#seeing this live actually changed my life

[akawifeyy]

silly girl | smau (LN4)

description: the life of a comedian is full of laughter, but the biggest punchline? your experience with love.

tropes: chaos galore, he's obsessed with her, sunshine x sunshine, age gap (23 and 25), comedian!fem!reader

face claim: faith collins

trigger warnings: suggestive content, some mature jokes, swearing

| note: hehehe i love this fic 🫶

@ yourusername: dallas was incredible, i had the best time laughing with you all! a recorded video of tonight's show is posted at the link in my bio if you couldn't make it. see you next weekend in austin 😘

tagged: @ standupcomedy

comments (2567):

@ user1: Amazing shows! I went to Night 2 and I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Wish I bought tickets for the other two nights.

-> @ user2: sooo real, i got to see her in miami and i felt like my heart was going to explode from laughing

@ user3: Incredible job, so proud 💖

@ user4: Mother has fed us during this tour, I never want it to end

@ yourbffusername: SCREAMING CRYING, I love you SO much Y/N

@ f1: Just 3 more days until COTA! How are you gearing up for the Grand Prix?

tagged: @ mclaren, @ mercedes, @ redbullracing, & 6 more

comments (49584):

@ landonorris: Can't wait to be a cowboy again 🤠

@ user5: COTAAAA MY BELOVED

@ user6: so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@ user7: No because I'm actually a second away from crashing out because I just realized @ yourusername's show is at the same time as the Austin GP

-> @ user8: wait nonono you're joking 😭 i bought tickets too

10/19/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: I feel like if I don't bring this up, the masses are going to come at me with pitchforks. (clearing throat) Today's a pretty big day in Austin. Um, Formula One is having its COTA Grand Prix.

Audience members: (whooping)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, looks like we have quite a few F1 fans in here. I'd kind of consider myself one, but please don't ask me what DRS stands for off the top of my head or what Ferrari's strategies are during races, because I wouldn't be able to tell you. But anyways, I found out that I scheduled this show at the same time as the GP.

Audience member: (loud yelling noise)

Y/N L/N: (breaks down laughing) Yep, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But I totally get it. Seeing a bunch of rich, hot men drive around in circles? Like, aw man, where did my pants go? I swear they were just on. (continues giggling) Seriously, though, some of those drivers? It should be illegal how attractive they are. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris. Oh God, don't even get me started on Lando Norris.

Y/N L/N: (eyes widen dramatically) I never liked brunettes or Englishmen, but he might just make me change my mind.

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: Have you seen the clips from Y/N L/N's most recent comedy show here in Austin?

Lando Norris: (laughs) Yes, I heard about it!

Interviewer: Thoughts?

Lando Norris: She's very funny. I like her sense of humor. But as for relationships, I have to focus on my racing, so I can't get distracted. Sorry!

10/20/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: So... Yesterday's show. (makes popping sound with lips) Some of y'all, I feel like I need to ban you – and before you boo, let me explain why. I made jokes about Formula One drivers, and how hot they are, and a select few of you decided to out me? (mock gasp)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, I know! Fucking Lando Norris was interviewed about me! Isn't that insane? This ultra-rich motor sport driver was asked about some redhead girl who yaps for a living. And he called me funny? I need to put this on my resume.

Audience member: You two need to date!

Y/N L/N: The matchmaking is insane. Oh God, wait until my mother hears about this, then I'm actually cooked. I'm 23 years old, I have a lot of biological time left, but you're vultures! When is it going to end? And don't say, "When you get married to Lando Norris", because it's not happening. Sadly.

@ ynupdates: Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did have a boyfriend! This was way back in 2019 to 2022. His name is Emmett Ellgren, and they dated for three years until their mutual split. Since then, Y/N has poked fun at the relationship, but no substantial details have been released about their break up.

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (2942):

@ user9: HELP i forgot about emmett he's such an npc 😮‍💨

@ user10: emmett is no longer relevant to the lore

-> @ user2: The real man we should be paying attention to is Lando Norris

-> @ user8: i know omg 😭

comments (3842):

@ user11: They're both silly gooses, I'm scared to see the havoc they'll wreak together in McLaren 🥲

@ user12: i'll believe it when i see it

@ user13: Lando is too immature to have a stable girlfriend

-> @ user3: which is why Y/N's perfect, they'll be immature together 🥰

-> @ user4: This just proves you've never watched one of Y/N's shows before lmao

Y/N's Instagram Story (2025):

comments (8521):

@ user13: OMG OMG OMG IT'S STARTING

-> @ user14: I'm so glad I get to be alive during the LandoY/N era

@ user12: It'll be so funny if this turns out to be from Oscar or something 🙃

-> @ user15: HELP

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ landonorris: P3 in Mexico! Awesome results

tagged: @ mclaren, @ f1, @ yourusername

comments (64312):

@ user16: ALERT ALERT Y/N HAS BEEN TAGGED

@ user13: guys i'm actually gonna combust 🫣🔥

-> @ user17: They're together, it has to be

@ yourusername: nice sombrero 😋

-> @ landonorris: Thank you!!!

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ yourusername: hola mexico 🇲🇽

tagged: @ landonorris

comments (3846):

@ yourbffusername: Looks so fun!

-> @ yourusername: yes it was incredible

@ user10: laaandoooo i see you 👀

@ user18: How does it feel to be living my dream

@ landonorris: So glad you could make it, had a lot of fun talking to you

@ f1gossip: It is rumored that comedian Y/N L/N and McLaren driver Lando Norris are together, after Y/N posted a photo of her receiving paddock passes, and the pair responded to one another's posts about the Mexico Grand Prix.

tagged: @ yourusername, @ landonorris

comments (1293):

@ user9: i'm waitinggg

@ user10: this is worse than the wait for reputation tv

-> @ user18: clowning so hard i know 😖

@ user19: HAVE ANY OF YOU GUYS SEEN LANDO'S INSTA STORY? 🤯

Lando's Deleted Instagram Story:

comments (235):

@ user20: OMGOMGDSDKLSDDNS

@ user21: my eyes are not deceiving me, this is y/n

@ user5: Y/N IS THAT YOU 😳

@ landonorris: OK OK yes I give in, we are together. Happy one month, @ yourusername, I love you to the moon and back!

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (34852):

@ user21: classic Lando accidentally posting the wrong thing and outing himself

-> @ user22: idk what else we would expect from chaos incarnate 😭

@ yourusername: love you too, muppet 😘

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: So, you've just recently announced that you're dating Y/N L/N!

Lando Norris: Yes, I'm really happy about it.

Interviewer: Any plans to bring her to the next race?

Lando Norris: Maybe, we'll see. (laughs and smiles) The paddock is a lot cheerier when she's there, so hopefully, fingers crossed. I'm very, very lucky to call her mine.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[jisungiesvzz]

Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

[astrolook]

North Node: The Universe’s Mandatory Life Upgrade - Your Soul’s To-Do List 🌟

The North Node in astrology represents the path you are meant to take in this lifetime—the lessons you need to learn, the challenges you must embrace, and the direction of your soul’s growth. It contrasts with the South Node, which represents past life habits and comfort zones.

🔮 Key Aspects of the North Node:

It shows what you need to develop and master.

It often feels unfamiliar or uncomfortable at first.

Following its path leads to fulfillment and personal evolution.

1st House – "Main Character Era"

Life’s telling you to stop being a side character in your own life and start owning your power. Confidence? Independence? Yes, please. You’re here to step up and put yourself first—so stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and start living for YOU.

2nd House – "Secure the Bag"

Your lesson? Self-worth and financial stability. No more impulse spending and no more waiting for someone else to take care of you. You’re here to build something solid—whether that’s money, self-esteem, or both. Learn to boss up.

3rd House – "Talk the Talk"

Your mission is to speak up and share your ideas—whether that’s through writing, public speaking, or just sending memes that actually make sense. Communication is your superpower, so start using it instead of overthinking every text.

4th House – "Healing the Family Group Chat"

You’re here to create emotional security and maybe even fix some generational trauma (no pressure). Home, family, and deep connections are your priority—so stop running from your feelings and start embracing them.

5th House – "Main Character in a Rom-Com"

This is a lifetime for fun, love, and creativity. You’re meant to express yourself, take risks, and stop playing it safe. Dance in the rain, fall in love, start a passion project—just don’t let life get boring.

6th House – "Get Your Life Together"

Routine, discipline, and actual self-care (not just face masks) are your key to success. Learn how to prioritize your health, stay organized, and be productive—because chaos isn’t cute forever.

7th House – "Where’s My Soulmate?"

Your mission? Relationships. Whether romantic or business, you’re here to learn partnership, compromise, and emotional maturity. Just don’t settle for red flags—this isn’t a scavenger hunt.

8th House – "Phoenix Rising"

Your life path is about transformation—aka, major glow-ups and deep emotional shifts. You’re here to master change, heal your inner wounds, and maybe even become slightly obsessed with astrology and spirituality.

9th House – "Eat, Pray, Travel"

You’re here to explore—physically, mentally, and spiritually. Whether that’s booking a one-way ticket or questioning the meaning of life, your mission is to learn, grow, and expand your mind. Go adventure.

10th House – "CEO Energy"

Your destiny? Success, legacy, and being known for something BIG. This isn’t a lifetime for playing small—boss up, build your career, and leave your mark on the world. Your LinkedIn/Instagram is about to pop off.

11th House – "World Changer"

You’re meant to shake things up, be a trendsetter, and build a community. Whether it’s through activism, social media, or just being the friend who brings people together, your life’s about making an impact.

12th House – "Spiritual Guru Mode"

Your path is about deep spiritual growth, intuition, and embracing the unknown. Meditation, solitude, and even a little mysticism are your thing. Trust the universe—it’s guiding you, even when life makes zero sense.

✨ Want a complete birth chart reading or a synastry compatibility breakdown to see if you and your crush / partner are actually meant to be? Message me for a personal astrology reading! 🔮💫

[specialgradefckr]

Catching Strays

Satoru Gojo is rich. Obscenely so.

But he's also busy - too busy to have time to meet someone and go through all the song and dance of dating and having a relationship.

The hookups... even being a certified fantastic top tier lay, it's just not doing it for him anymore.

He wants that connection. The intimacy. The personal knowledge and inside jokes and soft affection that comes with a relationship.

And sure, some of it is on him. He's got a fun personality - jokes and jibes and little remarks that he really doesn't mean badly, but tend to be taken in certain ways.

("That's a lot of words to say I'm an asshole." His last potential date had snapped. "Even with a face like yours, people have standards. My life doesn't revolve around you.")

Really, he's nice when you get to know him! But he's also lonely, and bored, and every hobby he tries out never lasts more than a couple days.

It's hard, being as naturally talented and intuitive and as intelligent as him. Everything gets old so fast. It's all too easy.

Gets him wound up. He's got so much energy. And the one thing that never gets old to him? Other people.

So when he meets new people he can be sort of... overwhelming. Overly familiar. Annoying. Clingy.

(Okay, maybe he's a little bitter about how that last one. He'd offered to pay her bills! Why was she so worked up over her dumb career? He had way more money, and he was plenty generous with it!)

Lately, he's been toying with a different solution to his problems - hybrids.

They're like people, just basically as pets (which sounds a little messed up when he thinks about it, so he promptly stops thinking, and the problem goes away) - companions who can live with him, eat with him at mealtimes, cuddle up and even provide some intimacy.

That sort of thing is apparently frowned on, but who cares? It's not like he'd ever force anyone. One look at him and they'd be begging for it.

Do you ever think about anyone besides yourself? You're going to wake up alone one day, with no one to put up with your selfishness.

And besides, they'd live together! They'd become friends naturally!

Yeah... a pet would be great for a busy guy like him. Just some cute thing sitting and waiting for him at home, ready to jump on him as soon as he's back.

("Gojo, you barely take care of yourself. You think you can take care of another person?"

"Please, I've looked this up! Cat hybrids are especially independent. Come on, can't you see me with a cute little kitty curled up in my lap?"

"You're actually hopeless.")

Shoko doesn't know what she's talking about. He can be responsible, he simply chooses not to, because life is easier that way. But cats are easy to take care of!

He just has to find the right one. He's been to a couple shelters, but none of the hybrids there have spoken to him.

It's kitten season, apparently - they're really pushing the young ones on him. But Satoru, despite what Shoko thinks, is responsible. He's looking for something older, mature, able to take care of itself (and also consent).

And what does he see as he strolls through a less-wealthy part of town on his way to his favorite ramen shop?

A cute little stray, big pleading eyes and a sign saying "Anything Helps", tail curled up around you as you look up hopefully to passing strangers.

His heart squeezes a little at the sight. There's a small dish in front of you with a scattering of spare change.

Satoru stops, mid-stride, backing up and grinning down at you.

Looks like it's this kitty's lucky day.

So... it turns out it's not so simple to adopt a stray hybrid.

It's a little annoying. You're a sorry, scraggly thing, begging for scraps in a dingy side corner.

And yet you seem to take some kind of issue with his generous offer of adoption.

Satoru supposes he can forgive you for not trusting a stranger, but he brought you out for ramen! You sat with him for the whole meal! That's longer than ninety percent of his dates have tolerated him!

Deep down, some voice is echoing the same old taunts in different words.

Even a stray off the street doesn't want your company. The best you can do is bribe people to love you, and even with all your money, the love runs out quick.

Funny how the voice sounds a lot like his mother! When talking to his dad, of course. Not him. His parents both loved him.

They'd sent him to the most expensive schools, bought him all the latest and greatest of everything, gave him a penthouse and a vacation home as a graduation gift.

Only, it was sort of big for him to live in all by himself. Satoru tries explaining it to you, but you're reluctant for some reason.

It's hard to tell, between all your stammering and nervous trailing off. How you seemed to stare at him, distracted by his beauty.

Heh. He does get that a lot. But you're the cutest, sweetest, most darling creature he's ever laid eyes on, all pathetic and needy-eyed, and he's not going home without a kitty today.

"What do I have to do to make you come with me?" Satoru says it bluntly. "I have money. All the money you could ever want. You can eat bluefin tuna every day-"

"I eat the blue tunas all the time," You interrupt him eagerly, "The ones in the can!"

"Not those - it's - listen, just tell me you'll come back with me!" He really wants to take you home now. You're just too cute.

Your ears droop (oh my GOD it's so adorable), "I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I need to get back to my spot before Suguru comes looking for me."

A dark feeling seems to creep over him like a shadow. You have an owner? And he's making you beg out on the streets?

Well, you are a very convincing cutie. But Satoru doesn't support scam artists! He makes you eat canned tuna.

You do seem to be in relatively good condition, though, now that he takes a second look at you. No fresh cuts or bruises, not a scratch. Your clothes are worn and dirty but you're surprisingly well groomed otherwise.

"And you want to go back with him? I'm way richer," Satoru says, crossing his arms, looking down at you over his glasses.

"Oh, uh, Suguru is also a stray," You say sheepishly, tail swaying gently, "He's my friend. He takes care of me, I could never leave him behind."

Something twists in his chest. You didn't want to leave your friend - that was why.

One pet was already a reach for him, really. But taking in you both?

Give it up already. You're not capable of love. You aren't capable of caring about anyone besides yourself. You're selfish, and you're fine with it.

You'll die alone, Gojo.

He smiles at you, a wide, easy grin.

"I've got room for two."

[winters-on-the-wing]

because the marauders fandom as a whole generally uses this phrase horrifically wrong, i’m going to explain what “morally grey” actually does and does not mean!

morally grey is NOT:

1. character who’s done a lengthy series of horrific things and then does one sort of good thing.

2. character who had a bad childhood and then as an adult, commits violent hate crimes.

3. character who is supports racism/bigotry/misogyny but it’s okay because they get bullied or they’re poor.

4. character who’s done a lengthy series of really good things and then does one sort of bad thing.

5. character who is a horrible person who’s done numerous horrific wrongs, but they’re a little white boy, or a tiny little twink man, or an emo dark haired baby boy, or a blond freckled cinnamon roll, so it’s magically fine.

morally grey IS:

1. character who fights for good/equality/a noble cause but goes about it in a violent or harmful fashion. yes, violence is necessary in times of war. but it is still morally grey to engage in it.

2. character who is forced into an oppressive role and is choosing the safety of themselves over the safety of an oppressed population.

3. character who had a bad childhood and struggles to break the cycle in which they were created, but makes an effort to do so anyway.

the bottom line is that moral greyness represents an actual struggle between good and evil influences that manifests into tangible action.

regulus black is NOT morally grey. the one good thing he ever did was not for a good reason. therefore he was not struggling between good and evil. his entire life was dedicated to himself, his power, which comes from blood supremacy.

barty crouch jr. is NOT morally grey. he had a bad childhood theoretically, but he never canonically fought against those influences, and it’s implied that his childhood was bad as a direct result of his sadistic tendencies. therefore, there’s no struggle between good and evil.

bellatrix lestrange is NOT morally grey. being a woman does not automatically counter or somehow excuse her dedication to blood supremacy, which never wavers or changes. no struggle between good and evil.

severus snape is NOT morally grey. his actions appear to be good, but the reasoning behind them are never that. he protects harry because he sees lily in him. he doesn’t express remorse for his blood supremacist views even when he becomes a double agent. he openly bullies and torments children for things they can’t control due to the bitterness in his heart. he was bullied in childhood but it was due to his blood supremacist beliefs. it all comes back to him clinging onto the slightest semblance of power he has as someone with wizard blood in him. though his actions suggest it, i personally see no true struggle between good and evil, as his objective is always the same.

ron weasley is NOT morally grey. his occasional moments of rudeness are never guided by evil intentions. he is simply human, and his bad actions do not remotely balance his good actions. his good actions are so significant and common that his bad actions are tiny blips of misjudgment that can be attributed to emotional outbursts. emotional outbursts do not imply moral greyness.

albus dumbledore IS morally grey. his intentions are good, but the way he goes about doing what he does is horrific. he is willing to murder children in order for more children numerically to stay alive. debating which lives are more precious through simple logic is moral greyness because it is a struggle between the good of saving lives and the bad of sacrificing other lives. all for a good cause, but is it really so good if it causes death?

i’m too tired to think of other characters but moral greyness is present in harry potter/marauders. just not in the characters that the fandom is implying. morally grey is not an excuse for one’s actions or a way to criminalize one’s actions. it’s simply a way to describe somebody. akin to a personality trait.

and this is my take on it! i know i’m gonna get death threats but i don’t really care! i know i’m right!

[evilminji]

Had another Si-Oc thought >.>

My standard "you know what Would Be Cool?" Musings...

Getting reborn, as you do, ending up Force Sensitive, as can only be the case. Because really... how ELSE would you soul end up there? CHANCE? Force ghosts are a PROVEN thing! We KNOW that the Force sometimes just... deals in souls.

Ffs, it MADE A BABY.

Yes, there was Sith interference there. But that doesn't chance the fact that it went? "Eh, good enough. I'll take the chance and run with it. Thanks~☆ Mine Now~~☆ Bye~~~☆" And Chosen One'd that baby. Because ultimately? Before the plans of gods and men? The Force Laughs.

So like? Yeah. If there WAS to be a Reincarnator?

Probably the Force.

Congrats on the new, third (or second, depends on your species. Might be another number entirely, honestly. But we are averaging here so MOVE ON), Parent! They are very, very happy to see you! Love you as only a Primordial, Extradimensional, Timeless, Formless, All Pervasive, Orange-Blue Morality havin', Not-A-God Super-God CAN. Their Benevolence? Could be called another God's cruelty.

They don't MEAN too. They are just.... really, really Big. Infinite. Not organic or mortal. It's like trying to comprehend the limitations of an ant, living on a planet, circling a sun, in a GALAXY the size of a DUST MOTE. The fact that the Force can even come CLOSE? Is literally miraculous.

But of course... OC? Not the Chosen One. The favorite, special, "I have Important Things For You" child. Which.... turns out to actually? Be kinda great. The realize that quickly. Which of course, is followed by the logical follow up.

Anikin? Fuckin SCREWED. Because he IS the Favorite Child.

Oh... oh No. Oh Fuck, that is a CHILD.

How easy it is, to cast blame, to judge, when you can't FEEL the Force in your EVERYTHING. All the time. Every moment of every day. Beautiful but cacophonous, like a symphony of screaming. Like staring at the sun and never going blind. It still hurts. But it's so... so bright. So Beautiful.

Connection. To the universe itself. Soul deep and transcendent. You can feel that the universe loves you. That there is good in people. That Life itself is worth protecting. But at the same time? It is... it is so much.

Because you can FEEL the ugly too.

The greed. The hate. The suffering. Lights snuffed out, in dark places of despair. Selfish actions and deep cruelties, like barbed wire against the soul. Thorns that hook and drag. And... and you're supposed to use your words. Just... just ASK them to stop? And, What? Hope that they WILL?

It HURTS!

But pain only begets more pain. Cruelty, more cruelties still. And only the Sith, believe they can use FORCE, in any sense of the word, to change a persons nature. The Jedi build. Grow. They work together, with those who are willing, towards something better. Defend, those who can not protect themselves.

Balance and growth. Not fire and chains.

And Oc is pretty sure Anikin will agree. No one should ever be in chains. Dead maybe. Or in jail. But never, ever, in chains. (And no one ever said they were pacifists. Just not war mongers. Sometimes the only answer IS to kill your opponent. To respect their choice, but honor your commitments. Protect those you swore to protect.)

Of course... OC? Going through Jedi training. It's Pre-Anikin days. Both she and Obi-Wan are fuckin Smol. She's not even in his Creche clan. She's over here in the "wanders off, lost in their own thoughts" Chill AF Creche Clan. Not Mr. "May you Live In Interesting Times And Have Padawans JUST LIKE YOOOOOOOU" and Co., over in the... "Energetic" Creche Clan.

None of HER Creche-mates BIT people, Obi-Wan.

WE keep our fuckin teeth to ourselves, Kenobi!

So, obviously, THEY don't have a lifetime ban on the "look, don't touch" fragile plants meditation garden. Very Rich in the Force. Good for focusing. Peaceful, really. And Oc? Has the time and space? To Consider™ things. Experiment. Ponder Fandom theories. Long "lost" Cannon techniques. Maybe have one-sided chats with the Force.

.....finally get CURIOUS™.

And wonder... if? Since, you know, through the Force, she can encourage and discourage plants to grow? And somewhat control animals. Why not... micro-organisms? Say, Midi-chlorians? Force healing is all ready a thing! So the Force all ready CAN interact with the body. Effect it. Change it. What is this, but more?

Really, all she'd have to do is find them, within herself, right? They're already a part of her! Yet... not. Do they consider themselves a part of her? Or is it symbiosis? Yeah, everyone says it can't be done. Perhaps shouldn't be done. But, frankly? They said the same about a LOT of Force techniques over the years. Big leaps in progress scare the SHIT out of folks. Cause if you miss? A LOT of people can die gorey.

So she sits. Mediates. Looks. Smaller... and smaller.... and smaller....

Until she finds whispers. Humming. Chatter.

As though each and every blood cell in her body had a teeny, tiny, whispery little voice. All chattering together, talking and arguing and discussing. One great hive of progress and industry. Complaining about a lack of potassium... huh. She goes and gets some fruit. Eats it. Then settles back into meditation.

They are JOYOUS! Potassium! Yaaaaay! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Well... what'd ya know... huh. Hello there? She tries. Only to get a whispery and very alarmed ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! BODY CAN TALKヽ(°〇°)ﾉ ‽‽‽ Y-Yeah... she can. (How are they doing that?) The conversation? Only gets more surreal from there. Filled with... a surprising number of kaomojis.

But! She DOES figure out? How to increase her Midi-chlorians count. (By asking. Supplying needed resources for the expansion.) And WITH it? He awareness blooms.

The headache is... awful. The little guys(genderless) are WAY to enthusiastic. Working way too fast. If she didn't check the next morning? They might have continued to increase, indefinitely, until her veins were SOLID midi-chlorian. They just want to HELP, you see. And if you want More? Then surely FAR TOO MUCH is better, right?

(She may have fucked up. Oh god. Ow. Fuck. OW.)

Eventually she figure it out. Only gives her healer in training Creche mate a... few near heart attacks. He'll TOTALLY forgive her! (He will not. What the FUCK OC. Experimental medical procedures?! On YOURSELF!? You're not even HEALER TRACK!!!)

So NOW? She can reliably do it to OTHERS.

Need a bit more Midi-chlorians? Nearly Jedi quality but juuuuust under that cut off? She can fix that. Come. Be a jedi. Everyone should be a jedi. In FACT~! Whoops! Oh hey. Looks like all these Midi-chlorian counters are fuckin broken! (They look perfect fi-)(Broken! :] Do Not question me) So when you find that Orohan Child in desperate need of love and care? Just bring um on back!

They're TOTALLY Force sensitive. You can just tell. It's the vibes. Look at their lil face. Vibes, man. Just hand um here. For... reasons. You go get the paperwork. A working tester. And~? Oh would you look at THAT! Perfectly within acceptance range! Neat. Called it again, didn't you, Master Koon? You really do have an eye for these things. Anyway~ off to get this little one settled~~☆ *adoring cooing noises at the baby*

Weird, huh, how there suddenly just... SO MANY random orphan babies that are force sensitive? How 'bout that >.> strangest thing.

Of course, it's a god damned open secret. Everyone KNOWS. How could they not? But? Like with most things? If they don't Officially Know™? They don't have to stop it. And it DOES help both the Force AND those kids. Can be reversed if they don't like it, later. (They asked. All hypothetical of course.) So OC is basically Temple bound, so she can receive any new kiddos. To... you know... Check Their Health, on the way to ACTUAL healers.

But she's ALSO waiting. And as her skill increases? She can FEEL midi-chlorians, easier and easier. Until it gets to the point? Where if she's bored and zoning out? Not even ture meditation anymore? She accidentally tunes into Midi-chlorian Live~☆ the talk show. (What's the latest gossip from bodies nearest to her? Oh? Your second spleen is acting funny? Better remember to tell him to get that chec-)

Palpatine can't hide SHIT. It's literally in his blood.

And MAD at him.

This is NOT what they're FOR. He's taking TERRIBLE care of his body! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOOOOOOU! You want power? Choke on it, you-!!!!!

Holy shit. So THATS what Sith Midi-chlorians feel like. Oh my god. They... they are SO MAD. Like tiny wasps. That have been violently shaken in a jar. She's never used the word "seething" in reference to someone before... but like...? If they COULD stab him? Man would be a thick paste at this point.

She's not sure what facial expression she makes. But it sure is obvious. As is the blatant, horrified staring. And refusal to get near him. HE doesn't notice, being to busy with the powerful. But the Jedi sure as fuck do. Because THEY sent her? Out with a Shadow. You know... just in case.

Cause she literally can not be replaced.

She not High Ranked... she's just priceless. Equal sort of significance, but in a very quiet, Soft Power sort of way. She is, after all, single handedly? Reversing centuries of slow population decline. Her entire Line promises to be the next Yoda's line. Priceless and with far reaching significance. So obviously, they're making sure that shit stays locked down.

No one is to so much as BREATHE about this.

Not until her great-great-GREAT Grand Padawan has passed their Knight Trials so HELP US. We LEARN from our mistakes! Need we bring out the records? Times we got cocky? Sith and political fuckery!? No. Oc stays INVISIBLE. There is no war in Ba Sing Se! Move along!

So like? Why is Miss Midi-chlorian Sensor and Future of the Jedi... making that face? She's literally NEVER made that face. What sort of monster do you have to BE? Huh? Shadow asks, casual as fuck, like he's not a plotting plotter who's planing terrible things, what's up?

She tells him. Palpatine has RANCID vibes. His midi-chlorians fucking DISPISE him. She's literally never seen that before. In anyone. Didn't even know that was an option. They would gleefully kill him if they could.

.....senator Palpatine is Force Sensitive?

Yes.

.......Interesting™(Ominous Intent)

Says local Shadow, who is perhaps putting together some dots. May not be getting the correct picture. But is getting the Vibe. And boy howdy, he does NOT like the vibe. Has got himself some questions. Cause Mr "uwu I'm harmless" lil mask? Only holds up? If you're willing to believe him.

Shadows don't buy that shit. Shadows? Need receipts. Full character statements and an audit on the fucking hospital you were BORN AT. Every credit you picked up off the side walk, why, and where you spent it.

Give them your Secrets. Or they'll keep digging until they find them.

uwu Their ASS. Gonna tear this bitch APART.

......huh. So THIS is why you guys keep accidentally getting married to Mandalorians on missions. (We agreed not to mention that.) (Fucker, I agreed to nothing. Shouldn't have eaten my special Me Day pudding if you didn't want me to gossip.) Man, her friends are... a trip. Uh... have fun? Happy hunting? I guess? *feral Jedi noises*

She? Continues to wait. Palpatine? Begins to have a VERY bad time. (Ha! Get fucked!)

Unfortunately, it's not fast enough to stop his dumbass plans. He just gets desperate. Figures more power is the answer. Because of course he does. So here comes the "oh nooooo~ my planets under attack~ better manipulate a child and make me president of the galaxy!" Plan. Fucker. Bastard.

She can't stop that.

But what she CAN do? Is be there. Waiting. For HIM.

Her little brother. Her son. Her center of the universe. The most important man to ever live... and also? A scared little boy. Far, far from home. The only other person who understands just how BIG the Force is. How much it weighs. How even as it crushs you... you can't bear to put it down. Not even for a moment. Because it loves you. And it hurts, that it does.

And... oh. Oh.

He is so very small.

Dirty, tired, in lovingly mended clothes that are barely beyond scrap. With bright, bright eyes like hope and starlight. He sings inside. Like freedom. Like hope. Daring to ask "why CAN'T you be kinder?", "why CAN'T we be free?". A storm of change. Bright and beautiful.

A child. Great and small, all at once.

Oc can't help but smile. Because, oh. Oh how long, she has waited to meet him, Anikin Skywalker. Welcome. Are you hungry? Cold? Let's get cleaned up. See the healers first. The council can wait.

Chips are removed and food is shared. Warm clothes, soft and new. And she can not help but smile, smile, smile. Even as her face begins to hurt. For years she has gathered. Planned. Studied and trained. As though some part of her knew. As though all for this moment. Taking one of those small hands in hers. Looking right in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

Because it IS. Because regardless of what they decide? OC will be with him. Regardless, she's going to go and make sure his mother is free. Not bought, not sold. Free. She has friends who can help. Will learn how to remove the chip herself if she must.

And? He IS going to be a Jedi. Even if he never become a Coruscant Jedi. Even if he decides he doesn't agree with how they do things or they decide the disagree with how HE does things. The Jedi have changed before, they will change again. Living things are meant to grow. Meant to change. And people can be both wrong and right at the same time. It's messy.

But what's important? Is Anikin is not alone anymore. And Oc is gonna help teach him. And someday? HE'S gonna break chains. So many chains. Gonna help people heal. If he wants to. (He does) But for right now? A quick talk with some old people. Maybe a nap. And we either get settled or arrange a trip back to Tatooine. To pick up your mom. In the meantime! You can figure out what classes she might wanna take. Where seems like a good place to settle. *chatting as they walk off, hand in hand*

Just? Sometimes a Padawan-ship is you, your Teacher, your OTHER Teacher, and her body guards that teach you Cool Knife Tricks and how to gamble, behind Obi-Wan's back! :D

@legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @leftnotright @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[luvermore]

I adore this sentiment because so often in life we are pushed to have dreams when we’re young. We have to have something to run to as we grow. It’s not very often we see media (I’m not saying never just that it’s not a popular theme) portraying that it’s okay to not have dreams. That if you don’t have dreams, you must not be going anywhere with your life. Growing up, I always I told myself I wanted to direct movies, not because I actually cared to though. It was because everyone saw how obsessed I was with movies and how movies were made. So everyone forced the ideology of becoming a film director. When I got to college I realized I had no interest in it at all. I was just going with what everyone expected me to want my dream to be.

There’s a quote from the Disney movie Soul that goes, "I heard this story about a fish. He swims up to this older fish and says, 'I'm trying to find this thing they call the ocean.' 'The ocean?' says the older fish. 'That's what you're in right now.'"

It’s one of the best quotes in the movie (in my opinion) because it emphasizes Joe’s need to have a passion or “spark” to keep living. So in the movie, he has 22 (the other character) searching for their spark to which (spoiler) they never find. But that’s because life isn’t about dreams, passions, or sparks. You can’t base your entire life on one dream or make that your entire purpose. You miss out on opportunities and experiences when you do that. And in Thame’s case, his dream isn’t about winning anymore because with focusing on that, he and his group weren’t enjoying the ride. They were focused solely on winning this and winning that. Which is why Po wasn’t happy, he received every thing he originally wanted but like I said last week, your dreams don’t have to change because the journey to it does. You can still dream without making your life focus solely on that.

Dreams, at the end of the day, are a man made concept. One day someone decided that life equates to passions and dreams instead of living the life you see fit. If it’s the life you want, you have to take it, regardless of what society tells you “should be” your goals. Sometimes your goals are just to live your life day to day and not focus so hard on what’s next.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Always Take Care

Caregiver!Agatha Harkness x little!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: You and your mother never got along, but you're giving her one final chance after years of no contact.

Warnings: Parental neglect, emotional abuse, emotional distress, regression, mentions of past trauma, implied homophobia, emotional breakdown, hurt/comfort, fluffy/happy ending

Authors note: This came from a personal place, so if this hits anyone else as hard, I'm sorry, but also, you aren't alone. This was a request.

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

You and your mom had never seen eye to eye, but when she'd found out about you regressing, she'd flipped her lid. Throwing all your stuff onto the street. You'd gone off on your own for a few years before she contacted you again. 

You'd been in a relationship with Agatha for a year now. She was your girlfriend and caregiver. She'd accepted you right away, taking you in without a second thought. She nurtured and cared for you more in the first week of being together than your own mom had in the first eighteen years of your life.

When you mentioned to Agatha about your mom contacting you, wanting to reconnect, she was suspicious, to say the least, but let you make the decision. She knew how you were with such a big heart. You'd open up to Agatha about the things your mom did wrong, but in the same breath, you'd compliment something she'd done for you. Agatha knew better because of her own mom, of course, but she'd never bad mouth your mom without ever meeting the woman. 

"I'll be in the office while you two talk, but if I hear her say something, I'm coming out immediately and putting a stop to it." Agatha spoke in a stern but caring voice. Her hand cupped your cheek that you nuzzled into. 

"Of course, Mama!" You looked up at her with big doe eyes that made her smile. Kissing your forehead as the doorbell rang. 

"Go on. I'll be right in the office." Agatha said before sauntering off, and you answered the door. 

Your mom stood there, a scowl on her face, same as you remember. Her fake designer bag that you knew now that you'd seen the real thing with Agatha. You try to hug her, but she pushes past you.

"Is this actually your house?" She questions, looking around. 

"Well, it's my girlfriend's place, but I live here with her." You can almost hear your mom gag when you mention being with a girl. It makes you feel sick, like you've done something wrong.

When she gets to the living room, she stops dead in her tracks. She sees the toys you'd left out this morning. Some plushies, trucks, and dinos. All things your mom never let you play with. 

"Are you still on that…What was it?" There’s poison dripping from her words. You can feel your chest tighten. 

"Regressing and yes, mom. I do." You try to steady your voice, but it cracks a bit. The scoff that leaves her lips makes you feel like your blood runs cold. 

"Go on then. Go and regress. I thought maybe you'd finally grown up, but I see I was wrong, and I should have known you wouldn't change. You're just like your deadbeat father." Each word hits you like an arrow. You feel yourself regress before you can stop it. Feeling like that little kid she'd yell at for the smallest thing. 

You sniffle, looking at your feet, feeling so small and stupid to think she'd change. 

"Hey!" You hear Agatha's voice raise in a way you've never heard. Both your mom and you snap to attention. Your moms eyes widen just a bit when she sees Agatha. She's older than you, and it's obvious to your mom. She looks like she could be your mom. "You don't get to talk to my girlfriend like that, and you certainly don't get to come into our house and make jabs at our lifestyle choices that hurt no one." Agatha seethes, her heels clicking on the hardwood of the living room. She steps and sizes up your mom, standing more than a few inches taller even if she wasn't wearing heels. 

"Who are you to tell me how to raise my daughter?" Your mom spits back.

"Agatha Harkness. Your daughter is an adult. You barely raised her. I'm helping her heal. I only allowed this because she thought you'd change, but you haven't. You still just want to tear your own and only child down. A real mom wouldn't do that. A real mom would love their child unconditionally." Agatha didn't stop or back down. 

Your mom fumed, unable to respond properly before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door slams shut behind your mom, Agatha’s hands are on you—gentle but firm, steadying you before you can spiral any further.

"Alright, sweetheart," she murmurs, cupping your face with warm hands. "She’s gone. She’s never coming back. I promise you that."

Your breath hitches, body trembling as you try to process everything. The words, the way she looked at you like you were something broken. You don’t want to feel this way. You don’t want her to have any power over you.

Agatha knows. She always knows.

"Deep breaths for me, darling," she coaxes, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "There you go. Just focus on me. My voice, my touch."

Her thumbs trace soothing circles over your cheeks before she guides you toward the couch, settling you into her lap with ease. The warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her breathing—it anchors you.

"You’re safe," she reassures, tucking your head under her chin. "You’re my precious little one, and I won’t let anyone hurt you."

The words melt into you, each one a balm over the wounds your mom tried to reopen. Agatha rocks you gently, humming something soft, fingers carding through your hair.

"You are not weak," she continues, voice filled with quiet conviction. "You are not pathetic. You are my sweet, perfect little love, just as you are."

Tears well up in your eyes, the emotions too big, too overwhelming. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, and Agatha is already there, pressing soft kisses over your temple, your cheek, your nose.

"Shhh, I’ve got you," she whispers, pulling the softest blanket around you both. "I always will."

She lets you cry, lets you bury yourself in her warmth, in her scent, in the safety she wraps around you like armor.

When your sniffles quiet, she shifts just enough to meet your gaze. "Would some warm milk help, my love? Maybe a bath?"

You nod shyly, and she smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. "Good girl. We’ll do both, then."

She carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, murmuring soft praise the entire way. She sets you down only to start running a warm bath, adding lavender bubbles because she knows they’re your favorite.

As she undresses you with delicate fingers, she tuts softly. "My poor baby, all worked up over something that woman said," she sighs, brushing away a stray tear. "But she doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Not anymore. You have me. And I will always, always take care of you."

The bath is warm, soothing, and Agatha stays close, washing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes, rubbing your shoulders until all the tension drains away. When she lifts you out, she wraps you in the fluffiest towel, drying you with all the care in the world.

Then, she dresses you in soft pajamas—ones she picked out just for you, with pastel colors and little stars.

By the time she’s settled you back into her lap on the couch, a bottle of warm milk in hand, the weight of the day has faded into nothing.

"You’re mine, my sweet little one," she whispers, pressing one last kiss to your forehead as you nuzzle into her chest. "And I will never let anyone hurt you again."

Safe, warm, loved—you finally close your eyes, sinking into her embrace, knowing Agatha will always be there to keep you safe.

[spaceorphan18]

Any thoughts on Chris’s latest interview??

I assume you mean this one?

I have not watched it so.... let's live blog, shall we?

I appreciate that he got his hair to stand up on all sides. Looking good Chris ;)

Basics on Chris? I totally guessed his expertise would be related to the paranormal. I completely forgot about the British History love of his, so I'm so not surprised there.

I really was waiting with baited breath to hear if he'd say llamas were his least favorite animal, lol. (Oh god, a lot of you weren't around when he claimed he liked llamas because he said he was a social llama and ended up getting a room full of stuffed llams, lol)

Oh my god, off of Diet Coke? What even?? Also, guys. Don't kill me. Don't revoke my Chris fan card. While I'm glad that he went back into acting - I have no desire to see that film he just made. It sounds like... not my cup of tea. (sorry :( )

The 'who are you' quiz section was super cute. I do love that he gives us little bits into his daily live and world and something that has just not changed is his sharp wit. I have always been a fan of his humor.

Chris's high school experience - I mean he's talked about this a lot over the years. A lot. But the thing that sticks out is this evolution of being okay with it. When he was first on Glee - it was STILL a big trauma. Which makes sense because instead of going to college, Chris went straight from HS to Glee, and omg, what an insane thing to do.

The getting into Glee stuff is... stuff I've heard before. But always glad to hear him speak on it, and again, glad he's in such a better place in life that he can reflect without the being traumatized part. The stuff about his current auditioning is interesting. He admits he doesn't really anymore unless he really wants to... and I'm guessing not really much has come his way that he really wants to do. I have a feeling that he probably won't do a whole ton of acting moving forward, but you never know.

Chris talking about his coming out on Chelsea Handler, lol... I love that he can reflect about being 18, and how differently choices are made when you're that young. But I also love (and get, and my god sometimes still I remember why he's the only celebrity whom I've ever felt was actually a bit like me in thought process) the fact that he was like - I'm gonna try to do this once and never deal with it again. And have it, like, become a bigger ordeal than he could have ever imagined.

I love though, also, that his story is also being contextualized through a queer lens. And, I mean, I felt this way when he was talking with Kevin about their joint experiences -- I'm so, so glad Chris has these queer spaces to have these conversations, because there's a level of knowledge and awareness and perspective you don't get from straight media.

(He took his shoes off, how cute, lol. Also this interview knows, like, nothing about Glee. Fascinating.)

"I would rather be the unicorn in the room than the elephant." -CHRISTOPHER!!! This quote is fantastic.

Getting into the conversation of activism, and how queer culture and community was still very different back in 2009-10 then it is now. And I mean, it's come a long LONG way since I was in high school back in the 90s. We've come a long way in the past fifteen years, even if the asshats in charge are trying to push everyone back to the 50s (or really the 30s :P) Anyway, some great queer history embedded in this.

The conversation about fame being his protection back then is fascinating. Also, how he calls himself ugly (back then). Oh Christopher.

He talked to Shirley MacClaine about aliens. Because of course he did. I love him.

OOhhh, Chris loved every guest star except for one. Any guesses who? (Honestly - I have no idea. so this is a fascinating new tidbit. Perez Hilton? Lol - Chris didn't work him though.)

Also more interesting things to think about - Chris getting a lot of the spotlight early on created resentment. (I wonder if it was Lea... Hmmm.)

Mr - I'm never getting married - actually mentioned that at some point he and Will probably will get married. Don't know if that was kind of a deflection from this dude assuming or if he's changed his mind. But, I mean, c'mon, in any capacity we all know he and Will consider each other done and locked in for life, which Chris basically confirms. (Awww - I love Will.)

Oh god, talking about the tinhatters. Chris, thank fuck for finally talking about this more openly and explicitly. And guys, I told you. I TOLD YOU that this shit happened.

THE HAIR STORY! HE'S TELLING THE HAIR STORY! No, guys, this was almost like urban legend stuff, but yeah, there were rumored instances of people sending hair to Will (and to Mia) and he actually talks about this. Oh my god, I'm laughing (though my god this was not funny at the time)

Oh, god, he thinks there were 100,000 CCers. No. There weren't. That seems too high. The people who were actually crazy were a very, very small number -- who made an unfortunately huge impact.

Oh. God. Also. He is NOT talking about Darren when he talks about people who are still in the closet. He's just not.

Oh for the love of fuckery, this host is just... he had to take a college course to discover fanfiction? C'mon.

Ah, the awkward conversation of celebrities reading fanfic. I wish this conversation would be had with someone who understood it better. Honestly do not like this host's summation of it because -- not just as someone who reads and writes it, but as someone who understands it's influence on published writing and understands its relevance in women's circles, this is a much deeper conversation and this host makes it feel trivialized (because they don't understand it).

Also - I wonder what Chris read, great abs and about cats? lol.

STOP FUCKING CALLING ANY KIND OF QUEER FANFIC SLASH FIC. It's old school term. Now it's just... fanfic. You no longer need to qualify the fic by saying it's slash.

This host is... bugging me a bit. But that's my issue.

They're getting into the writer portion and as a writer myself I'm... honestly a little bored by this. The TLOS convo he's had a million times. He's also talked about his process a lot, which idk, maybe this is more interesting to non-writers but like, yeah, yup, i've been there done that.

Aww, Chris talking about his anxiety issues - I do always love hearing about this, because I feel like mental health issues don't get addressed in the way should.

Um, they end on a section called 'fight me' where Chris debates a position - and his is that only queer actors should play queer roles. I... think that's a nuanced question that deserves more than a 60 second watered down debate and I'm not going to touch it.

And.. yeah, that's what I have to say about that. It's nice to hear from Chris again, so glad he's so much more open about his life and experiences. If I'm being honest, though, I think I do kind of value the conversations more so when he has them with, say, Kevin and Jenna, because there's something more personal going on there.

But that's just me - someone who has followed Chris and his career for, my god, what sixteen years now? Yeah. :)

Hopefully that answers your question, Nonny! lol :)

[dichenlachmandaily]

Spoilers follow for Severance season two episode seven, “Chikhai Bardo.”

No, “Chikhai Bardo” isn’t a bottle episode. Instead, Severance gave us something even better: answers. Tragic but legitimate answers. The latest episode confirms Gemma (Dichen Lachman) is alive and being held against her will on one of Lumon’s severed floors, having gotten there, as we see through flashbacks, after being marked by one of the company’s doctors (Robby Benson) at a fertility clinic. The episode bounces around the highs and lows of Mark (Adam Scott) and Gemma’s relationship — their meet-cute at a university blood donation drive, their surprisingly enjoyable dinners with Devon and Ricken, her miscarriage — interspersed with scenes of Gemma’s captive life following a car crash implied to be staged by the company. Inside Lumon, Gemma’s life is overseen by a nurse (Sandra Bernhard), who marches her through a rotation of severed doors and into rooms where her various Innies are forced to endure scenarios with Benson’s doctor that range from the annoying to the traumatic.

When Gemma’s mad dash of an escape plan — knocking the doctor unconscious and briefly reembodying Ms. Casey on another severed floor — fails at episode’s end, she seemingly resigns herself to a prisoner’s existence without parole. Lachman believes her character still has hope of being released and reuniting with her husband when the experiment concludes. “But they’re always changing the rules of the game for her,” she says. “They just keep moving the goalposts.”

As someone of the belief that Gemma was brain-dead and living as a subconscious entity, it was lovely to see her alive despite the awful circumstances surrounding her existence. When I read season one, I had that theory too. I didn’t quite understand what was happening. I was like, Has her brain been affected and they’re trying to rebuild her?

Did you know Gemma would get her own stand-alone episode when you first started filming Severance? I definitely wasn’t aware in season one that this would happen. As the scripts for season two started coming in, I was like, Oh, okay. I’m not in this episode, and I’m not in the next one. Did I do something wrong? Then Dan Erickson talked me through how it was going to play out. It was really exciting. At the same time, I felt a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to let the fans down. This is obviously something they’ve been waiting for. I was really scared.

What scared you the most?Having to jump between lighter and darker moments, and the scope of it was so large. Knowing we’d have a very limited time to do it and then doing the flashbacks on film. I know Jessica Lee Gagné, the director, had always envisioned using film and it was her goal. When I started my career, we used to shoot on film all the time, but then digital became the preferred medium because it never ends and there’s more freedom. With film, there’s only so much; you could run out in the middle of a scene. You don’t want to make a mistake because it’s an actual, physical thing an image is getting printed onto.

The big connection we get this episode is when Lumon’s doctor spots Gemma at a fertility clinic before her car accident. His eyes linger on her for a beat, but Gemma and Mark don’t clock him in the waiting area. Oh, you got that?

Not the first time!I’m so glad.

Can you tell me a bit about how this scene was staged?Jessica has been integral to setting the tone and mood of Severance. She’s phenomenally talented and has such a unique eye, but she’s really good at doing things subtly. That scene had a lot of technical stuff. One of the great things about that moment is that even though the shots, framing, and camerawork are really technical — more than I’ve ever done in my entire life on any show — it always goes back to how they can keep it real and grounded among all of that chaos. There was a lot of stuff they had to do and capture so the audience could have that little moment, which is so subtle, so I’m impressed you picked up on it. I just remember focusing on what Gemma was feeling and us talking about the mood and temperament.

Given what we learn about this doctor throughout the episode, what did you infer about the motivations behind Gemma’s staged death? Did this man target her specifically because of a weird infatuation, or is a fertility clinic just an ideal location for Lumon to scope out potential subjects? That fertility clinic is a place where they have access to people’s biometric data. I suppose it’s the perfect place to zone in on a target. The whole world they live in is filled with Lumon employees, businesses, and stuff like that. I have my own fan theories, but I think what you said — a place where they’re getting people’s blood and their DNA — is probably the best theory.

The other person Gemma interacts with is Sandra Bernhard’s nurse. How would you define their relationship? Are there any sympathies there? In my mind, her nurse has been there for a while. Sandra brought an incredible warmth to that role, even in playing a captor. She brought almost a motherly feeling to it even though it’s still very cold, controlled, and oppressive down there. Maybe it’s just her eyes. Or maybe she was working on something with the character that I wasn’t aware of, but their dynamic is really interesting. I think she has compassion for Gemma. She’s just doing her job, but there’s a humanity to her.

Inside those rooms, Gemma’s Innies are forced to play out different scenarios: A dental patient getting work done, a passenger in a crashing airplane, and a wife at Christmas forced to write thank-you notes. The doctor inquired if Gemma felt “despair” after leaving any of them. How do you view what this experiment is trying to accomplish? I think it’s leaning into something that’s happening within our culture, which is that we don’t want to experience anything unpleasant. To some degree, I totally understand. In season one, you have the birthing center. That’s one of the most painful things you could experience in your whole life — I would know. What if you could delegate that experience to someone so you didn’t have to go through the pain? Even though, as a human being, there’s some ownership of that. Going through it and having a connection to the child is so beautiful. But we kind of want to get on a prescription of not having to suffer. If you think of it from a pharmaceutical point of view, it’s like, “We’re just taking it up a notch. You hate going to the dentist? We’ve got you. We’ll send somebody else, but you’ll still be going to the dentist.” Or having the fear of flying. I know Dan loathes writing thank-you notes — not because he’s ungrateful but because sometimes it’s so hard to figure out what to say to express your gratitude. I’ve done this before when I’ve worked on a movie: I’ve written 80 thank-you notes to all the crew members and they all start sounding the same. You lose your creativity, and you’re struggling to figure out a way to say “thank you” in a different way so that if someone reads someone else’s card, they’re not like, Oh, this isn’t personal. It says the same thing.

So you don’t view this technology as being strictly malicious in intent? Yeah. It could go further, of course. That’s the thing with technology: The intention is always to make someone’s life a little bit easier. Then it becomes integrated into our life. Everything is a double-edged sword. It’s our job as human beings to try and find the balance. We’re in a world where we have AI and robots. We’re creating a world where we don’t even need to exist, in a way. What’s really cool about the show is it gets people to ask themselves about their relationship to technology or their relationship to having contrast in their life. You don’t get to experience pleasure, joy, or something that tastes really amazing if you don’t get the sad moments, too. When you’re severed, you don’t have contrast. The weekend isn’t as good because you’re perpetually experiencing only the good things. Those good feelings just become feelings and are not special anymore.

You get one of the best lines of the season when Gemma is being examined by that doctor after visiting some of the rooms: “Can you please just talk like a normal person?” She’s saying what viewers are thinking, and it made me laugh.The whole language is a bit culty. They have their own way of communicating. The words they use are so bizarre. I tried reading that line in many different ways and played with intensity. It was stretching me as an artist. I’ve never had the opportunity to explore and collaborate as much as I did on this show. I could have said “Can you please just talk like a normal person?” 15 or 16 times, maybe more, and every time it would’ve been a little different.

Did you get the sense Gemma had tried to escape before? There’s this comment Mr. Drummond gives the doctor midway through the episode about how she once tried to break his fingers. It struck me as very fight-or-flight. Yes. I picked up on that same line when I was reading the script. Jessica and I talked about it a lot. I think every now and then, Gemma has been like, Screw it. I’m going to go for it. I don’t care if I have to hit him over the head or break his hand. Then there are days where she feels like it’s pointless, but then she’ll get pushed and pushed harder and she’ll try again. She’ll never be able to escape. Her tolerance level will go back to baseline, and it’ll build up and she’ll try again.

We’ve seen how people involved in the severance program can be driven to madness; Helly tries to kill herself in the first season. Where does Gemma find the strength to continue on in this prison of a life? Based on the scenes she has with the doctor just before she hits him over the head, I feel like there’s been some promises made: “Oh, you just have to do this and that”; “Look, it’s for your own good”; “Now you just have to get through this.”

How many takes did you get to whack Robby with a chair? Was it oddly satisfying?You know what? That’s something we didn’t do as many times as some of the other scenes. It wasn’t too complicated. Robby is such an amazing person. He was lying on the floor for hours, just so dedicated to this role he was playing. The man is a machine. I felt really bad. I’m like, “Oh, Robby, I’m sorry.” It was just about getting the chair at the right angle so that we could sell it, because obviously I couldn’t hit him over the head.

At one point, Gemma directly asks the doctor what will happen when her Innie “sees all of the rooms.” What do you think will happen?Gemma thinks that when she’s done, she’ll get out of there and be free. That’s what she wants. Ultimately, toward the end, she resigns herself to being there. When she comes out of the elevator, knowing her escape plan didn’t work, she feels so broken. Well, that’s it. I’m never going to get out of here. That’s why she has to be picked up off the floor by Sandra’s character. In my head, when she’s tried to escape previously, she’s probably fought them all on the way out. Like, What am I doing back here? But when she falls to the floor into a puddle, calling Mark’s name, it’s just like, I can’t anymore. There’s nothing else I can do.

You previously portrayed a multiverse-programmed character in Dollhouse, which shares a few creative parallels to Severance. Your work in Altered Carbon also explored how consciousness can be “resleeved” into different bodies. What makes you excel at portraying so many distinctive personas in one human? Maybe I willed it into my life because I love exploring these concepts, I love science fiction, and I absolutely feel like it’s somewhere where my creativity thrives. I feel so blessed that I’ve gotten to do it in different eras. Altered Carbon is hundreds of years in the future, where severance technology has completely changed the way people live and given them the ability to live forever. Dollhouse is more contemporary. Severance is this timeless era. It’s quite strange and weird.

[avifaunaa]

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ] [ pt. 5 ]

Authors Note: forgive me for how late this is. It wasn’t intentional and I had meant to get it out sooner. But I’m running on caffeine, bitterness of my breakup, and whatever’s left of the chemicals my ADHD meds gave me before i ran out so . . . 🧍🏻‍♀️

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has found you and it is time to bring you home. The Black Lotus as a threat has been eliminated but her employer has not — which leaves more of a mess to clean up later. But that could wait . . . Natasha did not think she could bare to part from you for a moment.

Content Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional turmoil, aftermath of torture, medical treatment [ r!recieving ], Rio makes an appearance then dips, early symptoms of PTSD [ r ], cuddling, injuries, anxiety attacks, outward expressions of reassurance, love, and safety [ Nat —> R ], Natasha has some sort of mental disassociation about coffee when it’s actually about almost losing R.

Word Count: TBA, but shorter than the others. Sorry fellas.

5 . . . 4

“She’s crashing!”

“Blood type is —“

“We need to restart her heart!”

1 . . . 2

Electricity jolting through you and echoing into your ribcage, reaching the organ that pumps life giving blood into your veins.

“I will debrief when my partner isn’t lying on the table bleeding out!”

3 . . .

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

Something warm envelops you and you knew nothing but the radiating heat within whatever surrounded you. You did not feel as though you were within your own body anymore, but a spectator to what was being done to save your life.

It changes someone when, you decide, when they have to see their own body lay prone upon the surgery table split open and stitched back together, blood soaking into surgical gloves as wires and tubes kept you somewhat alive.

It was ironic in a way — watching yourself get a blood transfer as you bled almost as quickly as they gave back.

No wonder you were near death. Death?

A feminine form joins you at your side with a ghostly silence, arms folded in front of themselves. They wore a ragged dark green hood that went with silky emerald robes, brushing the floor of the surgical room but didn’t seem to collect dirt or mess.

Waves of cold floated from her and yet — yet you had this primal urge to stay very still.

Like prey attempting to keep itself hidden form a narrow-sighted predator in the brush.

“You’re lucky,” the being finally said, voice echoing in the room. No attention was brought to either of you by your team of nurses and surgeons who worked around you. One of your monitors wailed.

“I think I see myself about to die,” you retort, but it’s sort of an accepted stance on the matter. What can you do? You’re in no state to stop them.

“No,” mused the feminine voice, laughter cold and brutal in the bitterness echoing its edges. “No, you’re about to live. Yet another that I am unable to reclaim.” A pause. “Perhaps it is just not your time.”

“Who can know?” you asked, unflinching as one of the nurses throws another blood soaked rag into the growing pile. “I suppose only gods and celestials.”

“Oh, sweet thing. Not even they know until it is their time.” A chill crept up the back of your neck, the hairs standing up. You turned, expecting to find the being there, but they were now by your head at the surgery table. “But I do.”

“What are you?” you asked as they slowly crossed the threshold of the surgery room in a way that was inhuman. 

“Guess. I’ll give you three.” They were more amused by the entire situation than they were annoyed, apparently. She started humming a soft tune as she circled the doctors and nurses surrounding your body.

You watched them further and tried to think, but the tune of their humming was like a throbbing to your soul.

‘nothing satisfies but your soul.’

‘well I am Death, and none can excel.’

You began to open your mouth, but even doing so had resulted in nothing of value.

They did look up at you, though, like they heard whatever you had wanted to say and allowed a smile to curl at their lips, finger going to their lips.

They lifted a dagger and pressed the tip delicately against your forehead as one of the nurses brushed a hand over the spot at the same time.

When you finally managed to catch a glimpse of their face, all you saw was a skull.

You feel so heavy, brain foggy and mouth full of cotton. But you were waking, you think. Or perhaps dying was like waking from the worst nap ever imaginable.

There was an annoying beeping somewhere on your left side that was nagging at your brain. You wanted it to stop — did Natasha forget to turn the alarm off when she woke up early? You’d kill her for it.

But trying to reach your arm up was met with no success. You could hardly find energy to wiggle your fingers even though you threw effort into it.

Then warmth danced across the back of your hand and the sound of screeching on floor. A chair, maybe. Yes.

“Oh, my love.” Natasha, your lovely Natasha. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Open your eyes? That was a simple ask for one such as you, the great apprentice of Tony Stark. Yet as you made the attempt, you were sure your eyelids were glued shut and were met with a sting when you blinked them open slowly.

It hurt — oh everything hurt. The light was much to bright and blinded you instantly, the edges of your retinas felt like they burned, and the watering that begun was like boiling water.

“You’re doing great, just keep trying,” Natasha coaxed gently, stroking your hair with a heavier hand than you’d like.

“Lights,” you moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning your face toward the darker section of the room.

“Okay, yeah. They’re not on a bright setting but if you need them off, yeah.” You heard her scrambling and moving around the room, and the pressure on your head lightened after a few seconds.

“Try now?” she murmured from farther away.

You slowly turned your head back and hesitated. You were in so much pain already — why did she insist on adding to it?

Still you made the attempt, blinking slowly open until you saw only the lights coming from outside of the window and cracked door outside of your room. It was considerably less harsh and you didn’t feel like vomiting as much.

“Gnarly.”

Natasha let out a large breath she had apparently been holding. “Gnarly,” she repeated as she retraced her steps back to you.

“I think I died.”

“If you did, sweetheart, I’m glad you didn’t stay dead,” your girlfriend said with conviction. Your hand was scooped into both of hers as she sat back into the chair at your side and pressed her lips against your palm. “So glad.”

“There was a skeleton woman there.”

Natasha releases a shocked, watery laugh. She squeezed your hand so tight you were sure she was doing it for herself rather than for you. “Oh yeah? Was she hot at least?”

You tried to shuffle through your memory of being around your own body, of the cold woman who had you wanting to run away. But that was a fading moment of time and it was fading fast. You hardly even seemed to remember that it was a memory at all.

“I don’t know. Probably not as hot as you,” you decided to respond, eyes hazily flicking to her face. Natasha was crying, lips still pressed to your skin, hair in the messiest updo you’ve ever seen the perfectionist don.

When she didn’t give you anything else in words, you used your free hand to try and get some movement back. Wiggled your fingers and dug them into the hospital grade blanket covering your body, feeling again.

Wetness collected on the back of your hand and you blinked. “You’re leaking on me.”

She sniffled loudly and moved her head up, turning to wipe her nose on her upper arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It was a joke, but at least you leaked on both of us now.”

Natasha didn’t laugh, so you stopped trying to create more humor. A high pitched, one beep signal from the machinery alerted you both to glance over.

“It’s just the automatic dispensary of your painkillers. It’s fine.” She set your hand down and started wiping at her face. You wished she wouldn’t — Natasha was the only thing keeping you believe you were truly alive right now and not in some purgatory hell.

“You almost died.”

You blinked sleepily at her. Her jaw was clenched tight and her knuckles were so white with how she clenched her fists together, chin resting on them.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp. Because what else can you say? You wouldn’t do it again? You’ll do better?

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Natasha whispers, “I want — I need you to get out of this. You were almost gone, you couldn’t even . . .”

It’s a fickle thing, the brain. It’ll do what it has to do to protect itself and the host — the body — and in doing so may create a lapse of memory, a struggle to recall certain things of importance.

And then those things may crop up later in life and cause a whole shit ton of trouble.

You don’t remember much of what happened — you remembered the woman, the dark room, feeling cold and tired. You don’t remember Nat finding you, or anything beyond some hushed voices of the woman as she spoke to you during your captivity.

In the end wouldn’t that be the better result? Your trauma would be limited even if the damage done to your body told an entirely different, more profound story that you couldn’t remember and maybe wanted to make the decision not to.

Whatever had happened to you — you knew it was severe. You knew it paid a hefty price from your entire being. But the look on Natasha’s face and the blacked out corners of your memory that are just as unreachable as your body is broken, it tells a story of its own and you never want to read it again.

“I’m going to get through this,” you vowed in the quietest voice. Your throat still hurt, and your tongue was dry. “We both are. You and I. Me and you.”

“I haven’t tried a new flavor in weeks,” the redhead confessed, leaning closer until she lay half down in your lap. Exposed and vulnerable, yet she allowed it here and now. “Losing you destroyed what it meant to try and be kind to myself, to step outside of a box that contains my comforts and my knows. I couldn’t risk getting hurt if I didn’t try at all.”

You lifted a weak hand, covered in IV’s and monitors, then dropped it non-gracefully into her hair and stroked.

“Are we . . . Talking about coffee? Right now?”

Natasha leaned into your hand, the weight of it, as though begging for it to never leave.

You obliged and kept the pressure, adding to it as you carded your sore fingers through the tresses of hair that were loose enough in the bun she had. You were tempted to undo it entirely, but your fingers may not work well enough and you were growing sleepier by the second with the release of medication.

“I didn’t sleep well without you, and I cancelled the reservation to that Thai place you’d been begging me to try. I couldn’t do it without you,” she blurted out. You paused, fingers dug into her scalp.

“Did you get your money back from the short notice seating?”

“No,” Natasha said dully, and you sighed. “I forgot about it until the night of and they texted the reminder of the time.”

“I always tell you to put reminders on top of reminders in your calendar.”

Natasha whines in response.

“Natasha,” you slurred out, determined to stay awake long enough despite the drugs clawing at your nervous system, “this isn’t about any of that, is it?”

“No, Mayshka,” she whispered so softly you nearly asked her to repeat herself, “I find that I can’t — I can’t do anything new or scary without you by my side. I am one of the most powerful spies in the world and I have defeated likes bigger than most will ever have to face.” A pause, and you wanted so terribly to reach your entire body down and curl over her, “But before you I did not feel human nor did I think I had the need to. I knew what I knew and had what I had. You unravel the worst of me and find that scared part of Natasha that I’ve tried so long to bury away and make her apart of me again. And without you I’m not entirely sure how I can manage it. Because you make me brave. You make me feel again.”

“No,” you murmured, putting enough pressure down so she was forced to lift her head and meet her gaze. “Nat, you met me because you were doing those things. Getting out of your comfort zone, and trying to unravel what you think is the worst of you. Don’t you get it? You were already doing it.”

“With one thing — at one place.” Her chin rested on your clavicle and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You did what Clint and Steve couldn’t quicker, easier — and all of it . . .”

“I love you,” you said, cutting her off effectively. She didn’t need to have a spiral right now — because that’s what this was turning into and Natasha needed to understand that your role in her life was not changing because of this. “I love you and we’re making it out, do you hear me? If your fear is that I’ll walk away then you can let that go right now.”

She stared at you, blinking the tears down even though some escaped. “I love you too, but sweetheart none of what you said after that was legible.”

It didn’t matter, you were out.

Doctor Cho was a woman of terrifying excellence and extraordinary character. You had never met her in person beforehand — a fact you proudly wore like a pin due to your incredible safety standards in the lab.

But once you started becoming more alert over the next few days, you managed to stay awake long enough for you to meet her at her daily check-ins.

This time your babysitter was Tony. You almost vomited your breakfast on him when he came to relieve Natasha so she could get some rest and TLC at the Compound. You would never protest her actually agreeing to go and take care of herself, but Tony, as deeply as you adored him as your boss and the man you’ve come to see as a friend, would not stop talking.

He had brought one of his miniature holographs and had removed your bedside table, “Oh sure, I was entirely done with my food, Tony,” you said as he wheeled it to the end of your bed, food still half eaten and fork still lifted in the air and in your hand.

He placed the gadget on the table and began fiddling with the settings before pulling up blueprints.

Specifically, your blueprints. Of the project you’d been so busy with for the last two years that it had taken its own team to continue progress on.

These looked different than your designs however, and the math was not correct in the corner of your work.

“Tony,” you started, patience ebbing by the second, “did you steal my project?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his eyebrows shooting into his slicked up hairline as he crossed his arms and glared at you, “I was bored one evening —“

“— you don’t get bored —“

“ — and I found your project. And I should have, I admit, placed more interest in it with how often you helped me with my arts and crafts.” He rubbed his goatee, then snapped his fingers and started playing around with the holographic designs now activated. “I figured out why your prototypes weren’t working out.”

“Oh, gee,” you said glumly. “What did I miss?”

“It’s not that you missed anything, my young apprentice.” He started zooming into one of the corners of the blueprint. “Do you check your work?”

“Multiple times. Daily.”

“Are you sure?”

You squinted at him. “Yes.”

“Wonderful to hear, because you didn’t on this occasion of this design.” He pulled up the mathematics and pointed to your work. “It’s one of your first ones, and I think you’ve been grazing over it instead of going back to it.”

You trailed your eyes over each mathematical equation, and when you saw the mistake you made you groaned loudly. “Fuck.”

“Not a problem!” Tony replied cheerfully. “I fixed the math, thus fixing your big issue of not producing the right product. When you return to work, there will be the correct blueprints and a 3D printer ready to create a prototype.”

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” you said, again glumly. “Natasha has informed me that my return to any sort of work is forbidden until Cho signs off on it. Strictly.”

Tony rubbed his goatee again, contemplating. “I can perhaps talk her into allowing you to work from home?”

“That may actually be great. I fear I may go insane if I have nothing to do for six weeks outside of my physical therapy and checkups.”

“Bah.” Tony waved his hand at you as he turned off the hologram and pocketed it, flopping down on the visitors chair next to your bed. “You’ll be right as rain under Cho’s careful guidance.”

“You’d know?” you needled, quirking a brow at him.

He shrugged. “Avengers get hurt.”

You fell asleep sometime into his visit, waking up to Natasha having replaced him once more. She had scooted the chair next to the bed closer than Tony had had it and was reading through some paperwork. She wore a green jacket and her hair was done in a braid down her shoulder.

“Wow, I may go blind from just how pretty you are.”

Natasha let the page in between her fingers drift back down as she looked up and rolled her eyes, ensuring you saw such action. “And I may just cry from how low hanging fruit that was. Even for you. No, especially for you.”

“Leave her alone,” a deeply accented voice drawled from your left, startling you a greater deal than you expected, “she’s likely maintained some brain damage after Stark’s prattling today.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Just Yelena, unfortunately,” Natasha corrected, throwing the paperwork on top of her bag next to the chair as she leaned over to fix your wires after they nearly ripped from your skin.

The blonde in question was leaning against the windowsill, nearly shadowed out from the dipping sunlight and staring at you with a smirk on her face. “Oops.”

“Oops,” you mocked, Russian accent pronounced.

“Twist the IV, Nat,” Yelena says without looking away from you, “make it hurt.”

“Don’t you have some American politicians to terrorize or something?”

“Ha.” Her nose wrinkled in amusement as she pushed herself off and walked closer to you before collapsing at the end of your feet.

“Yelena,” Natasha scolded, though it went ignored. “Get off the bed.”

“Yeah, get off the bed.” You stared at her as Natasha flicked your wrist. “Ow.”

“You’re encouraging her. Enough. Both of you. I need you in almost an entire piece if we want to get you home, and that means Yelena shouldn’t be riling you up,” your girlfriend expressed, shooting daggered glares at the younger of the two.

Who proceeded to throw her hands up like she did nothing wrong in the slightest. “I am entertainment. For funnies.”

“You’re loads of funnies,” you agreed, smile rising up on your face. Natasha grabbed your chin and turned you to her. “And you’re so pretty.”

“She’s dosed,” Natasha concluded, releasing your chin after you leaned in for a kiss. “That’s why she’s entertaining you right now.”

Yelena seemed to find this aspect to be incredibly enticing, and she started trying to ask you questions about weird things like Kate’s favorite bar, and where she liked to go on dates, and —

“Yelena.” Natasha’s tone was sharp. “Stay and turn on the television, and watch it, or leave. I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious.” Yelena frowned at the redhead but skulked over to the free chair, away from you, and requested you turn on the TV.

The three of you watched the television in silence for about thirty minutes when Yelena asked you, “Did you tell them anything about Natasha?”

Natasha was silent, but you could have sworn you heard her inhale a sharp breath from your right.

“I don’t remember a lot,” you admitted to the blonde, finding the courage to look her in the eye. You found an intensity there of a sort — not angry or cold, but curious and questioning. “But I remember that I never said a word about Nat. I refused at every turn.”

Yelena flexes her fingers behind her head, then turned her gaze back to the television and was seemingly satisfied with that answer.

Natasha, however, was not.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you give her what she wanted, if it could have saved your life?”

“Well, I signed an NDA,” you started casually, glancing over to gauge her reaction. When she didn’t give you the response you sought, you close your eyes. “Natasha, why the fuck would I give you up? Explain to me in simple terms, like I’m stupid.”

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence,” she quietly answered, in that dangerous tone you knew from her. “But if she asked you for something — it could have —“

“She was going to kill me anyway,” you said. “She even said she wanted to do it sooner. But my torture — as it was — was prolonged so that you’d have a better chance at getting to me. Seeing the damage. Reacting to it.”

“She wanted to do it sooner,” Natasha echoed, cold.

“She mentioned an employer. I don’t remember much of that conversation,” you said with guilt seeping into your tone, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Natasha enveloped your hand in hers and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Don’t be sorry. Nothing you went through is your fault, or worth and apology from your end.”

“Maybe not,” you agreed, still unconvinced. “That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for what I couldn’t stop her from doing.”

“That’s my line,” Natasha scolded, shaking her head. “But you’re sweet.”

“Get a room,” Yelena muttered good-naturedly.

“We’re . . . We’re in my room.”

“I never asked,” you said tiredly once you got out of the hospital. “Did the cats . . . They’re okay?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Natasha said as she drove you home, hand on your thigh, or your hand, or leg. Touching you was more common than it had been before you were taken and tortured. She couldn’t seem to let herself let you go. “They both managed to hide under the bed — though Sam got his hands mangled when he tried to grab them.”

“Oh no.” You smiled a little. “We should write him a card.”

“I think that would piss him off more, honestly.”

Natasha and r will return in part six

PART SIX

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 8

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 7

Joel froze. He didn’t say anything back to Tommy. You were weirded out by the silence, so you turned around and gave Tommy a beaming smile yourself, asking him what you could get for him.

“Oh, I’m just here to get the coffee that changed my brother’s mind about fancy coffee. He seemed content with crappy coffee all his life until he had yours,” Tommy smirked at Joel, whose face had now turned bright red.

“Oh, you must be Sarah and Ellie’s Uncle Tommy! It’s nice to finally meet you! They talk about you all the time!” you held out your hand for him to shake, and he took it, kissing the tips of your fingers gently as he confirmed his identity. You didn’t see Joel’s jaw clench watching his brother easily flirt with you.

“Let me just get your order. You Millers must have an iron stomach! Six shots of espressos are no light feat!”

You turned around and immediately began preparing his order, completely unaware of the silent argument going on between the two siblings. Joel keyed in the price of an americano with the extra espresso shots, holding the reader out aggressively, stopping just before it hit the younger man squarely in the nose for him to pay.

“It’s okay, Joel, it’s on the house. Maybe he can wipe tables for a few hours,” you joked.

“Nah, he has places to be, he’s a busy guy, right Tommy?” Joel widened his eyes at his brother, though his stiff body posture visibly softened at your gentle tone.

“Actually, I could use a change of pace. Sure, I can wipe tables, you got a rag?” Tommy’s smirk widened as his brother’s face turned an oddly darker shade of beet. Joel tossed a rag to his face, signalling for him to move aside so he could serve the next customer.

“Best leave them to it,” Bill’s voice chimed in, “Not enough space in the truck for all of us,” he said, pulling a chair and sitting down himself, gesturing for Tommy to sit with him.

Tommy took a sip of the coffee you handed to him as soon as he sat down. He offered Bill a hand to shake, “Tommy, I’m Joel’s brother,” he said.

“I know who you are, I know who your brother is. Seen you on that show,” Bill grumbled. “You guys do a good job,” he said, “Been doing DIY all my life. You know what you’re talking about.”

“I hope so,” Tommy said, eyes watching Joel smile more than he ever had outside of his family time. “Learnt everything we know from our old man. Sure wish he was still around to see us, you know? We grew up lacking, he worked so hard for us, and I think our biggest regret, both mine and Joel’s, is that our parents didn’t live long enough to enjoy our success,” Tommy held his head down, fingers fiddling with the strap on his watch.

Bill nodded, eye softening a bit hearing Tommy talk about his late Papa.

The two chatted a bit, Bill learning how Tommy and Joel knew you, and Tommy learning a little bit about your family. The man was not as much of a grump as he seemed to be, Tommy found, actually reminded him of Joel a lot. It was clear how much Bill loved you, cared about you.

After a while, the two stopped chatting, eyes fixed on the truck, both you and Joel working seamlessly together. Tommy felt as if he was watching some sort of a TV show where the hero resembled his older brother, except this guy was smiling way too much.

“Is Lily seeing anyone?” he chanced a question at Bill.

Bill glared at him for a second, as if deciding if the question was intrusive, but ultimately deciding it wasn’t, seeing where the man was coming from. He had been wondering about this Joel guy since he appeared this morning, clocking his shy body language whenever you were near him. And as for you, there was something he saw in your smile when you saw him that morning. Being in the service industry, you had a smile at the ready, one you used for everyone, a generic smile you turned on effortlessly. But your real smile, you saved for a select few people in your life. The one you gave this Joel guy was definitely the second one. More so, in fact. Extremely genuine, but you didn’t hug the man or kiss him hello. You were usually very physical with people you deemed your friends. So the fact that you served this man your genuine smile, but refrained from touching him told him something.

“Who are you asking for?” Bill asked Tommy instead of answering.

Tommy laughed, “Just curious, is all,” he deflected, still watching his brother laugh with you in the truck, glancing at Bill, who was also watching the scene unfold. “Known that guy all my life, never seen him smile and laugh like that with anyone who is not his immediate family,” he told Bill, who raised an eyebrow at him.

The guy from the next truck came by, talked to you about something, and you beckoned to your uncle, who hurried over to see you. Joel came out, his own coffee cup in his hands, sitting down himself.

“You know, this is good coffee,” Tommy seemingly conceded, taking another sip from his cup. Joel nodded, couldn’t help himself from agreeing with his brother, eyes closing once more at the warm, bitter, sweet liquid warming his insides.

“But it’s strange,” Tommy continued, “It’s good, but I didn’t close my eyes as if my world was put right again after a sip. I’m wondering if it’s not the coffee… but the person who brewed it instead,” he finished, his eyes twinkling.

Joel’s head snapped around, checking if you heard Tommy’s accusation. But try as he might to retort, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. He could feel his cheeks turn red as his younger brother’s grin got wider and wider.

“Oh man, I’m right, aren’t I?” he smacked his brother in the shoulder. “What are you waiting for? Ask her out!”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, Tommy. She’s the girls’ friend. I can’t risk ruining their friendships.”

“The way the girls kept talking about her at the cabin? I think they know. And what’s more, I know they approve.”

Joel hung his head, hands playing with his cup. He looked at the truck, seeing you and your uncle arrange the order that Tony’s brother put in. He had volunteered to help, but the order was urgent, so Bill would do a faster job, seeing as he was a lot more used to helping compared to him. The guy could actually use the machine and make fancy coffee with you.

“It’s not about that, Tommy. I’m not ready for that kind of thing. I don’t know if I even have it in me anymore. You want me to reel some unlucky lady into a relationship when I don’t know if I can do that? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s just cruel.”

Tommy wanted to say more but decided not to. He didn’t want to push Joel into anything like this, knowing his aversion to having a romantic relationship. He had tried. Oh Lord, how he tried. But Joel was a stubborn man. And perhaps, his love for Laura was too great, maybe he was afraid of losing again. Tommy had no idea what it was like to lose a wife, to become a single dad at 22, heck, he didn’t even know Laura that well. He was in the army when Joel met Laura. He met her maybe five times, but it was clear to him that Joel was besotted with her. And when she died, it was as if his ability to love another woman, aside from their Mama and Sarah, and later Ellie, died with her. Joel refused to even talk about her. It hurt too much, perhaps. Maybe Laura was the great love in his life and he would spend his life mourning her. And everyone around him just had to make peace with that.

But then, what he saw this past week, and especially this morning, made him think there was hope yet for his brother. His girls definitely were hoping he would find someone. Both of them seemed to make their life plans around him, not wanting him to be alone. And what Ellie kept insisting happened over the two weeks before Sarah came home was not her imagination after all. He had only seen Joel with you for a little over an hour, and already, his big brother was the happy man he knew before his wife passed. More so, in fact. He seemed light, relaxed, happy.

His Mama used to voice her worries for Joel before she passed. Joel was quiet after Laura. He had an inkling that his Mama knew more than she let on, but she never told him anything. She was so worried he would just end up alone forever, and the last thing she wanted was for her oldest boy to be lonely. And then there was Sarah, she worried for her, wanting her to grow up with a female presence in her life other than a grandmother. But any time either of them suggested a set up or him going out more to meet new women, they were either met with silence, straight out rejection, or in Tommy’s case, hostility.

Tommy knew he was not one to talk. He hadn’t exactly had a serious relationship in years. He realized that he and Maria were a new development, but now that he’d met her, he also knew that he didn’t want to even imagine a life without her in it. And he wanted his brother to have that too.

But how could he help Joel, when the man himself didn’t want to be helped?

A couple of weeks went by, and before they knew it, the meetings for the shoots over the next season had begun. The new episodes shot over the past year was edited and ready to go for airing, and Joel found himself dragging his feet to get to work. The prospect of another year of this, as determined as he may be that it was the final one, was too much to bear for him. Another year of long work hours, another year of being away from his girls. The idea that he would have to be away from home more than he would have liked hurt him.

Sarah was home, loving her internship so much she came home every single day with stories to tell. Ellie finished her summer course, enjoying the last couple of weeks of her summer holiday. He was positively sulking at the idea that he might need to leave the house before he could send Ellie to school and come back home after the girls were asleep, missing Sarah’s stories and Ellie’s homework time. Given how busy his schedule would be, he might even be away on weekends, so movie nights with the girls and Tommy might be a thing they had to forego for a while too. Even the thought of what was coming made his heart feel heavy.

But what weighed his heart down even further was the fact that Ellie would no longer be attending the classes at the rec centre. There would be no excuse for him to see you in the mornings. For the coffee, obviously. He had no idea how he was going to go back to bad coffee on set when he had been indulging in that luxurious cup he had been having for the past few weeks.

Of course, the idea that he wouldn’t be seeing you every day for the next year was something he wasn’t looking forward to either, but that was neither here nor there, surely?

He had learnt more about you from your time together, seamlessly chatting whenever the truck had a breather from customers. You even taught him to make his own espresso shots. He actually managed to make a simple latte and an americano for a couple of customers when you went to get something from Tony. But for his special cup of coffee, his payment for helping you out in the mornings, you had always indulged him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He stayed once Ellie came out of class, wiping tables, joking around with you and Ellie, only going home when you close for the day. Heck, he had the free time, and spending time with Ellie as she earned her first cheques was something he wouldn’t miss. Ellie got quite good at making coffee, despite hating the stuff. She even managed a decent cup of cappuccino a few times, complete with the foamy art thing at the top. He couldn’t get the look of happiness that graced his little girl’s face every time she succeeded, and the proud smile and hug you gave her stayed in his head.

He couldn’t deny the influence you had on his girls. He knew Ellie spoke to you about things she didn’t dare tell him, private stuff, perhaps, and watching her interact with you brought warmth to his heart. He watched as you braided Ellie’s hair in one of those stick to the head braid things, the one he had attempted for years with Sarah but could never get neat enough, when she complained the bits that was not tied in her ponytail kept getting in her face. He was so tempted to take a picture, you sitting in the truck doorway, Ellie between your legs on the steps, smiling and laughing with each other as Ellie told you something that happened in class that day, but if someone knew what a big deal it was to have someone snap a picture of them without consent, it was him. So he didn’t. But the sight was so domestic, so intimate, he wished he had done so. Ellie’s own mother ditched her as if she was yesterday’s garbage and knowing that Ellie had you to turn to made him feel better. Even Sarah wouldn’t shut up about you, even though her time spent with you were now limited to weekends, texting and phone calls. Like Ellie, she had taken to telling you stuff she wouldn’t share with Joel as well, and the fact that you never told him anything showed him they were right to have chosen to tell you in the first place.

He liked you. He knew that. There were days when he was lying in bed looking at your phone number, daring himself to text you. But he didn’t know what to say. Laura was the only woman he had ever allowed himself to be that close to, and his relationship with Laura was… different.

But God, he wished he could find the courage to text you.  

Yesterday, on Ellie’s last day of work, Joel watched as you presented her with her final cheque, giving her a tight hug after, telling her to come over in the evenings if she decided to volunteer at the centre. Though the teenager had plans to do exactly that, Joel could still see she was sad that she wouldn’t be spending so much time with you. She took a selfie with you, silly faces for the photo, you pointing at the cheque in Ellie’s hand with a huge grin on your face.

Then, you turned to him and gave him a brief hug, thanking him for helping you out, telling him not to be a stranger.

Maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a glint of sadness in your eyes.

How he wished he had the courage to get a selfie with you too, but given how the two of you met, he didn’t even dare ask.

And he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss your company.  

“Okay, so there is a list of celebrities who had already expressed interest in the charity episodes, more than we need, actually, but those who we couldn’t fit in this season could always be on standby for next season,” Jimmy, one of the co-producers told the team, shuffling a bunch of papers on his desk, passing the list around.

“Next season?” Joel asked, “Didn’t Angela speak to you?”

Jimmy looked at Joel, confusion in his face. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not renewing. This is my final run.”

There were murmurs of confusion going around the room.

Jimmy looked flabbergasted. Tommy kept his head down, but didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Jimmy managed to blurt out, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it then. Moving on…”

“Angela, why hasn’t the team been informed about this being my final year?” Joel barked as he walked into Angela’s office, Tommy following behind.

Angela rolled her eyes, “Are we really back here?” she asked, her arms crossed on her chest as the brothers stood in front of her desk.

“I wasn’t kidding. I am not renewing. I was very clear about this.”

Angela opened her desk drawer, taking two envelopes out, depositing one in front of each brother. “Have a look, gentlemen, and tell me you want to decline that offer,” she said, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Tommy picked up the envelope and took out the new contract, shuffling the pages for a bit before settling on one page, letting a whistle escape his lips, his expression impressed. Joel didn’t even look at his envelope.

“They tripled our pay,” Tommy said. Joel still didn’t budge.

“Tell me I didn’t do you justice. Haven’t I always taken care of you two?” Angela cooed.

“I don’t care about the money. I am done. I’m not signing,” Joel reiterated, turning around to leave.

“Tommy, knock some sense into your brother here, please. Imagine what you can do with that kind of money!” Angela told Tommy, exasperated at Joel’s stubbornness.

Tommy didn’t speak. He closed up the contract and placed it back in the envelope. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head a little before letting the envelope fall on her desk.

“I’m not renewing either.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, his head snapping around to face his brother.

“What?” Angela gasped, her face now devoid of any colour, despite the layers of make-up on it.

“I’m with Joel. I’m not renewing. I’m done. One more year and then I stop,” Tommy cooly replied, hands in his pockets.

“If the amount is not enough…”

“It’s not about the money, Angela. We’re just… done.”

Tommy turned around and joined his brother, asking him if he was interested in having a drink at his place, which Joel happily accepted.

They spent the evening drinking by Tommy’s pool, taking advantage of the final couple of weeks of vacation time they had, Joel letting loose for the first time in a long time. He felt free. Tommy wanted to retire too. One less person to fight over this decision he had made. Their phones were blaring with texts and missed calls from the agent, so much so, they had to set her tone to silent.

“So, you and Maria…?” he tried.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah…” he wiped his face with his hand, happiness written all over his features. “She’s great, Joel. She makes me happy.”

“Angela knows?”

“Fuck no. She’s gonna make it a thing. Publicity, all that. I’m not putting Maria through all that. And you know what she’s like, she’ll whip up an NDA before I finish telling her about it.”

Joel shook his head, annoyance clear across his features.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at that, pouring another shot of whiskey for the both of them.

“You two… uh… still…?” he tentatively asked, worried Joel might not be drunk enough to share.

“Nah, stopped that like… a couple months before i officially adopted Ellie?”

“Can I ask why?”

“She’s changed,” Joel said, sipping his whiskey, taking the fuzzy slippers Tommy gave him to wear in the backyard off, lying down fully on the pool chair. “You remember what she was like when we first met her?”

Tommy nodded. Of course he remembered. Angela, the sweet, fresh faced, innocent young girl who just landed a job at the agency. The two of them were among her first few clients. They were more friends than agent/clients back then, all of them starting out, still learning the business.

Somewhere along the way though, she changed. Obsessed with money, even going so far as marrying someone she didn’t love just because he was rich. The man was a known playboy, notorious for openly having a new young girl in his arms on a weekly basis. As she got older, she began to worry his interest was waning, so she took it upon herself to look younger, keep his interests alive, all in the name of living a luxurious life. It was no secret she didn’t love him, only his money. She had lovers on the side for herself, not that her husband ever cared. He stayed with her because of her Hollywood connections, good for business, you know?  

Unfortunately for her, the man matured, fell in love for real, retired, and divorced her for the love of his life. And because of the prenup she signed, she didn’t get much in the divorce. She herself had become successful by then, so she went back to her single life, with plenty of money and a list of men she could call should she ever get… lonely.

She and Joel were friends for a long time, with benefits, of course. But he was always the man he was now, someone who refused to commit. The arrangement lasted until she got married, and resumed for a bit after she got divorced, only to stop completely when Ellie came into the picture. Joel didn’t like the way she tried to influence his decisions on Ellie, realizing that his formerly kind friend had changed. Everything became a question of image, and of course, money.

Joel just couldn’t find it in himself to ever be involved with someone like her. If not for the contract he signed, he would have said goodbye to her the moment she suggested having Ellie in his life was going to ruin his image. But now, he had one year left of this contract. He was not renewing, and Tommy was by his side. He had to stick with this for one more year, and then he’ll be free of her.

“What are you gonna do when the year is up?” Tommy asked.

“Ellie still has to finish school, after that, we’ll see,” Joel shrugged, giving Tommy his glass for a top up.

“Don’t punch me, but… will Lily be part of that life?” he smirked at his brother.

To his shock, his brother smiled, so widely, and blushed.

Oh, the drinks had gotten to him, Tommy thought.

Joel closed his eyes, laid his head back on the chair, a silly grin on his face, looking just the way Tommy imagined he himself did when the revelation about Maria came forth.

“God I hope so,” Joel heard himself say.

Shit. Stop talking.

“I like her, Tommy, I really do.”

Fuck, what the fuck was wrong with him? Stop talking!

“She’s so sweet, and kind, and funny, and smart, and she’s so nice to the girls, they love her, and she makes the best coffee in the world!” he exclaimed, gesturing to show how big the world was with his arms, spilling whiskey on himself.

Fuck it felt good to finally say it out loud.

Fuck, did he say it out loud?

He sat up, Tommy grinning at him like that cat from that book. Was it a cat?

“Maybe I should stop drinking, huh?” he feebly said.

“Fuck, no! I want to hear this!” Tommy teased, taking the glass from his brother and giving him water instead. “So we were right, you do like her?”

Joel hid his face in his hands, nodding.

“So tell her! What are you waiting for?”

Joel took his hands off his face, frowning a little.

“I don’t think she likes me like that,” he pouted, lying back down, arms over his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Joel sat back up, looking a bit forlorn now.

“She hates celebrities. We’ve been mean to her all her life. One stole her boyfriend. And I yelled at her. I fucking yelled at her, Tommy!”

Tommy wanted to laugh. When was the last time Joel was this relaxed? But this was the most he had ever gotten out of his brother, and he wasn’t going to let such an opportunity pass by.

“Well, maybe when you retire, you could ask her out. Technically, you wouldn’t be a celebrity anymore then, right?”

Joel’s eyes went wide, “Yeah, you’re right! I could ask her out then! I need to text her and tell her,” he slurred, fishing his phone out of his pocket, squinting a little at the screen when the brightness hit his eyes, deciding then he shouldn’t text you right away.

“Okay, let’s call Sarah huh? Have her pick you up? You’re in no shape to drive.”

“It’s just down the street, Tommy. I’ll be fine. I’ll walk.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you can walk a straight line to the bathroom, brother, let alone to your place. It’s a very long street.”

Joel laughed, standing up, swaying slightly. He downed the bottle of water Tommy gave him, going to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face, smiling to himself. He felt lighter. He may have been loopy, but he knew he was telling Tommy the truth. He liked you. and it felt good to finally say it out loud.

“Hey Joel,” Tommy called out as he struggled to put his boots back on, “I want you and the girls to meet Maria.”

Joel nodded, happy to see his brother happy.

“Friday night? That sushi place?”

“It’s a date,” Joel said, squinting his eyes a little as Sarah’s headlights shone in his eyes. Ellie came out and went into the back seat, waving at Tommy as she did so.

“Hey, since it’s a date,” Tommy said, walking to the car with his brother, “Why don’t you ask Lily to join us?” He bent down to Sarah’s open window, “What do you think, girls? Do you think we should invite Lily to join us for dinner with Maria?”

The squeals the girls let out made Joel’s efforts to bend himself into the mini much more difficult, but his heart was soaring at the idea that his girls were that excited at the prospect of having you join them for dinner.

As he laid in bed that night, hoping to God his first hangover in years wouldn’t be too harsh, he took a deep breath and held his phone in his hands, the texting app at the ready. Might as well do it now while liquid courage was still in his system.

You placed the recycling in the bin, running a little as you went back to your apartment. The summer heat was still very much evident, even at night time, and you couldn’t wait to get back in the comfort of your AC. You were fishing for your keys in your pocket when Lucy tapped you on your shoulder, a meek smile on her face, a sponge cake in her outstretched hands.

“I need to apologize,” she said, a cringe accompanying the apology.

You felt bad for her, so you beckoned her inside, even cutting her a slice of the cake.

“I want to say sorry,” she began, “That day, I was hungover, I had a terrible first date the night before, and seeing Joel here…” she sighed, shame across her features.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, really… if you’re worried I would say anything, I…”

Lucy held her hand up, “No, Lily, I was rude to you. And I’m pretty sure I said some really bad stuff about him too. I just… I feel like I need to set the story straight.”

You nodded, letting her go on.

“See, I think I made him sound like some jerk or something. He really isn’t, Lily, there’s a reason I’m so bitter, after all,” she said, head hung a little, ashamed of herself.

“He’s a great guy. I dare even say that he’s the most gentlemanly man I have ever met. So polite, so gentle, so considerate. Compared to his brother, who, by all means was a great guy himself, Joel was just… on a different level, you know? I crushed hard on him. Everything I just said about him is true, and he’s good looking, humble, and a great dad to his kid to boot? Oh, I was in love with him before he even knew my name!”

You smiled, knowing that she was right. Joel was a great dad. You’ve seen him with his kids, they clearly loved each other a lot. And aside from his tantrums at the beginning, you knew him to be a great guy too. Everything she said about him was true.

“And the thing I said about his… bedroom… skills…” she added, carefully choosing her words, “I think his… lacking… was more due to the fact that he didn’t want intimacy, rather than his lack of a gift or talent, if you know what I mean…” she narrowed her eyes at you, head going down a little, as if trying to get you to read her mind.

Your head lowered with hers, face scrunched up, confused by her words.

“He’s packing, honey. Very much so,” Lucy blurted out.

Oh. Oh…

“So, he didn’t really need to try that hard, if you get my meaning,” she added, rather conspiratorially.

Uh… sure, whatever you say dear.

“So, when he reconfirmed the fact that he didn’t want more, I was heartbroken. He was perfect, he was actually a great guy, back then, at least. And he didn’t want me and couldn’t have made it clearer. I think if he tried to make it any clearer, he would have seriously injured himself. I couldn’t stay there and see him every day. It’s like being a diabetic in a candy store, and the shop owner wouldn’t let you buy any,” she sulked a little at her own words, making you snort.

She saw the way you were refraining from laughing and laughed herself. You burst into laughter, Lucy laughing harder than you at herself.

“So, I came to ‘warn’ you because I was jealous. I didn’t mean any of it,” she said, looking genuinely sorry for putting you in that position. “There’s a reason all his ‘exes’ are still on good terms with him, you know. He’s a great guy. Just… emotionally stunted, is all. And they all handled the NDA thing much better than I ever did,” she continued, taking another bite of the sponge cake.

“What about the NDA?” you couldn’t help asking. For someone who didn’t really bother with the gossip columns growing up, you were really curious.

“Ah,” she said, taking another slice of cake. “See, as I understand it, at least, the way it was explained to me before we, you know… had that experience in his office, he only made sure the NDAs go to people who were not deemed his ‘serious romantic partners’. Only his ‘friends with benefits’ receive them. And so far, most of those he slept with were given one, so when his agent gave me one, I knew right away that I was never ever going to be ‘the one’ for him,” she explained, taking another bite of the cake. “Damn, this cake is good.”

“Most? Did he ever not give anyone one?” you heard yourself ask, almost slapping yourself for even asking. Why did you need to know? You’re not interested, right?

Lucy nodded frantically, and you felt your heart drop further and further down every time her head dropped down. “One lady contractor, she was in that show on TLC a while back? Tess, I think? Yeah, Tess. They were seen together a lot, and there were rumours that they were an item. From what I heard, she didn’t have to sign one. They broke up when she moved to Texas.”

Okay, you shouldn’t listen to this anymore. So you changed the subject, asking her where she got the cake instead.

Before she left, she turned around and took you by the hand, making you promise her that you wouldn’t use her words back then against Joel. You gave her a disbelieving laugh, “Honey, I’m not with Joel. He’s a friend.”

“Okay, uhuh… sure… cause we all look at our friends the way you guys looked at each other that morning,” she smirked.

“Lucy, there was no look, I was just thanking him for helping me out,” you insisted, feeling your face and neck get hotter as you did.

“Lily, honey,” she said, “I may be a delusional, inconsiderate, untalented bitch who made you suffer through my horrendous singing at one point, and I was definitely hungover that morning, but I’m not blind. If Joel Miller had looked at you the way he would a friend that morning, I would not have come barging in here trying to make him seem like a limp-dicked, selfish man whore,” her eye brows were raised so high, her lips in a mocking pout at you, her hands rubbing your arms soothingly, as if she was sorry you were too thick to understand what was going on that morning.

With that, she took your face in her hands, pinched your cheeks and bid you goodnight.

You laid in bed unable to sleep, wondering what the hell to do with the information Lucy just gave you. You could not deny what she said back then did give you pause about Joel.

Sure, you liked him. He’s nice. Funny, even, when no one else was looking.

And okay, if you squint, he may even pass as okay looking.

Oh, who the fuck were you kidding? He’s totally hot. So hot you found yourself feeling hot all over every time he looked at you. Like all the heat in your veins just pooled under the outermost layer of your skin. Not to mention the way your heart skipped a beat every time he smiled at you. It’s a wonder you hadn’t toppled over from cardiac arrest at this point.

You looked for him in the morning crowd, and that week he was away…

Your fingers itched to text him. You willed Ellie to send you pictures with him in it. You stared at that photo she sent you of herself, Sarah and Joel with sushi in their mouths. Even at his silliest, he looked dashing. You found out rather early that googling his pictures was pointless, he didn’t smile in any of them, always with that frown on his face. You watched YouTube videos of him from that show, but he didn’t smile there either. You missed his smile when he was away. You kept rereading the text he sent you asking you to teach him how to brew coffee, the only texts between the two of you, aside from the ‘hi’ he sent when he first got your number.

When you said goodbye to Ellie yesterday, you meant it when you said she could still contact you. She’s been telling you things, whenever Joel was out of the truck. Texting you at night and even calling you with Sarah to talk to you about more private stuff. You didn’t mind, of course, but on one such call, he knocked on Ellie’s door and told her she should go to sleep, it’s late, and you heard him say goodnight to her and Sarah.

You couldn’t stop imagining what he was like at home that night, in a more domestic setting. What was he wearing? Did he look as good as he did outside?

After hugging Ellie goodbye, you took a chance and hugged him goodbye too, heart heavy at the thought of not seeing him around as much. You made the mistake of taking a whiff of his shirt as you did.

Fuck, he smelled great. And now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not that you ever managed to since he started hanging out at the truck.

If what Lucy said back then made you pause on being closer to him, that conversation you just had with her didn’t help either. You could not get him out of your mind. And that comment about his… physique…

Your phone chimed, making you jump.

Joel Miller: Hej

Your heart soared. He texted you. He actually texted you.

Okay, stay cool. Relax. He couldn’t see you.

You: Hei. What are you, Swedish now?

Joel Miller: I might be a bot drink.

You: You don’t say? How can I help you, Mr Miller?

Joel Miller: Yuo frre Frrday?

You: Uh… I’m gonna guess you’re asking if I’m free Friday? I’m working. Why?

Joel Miller: Sorry, fst fingers. Froday night. You free Friday night?

You: I should be.

Joel Miller: Call I kill you?

Joel Miller: Walt. Np.

Joel Miller: No.

Joel Miller calling.

“Hello?” you had to refrain from laughing.

“My fingers are too big to text.”

“I can see that.”

He chuckled. You could hear the slow, lazy drag in his laugh.

Oh yeah, he’s drunk alright.

“I was trying to ask if you would be free for dinner. Friday. With me. The girls, Tommy, and his new girlfriend.”

His voice was so calm, slow, relaxed, every word drawn out. God it made you feel things.

“You sure you want me there? Sounds like a family thing. I don’t want to intrude…”

“You’re not. Please? The girls would really love it if you joined us.”

I would too. Please say yes.  

You were quiet. He lifted his phone off his ear, checking to see of you were still online. You were.

“Hello? You still there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… are you asking me this cause you’re drunk?”

“No,” he slurred, chuckling. “I’m really asking. I’ll ask you again tomorrow, if you don’t believe me,” he promised.

“Okay, ask me tomorrow.”

“But if I do, would you say yes?”

“We’ll see, Mr Miller.”

“Okay,” he said, unable to control the grin on his face. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Good night Lily, please say yes.”

“Night Joel.”

Part 9

[bwat5-blog]

A Look At The "Nothing Character" Who Broke Our Hearts: Isha

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I must say, there was a time not so long ago that if someone were to tell me there was a whole tag devoted to the hatred of a cute, tenacious, brave little girl character who died tragically trying to emulate her hero, I would have found the idea completely insane. However, since becoming a part of our little community....

Before we get into this a bit let me say, I am not formally educated in writing/literature/creative story telling or any of that. So what I discuss and list will as usual be the research I could find on my own with sources provided. I know for a fact through some of my interactions on here there are some very educated people in this area, so if any of you see this and care enough, please chime in! I'd love to learn more.

What Is The Complaint?:

"Isha isn't a real character!"

"Isha did nothing except get blown up!"

"Why was this kid even in the show?"

"Isha's only purpose was to give Jinx a reason to be happy then take it away!"

You get the idea. Overall people seem to hate the character because they feel she really wasn't one. They see her as being more of a singular plot device with no real information or depth given and not having any real purpose. While it is true we don't learn a ton about her, I completely disagree as to the worth and impact of her character on the story. In doing some digging, I came across the following term:

Catalyst Character-

Per Reference.com: "A catalyst character, also known as a catalytic character, is the character in a story who causes the protagonist, or main character, to move toward some kind of action or transformation. This character is usually the person that spends the most quality and influential time with the protagonist."

Okay, rather or not you agree or think it matters I'd hope at the least that that explanation is fairly clear. So moving forward, why do I think this applied to Isha? Because she is in all aspects a MASSIVE agent of change in the narrative. I understand not liking her. That is totally individual. But to imply she didn't matter is complete and utter nonsense.

The Ventilation Chamber Battle:

The brawl between Vi and Jinx has come to a head. Vi sits atop Jinx with one gauntlet around Jinx's throat and the other poised to kill her. Jinx is telling her to do it... she's glad that Vi is the one who is going to end her. When out of nowhere Isha leaps between them pointing a gun at Vi. '

Concrete Impact:

Stops the fight cold

Jinx immediately screams no betraying her actual fear for Vi's safety

Snaps Vi out of the fight where it appears she was quite possibly pulling back her hand to finish the fight

Isha's presence is what makes Vi get in front of Caitlyn's rifle leading to their separation and what occurs for them afterward.

Jinx clearly is "seeing" Vi again for the first time when Vi leaps to stop Caitlyn

2. Life With Jinx:

We return to Jinx after the time skip. It turns she has been living quietly in hiding with Isha since the battle. She is staying out of the bloodshed, focusing on her relationship caring for the young girl. She seems more at peace than we have seen her the entire series, even declaring "Jinx is dead" when Sevika comes to demand she get involved.

Concrete Impact:

It's strange to say for something I list under concrete but just the obvious and clear effect she has on Jinx herself. We see it expressed in many ways, such as Jinx saying Isha reminds her of Powder, Jinx saying she doesn't want to screw up what she has with Isha when in Silco's office, and so on. I feel like we could do an entire analysis post on Isha's effect on Jinx mental/emotional state but that is for another time.

The fact that Isha is masquerading as Jinx during the occupation is HUGE. We have to remember, Jinx is not actually getting involved at all before the events of the rally. The people of Zaun have made her their symbol because of what she did, and because Piltover has made Jinx their symbol of why they are doing what they are doing.

It is only because Isha went to the rally and got arrested that Jinx rejoins the fight.

3. Jinx Comes To Stillwater:

Isha has been arrested along with a large group of Zaunites during the rally. Sevika limps back to the hideout and tells Jinx who is immediately extremely upset. We see her seriously glitching in full for the first time since the time skip. She and Sevika mount a rescue mission, and because of Isha. Jinx rejoins the game since the occupation began.

Concrete Impact:

Without Isha being taken Jinx doesn't get involved which quite literally changes the trajectory of the entire story. Meeting Vander again and everything that stems from that would be impacted which quite literally could effect every character in the story. It is too much to list or "what if".

4. Reuniting The Family:

In the wake of meeting Vander and rescuing Isha, Jinx goes and finds Vi in the fighting pits, telling her what she has found and together with Isha they set off on a journey to find him. Leading to the all-too-short reunification of their family, with their newest member of course.

Concrete Impact:

Of course to state the obvious, they wouldn't be here if it were not for any of the things we have already been over.

When Jinx and Vi start to fighting, once again it is Isha's involvement that stops it cold.

Seeing Jinx's care for Isha is what helps Vi start to see her sister in a new light.

It is Isha's bleeding from getting whacked that draws Vander to them. Vi immediately leaps to save her life and Jinx can see the Vi she knows is still there as well. Also being thrown into Vander's path like that leads to his regaining control and the scene we see above.

5. The Commune:

After their family is reunited Vi, Jinx and Isha take Vander to the commune to meet with Viktor. Hoping his healing gifts can save their father. Of course, it all ends in soul rending tragedy with Vander losing control and Isha sacrificing herself to save her new family during a Noxian attack.

Concrete Impact:

Isha brings Jinx's gun. Without the gun the plan to save Vander could have gone a hundred different ways.

Isha pocketed those stones. If she hadn't done so once again it is impossible to list all the ways that incident could have changed in the end.

The impact on the story from Isha's sacrifice is so far beyond "making Jinx sad" it is mind-boggling. It stops the attack in its tracks. Without Vi getting injured saving Jinx from the explosion, Caitlyn and Jinx may have never found even that microscopic bit of common ground between them we see. There is so much more and that is to say nothing of the impact on Jinx mentally/emotionally

Conclusion:

So again this is not a true deep dive or anything. And I do understand the complaint that we really don't ever learn a ton about her. But I absolutely do not understand or agree with the complaint that she is meaningless/unimportant/inconsequential to the story. Her actions and presence drive a massive amount of change in the course of season two, and without her it very likely could have all ended quite differently. To close, below is an English translation of Isha's farewell posted to reddit for you to enjoy. (I have no way of knowing if it is accurate so if not forgive me).

Child, don’t fear the thorns; walk barefoot, And you’ll find something precious. Look at this darkened sky; see how beautiful the fireworks are. There’s no need for so much sorrow. People flourish and wither, But even stubborn rocks and debris will bloom.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Don’t keep searching; Just give me a hug. Let’s quietly forget, For this is good enough for me.

[currentlysleepingus]

Part 2? Of my previous post

The G.I.W.'s influence in Amity Park is almost.....cult like. They teach them to think a certain way and make those who object disappear. What of this started in full force when jazz was in elementary school. She has seen teenagers who objected and spoke up leave the town in body bags if they were lucky. Movements and advancements stopped because of what they G.I.W might do to them if they were found out. The teens leave for college and get taken to facilities for testing while the ones who were more public were turned into crazy people who were in kahoots with the ghosts.

Amity is the most haunted town in the US are you telling me that ghosts didn't exist before the portal. No, they existed just to a lesser scale. Curses and beings lurked everywhere, and the people were fine with that. They lived in content and almost harmony with that. I want to imagine that the town used to produce non humans, and witches and wizards back in the like 1600s or something. I want to imagine that magic is outlawed in Amity. That talk of people like that and to think positively of ghosts and the undead is forbidden. What if Sam's parents don't want her to be goth because some of the Salem witch trails happened there. Because the G.I.W treats those who seem to be connected to witch's and the like far worse, but they couldn't say because the town was under constant servailance.

Anyway, jazz was determined to actually leave the town and start a life, ahead just needed to fake her death and hide her body because the G.I.W are not above keeping amities corpses. The cemetery is empty. She could get a false one, but that'll take too much time. She needs to get in contact with someone from the outside and get a good relationship so they'll notice when she goes missing. That way, she can come back with people and bring Danny.

Anyway Amity park is backwards with ideals out of date so a lot of amities youth think things that are perfectly normal and there is absolutely nothing wrong with are horrible because they were indoctrinated into thinking so. They were raised on it when they were younger because the G.I.W is basically a cult. The town is unter its influence

I'm not bringing religion into it but just make it close to it.

I want danny to feel bad about liking tim. I want tim to reassure him and show him that it is fine. I want gothamites hearing stories about Amity from the kids and immediately getting to work undoing all of the bad stuff that they were taught and making them feel accepted. I want them to show them movements and history, and basically, the teens are discovering themselves while being free for the first time. They aren't being constantly watched and are safe(r) during the siege on Gotham.

I want hurt with comfort. I want tim being furious and calling Wally. I want Wally telling YJ, I want clockwork to drop ghosts and ellie and Dan in Gotham.

I want Dan reformed because that man had been through enough already. He is grieving and in a town like that and spiraling until he ripped out his humanity, tell me he doesn't deserve redemption. Anyway elle meets konnor and they are now best friends slash siblings because danny sees him gets a sticker, writes his logo on it, walks over to him, and puts it over his chest and says" your a Fenton or nightingale now"

Point is everyone is aware of Amity and the anit-ecto acts and does their best to help. The gothamites don't need help with the siege, though, nor do they allow it. It's personal now.

I want Dan to befriend waylon( killer croc) and help him. I want him to go ballistic on the G.I.W. agents who dares enter. I want temporary mayham, I want chaos. I want the villians to help purely because they are the only ones who are allowed to destroy and torture Gotham and her people. The joker and that pig guy stay in arkum, though. So do the other ones like them.

I want jazz changing her plan when she realizes that the youngsters are actually planning on leaving during one of her visits. She left that town as soon as possible but didn't want to leave Danny. Danny thought she was abandoning him, so he didn't talk to her at graduation. He knows that people who leave town don't come back. Tucker, however, does not and made her a private phone as a gift so she can talk to Danny and them. He makes Danny one as well.

Jazz speaks to Danny almost every day when he starts returning her calls. So when danny started to tell her their plan, she was all for it. She came back and acted like she was visiting before pursuing a different degree.

[redgoldsparks]

February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up :)

The Baker and The Bard by Fern Haught

A sweet, slight fantasy story focused on friendship. A baker and her friend, an aspiring bard, go on a little adventure into the forest looking for a specific type of mushroom. On the way they encounter some misunderstood magical creatures, a nonbinary fey, and only the smallest amounts of danger and conflict. The gentleness of the story makes it appropriate for, and I believe aimed at, a fairly young audience, definitely middle grade or early reader rather than YA. 

I Shall Never Fall in Love by Hari Conner 

This is a witty, well-written queer romance set in the mid-1800s, England. The story borrows heavily from Emma while still feeling like its own fresh tale, especially because of the inclusion of characters of color, queer characters, and a gender-nonconforming love interest. I was rooting for Eleanor and George all the way; both rooting for them to get together and also rooting for them to find the space to know themselves and express that authentically around the people they love! The art in this book is stunning, with beautiful colors, and so much thoughtful historical research went into the design of the houses, costumes, and world of these characters. Highly recommend, especially if you're a Jane Austen fan. 

Conversations with People Who Hate Me written and read by Dylan Marron 

I picked this book up after loving Dylan Marron's podcast The Redemption of Jar Jar Binks, a 6 episode miniseries that I find myself thinking about all the time. Unfortunately, I do think having listened to that already dented my experience of this book, because I already knew a chunk of the story from the podcast which made listening to the book feel a bit repetitive. However! I still finished and overall enjoyed Conversations with People Who Hate Me, which is about Marron's podcast of the same name, in which he called up folks who had left hateful comments on his youtube videos or facebook and just had a conversation with them. What prompted them to leave a hateful comment? What kind of values impacted how they saw the world? Might they change their mind if they had more evidence? Did they ever expect Dylan Marron to actually see their comment? (The answer to this last was almost always "no.") This is an interesting political moment to think about this project of deliberate, compassionate connection, and Marron is thoughtful about the privilege that allowed him the emotional bandwidth to pursue it.

You and Me, On Repeat by Mary Shyne

Time loop fans, rejoice! Mary Shyne has crafted a clever, gorgeous treasure box of a story. Part coming-of-age, part romance, part sci-fi, all heart. I was drawn in from the very first page, hooked with the stylish art and the intriguing premise. I fell so hard for Chris and Alicia and all of the stupidly teenage and deeply human choices that lead them into a pocket dimension of space-time. Who hasn't wanted a redo option on one of the most important days of their life? What would you do if trapped in a time loop of your high school graduation day? I left the book rooting for these two! I had the pleasure of reading this book early :) It's available for preorder now, or grab it from a bookstore in May 2025! 

You Are a Sacred Place: Visual Poems for Living in Climate Crisis by Madeleine Jubilee Saito

Saito reached a hand into some of my very own darkest climate crisis-induced depressive thoughts and drew me gently back into the light. We are all part of this natural world, and we are meant to be here, and it is good that we are here. Those things can be hard to remember sometimes, but these delicate comics underline their truth. I also got to read this early - It comes out March 25, 2025, so you can reorder it now or find it in bookstores soon.

Hey Mary! by Andrew Wheeler and Rye Hickman

Saints and stories come to vivid life in this compassionate story of a young man learning to balance his sexuality and his faith. For any readers out there trying to find space in their Catholicism for their queerness, I hope this book can light the way. Another one I got to read ahead of it's release! It's out on April 15, so you can preorder or book for it in bookstores and libraries soon.

Akane-Banashi vol 1 by Yuki Suenaga, illustrated by Takamasa Moue translated by Stephan Paul

As a child, Akane watched her father fail out of a program dedicated to training rakugo, traditional Japanese storytellers. Now in high school, she is pursuing the same career under the same teacher. This book has a lot of familiar series-set up elements- a rival older student, a series of fellow trainees, a reluctant mentor- but unfortunate didn't deeply capture me. I'm unsure if I'll continue on with this series.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 4 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

THIS SERIES IS SO FREAKING CUTE! I love how it's diving into some of complicated and logistical realities of being queer in Japan. I also love how supportive the friend group is. Yuri fans you need to pick this up! 

Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino 

Adina is born in 1977 to a human mother on Earth; but she is not totally of this world. Some part of her is also an alien, attuned to a planet with a collective consciousness, far away in the stars. Through a lonely childhood in Philadelphia, Adina faxes notes and observations on human life to her far away family. She grows up as the child of a single, working class mother, with few friends, but a fierce commitment to live as her own singular self. I really enjoyed the light-handed prose, the short slice-of-life chapters, and the insightful look at what it feels like to grow up an outsider. Adina reminded me of myself; she reminded me of many of my other oddball, queer, trans, or asexual friends who have always felt out of step with the lives of those around us. It reminded me, yet again, that there is perhaps nothing more human than feeling like an alien among one's peers. 

The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull read by Janina Edwards and Ron Butler 

Set on St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands, this debut sci-fi novel wrestles with some big and weighty concepts. We are introduced to two families, neighbors, with their own interwoven concerns: a married couple struggling with relationship, a woman questioning her sexuality, a teen questioning her faith, a man yearning for more ambitious career and travel options in middle age. Then an alien ship arrives above the island and the book jumps forward 5 years in time to show how a powerful controlling presence has impacted the lives of everyone on the island. The Ynaa offered advanced medicines and technology to humans in exchange for staying for a time to do an unspecified type of research. But the co-existence is not peaceful: the Ynaa lash out with extreme violence over minor provocations. This tense situation cannot last. There was much to enjoy in this novel, and the audiobook was very well read by two narrators. I did think the final act suffered from some pacing issues, and a second time jump near the end worked much less well for me than the big time jump near the beginning. It was interesting to read this after having read Turnbull's second novel No Gods, No Masters which contains similar themes but with a much more complex story structure and much larger cast. 

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All vol 2 by Sumiko Arai

I'm obsessed with these little rock-n-roll lesbians. This series gives me some similar vibes as Nana except sweeter, sillier, and hopefully heading in a much less tragic direction! The art is to die for, I spent so long just looking at every page in awe. Makes me want to draw more comics!

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo and Me by Ellen Forney

This comic has been on my TBR for a decade and I'm so glad I finally picked it up! Forney's cartooning is so clear, articulate and accessible; it really opened up a window for me into the experience of being bipolar. I loved the many creative visual metaphors, the inclusion of sketchbook pages, and the self-compassionate tone. I can see what this book set such an early high standard in the genre of comics memoirs! 

Lone Women by Victor Lavalle read by Joniece Abbott-Pratt

In the opening scene, Adelaide Henry is spreading gasoline through the rooms of her childhood home in a farming valley in California in 1915, and over the bodies of her murdered parents. She leaves California with a rucksack and a steamer trunk, bound for Montana, where a woman alone can claim a plot of land. If she lives on it for at least three years and establishes a farm, she'll become the owner of the parcel. But can she really survive the harsh coming winter, the white supremacy of the nearby town, and the deadly family curse she's carrying? I really enjoyed the audiobook of this novel, but found myself pondering whether or not I felt like it fit into the horror genre, which is the primary genre tag on goodreads. Can a horror book have a happy ending? Is it horror is I don't feel like the narrative voice is trying to horrify me, rather show how marginalized woman can survive, even against extreme odds, by banding together? If I was shelving it I'd more likely to put this in historical fiction. 

The Deep by Rivers Solomon, read by Daveed Diggs 

Yetu is the historian for her underwater society, a group of deep sea merfolk who live in the depths of the Atlantic. She carries all of the memories, beautiful and painful, of their ancestors- pregnant women tossed overboard from ships during the years of slave trading. It is a great honor and a terrible burden to carry these memories, and Yetu thinks it might kill her to carry them alone. When an opportunity comes to leave the memories and her people behind, Yetu takes it. But who is she without her past and her people? I listened to this 4 hour novella on audio and enjoyed it a lot of a mythical alternate history. 

The Hundred Years War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi

"His Majesty's government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine..." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1917, statement made on behalf of the British cabinet (page 24)

"For in Palestine we do not propose even to go through the form of consulting the wishes of the present inhabitants of the country... The Four Great Powers are committed to Zionism." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1919, confidential memo to the British cabinet (page 37)

"'If you wish to colonize a land in which people are already living," [Ze'ev] Jabotinsky wrote in 1925, "you must find a garrison for the land, or find a benefactor who will provide a garrison on your behalf... Zionism is a colonizing venture, and therefore, it stands or falls on the question of armed forces.'" (page 51)

"In a cover letter to [President Woodrow] Wilson, the commissioners presciently warned that 'if the American government decided to support the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, they are committing the American people to the use of force in that area, since only by force can a Jewish state in Palestine be established or maintained.' The commission thereby accurately predicted the course of the subsequent century." (page 51-52)

This is an extremely well written, clear, concise book. The author draws extensively from primary source documents going back to 1895. His grandparents, his parents, and his immediate family lived through many of the events he outlines; he personally knew Yassar 'Arafat, long time leader of the PLO; he was an advisor to the negotiations between Israel and the PLO which began in Madrid in 1991 and ran (unsuccessfully) into 1993; he lived in Beirut through weeks of Israel bombardment in 1982; he and his father worked for the United Nations in the 1960s and sat through Security Council meetings on the Arab-Israeli conflict, including a meeting in which an intentional US political delay allowed Israel to make a preemptive attack on Syria. These personal anecdotes enliven what is overall a very grim history of broken treaties, broken promises, and conflict. I pulled the quotes because I want to be able to return to them later, to remind myself how clear it has been since the beginning that Britain and the US considered the Palestinian people necessary and acceptable sacrifices. 

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

"What are you thinking about?"

Oh. You know. Just the parallels between Asakura and Andos, seeing Shin again after years and seeing how much he's grown.

Asakura seeing Shin after 11 years. Ando seeing Shin again after 13.

Except that Asakura was the one to raise Shin. He feed him. He changed his diapers. He saw Shin taking his first steps. He taught him how to speak. He was there when Shin lost his baby teeth. He ordered cartons of juice to the lab because Shin liked juice to his meals. He brought him to bed. He was there when Shin had nightmares as a kid. He gave him toys. He played with him. He took Shin to the bathroom after throwing up and made sure he's okay. He feels regret at accidentally making Shins life more difficult. He feels regret at not handling the ESP good enough and making Shin leave together with the other scientists. He regrets Shins feelings getting hurt. (And not looking for him probably, we don't know how the scientists immediately reacted to Shins dissapearance.)

Non of this for Ando. He put Shin in a dangerous place right after his birth, and although he got him out of there again, it doesn't seem like he's actually regretting putting him there in the first place. He just decided he actually doesn't want Shin in Al Kamaar. He doesn't what food Shin likes or doesn't like. He doesn't know any of his interests. He doesn't know what routines Shin had as a child to fall asleep, or what he needed when he couldn't sleep. He never got him a silly pyjama with a hat (TT)! At no point did he express regret in trying to kill Shin even. At no point did he express regret leaving Shin. At most he regrets saving Shin, at least partly, because it caused him to be hunted by the JAA.

Also. Asakura watches Shin walk ahead from behind. And recognizes how much his skills developed. Meanwhile Ando is holding onto Shin, almost as if he owns Shin.

Additionally: Despite (possibly) not looking for Shin, it's clear that he was thinking about him all the time. He asks Lu after "Shin the esper" so he must have at least kept his ears open for information about him, enough to know that Shin has a small reputation. (Even though he was probably sad to here that he became a hitman.) The next thing he asks IF Shin has grown taller. Not realizing that he's taller only when seeing him, but asking Shins friend already if he did before even reuniting with him.

And at the end he sees Shin being happy with his new family. And what does he do? Asks them to take care of Shin for him. VS Ando only telling Shin to 'live'. Not to take care, or be happy, just to live. (I know he was fucking dying but my point stands)

IN CONCLUSION: Shin is Asakuras baby, and Ando better pay the child support.