#it's good. it's pivotal. no doubt. but it's just not my first choice.

[edenesth]

The Paradox of Us

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: Relationships are rarely as simple as they seem. It becomes heartbreakingly complicated when two souls, bound by a love that still burns bright, come to realise that sometimes, love alone may not be enough to keep them together.

A/N: Seonghwa's 踊り子 (odoriko) cover has been on repeat since the moment it came out. I couldn't get it out of my mind and just knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't write anything inspired by it.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"I don't love you."

Strangely, those words would have been easier to bear. But instead, you heard the ones that shattered you in ways you never thought possible: "I love you so much... but we can't go on like this anymore."

The ache was unbearable, as if your heart was tearing itself apart with every replay of his broken voice in your mind. You would have preferred if he had said his love had faded, that the spark was gone. At least then, you could grieve, accept, and move forward. But no—he still loved you. Deeply. And that cruel truth left you stuck in a purgatory of emotions, unable to let go.

Yet, you understood him. You always did. And perhaps that was the most painful part of all—knowing he was right. You had felt it too, this growing divide neither of you could bridge. But you hadn't been brave enough to say it aloud, to admit that love wasn't enough to hold together two people who simply weren't meant to be.

So, he said it for you. And now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been, and the love that would never quite fade.

"It'll be alright, sweetie. Time heals everything," your mother murmured, her hand gently rubbing your back as you blinked away tears and refused to meet her gaze. Her tone was soft, even comforting, but you couldn't stand it—not when she sat there pretending she hadn't played a pivotal role in this heartbreak. You could almost feel her satisfaction simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind her facade of concern. After all, hadn't she always believed he would never measure up? That he was never good enough for you?

You hated it—hated her.

Hated how she had turned your relationship with him into a battlefield, her disapproval so loud, so ever-present, that it became impossible for him to feel at home in your life. How dare she sit beside you now, feigning sorrow, when her constant criticisms had planted the seed of doubt that grew into the conclusion you dreaded? How dare she, of all people, offer comfort when she had made you believe that love—your greatest love—wasn't enough?

Her words echoed in your mind, the ones she'd repeated time and time again: "Love and compatibility aren't the same. Love is powerful, yes, but relationships are more than just feelings—they require shared values, aligned goals, and practical compatibility." She had said it so often that it became a mantra, one you tried to ignore until it became impossible.

And then there was him.

You hated him too—hated him for giving in, for not fighting harder, for agreeing with everyone else. For being too selfless, too considerate, too good. He'd always told you, "Family comes first. Everything else—including me—comes second." You hated that he meant it. Hated that he let you go because he believed it was the right thing to do, the thing that would hurt the least.

But most of all, you hated yourself.

Hated yourself for knowing, deep down, that they were all right. That maybe love really wasn't enough. You hated yourself for being too afraid to defy them, too afraid to risk it all for him. While he was brave enough to let you go, and your mother was relentless in her convictions, you had been the coward. You let everyone else make the choice for you because you couldn't bear to make it yourself.

And now, you were left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of what-ifs and the haunting ache of knowing you had lost not because you didn't love enough, but because you hadn't been brave enough to fight for that love.

"The right person will come along," she said softly. You pressed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. Without another word, you pushed yourself up from the dining chair, leaving your barely touched meal behind, and headed to your room.

Before you could step through the door, her voice followed you, cutting through the air like a knife. "You'll thank me one day when you meet a man who can give you all the things that boy never could."

Your fists clenched as you slammed the door shut behind you. Sliding down to the floor with your back against the wood, you let her words fester. Maybe she was right. You weren't getting any younger. Around you, friends and cousins were all settling down with partners your mother would call 'suitable.' And you hated it—hated that, in her eyes, Seonghwa could never be that person for you.

But then, the thought struck: you were your mother's daughter. How much of this was truly her fault? At some point, hadn't you begun to believe her? Slowly, insidiously, her words had taken root in your mind. You did this. To him, to yourself.

You remembered watching others build their perfect, storybook lives with partners who ticked every box society demanded. And you wondered—quietly at first, then louder—if you and Seonghwa could ever achieve the same. Could he be that for you? Could you be that for him?

It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to you. You hated yourself for the way doubt crept in, for how your mother's voice echoed in your head, pointing out the cracks and differences you had tried so hard to ignore. You hated yourself for wishing things could be different, for swallowing those thoughts because you loved him too much to ask him to change. He was who he was—his own person.

How could you ask him to mould himself into someone your mother would approve of? Someone society deemed 'right' for you? And if he did, would he even be the man you fell in love with?

It was those questions, those doubts, that began to live rent-free in your mind. Bit by bit, they widened the gap between you. And Seonghwa wasn't blind. He saw it. He felt it.

"You deserve someone better—someone who can give you so much more," he had said that final night, his voice breaking under the weight of goodbye.

It was your fault—your doubts, your actions, your silence. They had pushed him to that conclusion. And now, as the door behind you trembled with your suppressed sobs, you wondered: How dare you blame your mother for what you had done to him? To yourself?

How dare you?

"Gaming at San's place next, you coming?" Wooyoung asked, tossing a napkin onto the table as everyone scrambled to leave. The ridiculous game they'd invented—where the last one to leave had to pay the bill—had everyone laughing and darting for the exit.

Seonghwa's smile barely touched his lips as he shook his head and reached for his wallet. "Go on with them. I'll cover it."

The younger man hesitated, glancing at him before blurting out, "Dude, you can't always give in like this. Your poor financial planning skills are exactly why she left you."

The table fell silent, the air suddenly heavy. Wooyoung's grin faltered as he realised what he'd said, too late to take it back. Seonghwa didn't flinch outwardly, but the words sliced deep because they were true. Partly, at least.

It wasn't like he made much, not compared to the rest of his friends with their steady corporate jobs. And yet, he wasn't careful with what little he had. You had always been the one saving, planning, building a future he could barely contribute to. People his age were buying cars, investing in property, making strides toward a stable life. But he wasn't like them. He had chased his passion as a figurine crafter—a dream that didn't come with a steady paycheck—and he'd known the risks. Your mother was right: you deserved someone who could offer you the stability he never could.

"Hey, man," Wooyoung said quickly, guilt colouring his tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I got the bill already, so don't worry about it. Just come with us tonight, yeah? Relax a little."

But the eldest only gave a faint shake of his head. The apology didn't soften the truth of the remark. He was the reason things fell apart. Not because he didn't love you enough—he loved you too much—but because love wasn't enough.

He'd failed you. Failed to provide the kind of life you deserved. He couldn't believe you'd even agreed to be with him in the first place, so different were your worlds. Your family background, your education, your values, your ambitions—they all set you apart. He had nothing to offer someone like you. And yet, he had been selfish enough to hold on, to want you despite knowing he could never measure up.

He should have worked harder. Should have tried to step up and be the man you needed. But he hadn't, because deep down, he knew he couldn't. Perhaps he had always known it wouldn't last. That one day, you'd wake up and realise the same.

You didn't leave right away. You stayed longer than he deserved. And when you finally began pulling away, when the signs became impossible to ignore, he had to let go. It wasn't courage that made him end it—it was inevitability.

"Come with us, hyung," Wooyoung tried again, his voice gentler this time.

But Seonghwa shook his head once more. "You guys go ahead without me. I... I have somewhere to be."

It was a lie, and they all knew it. He had nowhere to be. Nowhere that mattered, at least. Just his empty apartment, where the echoes of your absence would greet him like old, familiar ghosts.

He didn't care if they saw through the lie. What mattered was that he deserved this—the loneliness, the self-pity, the regret. He had almost broken you apart from your family because he was selfish enough to believe his love was enough. He had almost stolen your future because he couldn't face the truth.

But now, it was over. You had given him the courage to do what was right in the end. He was grateful for that. Grateful you'd started pulling away. Grateful you'd given him the signs. Grateful you'd broken his heart with the words he couldn't bear to say himself.

It's time.

Time to stop pretending.

Time to let you go.

Time to let the misery end.

Yes, let it all go. Let the misery end.

He repeated the words in his head like a chant as he drove, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each mile. The familiar streets blurred past him, their lights shimmering in his tear-filled eyes. He swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming, warm and unrelenting. He hated himself for it. Hated that, even now, he could almost see you sitting beside him, your laughter echoing faintly in his memory.

These night drives had been your sanctuary. Just you and him, wrapped in the quiet of the world, as if nothing else mattered. Not the expectations, not the disapproving glances, not the relentless whispers about how you two didn't belong together. It had always been just you and him against everything.

But now, it was just him.

He didn't dare glance at the passenger seat. He couldn't bear the sight of its emptiness, couldn't face the truth of your absence. His mind played cruel tricks on him, filling the silence with phantom conversations, fleeting glimpses of your smile.

Everything around him reminded him of you. The way the streetlights hit the pavement, the faint smell of your favourite perfume lingering in his car, the songs on the radio you'd sing along to when you thought he wasn't paying attention. He wanted to escape it, but he knew going home would only make it worse.

Home.

The word felt hollow now. How could it be home when you weren't there? Every corner of that apartment held traces of you—the books you'd stacked neatly on the shelf, the coffee mug you always left on the counter, the sheets that still carried the faintest scent of your shampoo. He knew he should let those remnants go, pack them away, make it easier to move on. But the thought of erasing you felt like losing you all over again.

As the weight of it all pressed down on him, he slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. His hands trembled as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, the cool leather grounding him for just a moment.

Is this hurting you too?

He wondered if you were struggling as much as he was. Part of him selfishly hoped you were, that you missed him the way he missed you. But another part—the part that loved you more than he loved himself—hoped you were finding peace. Hoped you were happier without him, that his decision to let you go had given you the chance to find the stability, the life, you deserved.

Clutching a hand to his chest, he finally let the tears fall freely. The ache in his heart felt unbearable, like a piece of him had been ripped away and might never grow back. Would he ever be okay again? Would he ever know happiness without you?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he told himself, over and over, that this was the right thing to do. It didn't matter if he was happy. It didn't matter if he felt whole again. All that mattered was you. And as he sat there, broken and lost, he prayed you were finding the happiness he couldn't give you, even if it meant he would never find it again.

It's okay... she'll find the right person now.

The right person. Who even decided what that meant? Who had the authority to label someone as right or wrong for you?

Maybe it was the lingering ache for Park Seonghwa, the way his name still carried the weight of memories you hadn't yet learned to let go. Or maybe it was the frustration bubbling inside you, resentment toward your parents for tricking you into meeting this man—the son of your father's business partner—the one they couldn't stop praising.

Jung Yunho, the perfect man, as they called him. He was everything they'd ever wanted for you, a textbook example of stability, charm, and success. But the problem wasn't him. It was you. You weren't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever. Years had passed since the breakup, but the ghost of what you had with Seonghwa still clung to you, a shadow that even time couldn't chase away.

"Hey," Yunho's voice pulled you back from your spiralling thoughts. His gaze, warm and sincere, met yours as he leaned in slightly. "You feeling alright?"

Caught off guard, you glanced down at your untouched plate of steak and managed a small nod. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

But he didn't look convinced. Instead, his lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile—the kind that could probably disarm anyone, just not you. "How could I not, when such a pretty lady is sulking before me?" he teased gently. Before you could reply, he reached across the table, taking your plate without hesitation. "Here, let me help you."

With careful precision, he began cutting the steak into neat, bite-sized pieces. The gesture was so thoughtful, so kind, and yet it left you feeling hollow. It wasn't the act itself—it was the way it lacked the weight of familiarity.

Seonghwa used to do the same thing, but it had always been different with him. He'd grumble playfully about how you'd never learn to do it yourself, though he never minded doing it for you. His hands were smaller, more delicate, and you'd always find yourself staring at the faint scars from his crafts. Yunho's hands, while steady and practised, didn't hold the same history.

"All done," Yunho said cheerfully, sliding the plate back to you. "Now you have no excuse not to eat."

You forced a polite smile, murmuring a quiet "thank you" as you picked up your fork. Yunho didn't seem to notice the distant look in your eyes, or perhaps he was kind enough not to point it out.

He was wonderful. Thoughtful, patient, and sincere. By all accounts, he was the right person. But as you sat there, forcing yourself to chew, you couldn't help but wonder:

What if the right person wasn't the one who checked all the boxes? What if they were the one who didn't, but still felt like home?

The rest of the night crawled by like a snail, every passing second stretching unbearably long. You shifted in your seat, wishing you were anywhere but here. Yunho was a great guy—attentive, charming, and genuinely kind. But that only made it worse. He deserved someone who could meet his enthusiasm with equal fervour, someone who didn't have her mind wandering to someone else entirely.

You sighed quietly, pushing your barely touched drink to the side. What the hell was wrong with you? This was what you'd agreed to, wasn't it? This was what you'd sacrificed so much for. Years ago, you walked away from the love of your life because it felt like the right thing to do, to pursue the kind of stability and compatibility everyone insisted was more important than love alone. And now here it was, right in front of you.

The right person.

Yet, as you glanced at Jung Yunho's radiant smile, so effortlessly warm, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him felt less like the happy ending you'd envisioned and more like a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage that offered everything a woman could ever ask for—security, stability, admiration. Everything except the one thing your heart still longed for.

All you could ever find inside yourself was the same man you'd tried so hard to let go of.

Park Seonghwa.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him, your mind betraying you with memories you'd worked so hard to bury. You wondered how he was doing, though it wasn't as if you hadn't heard. Mutual friends kept you updated more than you cared to admit, their words painting glimpses of a life that no longer included you.

You'd heard he was finally making progress with his work, his passion—the very thing you'd once defended but later doubted. He'd opened a small store, modest but filled with so much of himself. It sold various collectable art pieces: action figures, miniatures for tabletop games, and custom character figurines crafted with meticulous care. Fans of Star Wars and Animal Crossing flocked to him, drawn to the detail and love that radiated from every piece he touched.

And you were proud of him. God, you were so proud of him.

He'd stayed true to himself, despite all the judgement, all the whispers about how he'd never make it, how he'd never be good enough. He'd proved them wrong. He'd built something meaningful, something entirely his own. You were happy for him, truly, but beneath that happiness lay an ache you couldn't ignore. You regretted not being there to witness it, to cheer for him when he finally achieved what he'd always dreamed of.

But maybe that wasn't what he wanted. For all you knew, he'd moved on, found someone who stayed by his side through all the highs and lows. Someone who loved him openly and without reservation, who didn't make him feel like he'd never measure up.

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd sworn off love entirely after the way things ended between you two.

Either way, you couldn't blame him. You wouldn't blame him. Not after the pain you'd both endured.

Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. "Is... everything okay? You've been quiet tonight." His concern was genuine, his eyes soft with worry, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

But deep down, you knew you weren't fine. And you didn't know if you ever would be.

"How much for that one?"

The tiny voice drew Seonghwa's attention, and he glanced down at the little girl standing on tiptoes, her small finger pointing eagerly at the figurine encased behind the counter. It was the only one displayed under glass, like a prized treasure—and in a way, it was.

He hummed, his eyes softening as he turned to look at the figure in question. The Kuromi figurine sat proudly on the top shelf, right next to the LED sign that glowed softly with his store's name: Star Mars. The design was intricate, every detail was carefully crafted with love and precision.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said gently, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "That one's not for sale. It's reserved for someone very special."

The little girl pouted, her lips forming a perfect curve of disappointment, and his heart melted a little. But no amount of adorable pouting—or even persuasive whining—could ever convince him to sell it.

That Kuromi figurine wasn't just a piece of art; it was a promise, a memory frozen in time. It was one of the first figurines he'd perfected, the culmination of years of practice and the relentless pursuit of his passion. He'd made it as a gift for you—his favourite girl.

It still is yours, if only you wanted it.

The child's father stepped forward, lifting her into his arms as he gave Seonghwa an apologetic bow. "Don't worry about her, Mr Park. I'll convince her to go with the Isabelle one instead."

Seonghwa chuckled softly, standing upright as he waved off the father's concern. "No problem at all. Isabelle's a great choice," he said, though his eyes lingered briefly on the Kuromi figurine.

As the father and daughter moved on to browse the other displays, Seonghwa found himself lost in thought. He didn't display that piece out of pride or for show—it was there because it reminded him of you. Of the nights you'd spend sitting cross-legged on the floor of his studio, playfully teasing him about his obsession with getting every detail just right.

"She looks like you," he'd said when he showed it to you for the first time. You'd laughed, brushing it off, but the glint of affection in your eyes told him you secretly loved the comparison.

He'd planned to give it to you on your birthday, but the timing never felt right. And then, before he knew it, you were gone.

The bell above the door jingled, the familiar sound slicing through the haze of his thoughts and yanking him back to the present. He straightened up, plastering on the polite smile he reserved for customers, though the weight in his chest never eased.

"Good evening! Welcome to…" His voice faltered mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat as his entire world screeched to a halt.

There you were.

It had been years, but time seemed to melt away the moment his eyes landed on you. You stood there in the soft glow of his store lights, more beautiful than he remembered—if that were even possible. Your silk dress shimmered gently with each subtle movement, an elegant coat draped effortlessly over your shoulders. The once long hair he used to run his fingers through was now cropped to your shoulders, framing your face in a way that made you look older, wiser—but still you.

Even after all this time, his heart betrayed him. It thundered in his chest, each beat screaming your name. He clenched his fist tightly at his side, willing himself to stay rooted where he stood. Every fibre of his being ached to run to you, to close the distance, but he couldn't. He shouldn't.

Slowly, shakily, he mustered a smile, though it felt like his heart might burst from the sheer force of its racing. Then, to his astonishment—and heartbreak—you returned it. A soft, familiar curve of your lips that nearly undid him.

But then, it fell apart.

The moment shattered as a tall, striking man stepped in behind you. He moved with easy confidence, his presence commanding attention as if the universe itself had tilted slightly to make room for him. Without hesitation, his hand found its way to your shoulder, resting there with an ease that spoke of familiarity.

"See anything you like?" the man asked, his deep voice carrying the warmth of intimacy as he looked down at you.

You blinked, startled, as if shaken from a dream. "Oh… I was just…" Your voice trailed off as your gaze flicked back to your ex-boyfriend, lingering for a moment longer than it should have.

Seonghwa's smile faltered, but he quickly schooled his expression, burying the ache that clawed at his chest. He nodded politely, forcing himself to focus on the customer standing in front of him—the both of you.

The Kuromi figurine sat silently on its shelf, bathed in soft light, waiting for a moment that might never come. The air inside the store suddenly felt stifling. Seonghwa stood behind the counter, his hands gripping its edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Welcome to Star Mars," he said, his voice steady but his smile trembling under the weight of emotions. He forced it wider, hoping it would mask the whirlwind within. "It's been a while. How have you been?" His heart clenched as the words left his mouth. He wanted to sound casual, as though you were just another customer, but he couldn't. You weren't just anyone. You never had been.

You gave him a hesitant smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I've been good. How about you?"

Before he could answer, the man beside you—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding warmth—stepped forward, his curiosity evident. "Oh, you two know each other? What a small world!" His voice was friendly, his smile sincere, and Seonghwa's chest tightened further.

He should feel relief. This man, presumably your boyfriend—or worse, your fiancé—seemed perfect for you. He was everything Seonghwa had wanted for you when he stepped away, believing he could never give you the life you deserved. And yet, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, this is Seonghwa. He's... an old friend of mine."

Old friend. The words landed like a punch to his stomach, but he kept his composure.

The man extended a hand toward him, his smile unwavering. "I'm Yunho. It's nice to meet you! Next time my nieces and nephews need new toys, I'll know who to come to."

Seonghwa took his hand, shaking it firmly while managing a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too." His gaze flickered back to you, catching the way you avoided meeting his eyes.

As if on cue, Yunho's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he excused himself, stepping outside to take the call. For the first time since you'd entered, the air felt heavy with unspoken words.

You turned back to your ex, your eyes meeting his briefly before dropping to the counter. "Congratulations... Seonghwa," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a fragile memory. "It's good to see how far you've come."

He nodded slowly, his smile softer now, though the ache in his eyes remained. "Thank you. And... congratulations to you as well," he said, glancing toward the window where Yunho stood. "He seems amazing."

The kindness in his tone made it hurt even more.

"No," you blurted, shaking your head. "He's not... we're just... friends. I don't..." Your words faltered, your voice trembling. "I'm not with anyone."

His brows lifted in surprise, but he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. You wished he'd say something, anything, but the way his eyes softened, brimming with a mix of emotions—relief, hesitation, and something deeper—was answer enough.

Your breath hitched when your gaze landed on the figurine behind him. Kuromi. Encased in glass, displayed on the highest shelf. You remembered the countless hours he'd spent perfecting it, the way he'd proudly shown you the finished piece.

He still kept it.

Before you could find the courage to ask why, Yunho reappeared, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. "Hey, sorry to cut your little catch-up session short, but something urgent came up at work, and I—"

Seonghwa straightened, his polite smile snapping back into place. "Of course, don't let me keep you."

Your heart sank as he turned to you, bowing slightly. "It was nice seeing you again."

You forced a smile, though your chest ached with everything left unsaid. "It was nice seeing you too."

As you followed Yunho out, you couldn't resist glancing back one last time. Your eyes met Seonghwa's, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though a thousand words passed between you.

Regret. Longing. Love.

The bell above the door jingled again as you stepped out, your heart heavy with the weight of the encounter. Yunho was quiet as he drove, his hands steady on the wheel. The silence between you felt thick, almost suffocating, but you didn't know what to say. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you without sounding selfish or ungrateful?

"It's him, isn't it?" Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, soft but resolute.

Your head snapped toward him, your heart pounding in panic. "What… what do you mean?" you stammered, the guilt already clawing its way to the surface.

He sighed, pulling the car to a gentle stop in front of your home. Turning to face you, he gave you a small, knowing smile. "The man from the store. Park Seonghwa, right? He's the one you've been thinking about all night. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Your breath caught, your hands fumbling with the seatbelt as you tried to come up with a response. But the look in his eyes told you that lying wasn't an option. "I…" You paused, finally managing to unfasten the seatbelt, but your words seemed caught in your throat. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean for this to happen."

He leaned back with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologise. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I knew from the beginning that you weren't exactly thrilled about this arrangement, but I still went along with it, hoping�� I don't know, that maybe something would change."

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "You deserve better than this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Hey." He reached out, his hand covering yours with a comforting warmth. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you turned back to him, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You don't owe me anything," he said gently. "This… whatever this was supposed to be, it wouldn't have worked if both of us weren't fully in it. And that's okay. You know why?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

"Because this decision—choosing who you want to be with—it's for you, not for your parents, not for me, and certainly not for anyone else. It should never be about what people think or what they want. It's your life. Live it for yourself."

His words struck you like a bolt of lightning, unravelling years of self-doubt and regret. He was right. How had you allowed yourself to be swept up in everyone else's expectations, losing sight of what truly mattered to you?

You sat back in your seat, letting his words sink in, feeling a strange mix of guilt and liberation. After a long moment, you nodded, your voice steadier now. "Thank you, Yunho. For everything."

He smiled, his eyes kind and understanding. "Go on," he said, tilting his head toward your house. "And don't let fear hold you back this time."

As you stepped out of the car, his words echoed in your mind, igniting a spark of courage you hadn't felt in years.

You turned back, watching as Yunho drove away, his figure disappearing into the night. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sliver of clarity.

It wasn't too late. You still had a choice to make. And this time, you'd make it for yourself.

The shop was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of paper as Seonghwa meticulously wrapped the Isabelle and Grogu figurines the pair of father and daughter finally agreed on getting. His movements were precise, his focus seemingly sharp, but his mind was elsewhere—stuck on the brief yet piercing encounter that had just walked out of his life again.

"That Kuromi one… it's for the pretty lady earlier, isn't it?"

The father's voice broke through Seonghwa's haze, and his hands froze briefly before resuming their task. He didn't look up, focusing instead on folding the edges of the wrapping paper with unnecessary care. "You might be right," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than intended. "But it doesn't matter if it is."

The man tilted his head, a subtle frown forming as he cradled his daughter closer. "And why's that? It clearly still means a lot to you both."

Seonghwa finally glanced up, forcing a polite smile, though it faltered almost immediately. "You saw it yourself... she's with someone else. Someone better." The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, laced with a resignation he didn't quite believe in.

The man sighed, shifting the little girl in his arms so she could hold her new Grogu figurine. He regarded your ex with a look that felt far too knowing. "I also saw how she looked at you," he said softly. "And she didn't look like someone who's better off."

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard, but the customer wasn't finished. His gaze drifted toward the cute purple figurine that was not for sale, and for a moment, his expression softened into something fragile—something etched with pain.

"You know," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "my wife used to love Sanrio too. She had this little Cinnamoroll keychain she carried everywhere." He chuckled faintly, the sound bittersweet. "I always thought I'd have more time to make her smile, to give her the little things that made her happy. But time doesn't wait for anyone. One day, it was just… gone."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Seonghwa felt something tighten in his chest.

The man glanced at him then, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity that seemed to pierce through Seonghwa's carefully built walls. "I don't know what's between you and her, Mr Park. But I do know this: regret is a heavy thing to carry. Don't let it weigh you down, not if you can still do something about it."

He gave Seonghwa a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of lessons learned too late, before taking the bag of purchased items. "Sometimes, all it takes is one step in the right direction. Don't let the chance slip away."

And then he was gone, the bell above the door jingling faintly as father and daughter disappeared into the night.

Seonghwa stood motionless behind the counter, his gaze drifting back to the Kuromi figurine in its glass case. The light reflected off it, casting faint shadows on the shelf behind it. It was meant for you. It had always been for you.

The father's words replayed in his mind, unrelenting in their simplicity and truth. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the figurine made just for you, but his thoughts were elsewhere—back to you, back to all the moments that had led to this one.

Back then, he'd convinced himself he was doing the right thing, letting you go so you could find the happiness he didn't think he could give you. He thought he was being selfless, noble even, sacrificing his own heart so you could find someone better—someone who deserved you. But now, the cracks in that logic were glaringly obvious. What had any of this accomplished? Neither of you had found happiness in the way he'd hoped.

The truth was harsh: he hadn't even tried. He hadn't fought to be better for you, to grow into someone worthy of your love. Instead, he'd accepted the version of himself the world seemed to see—a man with dreams too small and ambitions too impractical. He'd let himself believe that you deserved someone like Yunho, someone who fit the mould of what your parents and society thought was 'right.'

But things were different now. He wasn't that man anymore. He'd worked hard, not for anyone else but for himself. Every step he'd taken to build his store, every figurine he'd crafted with his own hands, every small milestone he'd achieved—it was proof that he could create something meaningful. And if he could do that, maybe he could create a life with you.

His heart clenched at the thought of you with Yunho, not because he doubted the man's worth, but because he knew Yunho could never hold your heart the way he still did. Yunho was everything society said you should want—stable, charming, perfect on paper. But love wasn't about paper. Love was about the way you used to light up whenever he showed you his newest creation, about the quiet nights you'd spent talking about everything and nothing, about the way your hand had always felt right in his.

Suddenly, the idea of the 'right person' seemed so absurd. There was no such thing. The right person wasn't someone who ticked all the boxes. The right person was the one you chose to love, again and again, flaws and all.

And you had chosen him once.

The real question now was whether you still would.

He straightened, his resolve hardening like molten metal cooling into steel. What kind of love was it if he could stand by and watch you settle for less than what you deserved? Not less in status or wealth, but less in the kind of happiness that made life worth living. What kind of love let you spend the rest of your days with someone who could never truly make your heart race?

Seonghwa wouldn't let that happen—not if he could help it.

His gaze lingered on the Kuromi figurine one last time before he moved toward the back room. He needed to think, to plan, to figure out how to tell you everything he should have said years ago.

If there was even the slightest chance that you still felt the same way, he would take it. Because this time, he wasn't letting fear or pride or anyone else's expectations get in the way.

This time, he was going to fight for you.

"Well...? Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" you asked, your voice sharp, as you stepped into the house. Your mother flinched, bowing her head slightly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. She hesitated for a moment before coming up to you slowly, her eyes brimming with guilt.

"Yunho called," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said he wishes not to force you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humour. "Of course, it took an outsider's words for you to finally see how exhausting this has been for me," you said, your tone cutting. "All this talk about marriage, about finding the right man... who is it really for? Who am I doing this for, hm? Is it for my own happiness? Or... oh, right." You smiled grimly. "It never was about my happiness, was it? It was about keeping up appearances, about pleasing everyone but me."

Your mother's face crumpled as her gaze fell to the floor. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths.

Your father, who had been sitting silently at the dining table, let out a long, weary sigh. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as though trying to steady himself. "We thought we were doing what was best for you," he said, his voice low, burdened with regret. "We thought... if we guided you toward someone like Yunho, we were ensuring a future where you'd be safe, secure."

"Safe?" you repeated, your voice breaking. "From what? From being myself? From choosing the person who actually makes me happy? You never trusted me to make my own decisions. You never thought I was capable of knowing what I want, what I need."

Your mother reached for your hand, her touch tentative. "It wasn't like that," she said, though her voice wavered. "We were scared. Scared that you'd make a mistake, scared that you'd regret it later, scared that—"

"You mean you were scared," you interrupted, pulling your hand back. "Scared of what people would say. Scared of what the neighbours, the relatives, society would think. But you never stopped to ask me what I thought. What I felt."

Tears glistened in her eyes now, spilling over as she shook her head. "You're right," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're absolutely right. We were selfish. We thought we knew better, but we didn't. We never meant to hurt you, but we see now that we did. We hurt you by not listening, by not trusting you."

Your father stood, his movements deliberate, his face sombre. "If he's the one you want, if he's the one who makes you happy, then we'll support you. No more pushing, no more trying to control your life. It's your choice. It always should've been your choice."

For a moment, the room fell silent. The tension that had loomed for so long finally began to dissipate, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief.

You inhaled shakily, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. It wasn't a perfect resolution—there was still so much to work through—but this was a start. A start you'd been longing for. "Thank you," you said softly, the words fragile but sincere. "Thank you for finally understanding."

And as your mother pulled you into a trembling embrace, you allowed yourself to hope that things could finally change. She smiled softly, brushing a hand against your cheek as if to assure you it was okay now. Your father stood behind her, his expression a mixture of pride and something deeper—perhaps the weight of finally letting go.

They exchanged a glance before your father nodded toward the door. "Go," he said quietly, his voice firm but warm. "Go where your heart tells you to. We'll always be here."

You blinked, stunned by their words, and for a moment, you couldn't move. But then, the weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an urgency that made your pulse race. Without another word, you turned and rushed out, barely remembering to grab your keys on the way.

Your car roared to life as you sped through the streets, your destination clear as day in your mind. Star Mars. The silly name you'd suggested in passing all those years ago, never imagining he'd actually use it. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Would he still want you after all this time? Did it matter? Even if he didn't, you needed him to know. You needed to tell him how you felt—how you still felt.

Parking haphazardly in front of his store, you didn't waste a second before bolting toward it. But as you reached the doors, your heart sank. The store was dark, the lights off, the doors locked. "Closed" hung starkly on the door, though the shops around it buzzed with life.

You froze, staring through the glass, confusion and dread pooling in your stomach. It's not even closing time yet... Had seeing you earlier bothered him that much? Had you pushed him away again, without even realising it?

Slumping against the door, you bit back tears, the overwhelming sense of missed chances clawing at your chest. Sure, you could come back another day. But you'd already lost so much time, wasted so many years pretending you didn't want this, pretending you didn't love him. You didn't want to waste another second.

Your gaze drifted inside the store, scanning the shelves. Your breath caught when you noticed something was missing. The Kuromi figurine—the one you'd lingered on earlier—was gone. You frowned, stepping closer to the glass. It had been there before. Where had it gone?

"Looking for this?"

The familiar voice made you spin around so fast you nearly stumbled. There he was, standing just a few feet away, the Kuromi figurine clutched in his hand, still encased in its protective plastic.

Your breath hitched as tears filled your eyes. "You took her off the shelf?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you took a tentative step toward him. "Where were you planning to take her?"

He smiled softly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears of his own. "I was going to take her to her rightful owner," he murmured, his voice steady but tender.

Your heart stopped at his words, and you whispered shakily, "Was? So you're not taking her anymore?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Why not?"

He hesitated, the weight of years of longing and regret pressing against his chest. But then, the words of the customer from earlier echoed in his mind. Don't wait until it's too late. He looked at you—really looked at you—and knew, without a doubt, that this moment was the answer he'd been waiting for.

Taking a careful step forward, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing softly against yours. His breath hitched when your fingers instinctively curled around his, holding on as though letting go would shatter everything.

"Because you're already here," he murmured, his voice trembling with unspoken emotion.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your heart felt whole again. The ache of countless nights spent longing for him, convinced you'd never feel his love again, melted away. Here he was—right in front of you—just like all those years ago. Yet, it felt different now. It felt... right. Because this time, neither of you would let fear or doubt stand in the way. This time, you were both ready to fight for it, to grow, to compromise, and to hold on.

"Hwa, I... I need to tell you something," you began, your voice shaking, each word heavy with the weight of years spent in silence. Your eyes searched his, desperate to convey everything your heart had been screaming in his absence. But before you could say more, he smiled—a small, trembling curve of his lips that held every ounce of love and pain he'd been holding back.

His eyes glistened as he leaned in, his forehead gently meeting yours, grounding you, binding you in a way that no words ever could. The moment felt infinite, a pause in time where your souls met in unspoken understanding.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, raw and honest. Before you could process the words, his lips found yours, soft and warm, carrying all the unspoken promises, all the years of longing, all the love you thought you'd lost.

The world blurred and softened around you—the hum of the street and the glow of the city lights dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the steady warmth of his hands cradling your face, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect rhythm with yours.

In that kiss, you felt everything: the heartbreak, the yearning, the hope, and, most of all, the love that had endured time, separation, and pain. It was as if every broken piece of your heart was mending, every crack filled with the warmth of his love.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads remained pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet night. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen, his touch tender and sure.

"This time," he murmured, his voice steady but full of emotion, "I'm not letting you go."

And you knew—you both knew—that this time, nothing would keep you apart.

Istg, this wasn't meant to be so long. I wasn't even sure I wanted to give it a happy ending at first, but then I just kept getting carried away and voila. I swear I am working on Yunho's chapter of By Order of the Black Pirates bit by bit hehe just had to get this out of my system first.

As always, thank you for reading and hope y'all liked this one! Do let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[inesbaby21]

Caitlin clark and a feminine reader who's her gay awakening. She and the reader are like really good friends at first, and then it slowly turns into something more. Maybe she gets jealous when she sees you hang out with another player like paige or Kate.

"You've got it badddd"- Caitlin Clark

3rd person P.O.V

Don't get me wrong, you and Caitlin had always been close- even when you decided that staying in Iowa wasn't the choice for you. While you had no open regrets you missed the late night conversations with Cait, often talking about how you wanted your hair done next- or maybe which pair of jeans would go best with the new shoes you had ordered.

Being friends with someone who was so comfortable, and open with their femininity was something new to caitlin- almost scary. She was so used to the girls on her team not putting in effort to match the accent of their tees to their new shoes, or waking up an extra hour early to do their makeup because "it made them feel pretty" (you were always pretty to her, especially when you were focused on making a shot- oh and no doubt when you let out a snort from laughing too hard, ultimately causing you to laugh even harder from the embarrassment.)

So, why exactly did it take Caitlin until her junior year of COLLEGE- and subsequently the year you decided that maybe switching your Uconn to be closer to your older (adoptive) sister would be best for you to admit to herself that maybe (definitely) she likes you more than a friend? Why did it take her until the same pink luggage you had arrived with almost two years ago had been packed- and placed neatly in the white car with pink interior that she knew all too well for her to finally gain the courage to admit the feelings she had felt for you for years?

The same feelings that made her want to play a little too hard at the USA basketball tournament- even though she didn't know exactly who you were. That didn't matter though, you stood out like a sore thumb- a small red skirt, crisp white tee with words that read along the lines of "written by lana del something" adorn with red lettering- with makeup soft, and light giving you an almost angelic look.

Don't get even get me started on how unfocused she was that entire game- staring at the shot clock, and then you, and then the clock again. Fumbling the ball- and forgetting to use her pivot when she got a rebound. These little things caused to her ultimately get benched, finding her spot next to Paige as Hailey subbed her out for that quarter- she and Paige talked, about nothing too serious until Caitlin mentioned being distracted by not her nerves.. but by someone sitting in the stands with a ridiculously large ipad.

"No fucking way Caitlin" Paige said a little too loud for the girls liking as she shushed her out of fear of the coaches hearing.

"What? I'm just saying she's really pretty- and from the way she's been at all of the games this week I think she may be one of the girls sister or something" Caitlin said completely oblivious to the fact that the girl she had been almost studying for a week was Paige's younger sister- the same girl who she would spend the next 3 1/2 years yearning after too scared to make the first move.

"Caitlin" the Blonde said- dropping her voice an octave and sitting up straight. "That's my fucking sister you dimwit" she said lightly shoving the now pale girl sitting beside her as she laughed at the expression on the girls face.

"Oh my gosh- I.. I-I'm so sorry, I take all of that back" The brunette began to ramble scared by the sudden change of atmosphere. Not paying the panicking girl any attention Paige began to laugh as the entire situation was nothing short of hilarious to her- and honestly she started shed a few tears before her attention was called back to the game as she was subbed in.

This experience was one of many that occurred until you and Caitlin finally crossed paths in college. It was no secret that you had many offers from many different schools, and that ultimately when you committed to Iowa that there was bound to be a bit of sibling rivalry as both of you were very competitive. It was alsooo noted how much time you spent with the girls on the team with you- now don't get me wrong Caitlin couldn't exactly be jealous when you and Molly Davis began to hang out with one another outside of practice. But something in her snapped when you sad been elbowed in the face by an opponent while getting a rebound, and as she rushed to make sure you were okay the girl nudged her slightly backwards as she helped you up herself l- glaring at Caitlin on the court seemingly forgetting that there were cameras everywhere.

Fast forward to now. She had spent months upset with you- leaving you confused and ultimately hurt as you spent time attempting to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Was it the overwhelmingly positive attitude? The almost sickening pink bedroom decor (you had offered to tone your side of the room down too many times to count. ) Maybe it was the idea of you getting too close to molly, and then when you had sprung the news of you transferring to Uconn as a last resort to getting more playing time- and being able to showcase your talent like promised.

Whatever the reason was, it had Caitlin Clark avoiding you like the plague for months, ignoring the small talk you made when she was in your shared dorm- if she was even there. She began to spend the night with Kate as she had no roommate, and if she wasn't with Kate she was simply out all night.. and who were you to judge her- she was constantly put under stress to play her best, practice like it was a game, and most importantly to not let herself get too involved with anything relationship related.

That last reason alone was why she found herself with a ridiculously heavy, pink gift basket in hand as she marched towards the white car- just as nervous as the USA youth tournament that ultimately changed her life. She spent about a week writing the letter confessing her feelings- and with the help of Molly (ironic right ..) she picked out things that she knew you would not only like, but that help some form of value to you.

"Y/N/N" The girl yelled half heartedly- more sad about your departure, than nervous about giving you the note.

"Hey Caity" You said back with a bright smile- a smile that matched your bubbly voice. Caitlin would never understand why you couldn't hold grudges, even after icing you out for months- ignoring every attempt you gave to communicate, and borderline moving out you still had the heart to forgive her- and sometimes she wondered why it was so easy for you to forgive.

As you close the trunk of the SUV, you walked towards the nervous girl- taking the gift from her hands and giving her a tight hug around the neck, as her hands find their place along your waistline. The two of you stayed like that for a while until she pulled away to get a good look at your face. Caitlin could tell you really didn't want to leave Iowa, but your sister needing support as she was injured, and if you wanted any shot at potentially getting drafted you needed to have more playing time- more time to show how much you've grown as a player, more time to show who you were- to make a name for YOURSELF. These things combined together left you with no choice but to transfer, and why not transfer to a school where your sister already resided with her girlfriend? Why not transfer to a team full of love, and support with multiple great coaches?

Transferring was the best option for you, and Caitlin tried to understand that. Even if it meant potentially losing you, but deep down something inside of her told her that the distance would only bring the two of you closer- it would only feed the growing feeling from both parties, that it would only heal the wound that had opened as a consequence of pushing one another away. As you pulled away from the girl completely- you stared at the basket full of goodies.

"Oh Cait- You didn't have to get me anything"- You said tearing up, it was a thought out gift that obviously took some planning- and the price didn't matter to you as it was something that she had taken time to put together for you. "No, No I wanted to Y/N/N" she girl said with a bright smile "I wrote you a letter that I think you should really read"

As you carefully pull the letter out of its envelope, your eyes skim over the beautifully written piece of card stock- pink ink neatly written on the thick piece of paper as your begin to smile ear to ear. With no other words you drop the letter into the baby pink basket- leaning up and kissed the taller girl passionately, and as you pulled away breathless you began to mutter something along the lines of "Actually the shirt said written by Lana Del Rey" giggling as you began to think back to the day you set your eyes on the girl.

A/N-I'm sorry about being inactive everyone! i have band camp soooo i've been super busy and will be for the next few weeks! Also, im getting to my request/drafs bear with me 🙏🏾. ALSO please ignore my grammar issues, i didnt proof read it all the way- and im also playing around with the plot ngl. butttt i love you guys! and thank you for 120 followers! 💕❤️

tags; @cosmopretty

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 29

Masterlist

Warning: small injury, mention of past abuse and self-doubt, more family fluff.

Word count: 3.8k

It seemed second nature for you to sit back and watch. You weren’t trying to be rude but liked understanding how everyone fit in a group. Then, you could see where you fit into it. Yelena hung on every word Alexei said, no matter how ridiculous. She would tease him and poke fun, but it was a side of Yelena you never saw, and she was surprised that it existed. Deep down, she was a little girl looking for her father’s love; you could relate. Now, with Melina, she was more hesitant to accept the older woman’s affection. You wondered what happened between the two to hurt their relationship. With the blonde here, Natasha was more willing to join in on family time. It felt like she was holding them both at arm’s length away. Similar to how you were when you first arrived at the tower, you were so scared to be hurt by those who promised they cared. You, Yelena, and Natasha weren’t as different as you thought. Kate and Wanda acted as the buffers. If a conversation took a wrong turn or Alexei made a joke that struck a nerve, they would pivot the conversation or touch their girlfriend to soothe the. You needed to figure out where you fit here.

“You are doing it again,” Yelena said, pushing a hot chocolate into your hands. Wanda was making them, and it was Yelena’s job to hand them out. You sipped the sugary drink instead of acknowledging her statement. “Why do you analyze everything like a game of chess?” You looked at her. She wasn’t being mean, just curious. You frowned, whipping your lip with a napkin.

“I don’t know,” your eyebrows scrunched together as you thought. Vision taught you that chess was always about being two to three steps ahead of your opponent. It was better to be ahead than trying to catch up. Every time you picked up a piece, your move was final; there were no do-overs. All the pieces flowed together, and a player couldn’t win without every piece. The pawn was just as important as the Queen or Rook. “I guess I like to see how everyone fits together; then I can find my spot.” Yelena smiled.

“I think you would make a good Avenger.”

“Me?” You questioned. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be an Avenger.” The blonde shrugged, leaning back on the wall. Her eyes were trained on the card game between Natasha, Alexei, and Kate.

“I thought the same thing when Natasha asked if I wanted to join the team. Sometimes, I still wonder if I’m good enough for it,” you watched her expression darken, but she shook it off. “We all have those questioning thoughts. Maybe that makes us good at what we do.” Natasha raised her hands in the air to celebrate her victory. “Come on. You are joining the next game.” You had little choice as you were pulled towards the table as the next game began.

*

“Ready?” Melina asked. You shook out your legs and stretched your arms. You nodded and heard the sound of the machine starting up. The older Black Widow wanted to test your reflexes, so you stood in the center of two machines hooked up to a switch that Melina held. They would shoot clay disks at you. All you had to do was doge them and use your powers to destroy them.

Back at the tower, when you trained with Maria, she helped you fall in love with using your powers again. Now, training with Melina made your stomach twist with anxiety. You wanted to perform well, impress her, and show her what you were capable of. So you pushed down the feeling and felt your powers dance at your fingertips.

The first two were easy; the clay pieces fell to the ground before they got to you. You heard the machines rave-up, and the disk started to come faster. Sweat began to drip down your back as you trained under the Russian sun. It was getting harder to stay on your feet as your legs turned to jello.

You dove to the ground, the disk skimming over your head. With the last bit of energy, you sent a stream of lightning and hit your target. The clay pieces fell to the ground. Rolling onto your back, you let out a heavy sigh. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear it in your ears. You thought Maria’s training was brutal; you were pretty sure Melina was trying to kill you. “Better,” she said. “We’ll take a small break and go again.” You gave her a weak thumbs up and heard Yelena approach you.

“Get up,” she grunted as she pulled you up into a sitting position. Your body mainly was dead weight. “You need to give your lungs more room to expand and slowly drink this.” She handed you a water bottle.

“I think,” you slowly sipped on the water. “I think your mother’s trying to kill me.” Yelena laughed, looking at Melina, who was speaking with Wanda. They were too far away to hear what they were talking about.

“Putting you through this is her way of showing that she cares,” your mouth dropped in shock. You were mentally preparing for your funeral. “She wants to make sure you can protect yourself. You are her first vnucka.” You smiled.

“When are you and Kate going to add to the family?” The blonde’s cheeks burned bright red. You laughed, and she pushed you on the shoulder. There was no fight in your body, so you fell back to the ground. “Jerk,” you called out. Slowly, you sat up and stood up. You shook your legs out and jumped on your toes. Instead of anxiety filling your stomach, something else replaced it. You felt off. Jumping on your feet again, your ankle rolled, but you caught it before anything happened.

“All set?” Melina asked. You gave her a thumbs-up instead of answering and tossed the water bottle out of your way. The machines began to spin, and you let out a shaky breath.

You should have said no, called it off, and tried again later in the day. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it. The first sets went well. You dogged the clay plates and destroyed them before they hit the ground. Until you plant your foot and your ankle gave out. Your body crumbled to the ground.

All of your life, you knew pain—the pain you inflicted on yourself. The bruises and scars your father left on you would stay with you forever. The pain during HYDRA was blinding. So when a pulsing pain erupted in your ankle, you knew something was wrong. Especially when your body crumbled in on itself and you fell to the ground. You faintly heard Yelena call out your name and rush to your side.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You nodded, stretching your legs out in front of you. Your right ankle felt throbbing. Melina joined you, kneeling next to you.

“My ankle gave out,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can continue your little course.” You joked, but Melina frowned.

“Do you want me to look at it?” Her hands went towards your foot, and you jerked your leg away. That was a mistake, and the pain traveled up your leg. You gripped the blades of grass between your fingers to stop yourself from crying out.

“No,” your voice shook. “No, I’m fine. Can you help me get back to my room?” You asked, looking at the blonde. She offered her hand, and you took it. You were pulled to your feet, and Yelena picked you up onto her back. You yelped and put your arms around her neck. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you into the house,” she adjusted her grip underneath your legs and began to walk. “Mama is right; you need to eat more.” You rolled your eyes and got used to the feeling of her carrying you like this. It was nice, and you rested your head on her shoulder.

“This is kind of nice,” you mumbled. “I may need more rides like this.” You moved from her laughter.

“Don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” Surprisingly, the house was empty when Yelena walked in, and she went towards the room you were using. She gently set you down, and you limped over to the bed. You felt her eyes watching you. “I’m going to have to tell Natasha.” You groaned but understood. “Don’t try to move it a lot and we’ll be right back.” You nodded as the blonde left.

You sat against the bed’s headboard and carefully removed your sock and shoe. The swelling was already starting, and a nice bruise was forming. You tried to move the joint but had to cover your mouth to stop the cry from slipping past your lips. This could have been better. Injuries meant punishments. You had to fix this quickly. With shaky hands, your fingers traced the bruise. A small surge passed your fingertips and hit the affected area. You jumped, surprised by the sudden display of power, but the pain wasn’t bad when your leg jerked. It was manageable. Curiously, you touched the bruised skin and concentrated your energy on that area. You only stopped when your ankle was back to the expected size, and the bruise was gone. You rolled your ankle without pain as if the injury had never happened. For one final test, you stood up and jumped up and down. Nothing. You slumped back on your bed. That was new. Your door opened, and Natasha came in looking frantic. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi?” Natasha asked. Yelena said you got hurt, and all I get is a hi.” You shrugged.

“I’m fine,” she gave you a pointed look. “I am. Look!” You circled around until Natasha forced you to stop and sit back down. She put your ankle in her lap.

“Yelena and Melina said you could barely pressure it,” you bite your lip. I know you wouldn’t fake an injury to get out of training, so what happened?” Natasha was safe. She was caring, protective, and loving. She wasn’t like your father or those HYDRA goons who hurt you for being hurt.

“I think I sprained my ankle,” you told her. She looked at you to continue. You sighed. “But I’m fine now because I healed it.” She slowly looked up, blinking a few times at you. You saw her brain trying to make sense of what you said.

“You did what?” You pulled your leg off her lap and began to put your sock and shoe back on.

“I was touching my ankle when I accidentally shocked myself, but it helped the pain, so I kept doing it until the swelling went down,” you tied your shoe and rolled your ankle again. “See! All good!” You expected to see that she was proud or happy on Natasha’s face, but she looked worried. “What’s wrong? This is so cool! I wish I knew how to do this when I was younger; it would have saved me a few extra bruises.” Gently, she took your hand.

“It is very cool,” you said, sensing a but. Why were you sensing a but? “But Melina said you flinched when she tried to help you.” Ah, there it was. “Do you want to talk about that?” You shrugged, flipping her hand over to trace the lines on her palm. “Come on, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug), I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going through your head.”

“Not much to tell,” you said. “Injuries of any kind were frowned upon at HYDRA, and with my-” you stopped yourself. “With Johnathan. It wasn’t good enough if I couldn’t perform at my best, and I was punished.” Natasha tapped on your knee, and you looked at her.

“Can I give you a hug?” You nodded, and she wrapped her arms around you. Your head rested on her chest. “When I was in the Red Room,” she spoke softly and ran her fingers through your hair. “I dislocated my shoulder during a mission. I completed it, but I wasn’t perfect. I went three days without food, and they doubled my training.” You pulled back to look at her. “No one will ever hurt you because you got hurt. Injuries are common in this line of work,” you nodded and leaned against her.

“I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you,” you felt her lips brush against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “But the world can’t hurt you anymore.”

*

Natasha found Wanda in the living room, drinking tea and reading a book. “Hey, how is she?” She closed the book. “What’s wrong? Does she need to go to the hospital?” Natasha shook her head.

“Can we talk in our room? It’s important.” Wanda placed her book on the table and took her girlfriend’s hand as Natasha led them to the room they used when they visited. It had personal details that Melina had kept up - pictures on the walls and extra clothes in the closet. Natasha sat on the bed. “She said she sprained her ankle, but it was fine when I checked on it. No bruising or swelling,” The witch nodded slowly, waiting for the Black Widow to continue. “She said she healed it. That she used her powers until the swelling went down.” Wanda’s eyes went wide. Natasha thought they were going to fall out of her head.

“That is—” she paused, seemingly at a loss for words. It’s different, but we shouldn’t panic,” she sat down next to the Black Widow. This could be happening because she is getting stronger.” Now Natasha was on her feet.

“You are the one that came to me when her powers changed during training. Her powers are preparing her for something, which could be what Vision warned you about.”

“What did Vision say?” Natasha turned around to see Yelena. The blonde had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised in question. A part of Natasha wanted to lie to her sister because the more people that knew, the more real it would feel. On the other hand, Yelena could help them. With a sigh, Natasha grabbed her sister’s hand, pulled her into the room, and closed the door. “Can you not do that?” Yelena deadpanned and sat next to Wanda on their bed.

“What we tell you can’t leave this room,” Yelena slowly nodded and looked between the couple.

“Should I be worried? Do we have another Thanos coming?” She smiled. Natasha was grateful for the joke to try breaking the tension but couldn’t bring it in her to laugh. So Wanda began to tell Yelena everything they knew, which was a little. Natasha watched the smile on her sister’s face fall. Once the witch was done, Yelena stood up suddenly. Her hands tangled within her blonde hair. “That glorified toaster oven let her touch the fucking infinity stone,” the redhead snorted at the name-calling towards the android but covered it with a cough from the flare she received from her girlfriend.

“We know it was a bad choice,” Wanda ran her hands through her hair and rested them on her neck. “We can’t change the pass.”

“I can complain about it,” Yelena mumbled.

“What can we do,” Wanda ignored Yelena’s comment and continued, “is figure out how to keep her safe moving forward.” The blonde rested her hand on her chin.

“She’s the safest with us,” she said. “As long as we keep her in the tower or one of us goes with her, nothing can touch her.” That was true, but Natasha hated the idea of limiting your choices over something they had no idea was coming. It wasn’t enjoyable. “Have you thought about telling her the truth?”

“What is there to tell her?” Natasha questioned. “Oh, remember when you touched the mind stone, well, we think something is coming after you, and we think your powers are preparing you for it. But,” the redhead flipped on her back on the bed. “We have no idea if any of this is true. Sounds like a great fucking idea.” She felt a slap on her thigh from her sister.

“Don’t be a dick. I’m trying to help here,” Wanda raised her hands to stop the fight between the sisters.

“Once we get back to the tower, we will find some answers and tell her everything.” The sisters nodded in agreement. Natasha hated this, this feeling of uncertainty that swirled in her stomach. For right now, her daughter was safe.

*

“Good,” Kate said, touching your stomach and lower back. “Remember to engage your core and lower your shoulders.” You nodded. When she removed her hands from your body, you took a steady breath and fired the arrow. It hit the target, not the bullseye you aimed at, but at least you hit something. “That was a great shot! Get ready to do it again.” You shot two more arrows at the target, focusing on grouping them. “Not bad. A few more training sessions, and you’ll be better than me,” you laughed as you walked over to the target to retrieve the arrows. “You know,” Kate pulled out an arrow. “America was pretty jealous when she found out we were coming to see you,” you smiled, pitting your lip. “She was going to come, but Stephen needed her.” You nodded, getting in your stance.

But you couldn’t focus because Kate was looking at you, waiting to see your reaction. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You knotted the arrow and aimed it at the target.

“You and America almost kissed in Macey’s changing room, right?” You completely missed the target at her blunt question but nodded. “But you didn’t. Are you okay with that?” You aimed your second arrow and, this time, hit the target.

“I think I wanted to kiss her, but that scares me,” you said. You aimed the last arrow, but Kate put her hand on your shoulder. You dropped your stance and sat on the ground. Kate sat next to you.

“Why does that scare you?” You moved your hand through the grass instead of answering her. “Come on, bud,” she hit your shoulder against hers. “You can tell me.” You pulled the grass out and let the blades go in the wind.

“America would be my first kiss, first partner, first everything, and that scares me,” you admitted. You shook your head, pulled your knees to your chest, and rested your chin on top of them. “I don’t want to hurt her or get hurt. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Kate sighed, and you looked at her.

“I don’t think any of us know what we are doing when it comes to liking someone,” Yelena said something similar to you about being an Avenger. “We just have to trust ourselves and the person we give our heart to. Sometimes, it works in our favor, and sometimes, it doesn’t.”

“How many times have you gotten your heart broken before finding Yelena?” Kate smiled, laughing with a shake of her head.

“Too many to count, but you learn much about yourself when someone breaks your heart. But between you and me, I don’t think you have to worry about America breaking your heart.” You chuckled and shook your head. Standing up, you picked up the bow and retook your stance. Kate was right. America wouldn’t break your heart. You had very personal experience with dating but you’ve read a lot. The way authors described love and having a crush, you saw it in how America looked at you. However, you were scared of breaking her heart.

*

Melina brushed your hair as you read over your math and science homework. If you had a question or didn’t understand something, you would raise the book to her, and she would help you through it. “You are brilliant.”

“Do you think so?” You questioned. She hummed in agreement.

“I do, and I’m no lair,” she said. Do you know what you want to do when you are older?” The question stumped you. It was something you never thought about, and you could never give yourself hope that you could achieve something.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Never thought I’d reach the age to decide on a career.” You felt her hand stutter in your hair.

“Whatever you decide, I know you’ll do great things.”

“I found it!” Alexei proclaimed suddenly with a cassette tape in hand. He pushed it into a radio they heard, and soon, American Pie started to play. The super soldier danced towards Yelena.

“Do not touch me,” she warned. “Or I will chop off your hands.” But that did not deter the man; he pulled her up and danced around the living room. Her hardened expression began to soften, and her laughter danced off the walls. Kate quickly stood up and pulled Wanda to the makeshift dance floor. Your eyes locked onto Natasha’s, and a smirk formed on her face. ‘No,’ you mouthed. That made the Black Widow more determined; she closed the distance and pulled you out of her mother’s lap.

Your instinct was to pull your arm out of Natasha’s hold on you and run, but you allowed her to try to move you to the music. “I forgot I’m raising a moody teenager,” you pouted. Natasha spun you, and somehow, Wanda had her hands on your arms.

“Teenage angst, right, sweetheart.” You recognized that she spoke Sokovian, but you weren’t sure what she called you. You asked her to speak her native language around you more so you could try to learn it. “Isn’t that what they are calling it?” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t have teenage angst.” It was Wanda’s turn to spin you, and Kate took the witch’s place.

“Then dance with your family!” The archer laughed. You huffed but began to dance. The feeling of embarrassment washed away, and you laughed with everyone. The dancing continued even when American Pie ended, and the next song started. You saw Melina still sitting in the same spot, with a fond smile as she observed the scene. With a smile, you skipped over to her.

“No.” You ignored her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet, bringing her to the dance floor in a similar fashion to Natasha.

“Come on, babushka (grandma), dance with your family,” Melina glared at you, but when Alexei came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, she melted against him and swayed to the music.

Family. This was your family. Oh, how lucky you were.

-

taglist: @aestruvx, @toouncreativeforausername, @modedddd, @julilamoment, @mythixmagic, @yourmamacom, @vicmc624, @cherlenovix, @liliesandrosies, @whitewidowsbite, @clintsbigtoe,   @blackbirdv98 @arualdcg@yoyo-w​  @natbelovasblog, @johnnyhulu, @blackwidow-3, @theenglishswiftie, @faith-olsen

[shefanispeculator]

Album review: Gwen Stefani - Bouquet

Fans have been begging for a new Gwen Stefani album, and lo and behold us, we can finally say we have one. Bouquet, the singer’s first proper studio album in eight years (seven if you include her Christmas album, You Make It Feel Like Christmas) arrives after a few false starts. After initially teasing what many assumed was going to be a reggae-pop album in homage to her early No Doubt career, Stefani got married to country-singing husband Blake Shelton and felt inspired to pivot in another direction. Taking a more ‘70s, yacht rock approach with hints of country, Stefani takes influence from the music from her childhood while documenting where she’s at in her life right now.   

Kicking things off with the anthemic pop-rock single “Somebody Else’s,” Stefani makes it clear that she’s never looking back again after realising she deserved better during a previous relationship. “I don’t know what a heart like mine / Was doin’ in a love like that” she opens the song. Continuing to recognise her self-worth, Stefani sings, “If I could go back in time / I would erase you, ooh / But I could never go back there / I might be wild, but I ain’t that crazy,” in the second verse.

With her ex-lover out the way, the majority of Bouquet hears Stefani gushing about one thing and one thing only: her relationship with Shelton. Telling the story of how the pair blossomed and fell in love, the wholesome title track stands out as one of the album’s key moments. Boasting Shelton’s ability to make her feel as if she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, Stefani has never been happier on sweet ballad “Pretty,” while on the uptempo “Late To Bloom,” she proclaims that “good things come to those who wait” after having to hang on until she was well into her 40s to meet the man of her dreams. 

For an album that could alienate a lot of long-time listeners of Stefani, she appears slightly more on brand for the record’s latest single “Swallow My Tears.” The Queen of Emotive Songwriting, fans might argue that the song feels like an accidental ode to some of Stefani’s previous heartfelt material. The same could be said for another standout, “All Your Fault,” which features an irresistible chorus that wouldn’t sound out of place on 2016’s This Is What The Truth Feels Like. Rounding off the release with her duet with Shelton, “Purple Irises,” the choice feels rather fitting. After all, the evident case is that this album wouldn’t exist without his influence. 

Just like a bouquet of flowers, Gwen Stefani’s most recent offering, Bouquet, is a pretty album packaged with 10 tracks. Is it her most exciting? No. Does it further demonstrate her ability to be a musical chameleon and a top songwriter, however? Yes. Do we secretly deserve the album she intended to release a few years back? Most definitely.

[marlenesarchive]

people like shane walsh??? i am sort of on the outskirts of the walking dead fandom, but ive gotten into several internet arguments over me hating shane walsh. he was CLEARLY an antagonist? like, not even just that, he was a bad guy. i looked up his tag on tumblr and there was fanfic?? 😦

shane walsh is a bad guy, and is written as so??? let me remind the folks who forgot-

shane walsh sexually assaulted lori grimes. thats it. no matter if she was 'leading him on' in the previous, he sexually assaulted her. he grabbed her and touched her when she did NOT want it. if you cant remember, rewatch the scene. i was writing out for a different blog about it and rewatched it to refresh my memory - safe to say its worse than i remember. their previous relationship or however you viewed her actions (and his) following that relationship does NOT give him the right to touch her when she says to stop. thats literally the bare minimum.

moreover, he was a man going crazy. he didnt 'adapt' quicker than everyone else, and comparing him to rick in season five (a guy we already know i dont like) when rick was 100% having a bout of craziness himself is weird. shane walsh, no doubt about it, was going crazy. he couldnt handle the world as it fell apart, and was insane. he had ideals far too harsh to perservere any longer than they did, and he never could lead. he was harsh, mean, manipulative, and aggressive.

to ignore these things in trying to defend why you like him is to ignore who he is as a character. these moments, his bouts of psychosis and his actions following his and loris affair, are pivotal to understand him.

also, no, he didnt love lori. shane was obsessed with her, and not in the booktok way most folks (apparently) viewed it. he was crazy, and was convinced that he and lori were meant to be even after lori immediately tried to break it off with him when rick came back. i dont agree with all of lori's actions, but to act as if she were completely hot and cold and not just trying to be civil is INSANE. she had a few moments that j can agree are bad, but she was at least not constantly professing her love for a married man, or trying to kill said married mans childs father.

we literally see shane walsh talking poorly about women the FIRST time we see him - he clearly doesnt respect women ('you and every other pair of boobs on this planet' - direct quote). even more than that, he's never been a father. he wouldnt know how to parent carl, he just wouldnt. not with how aggressive he was, not with how impatient, and not with jumping into the middle of carls life. one or two scenes of carl and shane getting along will NEVER be enough to convince me that he couldve even aimed for being a good parent for carl.

some more on his and lori's affair - even if lori was leading him on (a thing i dont agree happened) he was an adult too. he had full faculties to cut it off on his end too. yes, being led on can be troublesome. BUT, he was a fully grown adult and had full knowledge on the state of rick and lori's relationship, he couldve made the right choice to cut it all off. if not for himself, for his bestfriend. he just couldnt. he lacks the capabilities to do what he doesnt want, he lacks the sense to do whats best for others outside of his own obsessions. that alone is a clear indicator that he wouldnt have been a good leader, if he got obsessed there clearly was no changing his mind. also, if a simple breakup/lead on was enough to egg him on all that much more into a complete mental break, whos to say he would survive any amount of time at the end of the world? people die all the time after the end of the world, people break up, people lose others. if shane couldnt handle that simple departure from lori, what could he handle? he only ever was good at being authoritative when the losses didnt hurt him, when the pain wasnt directed at him - and even then, hes completely lackluster.

no, this isnt to say shane was a poorly written character. a lot of defense i get is 'but hes so well written!' which is essentially my whole point. shane is a very real and well written character, but hes well written to be a bad person. you cannot write out a SA scene and expect for others to move forward as if shane is a good guy. the writers clearly werent aiming for love towards shane. no, this isnt hate to the actor. in fact, i think jon bernthal did an amazing job at potraying such an awful guy, and its part of why the love for shane is so disturbing, because it felt so real.

in conclusion, shane walsh is a bad guy and will forever exist in my heart as a horrible guy. anyone who willingly defends shane or looks past his bad actions are wimps who lack even an ounce of media literacy. anyone who likes shane as a character for what he has done needs to stay far, far away from me! shane walsh, i hate you.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 43- Part 9

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT ALSO HAS HIDDEN POWER FIRE!?

Okay, okay, what moves have I seen Porygon-Z use so far? Psychic, Tri Attack, and now Hidden Power (Fire)...so maybe Wulfrum? His Sp. Defense isn't great, but he's got Sturdy.

Okay, let's just see what Iron Tail can do here, despite the Defense boost.

Oh my gosh Hidden Power Fire still does so much…!

That…could have gone better. I doubt Vulcan can do much here, but if I were to send in Glare first…

And then, if I were to use Screech…

Sooo, Glare can't outspeed…and getting crit also didn't help. Well…

Guess I don't have much choice here, just in case Vulcan happens to be able to live a-

Nope, he can't, and Bloom is still nearly dead too, sooo…yeah, I'm gonna have to reset.

See, my first mistake was leading with Bloom against the Cinccino. But I can't just start with Jack either, because Noel will probably just pivot to Girafarig again. So…I'll instead lead with Glare for Intimidate, and then switch to Wulfrum, who can resist Tail Slap and survive against Bullet Seed. Let's go!

Intimidate deployed, now we switch to Wulfrum…

Hah! Nice try, slapping a rock, didn't work out too well for ya, did it?? Alright, now let's see how much damage Iron Tail does.

Oooh, he can very reliably two-shot, that's good to know. He just needs to hit it again, and Cinccino will go down!

Okay but not if Cinccino keeps getting these random Bullet Seed crits-

Stop with the flinching, too!! Gotta use an Ice Cream or two now, geez-

Is this fun? Is this good? Am I having fun yet?

GOOD! GET OUTTA HERE! GEEZ!

Okay, Bewear, thank goodness one of my predictions was proven correct finally. I'll start with Glare, to Intimidate it.

Then I'll have her Glare™, and as for who to send in after…either Bloom or Jack, I'll figure it out after the paralysis.

OKAY, JACK IT IS-

I already know Shadow Ball is useless here, and I'm not about to risk another Leech Seed, so let's just start spamming Seed Bomb.

Of course it has Ice Punch, oh of course it does, why wouldn't it have a move that Grass-types are weak to, why would Jack be allowed to safely exist on this battlefield-

WHY WOULD JACK BE ALLOWED TO SAFELY EXIST ON THIS BATTLEFIELD?? I am so glad I have an Ice Heal, oh my gosh-

And now I need to use another Ice Cream too-

And there's the Girafarig again, and I still don't have a lot of great answers to it, but Riptide isn't the worst option.

Now, Girafarig could have Energy Ball, very possibly, but if not, I think Riptide can last enough to use Crunch…unless I have time for him to Screech? No, just go for the Crunch.

Thunderbolt!? For what purpose!? Of all the coverage moves you could have picked-

Previous

Next

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 7: Something To Celebrate

“Up and at ‘em, 0011.”

Q’s wake-up call jolts me from a restful sleep. I see he’s showered and dressed in a new suit, making me a tad frustrated that I can’t stand up to clean myself yet. I’ll have Eve help me later.

“Good morning, Quartermaster. Sleep well?”

“Like the dead. You?”

I chuckle darkly. “Like I’m a 00 agent who’s being hunted.”

He hands me a blueberry muffin, which I have no doubt he baked himself. “I wish I could help, but I’m afraid the only way to assure your identity can be wiped clean is the capture of Silva.”

Is he actually showing empathy? Q really must have gotten a good sleep for him to be so laid-back. 

“Ready for work?” I ask as I devour the muffin.

Q brings over my wheelchair and helps me into it. My leg is already showing improvement.

“Sure am. I’m hoping there’s news from Bond.”

I let out a heavy sigh as he pushes me out the door. “You and me both. No doubt he’s destroyed something.”

Q groans. “If I have to repair that radio transmitter again…”

We take another company SUV (Q must have pulled some strings) and arrive to work half an hour early. The minute we enter I see Mallory is waiting for us.

“Good. You’re here. Q, where is Bond?”

I can’t see Q’s face, but I can tell he’s trying to construct a lie. “Like I told you yesterday, sir. He disappeared off our radar.”

Mallory isn’t convinced but gestures for us to pass. Deep down I’m glad to know I’m not the only one being left in the dark. Soon enough we see Eve walking towards us.

“M’s dead.”

Q stops dead in his tracks and spins me around so we’re facing her. I’m not supposed to form attachments, but M was one of the first people to welcome me into the MI6. She made me learn that you don’t need a family to have a good life, you just need to find a purpose for yourself. And mine was to serve my country.

“This world has lost a brilliant leader,” I mutter. “Who’s in charge now?”

“Mallory. The new secretary is Moneypenny.” Eve winks. “You might recognize her.”

She pivots and walks down the hall towards Mallory’s office.

Q sighs. “M was a remarkable woman. I’ll miss her.”

“Let’s hope Mallory is half-decent. Let’s go meet this new secretary.”

We follow where Eve disappeared to. Q opens the door and pushes me in, where we both find- Eve? 

The lady behind the desk smiles. “Hello, 0011.”

“You got promoted? Congratulations! We have got to celebrate after work.”

Q is just as surprised as me. “Goodness, wow. Not that it’s a hard choice, you’re clearly well over-qualified. Congrats!”

“I say we go out to the K Bar. I hear their wine list is divine!” Eve Moneypenny suggests.

“What do you think, Quartermaster?” I look up to flash Q a wide grin. “Am I allowed to drink during my recovery?”

The lanky geek smiles, leans down and whispers: “We’ll keep it off the records, eh?”

Tonight’s going to be spectacular!

Since my apartment’s been compromised, I’m not allowed to live there anymore. Which means all my belongings have been moved to the spare closet in the basement.

“Sorry about this, Q. I promise I’ll find a place and be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

The computer geek has been incredibly helpful with helping me move. At first I thought he’d be annoyed at me invading his space, but he’s been more supportive than I'd expect. Yet he still can't help but complain about how many clothes I have.

“You’d better! This closet looks like a stuffed tick that’s about to pop. What’s in this tote anyway? Cinder blocks?”

I look away to avoid his gaze. “It’s shoes, actually.”

“Shoes?”

“What? I never know what shoe I might need! Pumps, kitten heels, boots, sneakers-”

Q sets the tote down and gives an exasperated grunt. “I get it, I get it!”

I wheel myself closer and give him a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you. Now would you help me pick out a dress for tonight?”

He looks down at me with a new smirk. “You look stunning in everything, Mrs. White.”

“Well thank you, Mr. White.” I arch an eyebrow. “I’m looking forward to seeing you gussied up as well.”

Q looks over my collection of dresses, all the while looking very serious as if deciding on buying a house. After a few moments he holds up one of my favorite blue evening dresses.

“I like this one.”

“Then we each have good taste,” I smirk as I’m handed the dress. “I think we’ve all earned a celebration after all this chaos.”

The hours tick by and soon enough it’s already quitting time. Eve helps me into the gorgeous dress and supplies me with some makeup. She herself is wearing a simple black dress.

“Very classy, Moneypenny.”

“Thank you! I’m-” She looks around to see if we’re alone, then whispers: “I’m going out on a date after our dinner!”

I gasp. “A promotion, and a date? You lucky girl!”

She giggles and begins pushing me to the exit. “I know! I’m so excited! Just try to keep it low-profile, alright?”

I mock-zip my lips shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Now let’s get the K Bar so I can finally have a drink.”

“You’re starting to sound like Bond,” Moneypenny teases.

“I'll take that as a compliment. Although I do wish to keep my dignity intact.”

We take Moneypenny’s car to the bar and discover Q already has a table for us. He’s chosen a basic dress shirt and slacks, yet to me he’s the most handsome man here. Wait. What?

“Good evening, ladies.” The computer geek raises a mug of (no surprise) Earl Gray tea. “I took the liberty of ordering you some drinks of your own.”

On que, the waiter shows up with a tray of martini glasses. I see Moneypenny has a simple red wine and mine is-

"You ordered me a plain lemonade?" I ask, bewildered.

"Strawberry lemonade, actually," Q informs. "You said you're not a fan of alcohol."

How can this man be so thoughtful and annoying? 

I pick up the colorful drink with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Q."

We each take our glasses and raise them to a toast.

“To M, the strongest and most fearless leader the MI6 has ever seen,” I announce in a rousing tone. “And to Eve, or should I say Moneypenny, who will without a doubt shine as our new secretary!”

No matter if Bond gets back or not, I know we’ll keep an eye on things.

[firstagent]

Ghost Game saying the Digital World is gone while the protagonists weren’t even aware there was a problem they should try to solve is in-universe a pretty big failure for a Digimon team.

Thinking of other seasons, what would you say are the biggest failures of the other protagonist teams? Only from an in-universe perspective- we can’t hold things against characters that they had no way of knowing or blame them for being poorly written.

First off I'd push back on the idea that Hiro and company are at fault for not being aware of the Digital World's apparent demise. The lack of information they were getting from Hokuto and the dubious trustworthiness of the Digimon they were encountering made it near impossible to know the nature of the situation. I'll fault them for not doing more pre-emptive damage control since it was pretty clear there was a crisis, but I don't blame them for not knowing what it was.

I'm not going season by season on each team's biggest failures since some situations make it hard to fault the kids for any of their failings. In Adventure (and to some extent Tamers), they're dealing with everything as it comes up and don't have much room to manipulative things in their favor. With Xros Wars and Adventure: they don't screw up often enough to criticize the entire group. I'm also just barely giving Savers a pass for letting Kurata become as much of a problem as he is, but only because there were bureaucratic influences preventing them from socking him in the face the moment he first entered the room. So here's a rough top five:

Zero Two- Allowing the Holy Stones' Destruction

This one just barely makes the list because they catch up quickly and put a good effort into trying to stop it, but fact is it was pretty important and they stared down defeat after defeat. Not a good look.

Hunters- Taiki's Passivity

Similar to my criticism of Hiro, Taiki had a unique role in the Hunt and could have used it to explore what was going on, try to get some answers, and maybe leave everybody less flat-footed once Quartzmon's plans started. He knew how weird the situation was and he just sort of casually rolled with it.

tri.- Assuming Meicoomon Could Survive

Honorable mention for assuming the 02 kids were all right, but that ultimately wasn't as pivotal as assuming there was a path out of this mess that kept Meicoomon alive. That blind faith, which grew more doubtful every minute, led Meiko to make some bad choices and the whole team to commit costly mistakes that made everything worse.

Frontier- Allowing Lucemon's Revival

Honestly the Frontier kids could probably fill out all five slots, but the big one was the lack of strategic foresight against the Royal Knights. If their goal was to seize the code from every region of the Digital World, there were better tactics available than just trying to defend every territory.

Appmon- L-Corp

The massive corporation with its fingers in literally everything, especially concerning AI, has a logo suspiciously resembling the main enemy... and the connection had to be spelled out for them? When you think about how quickly they used that connection to their benefit once they learned about it, imagine what they could have done if they'd pieced it together on their own.

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[thepodcasthoard]

Podcasting in 2023: What You Need + 9 Steps To Get Started

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l

The tenth article Sydney gave me is one with a broader scope. It covers not only how to start a podcast, but what one really is. Since you're here, I'll skip over that part. If you want to start one, you already know what one is.

The article covers basic things to get started- a microphone, a room to record in, editing software, headphones, and a hosting site.

Then it's time to cover how to start a podcast.

Pick a theme you're compelled by

Ideally, you'll have an audience or at least a potential one in mind. This article goes into more depth. It's geared towards brand and company podcasts, but it does talk in depth about the importance of niches.

The article urges you to take into account a few factors:

Has another podcast covered this podcast, and if so how can I make mine unique?

Is the topic still relatable?

Will the topic have an audience?

Is there enough meat on the bone for a season?

Now, I'll throw my two cents in here- no idea is original anymore, they've all been done before. You can bring the best uniqueness to your podcast by using your best asset- you. Be yourself, and your podcast will automatically be different. And as far as 'still' relatable, there are nerds out there that are super into neolithic stone tools, so I wouldn't worry too much about that. In my life experience, as long as you're passionate about the subject, people are attracted to that passion and are willing to hear you out. As far as the audience question, the same answer applies- if even one person likes it (that person is you, by the way), then others are no doubt into it. The last question is certainly more important- you want something substantial to talk about, so don't niche down so much you can only think of two episodes.

There's a video linked under this step, which provides more information on the article as a whole.

2. Decide on show format

There are a lot of formats out there, and each one of them is suited to that podcast for a different reason. So choose one that speaks to you and think about how your ideas can fit under that umbrella.

3. Use your existing network

Use your social media, talk to your friends and family. Also, try to reach out to communities that talk regularly about your topic- this article recommends facebook groups, but I'd bet reddit is also a good choice (I don't personally use reddit, so I can't say for sure).

4. Record and edit

Don't panic at this stage. Think of it as a trial run to get the kinks out. Just make sure you hit record- you can't edit what you didn't capture. You'll find ways to streamline as you go along.

5. Finalize name and artwork

This article recommends waiting until this point to cement your ideas, because as you worked on planning you might have pivoted slightly away from your original idea. Plus, once you have that first episode you might find inspiration in it.

6. Make a website

Consider this your podcast's home base. Anything related to it- transcripts, show notes, etc.- will have a central place to live.

7. Promote

The only thing I could think of when I was reading this section was 'If you build it, they will come.' But this isn't the Field of Dreams. You'll have to work to get ears on your podcast. Put it out there so people know it exists- it may be just what they're looking for. This article goes more in-depth on growing a podcast.

8. Track your metrics

Once your podcast is running, keep track of it. Note what works promotion-wise, and also see where your numbers are. As a side note from me- don't obsess over this. You might see 'only' twenty people, but those are twenty individuals who took time out of their day to listen to you.

9. Monetize

The article mentions that sponsorship, affiliates, and membership services are all ways to make money from your podcast. As an aside from me, I would caution you about doing this too soon- no one likes having brands shoved in their face, and most likely you won't get brands to partner with you when you're just starting out.

[mariatesstruther]

Tbf as much as I don’t trust TV writers, I have no doubt Maria will be fine. Part of Tommy’s storyline is that he actively chooses to leave her when he goes on his revenge quest and when he returns a broken man, the one thing he has left is his marriage, and he ruins that too and without that, and that pain will only be doubled with a 4 year old kid as well.

It also makes the contrast to Ellie leaving Dina and JJ more poignant, and maybe even backs up Tommy’s decision to go to the farm more as in ‘I left my wife and kid for you, you can leave yours for me’.

So even though it would set Tommy down a darker path, I actually think it’s pivotal Maria is alive for the revenge quest because of that choice to leave, which is easier if she’s not there and I think a lot of Part 2 is about choices and if the costs are worth it and if his family are dead, Tommy doesn’t really have any ‘costs’ left but if they are, his choices can actively haunt him since they’re alive but he’s still lost them

these are very awesome and legit points!!!! i think its been a while since i last watched a tlou2 playthrough as well so thank you for the reminder of how his game/season 2 story kinda reflects ellie’s in those ways

i think part of the reason im just major major offput about them adding a pregnancy for maria in s2 in it just makes things so much more sad and stressful for maria????? like her whole life has just been loving people and then getting left behind. imagine finding a husband you love and having a child with him and then losing them BOTH to a goddamn zombie apocalypse. id already be devastated. joel lost his child and it completely ruined him; maria lost a child and their father, who as far as we know she had a happy life with. fucking brutal

but THEN she picks herself up, dusts herself off, and finds the strength to keep going. builds a place that she would’ve been maybe happy with raising kevin in, if she could, and she opens her heart up to tommy. she falls in love, and theyre happy, and now shes pregnant. shes having another baby that she gets to raise and lose with a husband she adores

THEN HIS BROTHER GETS MURDERED AND NOW HES JUST GONNA LEAVE HER THERE????? WITH A WHOLE ASS TINY CHILD??????? for REVENGE??????

like im sorry, i love me some good ol revenge as much as the next guy—i really do. the glory was my favorite show, and the first time i watched a tlou 2 full play through i was rooting for tommy and ellie to honestly take out EVERYBODY in joel’s name—and i also know firsthand what kind of distorted thinking tommy’s level of grief can cause. but i just HATE the idea that tommy would leave a CHILD to go after anyone, even the people that killed his brother. and i think if joel saw him do so, he literally would smack him upside the head and drag him back to jackson

it also just doesnt fit what i imagine tommy would do in the instance that he has a kid???? like this is the same tommy that watched joel devote his whole entire life to his own daughter from jump, who wouldve done anything he could to protect his first daughter and DID do everything he could to protect his second. tommy knows from joel that when you’re a father, you’re kid comes fucking first. fuck everything else

so i just can’t imagine tommy leaving both maria AND his child???? like tbh i could understand him leaving maria in the game, as much as i didn’t like it—but his own baby???? he knows joel wouldnt ever want him to do that, no matter what happens to him. to me it just wouldn’t make sense for tommy’s grief over joel to take him so far that he makes a choice he knows joel would hate

(and i know ellie made the choice to leave jesse and dina, but i think a big reason she did that was bc she had the additional guilt of having jesse on her conscience and knowing that tommy wouldn’t physically be able to do it after being shot. tommy’s circumstances for leaving his kid would be different)

so like for those reasons on tommy’s side, it doesn’t make much sense to me that he would go after joel unless his own child was out of the picture, and i don’t see his child being out of the picture unless maria i also out of the picture

NOT SAYING ID RATHER MARIA BE DEAD THAN PREGNANT BTW I WANT HER TO BE ALIVE AND HAPPY AND SAFE. i am just so confused about the hbo writer’s intentions with making her pregnant like!!!!!! feels very sus to me!!!!!!

especially bc of the track record for the way nonwhite tlou characters are brutalized in the game/show too. like @clickergossip ur tags on the reblog were so so so so so so so SO right on point. them making maria a PREGNANT black woman just makes me so nervous that something terrible will happen, esp considering what we’ve seen happen to the other Black characters in the game/show

and i totally understand brutality and gore and death is all part of tlou anyway, but i feel like with joel and ellie, the violence is almost always balanced out witth a degree of love/humor/lightheartedness. unfortunately rutina wesley’s maria hasn’t had much opportunity at all to partake in those lighter moments, which makes me think either the writers have a LOT of good stuff coming up for her or that they think she’s expendable. idk idk idk idk this does even have a point, im just rambling and thinking about it a lot aand very on edge as a maria-truther 😭😭😭 as much as i want to have confidence, i have many many doubts she will be fine

[markowensmile]

The Spotlight - Chapter 2 (A Gary Barlow FanFiction)

The O2 is a whirlwind of activity, a cacophony of voices, and nervous energy that seems to reverberate through every inch of the cavernous space. As I step through the doors, I'm immediately swept up in the tide of hopeful contestants, each carrying their own unique dreams and aspirations.

The air is thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that crackles like electricity, setting my nerves on edge. I weave my way through the crowd, taking in the diverse array of faces that surround me. Some are wide-eyed and anxious, their expressions a mirror of the butterflies fluttering in my own stomach. Others exude an air of confidence, their posture radiating a quiet assurance that borders on cocky.

As I join the seemingly endless queue, I can't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt creeping in. What am I doing here, surrounded by so much raw talent and ambition? The doubts that have plagued me for so long rear their ugly heads, whispering insidious thoughts of inadequacy and failure.

But just as quickly as those doubts surface, I push them aside, drawing strength from the memory of Emily's unwavering belief in me. This is my chance—my opportunity to step out of the shadows and into the spotlight that I've always craved. I won't let fear or self-doubt hold me back any longer.

As I inch forward in the line, I can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the contestants around me. Some are discussing their song choices, debating the merits of various artists and genres. Others are exchanging stories of past auditions, regaling each other with tales of triumph and heartbreak.

It's in this swirl of nervous chatter that I catch the eye of a fellow contestant, a young man with a warm, disarming smile that instantly puts me at ease. There's confidence in him, a quiet assurance that seems to radiate from his very being.

"First time auditioning?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of friendly curiosity.

I nod, offering him a tentative smile. "Is it that obvious?"

He chuckles, a rich, melodic sound that instantly puts me at ease. "Not at all. I just recognize that look in your eyes—a blend of excitement and sheer terror."

Despite my nerves, I can't help but laugh at his candid assessment. "You've got me pegged," I admit, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders begin to dissipate.

"I'm David," he says, extending his hand in a warm gesture of greeting.

"Riley," I reply, grasping his hand and marveling at the firm, reassuring grip.

"Well, Riley, it's a pleasure to meet you," David says, his eyes twinkling with genuine warmth. "And let me be the first to welcome you to the madhouse."

His easy charm and good-natured humor are like a balm for my frayed nerves, and I find myself relaxing into our conversation, the weight of my anxiety lifting ever so slightly.

"So, what brings you to the X-Factor auditions?" David asks, his tone one of genuine interest.

I pause for a moment, considering my answer. How do I encapsulate the complex tapestry of hopes, dreams, and personal struggles that have led me to this pivotal moment? In the end, I settle for a simple truth.

"I guess you could say I'm ready to take a leap of faith," I say, my voice laced with a newfound determination. "This is my chance to pursue my passion and leave the past behind."

David nods, his expression one of understanding and empathy. "I hear that," he says, his voice taking on a more introspective tone. "For me, this audition represents a fresh start, an opportunity to embrace my true calling and share my gift with the world."

As he speaks, I can't help but be drawn in by the sincerity of his words and the depth of emotion that lies just beneath the surface. There's a vulnerability there—a rawness that resonates deep within me.

"I don't know if you've heard, but Gary Barlow is back as a judge this season," David continues.

At the mention of the iconic singer-songwriter, a wave of anxiety washes over me. Gary Barlow, the man whose music has been the soundtrack to my life, is the very embodiment of the dreams and aspirations that have driven me to this moment. And here I am, about to audition for him with one of his own songs.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I can feel the nerves creeping back in, threatening to unravel the fragile sense of calm that David's easy banter had instilled in me.

"Oh, wow," I manage to say, my voice wavering ever so slightly. "That's... that's incredible."

David must sense the shift in my demeanor, for he leans in closer, his expression one of gentle concern. "Everything okay?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself against the onslaught of self-doubt that threatens to consume me. "It's just... well, I was planning on singing 'A Million Love Songs' for my audition," I confess, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and trepidation.

David's eyebrows raise in surprise, but there's no judgment in his gaze, only understanding. "That's a bold choice," he says, his tone one of admiration. "Singing one of Gary's iconic songs in front of the man himself? That takes guts."

I can't help but let out a nervous chuckle, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?"

But David shakes his head, his expression one of unwavering confidence. "Don't sell yourself short, Riley," he says, his voice carrying a weight of conviction that catches me off guard.

His words, spoken with such earnest belief, strike a chord deep within me. For a fleeting moment, the doubts and insecurities that have plagued me for so long seem to melt away, replaced by a glimmer of hope and self-assurance.

As I stand there, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the audition venue, I can feel a newfound sense of determination taking root. This is my moment, my chance to step into the spotlight and showcase the talent that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

With Emily's and now David's words of encouragement echoing in my mind, I straighten my shoulders and take a deep, steady breath. The nerves are still there, of course, a constant undercurrent of anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me. But beneath that fear lies a wellspring of passion and resilience, a fire that has been stoked by the unwavering support of those who believe in me.

As the line inches forward, bringing me ever closer to the audition room, I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon me. But rather than shrinking from the pressure, I embrace it, allowing it to fuel the flames of my determination.

This is my time, my opportunity to step out of the shadows and into the glaring spotlight of my dreams. And as I catch David's eye once more, his warm smile and unwavering belief in me serving as a beacon of encouragement, I know that I'm ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

The audition stage may be a crucible of judgment and scrutiny, but it's also a canvas upon which I can paint the masterpiece of my ambitions. And with each step forward, I can feel the weight of my past slipping away, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose and possibility.

The air backstage is thick with anticipation, a heady blend of nervous energy and palpable excitement that seems to permeate every corner of the dimly lit space. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the rhythmic thump-thump-thump echoing in my ears like a relentless metronome.

"David Hart!"

The booming voice of the stage manager cuts through the cacophony of whispered conversations and shuffling feet, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. I turn to see David straighten his shoulders, his expression one of steely determination.

He catches my eye, and in that fleeting moment, I can see the fire burning behind his gaze—a fierce resolve tempered by a quiet confidence that is both inspiring and humbling. With a reassuring nod in my direction, he strides towards the stage entrance, his every step exuding a sense of purpose and self-assurance.

As he disappears onto the stage, I can't help but feel a pang of envy mingled with admiration. There's a part of me that longs for that same unwavering belief in oneself, that unshakable conviction that allows one to stride boldly into the unknown without a shred of doubt or hesitation.

Yet, even as those thoughts swirl through my mind, I can feel a glimmer of hope taking root, a tiny ember of possibility that threatens to ignite into a blazing inferno of determination. David's earlier words of encouragement echo in my mind, a gentle reminder that I, too, possess the talent and the passion to make my dreams a reality.

The muffled strains of David's voice filter through to the back stage, carrying a weight of emotion that seems to resonate deep within my very soul. Each note, each carefully crafted phrase, is a testament to his artistry, a tapestry of vulnerability and raw talent that leaves me utterly spellbound.

As I listen, my own nerves seem to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of awe and anticipation. This is it, the moment we've all been waiting for, the opportunity to showcase our passion and dedication to the world.

With bated breath, I lean forward, straining to catch every nuance, every subtle inflection that gives life to David's performance. It's as if I can feel the very essence of his being pouring forth through his voice, a torrent of emotion that threatens to sweep me away in its wake.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the music faded, replaced by a deafening silence that hangs heavy in the air. I find myself holding my breath, waiting with equal parts fear and hope for the judges' good verdict.

David stands back onto the red "X" in the middle of the stage, his face aglow with a radiant smile that seems to light up the entire room. In that moment, I know—he's done it, he's captured the hearts and minds of the judges, and his dream is one step closer to becoming a reality.

"I'm through!" he exclaims, his voice ringing with unbridled joy and triumph. "They loved it!"

A chorus of cheers and congratulations erupts for David. The well-wishes and heartfelt embraces threaten to overwhelm me. But through it all, my gaze remains locked on David, my heart swelling with a sense of pride and admiration that transcends mere words.

In that moment, he is a beacon of hope, a living embodiment of the power of perseverance and unwavering belief in oneself. As I watch him bask in the glow of his hard-earned success, I can feel a fire igniting within me, a burning desire to follow in his footsteps and claim my own piece of the dream.

Before I can even register what's happening, David's arms are around me, enveloping me in a warm, supportive embrace that seems to chase away the last vestiges of doubt and uncertainty. His touch is electric, a tangible reminder of the bond we've forged in these fleeting moments—a connection that transcends the boundaries of mere acquaintanceship.

"You've got this, Riley," he whispers, his voice laced with conviction. "Just go out there and show them what you're made of."

As he pulls back, his eyes meet mine, and in that instant, I can see the depth of his belief in me—an unwavering faith that seems to cut through the layers of self-doubt and insecurity that have plagued me for so long.

"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion.

David simply nods, his smile radiant and infectious. "Make us proud!"

With those parting words echoing in my mind, I turn and make my way towards the stage entrance, each step filled with a newfound sense of purpose and determination. The nerves are still there, of course, a constant undercurrent of anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment.

But as I step through the curtains and into the glaring spotlight, I can feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, a potent cocktail of excitement and resolve that seems to banish any lingering doubts or fears.

[uozlulu]

❤️

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

This is a good question. Here are some that immediately came to mind.

But Louis’ voice sounded very far away as Daniel’s mind began to flood with memories. There was no Rashid and no Alice, only Armand. The fights, the sex, the feeding, the quiet moments curled up in front of the television, the film cameras, the kitchen gadgets – everything struck Daniel’s mind with such clarity and force the only thing he could manage was a whispered, “Fuck this,” much weaker than he wanted to say it.

= The Mortal and the Vampires (Interview with the Vampire AMC)

I keep coming back to this part of the fic (and the extended sequence in general). I think I like it so much because it feels like I hit the correct tone for the scene and that it's the relationship climax of the fic.

Todoroki stood. “My soulmate is my boyfriend.” He held his arms apart from his body in case he sparked, but the bandages continued to smother the impulse. “I trust him. He’s one of the strongest people I know. Maybe someday he’ll be my partner.” Todoroki did not look away. “I don’t know what my debut will be like, but I’m going to be my own hero who makes my own choices.”

“Shouto –”

“Maybe they won’t be ‘heroic’ choices, but I want to make them,” Todoroki continued firmly. “I don’t want to run the family. I don’t want to tell Fuyumi, Natsuo, and everyone else what to do. I don’t want to marry a random girl. I don’t want to have biological children. If you’re looking for family tradition and the next generation, pick someone else.”

The only sounds were the machines in the room. Neither of them broke eye contact.

===

“If you don’t want to work with me, that’s fine,” Bakugou said. “I’ve been King Explosion Jackass to you. You don’t have to come up with excuses. I get it.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “No! No. I want to work with you. I always have. I’ve been hoping this would happen since before I left UA.”

“You always wanted to work with the guy who told you to jump off the roof in our third year of middle school.” Bakugou gave Midoriya a look.

“Kacchan, how many bullies do you think I had growing up?” Midoriya frowned.

Bakugou had never really thought about it. He did not know how to answer let alone the number.

“You were the angriest one and the most violent one, yeah, but if I jumped off the roof, you would have started shouting curse words and saved me.” Midoriya lowered his eyes and thought for a moment. “You weren’t the first person to make that suggestion or the last. You were the only one who would have been upset if I actually did it.”

Bakugou frowned. Had he meant it? Was he just shit talking? He knew he would never let someone just jump off the goddamned roof, but that did not make it right to suggest it either. His nose wrinkled. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Nerd.”

“I’m not.” Midoriya sighed.

“You are!” Bakugou growled.

“You keep forgetting I knew you before your quirk! You keep forgetting I know what it did to you! You noticed it too didn’t you when you had Todoroki’s quirk?” Midoriya did not look away. “You’re still that same person I met before either of us had a quirk. It’s why I never doubted your heroism.”

“My quick didn’t change me. I’m my quirk! It’s me! I said those things and did those things! I made those choices!” Bakugou rubbed his face and then let off sparks.

= Our Soulmate Academia - BnHA (MHA)

I really like both of these exchanges for similar reasons. I think I nailed the emotion behind them and both of these scenes are pivotal in Todoroki and Bakugou's character arcs for the fic. As a note, Todoroki is wary of sparking because this conversation takes place during the chapter where he and Bakugou swap quirks so he's dealing with Explosion as a quirk in this moment.

Father Orsi stepped forward and wrapped Asta in their final hug. His hand rested against the back of Asta’s head. Asta could hear Father Orsi’s heartbeat murmur against his ear. “I’m sorry,” Asta said.

“You’re strong and you’ll get stronger,” Father Orsi said. “We should have had more faith in you. Even if we’re always in Hage and you’re always in Spade, we’ll look north and remember.”

Asta’s fingers grasped Orsi’s robe like he did when he was small. He closed his eyes. Despite exile in Spade, Asta would do it again. If the Dark Triad won, he would not have even been able to say goodbye.

= All Fortune Plays End - Black Clover

I keep coming back to this exchange because I think I nailed the emotion in it. I also think I effectively implied that they're never going to meet again face to face possibly.

===

Put an emoji from this list into my ask box and I'll answer fic questions

[etirabys]

book review: he who drowned the world

Very disappointed by the sequel; it seems like the author threw darts at a board to determine who would die, who would be granted redemption, who would end up in a bizarre second marriage to whom, and who would enter an intense nonsexual kink relationship with whom. And then used GPT3.5 to execute on a lot of it.

(...okay, fine, I liked the intense nonsexual kink relationship. X is having psychological issues that they're managing with self harm, and their unlikely ally Y starts biting them in private for a bit of harm reduction.)

Example of a GPTish excerpt:

He recoiled from the memory. His self-hate was as intense as pain; it swallowed him whole. A flicker of humanness returned to Ouyang’s eyes, a consciousness pressing back against the dark. Not sympathy, but an understanding. It was the last weak vibration of the kinship they’d shared, amidst their hate and resentment and jealousy, that had come from loving Esen.

This feels like a book that started from a solid plot & emotional beats outline that subsequently had no life breathed into it. It's littered with lines that literally just say "X and Y had such a connection", "X knew that Y was feeling Z", "X could not help but understand that Y's doing Z was inevitable" with the variables swapped out.

(The good prose is reserved for descriptions of landscapes, which I enjoyed far more than usual.)

Starting off from vibes-based relationship or character outlines are hard, because if you work backwards to figure out the material facts or events are that produced those vibes you'll frequently end up with vibes different from the ones you cared about depicting in the first place. The author chooses to solve this problem by having the vibes, like, run in parallel to the plot, only loosely tethered to what's going on, and then literally telling you about the vibes over and over again.

I am not a fan of this approach.

(specific spoilers begin)

There were a couple of points where the vibes-events decoupling went from uninspired to actually egregious:

Near the end, Zhu asks Ma to do something difficult, and Ma – bizarrely – tells Zhu not to ask or to command, but to give Ma a choice? This exchange is given a lot of narrative gravity, but the request literally makes no sense. Ma says, "But you didn’t make us [help you]. That’s why I didn’t want you to ask me to help you. Didn’t you wonder why Xu Da never asked you to stop, even when he had his doubts about your methods? He didn’t want to risk you ordering him to continue." => What the heck is this? Is this a scene that used to make sense in the first draft but was mangled by editing? "Your friend wanted to act of his own free will, so he did things he didn't want to do so he wouldn't be explicitly ordered by you?" "I don't want to be asked, I don't want to be told, I want a secret third thing that maximally preserves my sense of choosing" – what? Cut this nonsense. I'd say kill your darlings but I'm appalled by how anyone could treasure this

Ending your career??? as a brutal warlord?? by granting clemency to your most dangerous enemy? Telling him to find a different life path when he has no positive vision? This is such an unearned and bizarre pivot to Western superhero morality, WHAT ARE YOU DOING

The "Ma becomes Baoxiang's concubine, Zhu becomes Madame Zhang's handmaiden" thing was so awful and goofy. required suspension of disbelief from me as a reader that I could not give

Ma stops functioning as a moral check on Zhu by the way. Zhu ~personally kills another child and it never even comes up with Ma, which is a strange choice because this caused a major rift with them in the first book. Zhu just does what she wants and Ma somehow continues being a good influence. In parallel. In the vibes universe

But here's my most serious issue with this book:

The supposed reason Zhu is different from her rivals is that she will change the world for the better. But in the course of these two books, we almost never see her change the world except by ruling it – and she doesn't rule particularly differently from her rivals. I buy that once she's emperor she'll pass some more progressive laws or whatever, but when she's on page she doesn't change the world that she moves through, and that's a serious problem thematically! She never changes anyone's mind. Not even the one guy she was trying really hard to change. He goes off the rails right on the schedule that he promised himself in book 1.

I am personally satisfied with a protagonist who wages personal rather than class warfare – is it not enough that she can nonbinary napalm narrativize her own insane path through the Yuan dynasty?– but the book promises on the vibes level that she is in the latter class while totally betraying us in the material realm where characters actually act, talk, and kill.

book review: she who became the sun

Woohoo, this stacked well with reading the "end of Ming, early Qing" stretch of The Search for Modern China. It's set in a similar time period, and Zhu, the "random peasant who turned out to have an amazing knack for leading a rebellion" protagonist, fits neatly into the historical period where many peasants or failed bureaucrats were discovering that this was their calling.

GOOD novel. Chewy. It's good. Had enough crazy brilliant protagonist energy to remind me of the Vorkosigan saga:

"That monk knows exactly what he wants. The night before the battle at Yao River, he asked me to make that gong for him. I made it, he used it, and he won,” Jiao said. “I’ve met his type before. They either go far or die early. And either way, they have a tendency to make collateral damage of normal people.” He raised his eyebrows at Yuchun. “Are you special, little brother? Because if you’re not, I’d watch out."

Will definitely be buying the sequel.

(At this point the review becomes spoilery.)

One of the most gorgeous blood feud I've ever seen! The players in the blood feud are:

- Ouyang, the sole survivor of the massacre of his Han family – begged for his life as a child, was spared but castrated, and has grown up into a fearsome Mongol general

- Chaghan, the high ranking Mongol military commander who did the massacreing

- Esen, Chaghan's son who conforms perfectly to Mongol masculine warrior ideals. Loves Ouyang as a best friend but fails to see, at all, how bitter Ouyang is with his life and how set he is on revenge.

- Wang, Chaghan's half-Han nephew whom he adopted as a son.

Each pair of the above either outright hates each other, OR is plotting the other's destruction despite great love, except Chaghan and Esen. It's fabulous! Ouyang is... oh, just read this short post about CS Lewis's definition of damnation. Ouyang is very damned.

Oh, Ouyang. Women are terrible! The politics.” He groaned. “Consider yourself lucky you’ll never have to suffer this kind of torment.” Esen never meant to hurt, and Ouyang had always taken care to pretend matter-of-fact acceptance about his exclusion from family life. Why should he blame Esen for not reading his mind to see the anger and pain there? But the truth was: he did blame Esen. Blamed him even more than he would a stranger, because it hurt more that someone so beloved should not see the truth of him. And he blamed and hated himself, for hiding that truth.

Ouyang's arc is a superbly executed tragedy. The climax, I think, physically winded me slightly.

And Wang –

This book is primarily about people-who-are-not-fully-men by the Mongol standards of manhood, and of the GNC characters, Wang was the one who struck me as queerest by nature/volition rather than circumstance. His gender is Accountant Who Loves The Arts, and his Manchu relatives HATE him for it. His gender noncompliance seems like "I'm doing this because I really want to and anything else is painful" rather than "I'm doing this because I was castrated" (Ouyang) or "I'm doing this because I was going to literally starve to death unless I latched on to the niche that was meant to be my dead brother's" (the protagonist).

Said GNC people sniff each other out quickly and feel Weird Magnetism. "Like calls to like" is an italicized refrain. In fact, Zhu's nonbinarydar is so advanced that she intuits Ouyang's emotional damage within minutes of meeting him, and feels a magnetic pull to him for the rest of the book. As a shipper, I'm a huge fan. (What I want: Ouyang/Zhu/Ma triad fic.) As a person who yearns for anyone to understand Ouyang, I'm a huge fan. But I'm an anti-fan of "these two people who are very different are of the Same Kind because they don't fit into mainstream culture". Such groupings are politically expedient but I feel allergic to seeing them painted as intrinsic similarities – to say, these two things are the same because they are not X, seems to ontologically center "X vs not X" when the political project should be to dissolve the salience of that division.

Through that strange quiver of connection to the Yuan’s eunuch general, she had seen beneath that carved-jade mask to his shame and self-hate and anger. He had a wound for a heart, and that made him a more dangerous opponent than anyone here realized.

I feel weird writing a paragraph about this, but the book is really explicit that these radically different GNC people are on the same wavelength and I'm like, NO, they're really not!... they could have grown into the weird intense soulmate enemy bond they immediately have in book 1, and that would have felt narratively rewarding to me – recognition through inquiry and (reluctant) empathy and reflection, not, Nonbinary Frog Pheromones

Finally: I loved Zhu's romance arc and childhood trauma and fucking everything. She's ten years old when her father is kicked to death by bandits for not offering them enough food (the whole region is some years into a famine), and by the time she's an adult this feels so faraway that... well, as an adult she sees a food seller at a market being extorted, and the scene goes like this:

“Hey, granny!” Well, less hope for some. Zhu, observing the unfolding human drama, felt a stirring of unease: the memory of something witnessed so long ago that it might as well have been in a past life.

Seriously, the kicked to death thing never comes up again, and the elision is vast and leaves a lot of room for echoes. Similarly – several minutes before being kicked to death, the desperate father, who devalues girl children in a culturally unexceptional way, offers ten year old Zhu as food for the bandits so they'll leave him and his son alone. (This whole scene is amazingly written, and does not get in the way of the inherent intensity and awfulness of this event.) Zhu does not process this onscreen At All. Once her entire family is dead she starts rolling on her journey to becoming a warlord like a polished marble. Said journey involves her taking her brother's place at a monastery and playing at being a not-girl so well that even the heavens won't notice that she's of the Grindable To Nothingness gender, all while having ZERO thoughts about the "eat my daughter and leave us alone" incident. Fucking fantastic.

Anyway, at the beginning of becoming a warlord, she meets Ma, a Girl Who Is Somehow Nice Despite The World Making This Very Hard:

in her face there was such a depth of raw and innocent emotion that Zhu’s eye was drawn as if to the scene of an accident

and

Zhu, watching Ma with an alien ache in her heart, saw the girl turn away at the critical moment [of someone she cares about being executed]. There was nobody to comfort her. She simply folded over onto herself in the middle of that empty bubble in the crowd, crying. Zhu felt a strong protective urge rise up in her at the sight. With alarm she realized it was a new desire, already rooted alongside that other desire that defined everything she was and did. It felt as dangerous as an arrowhead lodged in her body, as though at any moment it might work its way in deeper and cause some fatal injury.

and marries her. I love this, because I'm a huge sucker for "I am a very bad person and I love you and hope you will keep me in line" ships, and this is explicitly part of their deal!

However, after fights about less taboo atrocities, Ma comes back to Zhu after Zhu kills an eight year old Ma is attached to (for being a ?dalai lama? who is inconvenient to Zhu's goals), so it's a little unclear to me how much Ma is going to keep this function.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol.11 Tsukinami Carla [TRACK 1]

Original title: 契機

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 11 Tsukinami Carla

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toshiyuki Morikawa

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 1: OPPORTUNITY  

*Flip*

*Thud*

[00:10] “…Hm. I have found my answer. As I thought, the measures I should take are described in this book of secrets. While Founders possess strong magic in general, there is one high-level spell in particular which only the King of Founders is capable of using. If I use it, it will undoubtedly change this world. I will turn my world upside down. However, one cannot gain, without also offering something of equal value in return. That is one of the basic rules of this world. 

[00:54] It goes without saying that the bigger price you are willing to pay, the more you will get out of it. …Hmph. Very well. Everything will go according to plan. …Heh. I am ashamed of myself. Even now, I cannot seem to shake off these final shreds of doubts. Regardless, this is the choice I shall make. I shall put my pride as the King of Founders, and as a First Blood on the line.”

*FLASHBACK STARTS*

*Cling*

Carla takes a sip of tea.

[01:53] “...Hah. ーー Haah.”

*Cling*

“Good grief…”

You ask him if something is wrong with the tea.

“No, it is fine. For one, you should know better than anyone that I would not drink bad tea.”

[02:21] “...Heh. Do not give me that kind of look. I am not feeling unwell. …Not at the moment, at least. ーー Hm. It appears to me that you are worried about me. If I were to be honest, I would rather not be sighing either. Not only does it cause you unnecessary concern, but I am more than aware that such behavior does not suit me. However…When I think of my current self, I cannot help but grieve…”

You frown.

[03:08] “First Bloods ーー A noble race which forms the very origin of all other Demons. I am their King. However, in reality, while I may hold that title, I simply waste my time away in the human world, doing nothing of great importance. While this may be unavoidable ever since I became contracted with this pesky disease known as Endzeit…It is truly pathetic. Haahー...And I cannot help but beat myself up over feeling irritated over the unavoidable. It is simply wretched…”

You try to cheer him up.

[04:04] “...Heh. Are you trying to comfort me?”

You explain.

“I may be of great importance to you, but those in the Demon World could care less about me. The world will keep on turning, regardless of whether I am around or not.”

You puff out your cheeks. 

[04:34] “...Hm. It seems like you have something to say on the matter. Continue.”

You explain.

“Hahaha…! Now that is quite the statement, saying that your world would fall apart. Well, I suppose that shows just how much you love me.”

You shake your head.

[05:04] “...Hah! The world of Demons would fall apart as well, you say? …I was imprisoned for a long time. So why would there be a correlation between the future of the Demon World and myself?”

You elaborate.

“Well, I suppose you are right. While I may have been confined to Banmaden, I was still alive.”

You try to prove your point. 

[05:36] “Fufufu…You’ve brought up a peculiar hypothesis. You claim that my existence is unifying the Demon World? …There is no way to verify it, but you sure say some interesting things.”

“Hm. …A pivot. Something of vital importance. Something capable of bringing others together. …So I am the pivotal figure of the Demon race? Haha! How fascinating. Well then, let me ask you one thing. …Do you truly believe that I have the power to become the world’s keystone in my current state of illness?”

You nod.

[06:40] “Hahaha…! You nodded without a single second of hesitation? …Yes, exactly. You are right. I am the King of Founders. Not only do I stand at the very beginning of all Demons, I am a symbol to them as well. I may have forgotten that for a short while. Fufufu…As to be expected of my woman. You might know me even better than I know myself?”

You shake your head.

“Fufu…No need to be so modest. …Come here.”

*Rustle*

[07:34] “I must thank you. You helped me remember something I nearly forgot about.”

You pout.

“...Hmph. You sure act tough now, but we both know that when I hold you in my arms like this, you will submit to me in no time. Those flushed cheeks and watery eyes…Heh, you are quite cunning to be able to entice me without even using a single word. Very well. I shall give you my fangs.”

*Rustle*

Carla bites you.

*Sluuuuuurp*

[08:39] “...Haah. How does that feel? Can you feel my power?”

You nod.

“Hmph. You make a lovely expression. Haahー...”

*Sluuuuuurp*

[09:06] “Hah…Not yet…You should thoroughly savor the pain and pleasure brought forth by my fangs…Nn…”

*Sluuuuuurp*

*Gulp*

“Hah…Nn…”

*Gulp gulp*

*TIMESKIP*

[09:58] “...Hah. Haahー... Your blood is truly like a sweet nectar. It is the only blood capable of soothing me. You could say it is almost a miracle…how just a few drops of blood can help suppress the symptoms of Endzeit. Of course, your blood is special. However, that should not be the only reason why it brings me so much comfort.”

*Rustle*

“Your love…Those pure, genuine feelings of yours are what truly soothe the pain.”

*Thud*

“...Hm? What is the matter?”

You admit to feeling a bit shaky in your step. 

[11:04] “...I may have had a bit too much of your blood. No need to apologize. If anything, I should reflect upon my actions. If I regularly ingest your blood, I can keep Endzeit in check. However, I also cannot deny that this puts a strain on your health. If only there was a different way to combat the disease…”

You insist that it is fine.

[11:39] “Your strong feelings for me are more than clear. I know very well that you would be willing to sacrifice everything for my sake. That is only what makes you…all the more enchanting. Heh. It is quite the predicament.”

You frown.

“Look at you make that face again…Fufufu…You are a handful.”

*Rustle*

[12:21] “Well then, I shall return to my room. If I stay with you, I will become tempted after all. Furthermore, there is something I must do now.”

You tilt your head to the side. 

“Yes, just as you said, there has been an agreement. Therefore, it is time. I shall commence with the plan I have had in mind for quite some time now.”

*Rustle*

[12:52] “ーー Right now is the time for me to show what I am capable of as the King of Founders. Things will get busy. You should take good care of your health.”

Carla walks away.

*Thud*

*TIMESKIP*

*Hoooooowl*

[13:37] “ーー My Familiars!”

Wolves gather around Carla.

“You must deliver these letters, no matter what obstacles may stand in your way. You have been entrusted with a very important duty. You should take very good care of this message coming from the King of Founders and his wife. Nowーー Go!”

The Wolves run off.

[14:11] “...Haah.”

You seem restless. 

“Hm? …What’s the matter? Do you have something on your mind?”

You explain.

“Hmph. That message will be delivered to all Demons who meet the criteria.”

You ask who that would be.

[14:36] “All species may appear as if they have established a well-organized hierarchy. However, not even the Wolves form one homogeneous group. There are always dissidents. Those who have other thoughts…In other words, when they are given the right circumstances, they will make their move to disrupt public order. Of course, it isn’t always clear who meets these requirements. However, we must sniff them out sooner rather than later. That is why I distributed those letters.”

[15:14] “Exactly. I have the power of authority on my side. While it may not nearly be as powerful as in the past, the influence of us First Bloods still exists. On top of that, it is a direct message from the King of Founders. It will surely draw out the right people. Soon enough, the cracks in the system should begin to show itself.”

[15:43] “No. My intention is not to start a large war. However, if small disputes arise here and there, the Demon World will surely fall into disarray. That will be my chance…After all, to solve the conflict, one must know the solution. Only a Founder - as a pivot - is capable of both shaking the Demon World to its foundations, as well as restoring peace afterwards. In order words…I will become the figure of order of the new Demon World…”

You frown.

[16:35] “This plan…Let me think…Right, I believe it will be easier to grasp if you compare it to domino stones. When they fall over, an image becomes clear. However, before the stones fall, only the person who put them down knows what the final image will look like. Right now, I am the only one who knows the end result.”

You ask what it looks like.

[17:02] “Fufufu…Trust me, it is a sight to behold. By bringing all Demonic species together, the world will once again be reminded of the Founders’ authority.”

You ask if Shin knows about this. 

“Yes, I have already entrusted Shin with an important mission. He left in high spirits. I can only assume he must have arrived in the Demon World by now. The revival of us Founders is what he wishes for as well. And right now, that wish is finally about to come into fruition.”

You smile and say that you are happy for the two of them.

[17:50] “Fufu…You play an important part in this as well.”

You tilt your head to the side. 

“Oh? You do not understand what I mean? You told me the other day, did you not? That I am the keystone of all Demons. That is when I made my decision.”

*Rustle*

[18:16] “Allow me to give you a reward. I shall imprint a mark on these lips of yours. The seal of the wife of the King of Founders.” 

Carla kisses you. 

“Mm…”

*Smooch*

“Nn…”

*Smooch*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[tylerdurdenss]

always thinking about the deep and complex tragedy of the ofmd finale. because the reason that it’s so heartbreaking for ed isn’t just that stede left him at the altar. it’s that, in that moment, stede had to choose between Himself and Ed and he chose himself. And not in a self beneficial way but in a like..there’s a lot of narcissism in self-hatred way. In a martyr complex “the worst punishment you can think of for the person you love is your own company” way. He wavers back and forth over and over again throughout the season but in this pivotal moment his fears win out and he chooses to TRUST HIS OWN FEARS AND SHAME OVER ED. because Ed tells him over and over who he is. I want to retire, I can’t do this anymore, this image everyone has of me isn’t who I am, I’m not even a killer, I want to be with you, you make me happy, even if I have to give up my whole life to start over new with you I will do it with full knowledge and consent, I want to sit on the bed with you and fold laundry and I don’t want to be blackbeard anymore. And that’s SO IMPORTANT to their love story because stede is literally the only person ever who Ed has been able to say that to and be taken seriously!!!!!!! stede SEES Ed, not just blackbeard. he sees a life for Ed full of nice things and silk and companionship and love, and he helps Ed see it too. and it’s so meaningful for Ed that he gives up everything to be with the man who truly sees HIM for the first time ever. who knows ed at his most vulnerable and most sincere and loves him because of it. but stede DOESNT TRUST HIM!!!!!!!! because there’s always that voice in his head going- you’re a coward, you’re a killer, you’re not good enough, your family needs you and you’re abandoning them just to make other people suffer, you’re not exciting enough or cool enough or tough enough to make blackbeard love you. and he doesn’t even see that blackbeard DOES love him, so much, not because he’s heartless or cold but because he’s not. and then badminton becomes a living manifestation of that voice at stede’s most critical moment, where the scales can be tipped either way. because ed tells him- I’m happy, this is enough for me, I don’t have any regrets. But stede can’t believe it. Hes shocked when he sees ed without the beard, argues stubbornly that ed must be unhappy somehow even though he isn’t, he’s doubtful of ed’s plan to commit to stede and run away. He lies in the bed and stares up at the ceiling and we don’t know what he’ll do. But then he doesn’t get to make that choice, because at this moment where the doubts in his head are already drowning out edward’s sincerity and love, badminton tells him everything that he fears and knows is true. and ultimately he can’t fight it. he chooses to trust in himself- his own interpretation of events, of the world, his own ideas of who Ed is and what he needs and what he wants, and he makes the choice for Ed. AND THATS WHY ITS SO HEARTBREAKING FOR ED. because ed gives up everything for the man who really truly listens when he tells him who he really is beneath all the propaganda and imagery and theater- and then that same man abandons him because he thinks he knows Ed better than ed knows himself. He chooses stede over izzy hands over and over again- the person who loves Ed vs the person who loves Blackbeard- but when it’s all on the line stede treats him exactly like izzy did. He won’t let him be his own man, won’t let him escape from the legacy of blackbeard no matter how much he hates being chained to it. and he truly thinks he’s doing the right thing because if it’s what stede wants then how could it be kind or good or right? because he’s just so utterly convinced that he is corrupt and contaminated and BAD and he trusts in that more than he trusts ed. wauggghhhh

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

jester began falling in love with caleb in episode 103.

not any earlier in my opinion, and not later, either.

there's two elements to why i believe e103 is the turning point.

(1) the first is caleb's actions and jester's responses to them during the night they all sleep by the waterfall—his support of her idea to sleep underwater, his conversation with her after her commune with artagan, and his casting of programmed illusion in the dome.

(2) the second is the way her behavior toward caleb pivots around e103. before e103 is a noticeably different beast to how she begins to treat him after e103—the attention she pays him, her efforts to hold more standout interactions with him, and a dramatic swell of emotion and thematic meaning in these scenes’ respective subtext.

the rumblecusp arc is the point in which jester’s character growth, and caleb’s efforts to unconditionally support her, really begin to shine. throughout the complex growing pains that jester and artagan's relationship was experiencing, the one person who truly takes a moment to offer her support without any agenda or judgment is caleb.

(e103, 1:22:55, bold mine)

CALEB: You okay over there?

JESTER: (tearful) Yeah, I'm fine. Just—I'm just drawing.

CALEB: Maybe didn't go as well as you were hoping?

JESTER: Um... In some ways it went better. But no.

CALEB: I can't speak for him. But you do have us.

JESTER: I know.

CALEB: So whatever you land on, Jester, we'll make it happen.

JESTER: (shaky laugh) I have to figure out what I want to land on.

CALEB: That is the, uh—sticky wicket, isn't it?

JESTER: Yeah. Everything's confusing.

CALEB: Maybe... Maybe we sleep on it, it'll make more sense in the morning.

JESTER: Yeah. Yeah. Thank you, Caleb.

CALEB: I didn't do anything.

jester confesses that her commune with artagan didn’t provide the answers she was hoping for—that he knew about the curse on the island—and caleb doesn’t remark on what that seems like. he deliberately avoids speculating on why artagan is doing these things because “he can’t speak for him.” he doesn’t assume anything about what she might choose to do and explicitly leaves that choice up to her. jester vents briefly about how difficult the choice is, and caleb offers her reassurance, a reminder that some time will make things clearer. he doesn’t suggest solutions.

unlike fjord or beau, caleb doesn’t ask her to voice outright whether artagan is being a good friend. he doesn’t continually question his character and imply any personal opinions to her or what he thinks she should do. instead, he asks whether she’s okay. he listens. and he offers unconditional support.

this is consistently the stance caleb takes in the rumblecusp arc. and it’s not discussed much, i think, exactly how monumental that was to jester.

(hold on, this is a long one.)

jester is a young woman who grew up sheltered and wants to define herself outside of that shelter. for her, this campaign has essentially been a coming-of-age journey (talks for e76-77, 14:12). she is deeply sensitive to whether or not she’s respected because she’s aware of how her personality and general lack of experience makes others think she’s naive, immature, or incapable (talks for e79, 31:51).

it’s also incredibly evident that her relationship with artagan is unique. in e105 (1:15:01), jester tells the m9, “he really got me through a lot when i was younger, you know? and he was all i had, really.” he was her best friend from childhood in a home where she spent most of her time hidden in a single room. when she was younger, the few times she left the chateau, she was bullied by other girls (e110, 3:34:59). her best friend, though? her best friend was a god. a god with an incredible sense of humor, an aggrandizing attitude, and adoring respect for a young girl in a difficult situation who had as wonderful a personality as him. in every way that matters, artagan’s friendship undoubtedly saved jester’s life.

and she is so, so aware of this. she cares for him deeply, trusts him unconditionally, and is determined to be there for the one person who had been there for her when no one else was, not even her mother.

the renegotiation of this friendship after artagan revealed his full identity was clearly extraordinarily difficult for jester. she was having to reevaluate her entire relationship with the being that pulled her through a childhood of isolation and misery, question his intentions with her and whether they could even remain friends at all. and this was amidst her arrival at a dangerous island with her other friends to help him clean up his mistakes.

asking her to make a judgment on artagan before she’s ready to do it on her own, while managing some high expectations at the same time—not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s frustrating and painful. jester did not want to judge artagan without giving him his fair due and a proper conversation. knowing that her new friends dislike her old friend, besides being hurt by it, distracted her. she had to both defend him outwardly and interrogate him internally. and if she tried to explain how important artagan is to her, a lot of vulnerability would’ve been necessary when she was trying to be a leader and seem competent and capable, instead of a child who needs patronizing guidance.

this latter point is exceptional. because jester lavorre is so vulnerable when it comes to how much she thinks her loved ones respect her and consider her a valuable, equal, and trustworthy individual. and it’s difficult to feel like you’re being valued and trusted when people are repeatedly questioning you about a person and a relationship that they don’t understand in a way that, despite genuine concern, comes across as them doubting your own judgment of one of the most intimate parts of your life.

in this precise moment in e103, caleb is the only person who acknowledges—to her in person, even—that he doesn't have any place in judging her relationship with artagan. that it’s not what she needs from him or anyone else. that he’s content waiting for her to reach a decision. that he will respect that decision.

and jester can believe him. caleb’s done nothing but remain consistent on this stance. he repeatedly supports her choices to run travelercon, trust artagan, and come to his aid.

when other party members question artagan's legitimacy, caleb is the one who almost always speaks up to support jester (some examples: e61, 30:43 / e77, 49:17 / e95, 1:09:17 and 1:15:24).

he actively and enthusiastically offers his magical talents to her to provide for the event preparations. he has a whole conversation with her in e91 (beginning 1:53:41) where he expresses his immense respect for her and her personality, explicitly validates her faith in artagan, and shows her a tangible example of how he wants to help her during the upcoming travelercon. when she suggests some ideas, despite their arguable silliness, caleb takes them at face value and openly admits his lack of expertise in this area (e91, 1:58:35).

when they first arrive at rumblecusp, he directly reassures jester about the ‘travelercon 3000’ banner she leaves on the wrong beach by mentioning that he can make her a new banner (e101, 48:18). once preparations begin in earnest, caleb expends spells very freely, including ones of higher-level, to produce whatever jester requests.

in e103, he hears out her idea of sleeping underwater and gives it equal consideration in spite of other party members trying to shoot it down. the first time she suggests it (36:23), caduceus comments against it and no other party member acknowledges her except for caleb, who agrees with her quietly while the others move on. the second time jester suggests it (46:08), veth comments against it and caleb steps in to openly agree that it’s a good idea, even after fjord and beau join veth in being dubious.

compare these active, consistent moments of support and validation from caleb to similarly active and consistent examples of the other attitudes that manifest during the rumblecusp arc, in contradiction to people’s apparent claims of trust (one such claim of trust: e95, 1:00:21).

plainly insulting artagan to jester as if it’s a given, such as fjord’s “he’s generally full of shit, right?” (e107, 49:42);

fjord, beau, and caduceus’s conversation about “not ruining jester’s big day,” yet distrusting artagan to the extent of planning to keep her from being alone with him, preparing to attack him should he try to sacrifice 200 people for some speculated unknown ritual and/or hurt jester, and discussing all of this behind jester’s back (e108, beginning 15:41);

caduceus’s said shift to distrust of artagan because of a semi-disturbing conversation that jester was equally a part of (e107, beginning 20:40);

and the discussion right before jester’s commune with artagan where beau questions if artagan sent them to rumblecusp knowing of the memory problems, without regard for their well-being (e103, 29:40).

the unfortunate assumption being made by these party members’ repeated questioning and protectiveness of jester is that she cannot be trusted to have good judgment. despite their familiarity with some of the context of her relationship with artagan (especially after e105), they disregard her repeatedly-expressed support of him. they indirectly disrespect her ability to judge for herself whether someone is dangerous to her or her friends. they don’t acknowledge jester’s own role in creating dubious situations and instead direct all their negative feelings and sense of fault to artagan, minimizing her agency.

the e108 conversation is a dense microcosm of how the party perpetrates these assumptions throughout the rumblecusp arc as a whole. without qualm, they discuss deliberately controlling jester’s time with artagan to ‘protect’ her and their willingness to kill the evil image they’ve constructed of him, and dodge jester directly asking them what they’re talking about—even though it is a known given that the m9 would defend her with their lives with or without any prior discussion. the purpose of holding this conversation isn’t to make sure that jester is safe. like caduceus near-explicitly says, it’s to “feel better knowing” that “anybody else was on board with this” (20:26 and 18:57)—to validate their unacknowledged distrust of jester’s judgment with each other, behind her back.

and as laura has said: jester, with her very high wisdom, tends to know what’s going on even if she acts like she doesn’t (talks for e79, 32:39).

in e103, when jester is crying because she’s found out that artagan did know about the island’s memory problems, caleb doesn’t show any sign of taking this as proof of artagan's ill intent. what he does instead: he offers compassion for her pain with zero judgment. he promises to support her, no matter what she ultimately decides to make of this information. these are offers of safety and trust, ones that jester desperately needed.

then—caleb creates a programmed illusion of the m9’s lives. and it’s beautiful.

in comparison to all the analysis prior, this moment is straightforward. jester is an artist. she paints, draws, and creates, and she loves doing it. moreover, she loves making art for other people. though she doesn’t get many chances to do so, the mural of a flowery meadow that she paints for yasha’s room in the xhorhaus is a perfect example. similarly, she enjoys the art she makes when defacing other people’s property—altered signage or statue of the platinum dragon painted in rainbow—in part because they’re gifts to the traveler. she loves making those she loves happy.

happiness and love to jester is overwhelmingly about emotional intimacy. i’ve talked about this to some degree in a previous post about jester’s jealousy. please refer there for in-depth explanation. in brief, though, she puts value on how deeply she knows a person; how often she’s been able to be there for them. this is the love she learned from her mother and from artagan, and how she continues to love once she’s older.

caleb’s arcane rendition of the m9′s lives floating around the inside of the dome is a display of exactly this kind of love. not only is it art crafted from his magic and imagination and love—it’s blatant evidence of how much he cares for every member of the party and where they’ve come from. he remembers their stories and hangs them in the air in hopes that it’ll help them resist the memory erasing. he moves the memory of yasha and zuala in a meadow over to yasha’s pillow-side so she can watch it until she falls asleep. he creates a memory for vilya of her, her husband, and her daughter, listening to and respecting the emotional gravity of what she’s confiding in them.

only a few minutes after jester’s disappointing commune with artagan and her conversation with caleb, she walks into the dome and sees this art. she laughs and stares in wonder at all the memories (e103, 1:46:08). when beau points out the humorous memories of fjord being attacked by turtles so they can all laugh, she tells caleb with equal awe and joy, “wow. this is amazing, caleb” (e103, 1:47:04).

...of course, as lovely and meaningful as these back-to-back moments were for jester, it's not quite evidence of her starting to fall in love with caleb around this time.

that’s where the following episodes come in.

[id: three screenshots of messages sent in a discord channel by the user “prim” (the op). all are timestamped to friday, august 28, 2020, the day after the live premiere of e107. the first has an additional timestamp of 12:53 PM, the second 1:03 PM, and the third 1:30 PM. they read:

honest to god though i don't know if it's just the shipper brain that is making me think laura is trying to roleplay jester beginning to reciprocate caleb's feelings [...]

like........ the golden dick hunt teasing is definitely on par with jester's past shenanigans, but the compliments have been Catching My Attention bc it's honestly not normal for jester to compliment caleb of her own volition like that, just as a one-on-one "i appreciate you" reassurance

and i'm thinking less about the spells from last night's episode (although how much jester was emphasizing the compliments made me go "awwwww") and more of the moments like jester telling caleb "that was impressive" after getting cad out of the tunnel with beau's help

but laura is absolutely a shipping troll with jester this campaign so i'm here like "I'M MAYBE 80% SURE I'M BEING FUCKED WITH BUT IT MAYBE HOLDS UP????" [...]

basically laura keeps doing things that make the alarm in my brain go off and i don't know if i'm picking up something legit or if i'm projecting my hopes, like the recent pattern of compliments from jester LOL

/end id.]

i’m not going to lie, if i try to list every single receipt like i otherwise prefer to do in these metas, i think we (and especially i) would all lose our minds. so while i’m about to provide a lot of citations, they genuinely are just a few possible examples that will mostly be within the dozen episodes after e103.

the more important detail that can be observed from this is that e103 is a turning point.

prior to e103, jester does not particularly go out of her way to interact with caleb. by and large, most of their direct interactions are either initiated by caleb or prompted by the context of a general party conversation. the majority of other moments that could be referred to as ‘widojest’ are of caleb’s evident feelings. beyond early campaign days, jester rarely teases caleb about sexual topics while insinuating things about her own sexual life at the same time.

after e103, laura and jester begin to go out of their way to interact with and intertwine jester’s time with caleb.

the rate of jester’s compliments and enthusiastic gratitude to caleb skyrocket (some examples: e104, 30:36 / e107, 16:49 and 1:11:28 and 1:12:15 and 3:10:39 / e110, 15:58 and 3:37:24 / e111, 36:15 and 38:41 and 50:58);

several mature jokes/flirtations she makes involve both caleb and herself (examples: e107, 1:16:17 / e110, 1:18:07 / e115, 1:52:53);

she deliberately and specifically engages caleb in full-blown interactions, such as the conversations during the tour of her childhood bedroom (e110, beginning 1:11:38), hanging out with him on the icebreaker ship (e112, beginning 3:45:29), and the reading of der katzenprinz (e115, beginning 1:52:43);

as well as the expansion of more extended ‘conversations’ like their motif of dancing (e108, 13:39 / e109, 2:54:14), their parental relationships (e110, 20:44 and 3:38:41 / e115′s der katzenprinz / e121, beginning 1:52:12), and polymorph shenanigans (examples: e107, beginning 2:58:41 / e117, beginning 1:13:55 / e118, 43:57).

thrown in are additional background details that further tie jester to caleb, such as her determination to recover caleb’s amulet after their defeat of vokodo (e106, 25:33), the knowing comments on his purchasing of paper (e109, 22:32 / e111, 1:25:49), her deliberate choice to ride whaleb during the avantika chase (e113, 2:32:28), her retrieval of caleb’s coat when he’s attempting to remove the necromantic emerald (e115, 1:30:56), and her deliberate reference to der katzenprinz to iver (e120, 3:05:14);

and simply everything about the tower. it’s another example of the art and creativity caleb produces with his magic to make his loved ones happy, which jester acknowledges at least twice (refer to the e111 compliments). contrarily, jester also makes note of the signs that this tower shows less love to caleb than she thinks he deserves, in keeping with her value of emotional intimacy (e115’s der katzenprinz / e122’s floor 8, room 1).

the reading of der katzenprinz in e115 is arguably the pinnacle of these examples. it’s intentionally initiated by jester. she both takes the step to visit caleb's room and indirectly requests him to read the story to her. laura’s implication that she remembered this subplot because of beau’s reading of a very romantic letter from yasha is particularly suggestive. the story itself incorporates many similar characters and themes that are present in jester’s backstory: the lonely, sheltered boy and his single working mom as jester and marion; the dubious cat prince who ultimately gives the boy freedom and confidence as artagan; and the deep love between the boy and his mother because of how they only have each other, which compels a powerful being to have compassion and thus set the boy free so that they can be together. very similar to both jester’s depth of relationship with her mother and her pleas on artagan’s behalf to the moonweaver’s celestial servant.

and the post-story conversation—caleb’s confiding of its importance to him because of his mother. jester’s open willingness to compare the cat prince to artagan, knowing that caleb respects their friendship and has treated artagan fairly. jester’s lingering, repeated looks toward caleb while smiling and holding her copy of der katzenprinz to her heart.

with all this dramatic expansion of the emotional and thematic intimacy between jester and caleb beginning to roll down the hill after e103—in brilliant contrast to their more muted, less reciprocal dynamic before this episode—e103 is more than likely the turning point of jester’s feelings. and based on the events and context, it was caused by the combined emotional appeal of caleb’s offer of unconditional support and his display of love for his family in the programmed illusion of memories.