top of yours, claiming its place as if it were always meant to be there. Jinx's fingers trace patterns across the back of your hand, like a secret language only she understands. 

“Your hands are cold,” she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers.

You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch.

“Ever thought about wearing gloves?” 

“Gloves?” you repeat, finding your own voice now. 

“Hm, I guess not.” 

Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb brushing over your wrist, the pulse point.

Jinx glances up at you, a smirk on her lips. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” you say, though the speed of your pulse likely betrays your words.

“Uh huh. You're a terrible liar.” She continues to hold your wrist, thumb now drumming a slow, steady rhythm against your pulse point. “Relax. I don't bite... much.”

You try to calm your racing heartbeat, she's making it difficult. “I'm relaxed.”

Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. Both you and Jinx turning your attention towards the girl. 

Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha's head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl.

With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you. She still hasn't let go of your wrist, her fingers now massaging little circles into your skin. “You're awfully tense for someone who's ‘relaxed’.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.

Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you. 

“What's on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

You frown, frustrated by her vague response. “About what?”

“About you,” she answers.

Her reply catches you off guard. You feel your cheeks warm, and you mentally scold yourself. Why is she having this effect on you?

“Me?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she says, her hand absently playing with the child's hair. Her eyes then dart back to you. “Mostly you, though.” 

“Uh, me?” you repeat, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a parrot.

Jinx hums, still absently playing with Isha’s hair. 

“What... what about us?”

Jinx doesn't respond right away. Her gaze flicks between you and the sleeping child, contemplating something.

“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go.” She turns to you. “I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you... because of me.”

Her eyes search yours before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you… either of you.” She pauses. “I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me.” You can see her shoulders tense, struggling to find the right words. “I don't want to mess everything up. Everyone I've ever cared about has gotten hurt by me, or because of me.”

You ache to pull her into your arms, to soothe the worries that are weighing on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to. “No, no, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Isha.”

“You don't know what could happen.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse.” You take a deep breath, holding her gaze steady with yours. “But that's a risk I'm willing to take,” you continue. “Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “No. No more talking. You've said what you need to say. Now let me say what I need to say.”

Eyes never leaving hers, you reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.

“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”

Her lips part, as if to utter another protest, but you press a finger to her mouth to silence her. “Let me speak. I'm not done yet.”

“You're afraid,” you continue. “You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers moving from her mouth to her chin, tilting it up so that she's looking you fully in the eye.

“You're not a curse,” you say. “You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It's not your fault—” 

“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten. 

“No, listen to me. It's not your fault.”

“I know.” Despite her best efforts, the dam is beginning to break. 

“It's not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape, trickling down her cheek and into your palm. “You were just a child.”

“But I should have known. I should have—They're gone because of me. It's my fault.”

“No, no, no, it's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” You wipe the tear away with your thumb, your heart aching for her. You can see the battle she's fighting within herself, and it kills you that you can't do more. 

“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes,” you continue, your hand still on her cheek, feeling the tremble as she struggles to hold back her tears. “You are so much more than that.”

“You are loved.” Your fingers trace her jawline, before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.” For perhaps the first time, Jinx lets herself break. She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing against your palm. Her eyes never leave yours, seeking solace, reassurance. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. “It's okay, I'm right here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”

Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.

You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe.” Your hands move down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters. 

You laugh, leaning back on your hands. “I know you're not,” you assure her. “You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”

Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line.” 

“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”

“And yet?”

Jinx snorts. “And yet somehow I tolerate you.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.

“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.

With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now.

Her shoulders tense at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around disoriented. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap.

Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.

“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”

Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.

“Alright, kid, time to head home,” Jinx tells Isha, bouncing her up in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck.

Seeing Jinx like this with Isha is something else. She looks so... soft.

“Ready to go?” Jinx asks, looking at you. Isha wriggles, eager to get going.

You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.

“Looks like you've got a fan.”

“Nah, she just likes me that much.”

“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”

“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day.” 

“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters, before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”

“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”

The warmth of Isha's grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.

This, you realize, is what home could feel like.

notes: im so excited for act 4 on saturday!