#It's something I'm prone to noticing lol

[characteroulette]

Okay actually I'll talk about this since it's on my mind. (Fnaf sb Ruin spoilers)

I like Cassie's reaction to shutting down Roxy a lot!! It's a pretty accurate child reaction to something like that happening. We, as adults, know that, logically, shutting Roxy down is for her best. She's broken and malfunctioning, so giving her a reset (like how we did to Sun/Moon for Eclipse) is probably the best thing we can do for her.

Cassie, however, is a child. To her, she's doing something so mean or terrible or awful to her favourite character and she's very clearly distraught about it. She's aware enough to know she has to do it, but the emotions are too big for her to separate it as a good thing instead of something as immensely sad as she feels it is. Her reaction to it being pretty real is probably what makes that moment work as well as it does; one point in Steel Wool's favour there!

Her erratic crying isn't great and her overall reactions are more "adult writing a child" than it should be, (what especially strikes me in the finale is the way she comes at Gregory with "Is it you? I mean, the REAL you?" as calmly as she does. As well as her phrasing. Were she more an actual child, she'd probably be freaking out a lot more than that and be less consolable, especially with all the heightened emotions surrounding this moment), but writing kids is hard so I can give somewhat of a pass to this. Considering Gregory has a lot of the same sort of hiccups to his reactions/phrasing, it's about what I'd expect from their character work.

Anyway yeah just a thought I had on Cassie an her character.

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) Ashley, self-esteem, and starvation

So, I adore Ashley. She's this intensely toxic, vicious, cruel, manipulative girl, and her psychology gives me hella brainworms. Andrew's not the only one whose head I wanna crack open and root around lol. She's thrown away the world just to keep her brother by her side, and she'll continue to do worse and worse for the same reason. She's pretty awful! I've been thinking about why, though. How did things get so bad? How did her soul get so dark?

We don't know everything (I'm waiting for those new eps patiently aND CLAWING AT THE WALLS AND FROTHING AT THE MOUTH but whatevs y'know whatevs I'm normal. I'm fine), yet what information we have been given is bumping around my brain like a DVD screensaver on hyperdrive

It's clear from the start that the roots of Ashley's issues lie in her horrible, neglectful upbringing, but it's hinted that even those outside of her family felt the same abt her. I'm lowkey even betting we'll learn later on that she was ostracized by her peers somehow. However, what's most disconcerting, I believe, is how little she was when the results of this alienation are first made apparent to us (bc kids aren't dumb; they notice this stuff oftentimes instinctively, impossibly young, before they even know what it means to be hated), and how devastating the consequences were.

(There's something decidedly childish abt her dream sequence in the "questionable" route—filled with crayon scribbles and rabbit plushies, the metaphors simplistic yet profound—which really hammers in how these sentiments are things that have made a home in her since childhood. Formative subconscious truths.)

Growing up unloved and noticeably unwanted by virtually everyone around her likely left her with a gaping hole in her heart that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to fill. She'd make friends, but she'd always worry that they'd leave her, that they'd betray her, nothing tangible or weighted enough in their connection to trust in its persistence. Why should she expect otherwise? Not even being bound by familial ties ensures affection if her parents are any indication.

Every lesson she'd ever learned had always taught her this: you are easy to abandon. You cannot love and be loved by virtue of your own worth.

You have to rip their affection from their clenched hands if you want it so bad.

This understanding carries with it an undercurrent of degradation, instilling within Ashley a constant, biting inferiority complex which will never fail to be a source of insecurity. She will always be put last. She was difficult to raise, so her parents gave up on raising her. She was difficult to get along with, so her friends gave up on getting along with her.

It's an odd cycle. She's difficult bc she needs to be to get attention, but bc she's difficult, she can't keep it. Not without having whatever fondness she's managed to cultivate within someone fray at the seams, volatile and prone to collapse, bleeding toxicity.

Hence, her relationship w/Andrew.

By being the only reliable constant in her life, caring for her and keeping her company, Andrew essentially became her only source of happiness, and she's since learned not to bother with anyone else. Still, it's dangerous to keep all your eggs in one basket; since he is all she has, she must protect her place in his life with even greater ferocity, which becomes a torturous ordeal when coupled with her damaged self-esteem.

It's apparent in her quarrels with Andrew that she needs constant reassurance that she is wanted in some capacity or perceived in some positive light (getting pouty when Andrew says he's "stuck with her", needing to hear that she's pretty, needing him to "choose her", wanting him to say he loves her back, etc. etc.), yet her insecurity remains, bc unlike her, he's got options. She doesn't think he needs her like she needs him. He's got a gf, their parents love him, her friends love him. Why would he settle for her? What if someone better comes along? Someone she can't scare away?

Wouldn't he just leave her like everyone else?

Even before getting locked in the coffin of their apartment, starvation's been a constant theme in Ashley's life. She's constantly aching for love, and Andrew's the only one who can feed her. When you're forced to fight for a bite to eat or suffer every moment you hunger, you become ravenous—covetous—when faced with food; you don't want the hunger to return, so you lock down the source of your sustenance, wary of its retreat. Ashley's in a permanent state of intense insecurity, always anxious that the love that gives her life will leave her.

Andrew knows Ashley better than anyone else in the world, and it's obvs to everyone and him how desperate Ashley is for him, but I don’t think Andrew has truly, consciously processed the depth of that desperation. It's there buried in his head somewhere no doubt, but rn, he doesn't operate w/the direct awareness that he is everything. He is brother, mother, friend, and soulmate. He is life and love, air and water, everything that is good in the world—everything that there is to justify existence.

It's heartbreaking, in a way, that it's so difficult for Andrew to convince her of his loyalty. This goes further than his tendency to hide his true feelings, bc when push comes to shove, he's at her beck and call. Objectively, he's hers. She doesn't see that bc all she sees is all the ways she can lose him.

So, she gets bratty. She gets pushy, possessive, territorial. Manipulative. Gets under his skin, guilts him to exhaustion, bc she can't see him staying any other way, bc he doesn't get it, bc it works. He bends to her will, for her sake. For now. It's always "for now", bc he'll start slipping away again, and then it'll get worse. She does worse.

Becomes worse.

[youremyheaven]

Mars, Sex & Celibacy

i have wanted to make this post for a long time and this may probably be my last post of 2023. (edit: this is my first post of 2024 lol)

earlier i had briefly mentioned about Mars and its relationship with celibacy and sex.

I had spoken about how Mars makes the native crave carnality and not sensuality. Its also telling how Mars is associated with impulsiveness, fieriness and passion but Mars also makes natives prone to abstinence, restraint and reluctance.

Mars is often interpreted to be explosive with its energy but while that may be the case in other areas, when it comes to sex and relationships, these natives have a tendency to restrain themselves a lot. This could be due to many different reasons. ive noticed a tendency for many natives to self reject or co-opt out of the system instead of playing it at all because they're afraid of being rejected or not being good enough (Mars influence and even disproportionate Venus influence can manifest as deformity/ugliness or make someone feel like they're not good enough) but a strong Mars can manifest differently. Mars is the soldier and is the planet of aggression, therefore they tend to be natural leaders and leaders are ones who set the standard for others, they naturally think of others as being a few rungs below them since they're always on command mode.

Mars is the master however, so Mars influence makes a native exercise immense self control. Its VERY easy for them to shun certain things and abstain entirely. Mars natives are very disciplined and are almost Saturnian (a good/stabilized Saturn influence that is) in terms of their work ethic. Its interesting because even though Saturn is associated with hard work, discipline etc it often manifests as laziness, sluggishness etc because the extremes of anything is a meeting point with its opposite. They are prone to feeling burnt out.

Adriana Lima, Mrigashira Sun, Chitra Moon was a virgin until she was 27 years old and married.

She was a bikini model since she was a teenager but she chose to abstain from sex until she was married. I'm not saying the two are contradictory but its unusual in the sense that its not something that's expected from someone in her position as one of the sexiest women alive.

random observation but Mars rules over eyebrows and gives its natives very thick lush eyebrows with no arch that are a standout feature and thick dark eyebrows are considered a sign of sexual maturity which makes sense consider the over sexualization of Mars natives

Brooke Shields, has Mrigashira Moon & Venus as well as Rohini Sun (Rohini & Mrigashira have similar themes and often manifest as incestual/sexual abuse, stalking, obsession etc in the lives of its natives).

She was pushed into acting and fame by her abusive, controlling mother at a young age and was very sexualized by the public and media even as a child. She has talked about how obsessed her mother was with her and how she remained a virgin until she was 22years old despite being a hugely renowned sex symbol for most of her life.

Drew Barrymore, Mrigashira Rising

Drew grew up with a mother who was obsessive & controlling with her and almost grew up too fast before turning to a playful and childlike personality as an adult.

She also spoke about how she's been celibate since her 2016 divorce. She also underwent a breast reduction in her 20s because she did not like being sexualized by men.

This interview where Drew & Brooke talk about their mothers is so Mrigashira coded, its especially telling when Brooke says that despite everything they've been through neither of them emerged from it "jaded" or "angry".

I've noticed this with a lot of Mrigashira natives, they have very playful, happy go lucky personalities despite all the abuse and trauma they've endured.

There is an unhappy pattern in the lives of many Mrigashira natives of having been subject to incestual abuse or sexual abuse as children.

Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen have Mrigashira Sun and although there is no actual evidence of it, there are many speculations as to whether they were subject to abuse as children and their subsequent withdrawal from public life as adults only added fuel to the rumours.

Many child stars who gain notoriety or are sexualized from a very young age tend to have Mrigashira placements or other Mars ruled naks in their big 3.

Judy Garland, Mrigashira Sun & Mercury

It is very well known how she was exploited by her mother who gave her "performer pills" to keep her awake and then to help her sleep, all before she turned 10 years old.

Shirley Temple, the OG child star had Mrigashira Moon, she was severely abused, exploited and overworked since childhood.

Natalie Portman has Mrigashira Sun and she's talked about how being sexualized as a child made her relationship with her sexuality very fraught.

“Being sexualised as a child, I think, took away from my own sexuality because it made me afraid and it made me like the way I could be safe was to be like, ‘I’m conservative,’ and ‘I’m serious and you should respect me,’ and ‘I’m smart,’ and ‘Don’t look at me that way.'”- Natalie Portman

Many famous women and men who have either very few sexual partners or lose their virginities later in life or wait until marriage often have Mars ruled nakshatras.

Tina Fey lost her virginity at the age of 24 to the man who would become her husband. She has Chitra Moon

Jessica Alba, Dhanishta Moon said this:

"I didn't really [seriously] go out with any guys until I was 18 and met my ex-fiancé, Michael Weatherly,"

"It just didn't work out. I was so young, 18, when I started dating him. I was a virgin. I knew I wanted to be in love with the first person I slept with, because for almost everyone I knew, the first experience made them feel like shit," she continued. "So I wanted to be really careful that he was going to be in love with me and wasn't just going to leave me."

Celine Dion, Ketu in Chitra lost her virginity to her husband Rene Angelil.

Courteney Cox, Mrigashira Sun, lost her virginity at the age of 21

Another nakshatra(s) that I've often noticed coming up in the charts of many people who are sexually conservative or have traditional values is Punarvasu and Pushya.

Tamera Mowry waited until she was 29 to have sex and then felt guilty about it and was celibate until she got married. She has Punarvasu Sun (amatyakaraka) and Jupiter in Punarvasu (atmakaraka) along with Moon & Mercury in Pushya

Miranda Kerr, Punarvasu Moon & Pushya Rising dated her now husband for 3 years before marrying him and they waited until they were married to have sex.

"Not until after we get married," she said "He is very traditional. We can't … I mean we're just … waiting."

Jennifer Lawrence, Mrigashira Moon has said this:

"I always talk like I want d---, but the truth is when I look back at my sexual past it was always with boyfriends," the actress told The Sun. "I am mostly also a germaphobe. I have made it this far without an STI. D--- is dangerous. If I was at the point where I could get an STI, doctors have already been involved. That is how much of a germaphobe I am."

She has admitted to never having had casual sex and has often been subject to stalking, and following the leak of her private pictures, she's talked about how violated she feels about the whole experience. All of these are themes that manifest in the lives of many Mrigashira natives.

Jessica Simpson, Punarvasu Sun & Mercury was a virgin until she married her husband Nick Lachey when she was 21

Justin Bieber, Chitra Moon, Dhanishta Mercury & Mars went through a period of celibacy and waited until marriage to have sex with Hailey.

“[God] doesn’t ask us not to have sex for him because he wants rules and stuff. He’s like, I’m trying to protect you from hurt and pain. I think sex can cause a lot of pain. Sometimes people have sex because they don’t feel good enough. Because they lack self-worth. Women do that, and guys do that. I wanted to rededicate myself to God in that way because I really felt it was better for the condition of my soul. And I believe that God blessed me with Hailey as a result,”

Kevin Jonas, Mercury & Mars in Chitra was a virgin until he married his wife when he was 20.

Lady Gaga, Mrigashira Rising once said:

"I don’t really have sex. I’m quite celibate now," she went on, "I don’t really get time to meet anyone. don’t trust anybody. And I don’t know if I ever will. But it’s okay. It’s the trade-off."

While revealing that she was 'perpetually lonely' when it comes to relationships, Gaga also understood that it's her 'condition as an artist'.

"I also think I’m afraid of depleting my energy. I have this weird thing that if I sleep with someone they’re going to take my creativity from me through my vagina."

the story of Rapunzel is intricately connected to Mrigashira.

we're familiar with how Rapunzel is held captive in a tower with an evil witch pretending to be her mother gaslighting her into thinking the outside world isn't safe enough for her to navigate, the myth behind Mrigashira nakshatra is of how Brahma tries to have an incestuous relationship with his favourite daughter Rohini who tries to escape this by leaving heaven behind and coming down to earth and taking the form of a deer. This deer is Mrigashira.

due to this background, Mrigashira natives often spend their lives running from things or feeling like they're being chased. Being gaslit is also (unfortunately) a big theme because they're running away from their home where they were being abused and its looked down upon as them misbehaving or causing trouble because its considered taboo to run away from your home. even though they're the victim they're constantly gaslit into thinking otherwise. this is the reason why so many Mrigashira natives stay in abusive relationships/homes for far too long.

in Tangled, Rapunzel is voiced by Mandy Moore who is Mrigashira Rising

in the movie A Beautiful Mind, Jennifer Connelly, Mrigashira Moon plays the wife of an economist with schizophrenia. She initially believes that his hallucinations are real and only learns of his condition much later and even though her and her baby's safety is under threat she still chooses to stay by his side and support him.

Jim Carrey, Mrigashira Moon plays the titular Truman in the movie The Truman Show where a man unbeknownst to him is a character on a show that is telecast to the world.

Being gaslit and struggling to fully understand the nature of reality is a common theme in the lives of many Mrigashira natives.

Returning to the theme of how sexualized Martian women tend to be, here are several examples:

They tend to be so sexualized by others that they feel cut off from their sexuality themselves, i.e, it does not feel safe to indulge in pleasure.

Jennifer Lawrence, Mrigashira Moon

"Anybody can go look at my naked body without my consent, any time of the day,” she says. “Somebody in France just published them. My trauma will exist forever.” She shakes it off with a wincing grin. “Have you ever wanted to be an actress?”

Pamela Anderson, Mrigashira Rising

Her sextape was stolen from her house and circulated widely and later on a biopic about her and Tommy was made which portrayed her in the worst possible light. She has been deprived of autonomy over her own narrative.

Another thing to keep in mind is how Mrigashira is the only Deva gana nak among the Mars ruled nak, both Chitra & Dhanishta are Rakshasa gana and as such they feel little shame or guilt in owning and embracing all aspects of their sexuality.

Here's an example of Amber Rose, Chitra Sun who was similarly sexualized and slut shamed by the media and she had a vastly different response that some of the above mentioned women who sort of went incognito and dialled down on things:

"I just got to a point where people were saying: “She’s sex, she’s a slut, she’s a ho, she’s this, she’s that…” and I thought, okay, well I’m going to piss you off even more and come out with a sex toy line. There you go people, you can have that. You get to a point where you literally can’t give a shit and live your best life."

Kim Cattrall, Dhanishta moon

“It was so much fun to leave behind this kind of sexual icon thing. I was so ready to shed it. I’ve been sexualised since a very early part of my career. I understand it, I’ve made it work for me, but I’ve always felt that I’m a character actress stuck inside a leading lady’s body. Now, I feel like I am doing my best work.”

Look at how different their responses are in comparison to many Mrigashira natives.

Many Martian women attain fame and notoriety for their bodies and sex appeal

Kate Upton, Sun & Venus in Mrigashira

Marilyn Monroe was Dhanishta Moon

Kat Dennings, Mrigashira Sun

Dita Von Teese, Mrigashira Moon

Claudia Schiffer, Mrigashira Moon

Candace Swanepoel, Chitra Sun

Ashley Graham, Dhanishta Moon

Denise Richards, Dhanishta Sun

Ariel Winter, Dhanishta Moon

Carrie Fisher, Chitra Sun

Jennifer Garner, Mrigashira Moon

In 2013, Jennifer gave a testimony to the California legislature about her experience and urged them to pass a bill that would grant children some protections from paparazzi. That bill ultimately passed. She has talked extensively about being stalked and how she lives with a lot of anxiety because of it.

Sandra Bullock, Dhanishta Moon , with Mrigashira stellium (inc Rising) experienced a horrifying home invasion in 2014 when a stalker broke into her house. He killed himself in 2018. She's had multiple stalkers and has chosen to live a very lowkey life to protect the privacy and safety of herself and her family.

Nadya Suleman better known as Octomum is a Dhanishta Rising and became notorious for her brief tryst with porn stardom and posing nude along with working as a stripper after initially becoming infamous for having octuplets.

Janis Joplin, Dhanishta Rising grew up in a conservative household and ran away to San Francisco as an adult where she entered a relationship with a man who soon left her. As he was walking away from her, Janis literally grabbed his leg and was dragged along the way. At that very moment, she decided she would never again beg for love.

“I’d’ve fucked anything, taken anything…I did. I’d take it, suck it, lick it, smoke it, shoot it, drop it, fall in love with it….”

"My music isn’t supposed to make you wanna riot! My music is supposed to make you wanna fuck!”

I mention these two as examples for how Dhanishta natives are examples of the type of Martian women who don't feel guilty about their desires or urges and refuse to be shamed for it; they may be hypersexual or chaste but they do not let others tell them what to do.

......................

This post is a bit all over the place but I hope you'll excuse that, I wanted to talk about the relationship with sex, sexuality (among other things) that Mars natives have, I feel like went into several different tangents but :/

I hope this was informative and interesting.

Happy New Year!! <333

[themedialmercurial]

⭐️Astro Observations pt 3⭐️

I noticed a pattern of a fire dominant parent having a water dominant child and vice versa. Also, parents tend to have children who possess the element they tend to lack

Many people tend to have their moon sign as their parents sun sign (or in the same element)

Aquarius placements tend to have something funky about their technology! They seem more prone to breaking their devices or have something particular about them, whether that be the choice of colour or the case for example 📀👩🏽‍💻

Aqua risings in particular tend to have very unique and mesmerizing eyes 👁️✨

Cancer mercuries tend to sound like they’re reciting poetry whenever they speak, it’s so beautiful (ex: Lana Del Rey) 🎶

Why are Virgo men literally this emoji: 🧍🏽

This is more of a question rather than an observation but does anyone else notice that when a native with a 10H stellium is messed with, karma is dealt to whoever messed with them in a heartbeat? It’s wild

Cancer stelliums tend to have a fuller shaped body and face, with emphasis on their chest.

Maybe I'm an exception to the rule but I, a cancer stellium, don't fancy seafood? Does this reasonate with any other cancers/water placement-heavy people? 🚫🐠

6H moons tend to struggle with digestive issues

Sun conjunct ascendant in synastry denotes a relationship that is easygoing, you both likely think very similarly and have similar habits

Can we talk about how elegantly sag risings carry themselves? So clean so polished and appear so confident (dare I say they seem unapproachable at first lol).

Pisces moons have very distinct eyes. They look round and big and watery. (celeb examples: Erykah Badhu, Dylan O'Brien, Jhené Aiko, etc)

Leo venuses love so hard. They dedicate themselves to their loved ones ❤️‍🔥

Virgos are unhinged behind closed doors! They know how to present themselves classily in public and let loose behind closed doors. It’s great to see honestly and this is not meant negatively! The more comfortable a virgo is around you, the more you'll see their unfiltered realness

Leo mercuries tend to be great storytellers but also not the best listeners! I love you guys but please, in a conversation, let the other person have their turn!

[vodika-vibes]

Ohhhhh so I have an idea for ....

Forget-me-not and narcissus

You throw yourself in the way to save (clone of your choice), and he gets super angry at you for doing that because he's loved you forever. You both have but never admitted it ...

You can go from there. Love oo

I Don't Want To Forget

Summary: You are a civilian employee on the Resolute and you're a little bit accident prone, which is why you're shocked when General Skywalker wants you out on the battlefield one day. Luckily you have Kix looking out for you...unluckily, you get shot trying to save Kix's life.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1720

Warnings: Reader is shot, and Kix yells

Prompts: Forget-me-not - Don't forget me, Narcissus - unrequited love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not so sure about this one. Apparently Kix is a weak spot, lol

“The only reason I’m agreeing to this-”

“-is because it’s not up to you and General Skywalker says that I have to be here?” You interrupt, a small smile on your lips as you look at Kix. 

“This isn’t funny.” He hisses, “You have no business being on the battlefield at all.”

“I know, Kix. I’ll be careful, stay by you, and listen to orders. I promise.” 

He sighs and rubs his hand over his head, “That doesn’t make this any better, cyare.” He rubs his head a couple more times, and then he steps closer to you, “This armor stays on until you’re back on this ship.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it, unless it needs to come off to save your life, it stays on.”

“Kix, I understand. Really.”

He sighs and starts helping you with the armor. It was specially made for you, which means it fits well, but since you aren’t a soldier, this is the first time you’re wearing it. Hence needing Kix’s help to actually put it on.

After a few minutes, he takes a step back, “There, done.”

You look down at yourself, and at the plain white armor, and then you look back at Kix, “I feel like a kid playing dress up.”

“Well, with luck, this will be the only time you have to wear it.” Kix replies, before he frowns and tugs on the collar of your armor, “It’s a bit too big on you. Have you lost weight?”

“...I’m not answering that.”

“That’s a yes then.” Kix tugs on your armor again, his frown increasing, “There’s not that much give, so you should be fine.” He grabs the helmet off the table next to him and hands it to you, “Put it on.”

“Woo. Helmets. Enclosed spaces. Right around my head.”

“It’s fine, you’ll hardly notice.”

“I’ve had nightmares like this before you know,” You say as you lift your helmet, squeeze your eyes shut, and then pull it on.

There’s quiet for a moment, and then a low chuckle, “You still have your eyes closed don’t you?”

“...maybe.”

“Go ahead and open them.”

You sigh and open your eyes, blinking up at Kix who’s standing a lot closer to you, and seems to be messing with something on your helmet.

“Alright. The helmet fits fine, how are you doing?”

“Uh…this might very well be the worst day of my life.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Kix replies warmly, he messes with something at your neck, “Do you think you’ll be able to work like this?”

“...yeah. Probably.”

“Alright.” Kix pulls his own helmet on, “Do you remember what you’re here to do?”

“Yeah. Get in, check the droid, download what information I can, and get back to the ship.”

“Exactly that.” He lightly raps his knuckles against your helmeted forehead, “There will be no heroics from you, do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Then let's head out. Stay behind me.”

Half an hour later, Kix is carefully leading you through a downed starship, shot down by separatists, and you’re miles away from the rest of the battalion.

Which is a good thing, in this case. The rest of the 501st is fighting the droid army, while you and Kix remain unseen.

And you really meant to follow Kix’s orders.

Partly because a part of you thinks that if you follow Kix’s orders he might think of you more fondly and see you as more than just “that accident prone tech from maintenance”, but mostly because you’re very much not a soldier and having set orders to follow is making this a lot easier.

His order of “no heroics” is very easy to follow.

And you meant to follow it.

Right up until you saw a flash of gold out of the corner of your view screen. You turn slightly and see a beat old golden droid (it almost looked like an old HK unit, but that couldn’t be possible) taking aim at Kix.

And you just reacted.

You lurch forward and place your hands on his pack and push as hard as you can.

Kix stumbles forward, and a curse falls from his lips as he rounds on you, but then there’s a sharp pain in your head, and your helmet vision goes staticy, and there’s nothing.

Kix’s gaze is sharp as he keeps his eyes on his cyare.

It was dumb of her to push him out of the way. It was dumb of her to take a shot meant for him, but, at the same time, she saved his life. The blaster round would have gone through an opening in his armor and killed him instantly.

Because of her height, it hit her in the temple of her much thicker helmet.

He shouldn’t be angry.

He shouldn’t.

He should be grateful that she cares enough to save him.

But all he can think about is how his blood ran cold when she hit the ground. All he can remember is the sound her body made as she hit the ground. All he can remember is the panic that he felt when he thought that he saw her die right in front of him.

Tragically, he’s used to watching his brothers die in front of him.

It’s different for civilians.

It’s different for her.

It’s always been different for her.

He leans forward in his seat, and folds his hands in front of his mouth, his gaze lingering on her face. Aside from a massive bruise covering the side of her head, she looks fine.

There’s a low groan, and Kix’s head snaps up. “Cyare?”

Her eyes flutter open and she squints at him, “Kix?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He stands and grabs his penlight from next to the bed, “How are you feeling?”

“M’ head hurts,”

“I’m not surprised. Do you remember what happened?”

Her gaze drifts to the side as she thinks, “...Did I trip over something?” She asks.

“No, sweetling, you didn’t.” Gently, very gently, he brushes some hair out of her face, and cups her cheek, “Can you try to remember what happened for me?”

She sighs and leans into his touch, her eyes closing as she tries to think.

Slowly, Kix rubs her cheek with his thumb, offering what comfort he could.

And then she sighs again and open her eyes, “I’m sorry, the last thing I remember is General Skywalker sending me a message saying that he needed to talk to me.”

“It’s okay.” Kix uses his free hand to squeeze her fingers, “I can tell you what happened. You were shot, sweetling.”

She blinks at him, twice, “I was shot? Me?”

“You pushed me out of the way and were shot in the temple,”

She blinks at him again, seemingly in disbelief, and then she nods slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. At least you weren’t hurt.”

“At least I…” Kix stops and closes his eyes, “You disobeyed a direct order.” He says flatly, “I told you no heroics.”

“You can’t scold me for something I can’t remember, Kix. That’s not fair.” She says with a small frown.

“What were you thinking?” He hisses, “You could have been killed. If you helmet was any thinner-”

“I obviously wasn’t killed, and of course I reacted to save you. I probably did it without thinking!”

“That’s the problem! You weren’t thinking! You never think and you always get hurt!”

She wilts under his glare, and averts her gaze, “...sorry to be such a burden.” She says quietly, hurt clear in her voice. “Next time I’ll just treat myself-”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kix interrupts. “You are not, and have never been, a burden.”

She still doesn’t look at him, and Kix sighs.

He reaches out and gently tilts her head to look at him, “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“S’okay. I’m sure I deserve it.”

“No.” Kix replies immediately, “You didn’t.” He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, “It bothers me, you know?”

She tilts her head curiously.

“The only time you come to see me is when you’re hurt.” Kix explains, “Every time I see you it’s because you tripped, or fell, or electrocuted yourself…or got shot, and I…hate it.” He says with a laugh, “I hate seeing you bruised or bleeding, and it’s the only time I see you.”

“...sorry-”

“Don’t…I am not blaming you. I’m,” He laughs again, “venting.” He absently traces your lower lip with his thumb, “I hate seeing you hurt. I wish you would just…come and see me because you want to see me, not because you have to.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “You always seem so annoyed whenever I am brought here with another injury. So I’ve been trying to be more careful, so maybe you’ll stop being annoyed with me. Guess I didn’t do the best job-”

“I love you.” Kix says, “I love you so much, and I know it’s not allowed and I tried so hard to forget about it, to forget about you, but I can’t. And you got shot for me-” He trails off, “Holy shit, you got shot for me.”

She blinks at him.

And Kix leans in and presses his forehead against hers, “I don’t want to forget you. I want…kriff…I want 2.5 kids and a house and a white picket fence, and I want to kiss you so bad that it hurts sometimes-”

He’s not able to finish his, slightly rambling, thoughts as she tilts her head back and catches his lips with her own. 

Kix is so surprised that he doesn’t react right away, and then his hand tangles in her hair and he’s kissing her back like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life.

And maybe it has.

When he breaks the kiss, slowly, grudgingly, he keeps his eyes closed, as if afraid that if he opens his eyes he’ll realize this is nothing more than a dream. But then her forehead is pressed against his, and his gaze locks with hers.

“So,” Kix murmurs, “That was…”

“I like you too,” She whispers, “But I’d prefer it if we waited a bit before we talk about those 2.5 kids.”

He laughs softly, “Deal.” He strokes her cheek gently, “I love you.”

A small, awed, smile crosses her lips, “I love you too.”

[blackbackedjackal]

What was the weirdest thing you've worked on taxidermy-wise? It doesn't have to be like an unusual species, but maybe something odd about the anatomy when you first prepped an animal, or finding an odd color morph or something (or maybe a little of everything lol since you're very into like genetics and collecting Weird Bone specimens with wry noses and extra teeth).

One that really sticks with me is the coyote that solidified my interest in doing research on pathologies seen in the species.

Notice the strange greenish stain on both the jawbone and in the teeth? I'd never seen staining like this before and at this point had been collecting and cleaning some really strange coyotes for a while.

Unless I'm the person who cleans the animal, I'm often missing vital information and clues left in the skin or tissue to figure out what caused a certain abnormality. I'm careful about cleaning every animal separately, all the while taking notes of any initial strange things I see during the cleaning process. Before the skull was clean enough to me to notice the green staining, I did see some pitch black stains where the bullet I assumed had killed the animal was stuck in the tissue. Not an uncommon thing as I'd seen that kind of staining before. These are typically perimortem injuries, around the time of death, so the injury shows no obvious signs of healing. The bullet or fragments of it break off in the tissue when the animal is killed and will still be left in the tissue by the time I get to work. Lead-based ones can stain the bones a dark color while soaking and typically whitens up after being process, but this one didn't.

Not only were the teeth this strange green color, but the surrounding bone had a lot of heavy bloodstaining. This is typically caused from brute force impact injuries, like animals hit by cars but are alive for at least several minutes after being hit. It's usually related to bruising, but in some cases is also be seen in areas where the bone or tissue around the bone is infected. It's these dark pink spots around the orbit and jaw.

I saw where the bullet had struck the animal, but before it was clean assumed this was the bullet that killed the coyote. It's not uncommon for trappers or hunters to shoot animals in the head to kill the animal quickly but there was no bullet hole in the cranium. There was however, a fragment of the bullet lodged in the right body of the maxilla, right in where the marrow and some blood vessels that supply blood to the jaw and teeth were.

This wasn't what killed the coyote. The fragment was lodged in living tissue, long enough that the coyote was suffering from lead poisoning. here's another angle where you can see where the fragment was lodged and how bad the stain was near the point of contact.

In typical Americans hate coyotes form, someone had shot at this coyote at least several weeks before the coyote was killed. Could have been a missed shot and the coyote escaped, but people are extremely cruel and disrespectful to the species, and will shoot at them to haze and injure them, but not kill them. Injuries and infections like this will greatly effect the coyote's ability to hunt, so that can cause them to become "problem" coyotes. They're too sick or injured to hunt wild animals effectively, and will be more prone to scavenging or opportunistic behaviors like attacking outdoor pets or farm animals. Again, I can't determine why the animal was shot to begin with, but I do know why it was killed several weeks later. It was sick, injured, and probably acting really strange. At that point the coyote being killed was blessing, as it would have suffered for weeks before succumbing to it's injures and infection.

When I buy an already cleaned/partially cleaned skull online, I have to work in reverse to identify potential causes of the pathologies I see. Many sellers won't take note of any shards or fragments or foreign objects in the tissue while cleaning. I often loose important clues as to the exact cause of the abnormality. When I clean them myself, I make sure to save everything I find in the tissue and take notes. That way I can refer back to them when I find strange things like this.

Though it greatly saddens me to see any animal suffer in such a way, I know it's important work because it gives me solid information I can use to educate others about coyotes. This skull was sitting in this person's freezer for at least a year or so before I happened to get it in a bulk lot of raw skulls I purchased to clean for sales and for research. It's been invaluable already as it's one of the skulls I cite a lot when doing public education and getting the people I get coyotes from thinking more critically about the species. Many of the taxidermists, hunters farmers, trappers, etc. I work with are very interested in the research we're doing, and like to know the stories of the ones they've crossed paths with. Many of them have stopped hunting coyotes in reckless ways, and no longer view them as pests. In fact, one guy I get coyotes from went from killing maybe 5 or so a month before he met me, to about 5 every 6 months. He no longer views them as pests and pays attention to their behaviors much more closely. He now culls ones he notices are sick/injured on his camera traps or ones that are actively bothering or killing his livestock. He's had far less issues with his local coyotes overall by listening to the advice I've given him, and donates the ones he does take for our group's research. It's a win for everyone, less coyotes are killed indiscriminately, we get coyotes for research that are sourced responsibly and sustainably, and not only is he interested in our research, but he shares the information with his family and neighbors so they spread the information and have really changed the culture of how they feel about the animals and wildlife around them. It's really awesome to see.

Sorry that got into a little ramble but it's the weird animals that have really made such a huge impact on me and the people around me. I'm glad that even in death they can be used as ways to educate others and essentially "save" some of their living relatives. My goal is conservation, preservation, and education about the species, and working with pathological specimens is a big part of that c:

[shirefantasies]

Okay this is probably a really stupid and hyper specific request, but I really want to see it.. What about the Fellowship (plus Faramir if you wouldn't mind) with a reader who's really sensitive to the cold? Specifically in their hands too.

I have a weird medical condition called Raynaud's Syndrome where, when I get cold, my hands lose all circulation and essentially risk dying from blood loss (something about the blood vessels constricting in the cold) so I personally have to wear at least 2 pairs of gloves when going out in under 50°F weather. It's annoying as hell, and I just imagine the reader on the quest trying to hide it but someone notices they're wearing like 3 pairs of gloves or how their hands are freakishly ice cold and getting worried.

Sorry if that's too specific, it's just -5°F here so I'm thinking about it. I love your blog, keep up the amazing work and take care of yourself sweetie!

Nah, not stupid at all! Besides I've seen much more specific requests and scenarios 😆 this honestly has such opportunity to be a cute imagine though I'm vibin with it~ gonna do everyone cuz, well you know 😂 I use the term frostbite a bit just because they probably wouldn’t quite have the same medical understanding/terminology in Middle Earth lol

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Aragorn

“There is no shame in it.” Starting, you peer up at Aragorn, probably looking for all the world like a spooked rabbit. “It is cold,” he agrees simply, nodding down to your hidden hands. “Yes,” you reply, wringing them and shuddering, “I suppose you are correct. Call it misfortune, but I am quite prone to its ill effects.” Immediately he reaches for your hand, brows raising at the ice he feels in your veins even through your pair of gloves. Half releasing you and gazing sadly upon your wince at the loss of warmth, Aragorn reaches into his pack and hands you a bundle with a faint sheen. Leather gloves. “These are much thicker. A bit unwieldy, yes, but I trust we won’t be doing much fighting in the snow. Take them, please, for they see no use with me.” “How can I thank you?” You smile at him, wonder coloring your eyes. “Simply wear them with joy,” he replies.

Legolas

“Do not worry,” Legolas spoke suddenly at your side, all but startling you save the sheer calm of his presence, “I have something for you if you’d like- a gift of the elves.” Cocking your head, you swiveled to face him, flushing as he stepped close enough for your hips to brush. A part of you wondered if he was doing it on purpose, but knowing him he hadn't even realized...shaking your head, you held out your hands to accept what he offered. It appeared as a kerchief, a small shroud of fabric with a faint, almost silky, sheen. "You may recall our cloaks hide us from hostile eyes? Well, this will keep the cold locked away from you tighter than anything. May I?" Such a gentleman. Smiling, you nod as he folds his gift gently over your hands, almost sobbing at the instantaneous difference. Experimentally you flex your hands, find even the strain of your joints diminished. Without thinking, you lean up and kiss his cheek, pulling away with shock to his smile. "And yet you still have a warmer gift for me."

Boromir

He sees the way you furtively grip your gloved hands, tries not to draw too much attention but gradually moves to walk at your side. “Are you in pain?” He asks with a slight nod to your hands. At that, you sigh and shake your head. “No, my hands are just quite sensitive. Since I was young I was told my risk of frostbite is great.” Eyes widening, Boromir takes one of your hands; you wince at the motion’s rush of cold only for it to melt into a smile at the way the pad of his thumb brushes over the back of it. “Why have you never told me?” “Because,” you shrug, “it sounds like I’m just complaining. My claim is not believable to most.” “Your words hold true to me,” Boromir replies with a smile, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket, “here. You need them more than I do. Really, I insist.”

Gimli

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Chuckling faintly at the dwarf’s words, you finally break from your reverie, realizing you must have been staring oddly in a daze. The cold was getting to you and bad, snow flitting between your heads and caking onto your cloaks. The old, worn gloves you had were hardly helping, and in that moment you feared for loss of your hands to frostbite- perhaps that was the ghost you’d seen. With effort you peel your fingers from their fists and wince. “Ah! Cold, are you? Why, I’ve just the thing! We dwarves are quite thick in the hide, often hard to beat by a little snow! But that’s also because we know a trick or two,” he tells you with a wink, pulling two little sewn objects from his pockets. Resembling small pillows, they fall lightly into your hands. “Give them a shake for a bit, see if you don’t feel better! A great chemical trick from the mines, you see.” Frowning faintly, you humor Gimli, shaking his strange gifts in your hand until- warmth! Grinning, you shake more vigorously and sigh in relief at the heat and motion spreading back into your hands, which you throw around his neck. “I’ll never doubt you again, Gimli!” “Mind telling the elf that?”

Frodo

"Can we keep the fire going?" Frodo. He had made his way to Aragorn's side, and though that was all you heard beneath the wind and your premature mourning of the heat it seemed the hobbit was vying rather well, making a few gestures before the ranger gave him a nod. With a small smile Frodo returned to the log you sat upon, lowering down to take a seat at your side. "I saw how cold you are. Your hands have hardly left this fire. Aragorn agreed we can keep it so long as watch is kept," he told you, nodding down to the kindling saving your hands. "Thank you," you breathed, "I hope he doesn't think me frivolous." "And I hope you don't think me a gossip, for I told him you needed it. I-I just worried for you and could hardly stand to see you get frostbite of our accord." Endearment took over your face as you peered into the hobbit's eyes, saw the reflection of your fire flickering therein. "Oh, Frodo, I could never think that. You are no gossip, but a hero." And with that, you relinquished the fire long enough to put your arms around him, pulling him close and bringing a different kind of warmth.

Sam

“You look like you’re fit to catch your death of cold.” Turning from your focus upon your hands, you see Sam at your side and smile faintly. “Let’s hope not,” you joke back, “but I’ll be grateful for the fire once we get it started.” Digging in his pockets, Sam looks down for a moment before producing a scarf. “I figure even if I had gloves they wouldn’t fit you, but you could always wrap this around.” “I can’t take this,” you shake your head, “after all, what will you do, then?” “I’ll just sit right next to you and that’ll keep me plenty warm,” Sam responds with a sweet smile, "here." Matters settled, he winds his scarf tightly around your hands, keeping them in his for a moment, thinking, then finally pressing a kiss to them before he lets them go.

Merry

"Oh, no, you don't!" "Merry," you giggle, "I need to get my whittling knife from my pack!" "I can get it." Since the day you told Merry you were sensitive to the cold, particularly by the frost that overtakes your hands, the hobbit has quite insisted upon holding them in his at all times. Even if yours are larger, his are quite insistent and, bless him, warm. However, he barely understood that you could hardly walk with both your hands in his all the time, and the others had taken to giving you little smiles and shakes of their head and never calling one name without the other. "You ought to give up," Pippin chuckles your name with a grin, "Merry is quite used to keeping his antics going." "Antics?" Sam shoots back, crossing his arms and shaking his head fondly. "More like excuses. I know a lovestruck fool when I see one."

Pippin

“You should have told me you were cold!” Guilt flit across your features at Pippin’s words and, of course, his glance to your thrice-gloved hands. “Well, it’s just my hands, you see, I-” “Doesn’t matter,” he cut you off with a grin of warm acceptance, “no matter what of you isn’t comfortable, you have me to take care of you, alright? Now watch this.” You watched as he placed stones in Sam’s once-washed pot. “I’ve seen healers do this, usually on someone’s back but I figure heat is heat, right?” Giggling, you admit that he is right. “We’ll let these go for a bit before you grab them- can’t have you getting burned either,” he dotes, shaking his head and peering back from the fire to you with shining eyes.

Faramir

"Faramir, they'll stare," you protested as he began walking you out the door. "And when I tell them this is what the nurses ordered they shall feel quite remorseful," he joked back, continuing on your course. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you went out into the White City with one hand both in Faramir's and in his pocket. The other you kept in your own, supplemented for lack of your beloved's warmth by an extra glove. It was, in fact, not the same. "Besides, there are worse pockets for your hand to be in, no?" That comment was quite worth relieving your left hand of its pocket long enough to give Faramir a light smack on the chest. Opportunity struck, though, and he caught your hand in his free one, pressing his lips to the back of it. "Perhaps I am fonder of winter than I quite realized. Always did we prefer spring's hope of blossom to the dreary chill, but it would seem there are many advantages to take in the cold."

Eomer

“Why do you hide your hands so?” Direct. Eomer, it seemed, did not find your habit of tucking away from the cold as discreet as you did. You sighed. Fear crept along your spine alongside winter’s chill at the thought of the warrior finding you weak. Would he believe you or disregard your word like so many others? “I’m prone to frostbite, you could say,” you replied quietly, hands clasped. At that, Eomer tilted his head, fixing you as a sight entirely new to his eyes. “Let me see.” Suppressing a wince, you held out your gloved hands and tried to ignore the jolt you felt when he held them, thumbs running over the backs. Frowning, he spoke again. “This will not do.” That time, you winced, trying to pull your hands away, but his grip tightened as he continued. “The Riders have far thicker gloves. Let me fetch you a pair. Your hands are far too capable to lose, after all.” Winking, he made his way toward the armory with a smile matching the faint creep of yours upon your lips.

Haldir

"Is this why they were so reluctant to send you? I must apologize, I fought so hard on your behalf because I thought they doubted you, not this." You shake your head, eyes almost tearing up at the hurt on Haldir's face. "You could not have known. I...try not to tell anyone. They seldom believe me," you confessed, hands wringing nervously. The mission was outside of Lothlórien, away higher into the mountains where the chill could affect you. Of greatest concern to you, though, was how Haldir would react to a perceived weakness. His grace had you taken aback, though, as he held your hands, never pushed you, ensured you felt able to fight before sending you into the fray. Even when you stayed behind from danger you couldn't help but smile as his words. "This will never happen again. All I want is to keep you safe."

Eowyn

“This is beautiful, thank you,” you breathe, pulling a short length of luxurious fur from the box with wide eyes. This could not have been an easily attained gift. “You like it?” Eowyn smiles, enraptured at your joy and the way you eagerly nod. “Do you know what it is?” Grin fading a bit, you shake your head, regretting your ignorance especially if it is to come off as ingratitude. It does not, though, or such only fuels Eowyn’s glow further as she extends a hand over it. “A muff! See here!” Plucking it from your hands, she slides her own inside the fur, revealing its tube shape. Alight, you immediately stick your own hands in there, sheepish at the way Eowyn starts at the cold of them before holding them together beneath the warm, fluffy layers. “This is perfect,” you thank her, your head falling to her shoulder.

Arwen

"Your hands are cold!" "I-I'm sorry," you pull from her grasp sheepishly. "Do not be," she smiles and shakes her head, "It simply came as a surprise. Mine are often the same. Rarely do I feel it so." "Prone to frostbite as I am," you remarked, "my hands are likely colder than any you have felt before." "Meleth nín," Arwen's brow creased, "why have you never spoken of this before? Perhaps we should try something." Your own brow creased with a faint frown as the elf took you by the hand, off to one of the many rooms baths were drawn in. "Oh, yes," you replied, "hot water does help." "I am sure it does, but would you be willing to try something new?" Swallowing a spike of anxiety, you peered into Arwen's blue eyes and nodded, giving in fully to your trust of her. You could tell she wanted to keep what she was doing a surprise, standing completely over the small basin as she was, but soon she was taking your hands again, dipping them several times into thick, heavenly warmth. "And now," she told you with a grin, wrapping your hands in small covers, then heated towels, "we wait." Every muscle in your body relaxed as the sensation crept through your veins, up through your loosening hands and shivering deliciously down your spine. "What is this?" You asked, almost adding magic to the end of your question but feeling a bit too foolish. "Wax of all things," Arwen giggled, "and judging by your expression, it is helping."

Elrond

"Let me feel them." Elrond's voice is commanding, but not at all harsh, as he holds out his palms and accepts your hands. Immediately his thumbs curl over them and a light frown creases his forehead. He nods. "They are quite cold." At that, it is your turn to nod as if to say I told you so. "The storm is to last for several more days. Come with me. Please." The last word upon Elrond's lips is one of the softest you've heard, drawing you up from your seat and after him without a single thought. You follow the flow of Elrond's robes down a corridor and into another room, this one with a crackling fireplace and the softest-looking bed you've ever seen. "What is this," you cannot help joking, "my winter prison?" Before you hear the lord of Rivendell, you feel him, his form drawing nearer until his chest rests against your back. "I prefer to think of it as our getaway," he replies in a low voice, hands falling upon your shoulders.

Lindir

Lindir’s face fell at the frustration upon yours, the way your hands shakily dropped from his harp. He was to teach you as you’d wished, but your hands were not cooperating with you. “You seem a bit stiff. May I?” Confused more than anything, you look up at him and nod. Reaching over, he takes one hand in each of his, brows shooting up the moment you touch. “Well, no small wonder! Your hands are like ice.” “I know,” you agree, gaze falling from Lindir’s dark eyes, “they get like this with every chill of winter.” You see the way Lindir straightens, the surprise crossing his face and creasing his forehead. “Then let us move inside,” he replies, massaging your hands gently in his, “and I will hear no more talk of lessons until we’ve drawn you some warm water.”

[yuusishi]

*crashes in* hey :]

I've cometh to request even more of the twst bois with a nightmare-prone s/o, this time with Sebek, Rook and Jack (they need more love lol)

. . . SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

pairings : Sebek Zigvolt , Rook Hunt x gn!reader

genre : fluff , comfort (?)

cws/tws : mentions of nightmares , sleep deprivation

a/n : I didn't expect this to get as long as it did tbh also I'm sorry I didn't include Jack 😭 I was super unsure on how to write him in this scenario

Rook Hunt !!

He found out about your situation when he was people watching during break time and he just saw you faint around the Great Seven statues. Thinking you had a heat stroke or maybe you weren’t eating well and passed out from starvation, he sprinted to you and took you immediately to the clinic. He stayed with you the entire time.

The professors looked for him since he was absent for 3 periods waiting for you to wake up, thankfully he informed Vil of what was happening and he explained to the professors for Rook.

He'll much prefer helping you using more natural remedies like changing some things in your bedroom, changing your schedule, etc. instead of resorting to anything magic for your safety. He knows things like magic and potions would be the easy way out, but nothing comes without a catch and he would rather die than cause you harm.

Rook catches on really fast on when you’re about to pass out, so he always sits next to you if you have the same classes to catch you in case you start falling forward, he wouldn’t want you accidentally hitting your head on the wooden table. After explaining your situation to Professor Crewel, you now have Rook as your permanent partner for alchemy class!!

He’s quick to hush you when you suddenly sit up due to another nightmare, his fingers combing through your hair untangling the strands gently and pulling you into his chest, not letting go until he’s felt your heartbeat and breathing settle down into a normal pace once again.

He takes a few minutes to leave the room to prepare some tea to help relax you. He won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about it, he knows he’s quite nosy to the business of the other students but he knows when to take things seriously.

You notice that he held you extra tight on nights you couldn’t sleep because you were too scared to, arms protectively encasing your body against Rook’s gentle warmth.

Sebek Zigvolt !!

He thought you were a similar case to Silver, but then he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and, unlike the other young knight, you had less energy and were seemingly about to pass out at any second.

Sebek would be ready to scold you during class for falling asleep during the first few times he caught you, he'll be more lenient once you explain to him your inability to sleep peacefully but he'll lightly scold you out of habit sometimes.

He'll actually try really hard to help find even a temporary remedy for you, his excuse being that it interrupts your academics being very sleep deprived and also because he's really worried about your health.

He'll consult numerous books in the library, ask Lilia if he knows anything about it, and even search on the internet. Like the others, he knows using magic is reckless, he thinks about it but ultimately doesn't push through with his plans.

He'll actually be a little frustrated at himself that he's unable to help you with something as simple as getting a pleasant night's sleep, to which you have to comfort him a bit (but he's out here saying that he doesn't need any comforting in classic Sebek style).

If he can't find any remedies he'll just visit you during lunch breaks and making sure that you're not passed out at ridiculous places, instead he'll make sure to protect you while you're asleep. Sometimes he'll even let you sleep on his shoulder but this mostly happens if you accidentally fall asleep on him.

He panics a bit when you suddenly jolt awake next to him at night, his first thought is that someone attacked you but realizes quickly it was another nightmare. Now he's stumped on what to do, he awkwardly pats your back and gives stiff reassurance that nothing you saw was real, that he's next to you and you're next to him safe and sound.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Hc for Edwards coaches? Its weird to me that we know nothing about them

Oh, there’s a short answer to this: Edward doesn’t have a dedicated set of coaches.

(But I'm gonna make this a long answer, because I can’t help myself)

He’s not in Thomas or Duck’s position for much of canon. The ‘Locals’ we see him taking would have coaches drawn from the main line common pool. There are two push-pull trains for the bulk of Brendam line stopping traffic but, obviously, Edward doesn’t handle them.

He probably could have a dedicated long-term set of coaches for the Tidmouth-Brendam fast but, well, here’s the thing. One, those twice daily trains are not exclusively his because he’s very ready to offer them to a visitor who shows any interest (if they’re capable — Edward did learn something from the affair of Thomas and his trucks lol).

But there’s also the matter that, after a while with a steady rake on the Tidmouth-Brendam route, Edward is awfully prone to arranging for some other set of coaches that he notices is under-utilised getting to take over the job in turn.

Given his own experience out of service, he’s very sensitive to that sort of thing. It makes him great at managing coaching stock on the Wellsworth and Suddery section as a whole. They have a bit of an excess coaches, including a good many survivors from the N.W.R.’s earliest days (some of these survived because Edward discreetly hoarded them during the worst days of the Depression... and then helpfully procured them in good working order when WWII hit... and sometimes hid them again, in the early days of nationalisation, until things settled down...), and they’re kept around to deal with special charters and periods of higher traffic. Edward’s very good at keeping an eye on their maintenance and matchmaking temporary/visiting/new engines with coaches that they will work well with (and mediating, on the rare occasion when it’s a mismatch).

As a result of all this, coaches in his sphere have great affection and respect for Edward — but, over the years, he has at times had a “To know what we want, you do need to sometimes Ask Us and then Actually Listen” problem.

Not everyone wants to wake up early every possible day and push themselves a little behind their limits forever and ever and ever. Most vintage coaches do not actually secretly pine for a turn on the Brendam fast, with its sprint down a fifth of a main line and the sharp turn onto the branch combining to make your vacuum start to really tear into you if you have to do it too often. Thanks for thinking of us, but some of us are perfectly content only working three months out of the year. No, we don’t feel this way because we’re depressed, the problem is not that we’ve been neglected and given up, because we haven’t a problem and this isn’t actually about you, dear. (Edward, with his engine brain: '... impossible!...') Sometimes there is a set of coaches that are actually amenable to being retired (!) and Edward has had to learn to, y’know, accept that, rather than try to “fix” things. (He has so many resources these days to fix these things! It’s never been easier to fix these things! It’s ever so much easier to fix things than coming to grips with others having different ideas about (im)mortality than you do…!)

[hitomisuzuya]

Ooo ooo! I just got an idea that I can’t stop thinking about! What about Wanderer / Scara x Reader who’s shorter than him.

Like- imagine.

His ego would be fired up, occasionally teasing her about her height, and in bed he manhandles her to make sure she knows her place 😩

- ✨ anon <3

Hello, my lovely❤️ I really wanted to write something little. I am shorter than Scara, since he is like Five four and I..I am five two lol I have no shame in admitting that. I really wanted to have some fun with this purely just for me lol I hope it helps you think to write something like this. I hope you enjoy. Now here's the pitch ❤️

Scaramouche x fem!reader who is shorter than he is. Some smut just because.

The fact that you were shorter than he was was a total ego boost for Scaramouche. It was the first thing he noticed about you. He didn't even feel annoyed that Childe has gotten to talk to you first. He was transfixed on how Childe towered over you. You had to crane your head up to look at him when you introduced yourself.

Okay, now you were smiling. Imagine how startled he was when he thought 'I wish you stop smiling at him like that. It's annoying."

Let's call him prone to quick infatuation. Don't hold it against him, he'd always been very observant on how people behaved. Plus, you were shorter than him. He would never confuse infatuation with love like stupid humans would. He didn't. He knew the difference. He hated that he did.

You were the first person aside from children to be smaller than him. You certainly wouldn't blame him for being a little in love at first sight.

Scaramouche would struggle with the fact that he started looking for ways to suck up your time and attention. He told you and himself it was because you were lazy (you weren't, you were hard working) and it was a pain in the ass for him to have always watch you so you don't mess up. (You rarely ever messed up)

This man's mental gymnastics were Olympic Gold Medalist level.

Oh and he quickly started hating it, not only because he was falling you more and more as weeks turned into months, but his eyebrows always twitched in irritation when you paid attention to an animal more than him.

Occasionally, he really enjoyed teasing you about your height. He would always reply with a snide comment of course.

"Oh, it's gonna rain today," you said, sniffing the air quietly.

"Well, when it does, you'll be the last to know. And quit that, you sound weird (cute)."

He loved to put his hat on your head at random, just to bat it off your head a short awhile later, scoffing when he said that he couldn't see you anymore under his hat.

He would always smirk when he said these things.

It took him almost two years to accept the fact that he was in love with you. He felt almost complete the instant he finally put his hands on you intimately.

In bed, he would egg you on so you would moan louder for him or so you would dig your fingernails further into his skin, using your height to do it. He would sometimes glare you at you the whole time he was fucking you. When he has these fits, he borders on manhandling you. You loved that.

"You know, it's like your height dictates that you submit so easily to me. (He loved you were like that) I know you aren't meek and mild, now scream for me, slut. I'll always make sure you know your place."

All and all, your height was at the top of the list of what he loved about you.

a/n: help omg I'm sorry. I got carried away and this turned out longer than I thought it would..

[ginnsbaker]

what comes of telling the truth (or even part of it)

Summary: The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

Word count: 10.7K+ | Pairing: Yelena x Kate, Past Yelena x Reader | Tags: Light angst, fluff-ish

A/N: This is for all of my ILGOSS readers. Requested by anon:

Wait may I ask for a short story or one-shot on how Yelena and Kate ended up together? I'm still kinda curious tbh lol. Kate's patience is applaudable, but I can't help but think what if Kate is just a rebound

I had fun writing this oneshot because I have a soft spot for the sex-first-feelings-later trope :P

Masterlist

-

It's not stalking if you just happen to be in the same row of seats at the same event. Even if, for instance, you're based in New York and the event is in Chicago, and attending isn't exactly obligatory.

Right? 

Kate Bishop insists it's not. She's read numerous discussions on Reddit about stalking, and none seemed to describe a situation like hers. 

The thing is, she didn't exactly think it all through. Just like any rich girl prone to making impulsive decisions when money isn't an issue, she snagged the first flight to Chicago upon hearing about a chance to see Yelena again.

She didn't factor in that Yelena had upped and left with only a text as a goodbye. She didn't ponder over the fact that Yelena seldom replied to her messages since moving to a different state, if she even did at all. Had Kate truly heeded these signs, she wouldn't be anywhere near the front row where Yelena sits, nonchalant with a passive countenance. She wouldn't have spent the last half hour or so ruminating on how to approach her. Instead, she'd be back in the Hamptons, sipping on Piña Coladas without a concern, because that's what Bishops customarily do on their weekends.

Except, reading the situation has never been her strong suit. She's always been forthright with her feelings and actions. It's what Yelena claimed to like about her, so here she is, simply being herself.

Kate glances towards Yelena from the corner of her eye, trying to discern any signs of emotion. For anyone else in the room, Yelena appears unmoved, but Kate, with her intimate knowledge of the girl, can see the minute shift in her posture, the almost imperceptible crease in her brow. She's always been good at noticing the subtleties in people, especially when it came to Yelena. But perhaps this is where the problem began.

They never labeled what they had. It started off as casual. Friends with benefits, they'd joked in the beginning, no strings attached. Yet Kate, somewhere along the way, had tied a rope around her own heart. Her mistake was entering the arrangement already having fallen for the girl. And it didn't even begin when they started sleeping together. It happened way before Kate got to know the taste of her skin, the way a smile would sneak onto her lips with a contented sigh after she climaxed, or the way she'd clutch at Kate's shirt when Kate did something just right—too right.

Kate had believed she was okay with it, that she could handle being just a detour in Yelena’s life. But then she saw it—the way Yelena's walls crumbled when you came into the picture. It was a poignant twist of irony, watching Yelena fall unapologetically in love when she’d always been so cautious, so guarded around Kate. The woman who had so adamantly refused to be ensnared by love was openly enthralled by it when it came from someone else. Kate would listen, forcing a smile, as Yelena talked about you, and it would eat away at her insides. She tried to be supportive. But that didn't work out either. In the end, Kate still lost her.

And now, sitting mere feet away yet worlds apart, Kate grapples with truths that are lodged in her throat. She wonders if Yelena will ever see her as more than just a diversion, a temporary harbor. It's a cruel thought, and one that Kate can't shake off. But she knows herself. She won't run from the situation. Instead, she'll face it, no matter how much it tears at her. Because, for better or worse, that's just who she is.

-

She only gathers enough courage by the end of the seminar.

When the final speaker steps off the stage, and the flurry of applause begins to die down, Kate takes a steadying breath. She tells herself it's just Yelena—even though everything has changed. Her heart pummels against her ribs, a restless plea, as she forces her legs to move in Yelena’s direction. 

“Yelena,” she calls out softly when she's a few steps behind her.

Yelena turns, and for a moment, there’s no recognition in her eyes. Then, something flickers—surprise, confusion, a touch of alarm.

“Kate?”

Kate nods, her palms sweaty. “Yeah, hey. It's been a while.”

Yelena’s eyes scrutinize her, searching for something. Perhaps a reason for why Kate would be here, in Chicago, after all this time and after everything that's happened.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusatory or harsh. Just curious.

“I…uh, I wanted to see you,” Kate admits, more to herself than to Yelena. “I mean, I was already here for this convention, saw you walk by, and thought I'd drop in to say hi.”

Yelena’s smile is a little too tight for Kate’s liking. This isn't unfolding anywhere near how she had hoped.

“Hi,” Yelena utters nonchalantly, her gaze skimming over Kate's shoulder to whatever holds her attention beyond.

Kate swallows the lump in her throat, trying to push past the frosty reception. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab coffee or something, you know, catch up,” Kate says, offering a lopsided smile that she hopes might charm Yelena into agreeing. 

But Yelena merely offers a tepid one in return, her eyes hard and unyielding. “I appreciate it, but I have plans,” she replies.

“Oh, okay,” Kate responds, doing her best to conceal the sting of rejection that pierces through her. She fumbles for a moment before managing to continue, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m staying at the Evergreen Hotel for a couple more days. I'm on the 32nd floor, room 3206. Not that...uh, you need to know...but just in case.”

Yelena’s green eyes remain inscrutable. “It was nice seeing you, Kate,” she finally murmurs. “Enjoy your time in Chicago.”

And just like that, she's walking away, leaving Kate standing amidst the dissipating crowd, trying to make sense of the chasm that has seemingly formed between them.

-

Someone rings her hotel room at 11:45 in the evening.

Kate, snug in her pajamas and reading a brochure about the local Chicago sights, isn't expecting visitors. She moves to the peephole and is caught off guard when she recognizes the eyes staring back. Yelena's pupils are dilated, clearly indicating she's made several stops before her feet brought her here.

Opening the door hesitantly, Kate takes in Yelena's entire demeanor: the set of her jaw, the tightness in her posture, the fiery look in her eyes that seems to oscillate between anger and something that immediately shoots a jolt of desire down her core. “Yelena?” she whispers, a hint of trepidation in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yelena doesn’t answer. Her breathing is ragged and uneven, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Kate's.

“Look,” Kate says, her voice shaky, “if you could just give me a moment to change out of my pajamas, maybe we can get coffee in the hotel lobby or—”

“Why did you tell me you were staying here?” Yelena questions, her voice dangerously low.

Taken aback, Kate blinks a few times, panic bubbling up in her throat. “I-I don't—”

Without a word, Yelena steps forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands cradle Kate’s face, and she crashes into her in a kiss that’s hard and desperate. Kate is momentarily stunned, her thoughts obliterated by the sudden onslaught of lips and tongue. But then she reacts, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist and nearly lifting her as they move deeper into the living room. She uses her foot to kick the door shut behind them as Yelena takes command of the kiss, pushing into Kate with an urgency.

It’s been too long. But still—

But still, it feels instinctual, the way Kate's lips gravitate to that spot just below Yelena's ear, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit that familiar sigh from her. Yelena's hand finds its way to the nape of Kate's neck, fingers intertwining with her hair before pulling roughly to break the kiss.

“Yelena…”

But Yelena pins her with a look, a surprisingly vulnerable one. “No talking, please,” she breathes. “No talking.”

Yelena's never begged her before. To Kate's embarrassment, it's usually been the other way around. It's only hitting Kate now that their months of estrangement have deeper repercussions than she initially realized. 

But before she can process the thought further, Yelena’s fingers are impatient as they fumble with the buttons of Kate's shirt, all while her lips never leave Kate's, each kiss deepening in urgency. Kate's hands, equally fervent, roam over Yelena's back, gripping at her shirt and pulling her even closer. They maneuver around the space, half-stumbling, half-guiding each other towards the bedroom. With a soft thud, Kate is gently pushed back onto the plush mattress, Yelena hovering above her. 

The ritual is as familiar to Kate as the back of her hand, yet a feeling stirs within her that this time might stand apart from the rest—perhaps the moment when her dreams finally bleed into reality.

So she gives Yelena everything she has to offer—and then some. 

-

When it's all done and Kate is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, with Yelena softly snoring beside her, a thin sheet loosely covering her bare torso, Kate's mind spins erratically. 

Yelena’s proximity, so desperately craved for months, now feels like an intrusion into a grief that she’s scarcely begun to comprehend. She acknowledges that her sudden appearance in Chicago, after everything that transpired, may now seem more self-serving than she'd intended. 

She hadn't fully grasped the depth of Yelena's pain—pain so consuming that Yelena felt the need to flee to another state just to find a semblance of peace.

-

Morning light seeps through the curtains as Kate busies herself in the hotel kitchenette. She tries to make breakfast, aiming for familiarity in a situation that's anything but. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the hotel room as she meticulously flips pieces of golden-brown french toast, trying to keep herself focused on the task.

Then, the muted sound of a door draws her attention. Yelena steps out of the bedroom, dressed and seemingly ready for the day. Her appearance, so sudden and unexpected, makes Kate's heart race. She becomes acutely aware of her own state: clad in nothing but an oversized shirt that barely reaches her thighs, exposing her legs and the curve of her panties.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Kate offers meekly.

Yelena gives a slight nod. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to head out.”

Her eyes momentarily drop to the floor. Then, with deliberate steps, she closes the distance between them. Leaning in, she places an awkward kiss on Kate's cheek, then sidesteps her and makes her way to the door.

Kate remains still, eyes locked on the french toast that's now charring at the edges. With a sigh, she turns off the stove and contemplates what other sights Chicago might offer beyond the iconic bean.

-

Kate has her dinner early in the evening and waits by the door, just in case Yelena decides to show up again.

She doesn’t.

After spending another 48 hours sequestered in her hotel room, she packs her bags to head back to New York.

-

As soon as Yelena arrives at her apartment after her night with Kate, she heads directly to the shower.

The hot water cascades over her, but it does little to soothe the turmoil roiling inside her. Each droplet feels like a sting of reality, a reminder of the choices she’s made. She rubs the soap with more force than necessary, the lather not just cleansing her skin but also representing her desperate attempt to wash away the guilt.

It's not Kate she's trying to forget. It's her own actions, her own reasons for going to that hotel room. She’s aware she’s used Kate’s affection for her own comfort far too many times, each encounter chipping away at what little integrity she feels she has left. She hates herself for it. For taking refuge in Kate's warmth, for using her time and time again, and then leaving her in the cold morning light.

The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

-

Months pass without them seeing each other until Yelena returns to New York. Her media company sent her back for training, placing her under the guidance of someone who, in Yelena’s opinion, was a “complete unknown”. It's only a matter of time before she runs into Kate Bishop.

That happens sooner than Yelena expected when three days after her arrival, they bump into each other at a more upscale gathering. Yelena's attendance was mandated even before her first official workday, with the primary goal of extensive networking. She wears a sleek black strapless gown that reveals a fair amount of cleavage, but even that doesn't catch Kate’s attention. Instead, Kate's focus is clearly on the date accompanying her, arm-in-arm. Yelena’s hand is clutching the arm of another man, but he's just a work friend of hers who, coincidentally, is also gay. Clearly, she's not the one with the upper hand in this situation. Not that she—

Yelena is taken by surprise, not noticing Kate's approach until she's almost beside her. “Yelena, hi,” Kate says softly, standing just centimeters away. She looks stunning in her three-piece suit, her hair pulled back with a few curly waves framing her oceanic eyes.

Yelena manages a, “Kate,” in reply, before turning to her companion and saying, “You said you wanted to talk to the chief?” Her friend appears confused for a brief moment but then nods in eager agreement. She excuses herself quickly, not catching the brief, tight smile that graces Kate’s lips.

“Chief? Really?” her friend teases as soon as they're safely distant from her current source of distress.

Yelena rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “I needed a quick exit strategy.”

Chuckling, her friend replies, “From Kate Bishop? Come on, Yel. You two have history. Ducking away like she's the plague isn't the mature way to handle things.”

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I know, I know. It's just... the last time we met, the morning after was... less than ideal.”

“The morning after?” His eyes widen in realization. “You slept with her again?”

Yelena bites her lower lip and nods. His gaze sweeps the room, likely searching for Kate, before settling on her attempting to subtly look in their direction. “Well, that complicates things,” he muses.

“Tell me about it,” Yelena mutters, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

“Why don’t you just talk to her. Set things straight—”

She arches an eyebrow, “You think one casual chat is going to fix things?”

“Reminding her that you don’t have feelings for her and never will might just do the trick,” he says with an amused grin. “You don’t have feelings for her right?”

Yelena hesitates for just a moment, her eyes not meeting his, “Of course not,” she replies, her voice not as steady as she'd hoped.

He studies her, a knowing look in his eyes. Just as he's about to comment on her poor lying skills, Kate approaches again, this time without her date.

Kate's eyes are fixed on Yelena as she draws closer. “Mind if I steal her for a second?” she asks, not really waiting for an answer as her hand gently wraps around Yelena's elbow. Her touch sends a chill through Yelena, an electrifying jolt that she’s been trying to forget for months.

He simply nods, giving Yelena a sympathetic glance before prancing towards the bar.

Kate guides Yelena slightly away from the crowd, not to a secluded corner but just a few steps away to offer a modicum of privacy. Yelena finally extricates her arm from Kate's grip, building a wall with her posture. “What do you want, Kate?”

“I want to talk,” Kate simply says.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her jawline tensing. “Go on.”

Kate takes a moment, ensuring her words would be precise, “I'm not here to rekindle anything or chase after you. I'm not that naive anymore. You don't have to avoid me or disappear when I'm around. I'm over you. And I just... I want us to be able to coexist, especially in circles like these.”

Yelena's lips slightly part in surprise, the slightest quiver of something akin to pain shadowing her features upon absorbing Kate's frank words. Kate, with her perpetual, unfiltered candor, always did have a way of stripping a situation down to its stark, naked truth. But isn’t this precisely what Yelena wanted? To be free of the guilt, of the heavy, choking shroud that's been her constant companion since she left that hotel room months ago? Kate doesn't want her anymore. This should ease things, shouldn't it?

Yet, why does a peculiar tightness settle in her chest, a subtle ache that she dare not explore? Yelena swallows hard, facing the blunt force of Kate's liberation with a brittle nod. 

“If that’s what you want,” Yelena manages to say.

Kate tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as they scrutinize Yelena's face, seeking, probing. A ghost of a smile curls on her lips, devoid of genuine mirth as she observes the other woman’s discomfort, palpable even amidst the high-society glitter surrounding them. 

“What I want?” she echoes, voice imbued with a tempered steeliness, “Yelena, I'm handing you exactly what you've shown you want.”

Yelena’s eyes flutter away from Kate’s, uneasy, yet a stony facade refuses to let her susceptibility bleed into view. 

“You’ve always made it abundantly clear where I stand,” Kate murmurs. “And I’ve been nothing but annoyingly stubborn about it.”

“Kate, I never intended to—”

“It’s okay,” Kate interrupts softly. “I kept coming to you with these expectations, but you were clear from the start. You said it was just about sex—nothing more. I just hoped... maybe that could change with time.”

Yelena's throat constricts, the words she needs to say lodged firmly behind a barrier of guilt and self-reproach. “I’m sorry,” Kate adds, her voice thin and fragile, yet it reverberates loudly in Yelena’s ears.

“I—” Yelena begins, but the words falter, the apology sticking in her throat. It was her who owed Kate apologies—a sea of them, for every late-night encounter, every hurried departure in the dawn light.

She inhales sharply, fingers twitching at her side. “Kate, if there's anyone who should be apologizing, it’s me,” she finally says. “I’ve been selfish and unfair, and I took advantage of your feelings because it was convenient for me, and it allowed me to ignore my own.”

“I'm not blameless here either,” Kate says.

“It's not the same," Yelena persists, “I knew what I was doing each time I—”

“But so did I, Yelena,” Kate breaks in, her steadiness unwavering. “Every time I came to you, I knew what it was and what it wasn't. I chose to stay, each time. That’s on me.”

It feels like they’ve reached an impasse, neither knowing what comes after telling the truth—or even a part of it.

“So, what do we do now?” Yelena murmurs.

Before Kate can muster an answer, the sound of footsteps draws their attention. Kate's date slides smoothly into view, holding two glasses filled with a bubbling amber liquid. Upon seeing her for the second time, Yelena notices that she's an incredibly attractive woman who carries an air of elegance about her with effortless grace. 

“There you are!” she exclaims to Kate with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Kate, her eyes still lingering on Yelena, slowly pivots towards her, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. She gives her date a brief smile before glancing back at Yelena one last time. 

“It was nice seeing you, Yelena,” she says, mirroring the same words Yelena had used months ago, before turning away to enjoy the rest of the night with someone else.

As the noise of the event surrounds them, Yelena's friend returns, looking between her and the departing figure of Kate and her beautiful date.

“Is it over?” he asks cautiously.

Yelena's gaze is distant, her eyes unfocused, but she finally blinks, pulling herself back to the present. 

Her voice is a little shaky when she replies, “I need a drink.”

-

Kate was the first person she felt a connection to when she first came back to New York. The city's crowded streets and glaring lights felt foreign, like a twisted mockery of a place she once called home. The skyscrapers towered, the taxis honked, and the people bustled about, but none of that felt familiar to her—as if the welcome banner had been replaced with a glaring message that this was not the same place she had left eight years ago.

The airport had been a blur of faces, each one more indifferent to her existence than the last. She half-expected, perhaps even hoped, to see her sister's familiar face waiting for her among the crowd, but all she was met with were strangers hurrying past, engrossed in their own worlds. Natasha was continents away, in places she couldn’t know about, shouldn’t know about. 

And then there was you—the only other person she considered family, the only other face she yearned to see upon her return. Yelena could've called you if she wanted. Natasha handed her your number, with the faint hope that Yelena might muster the will to congratulate you over the phone. But she never did, aware that she wouldn't genuinely mean it if she said she was happy for you. 

Her fingers itched to grab her phone and dial your number, knowing you'd come to pick her up. Not necessarily because you missed her in the same way, but because you were always the kind of person who'd pick up a friend from the airport—and it wouldn’t matter to you that you hadn’t spoken a word to each other in years. 

Yet, as much as Yelena yearned to see you, your image was interwoven with the pain of unattainable desire. She didn't want to see your face, so happy and fulfilled without her in it. Because the memories would flood back: your smile, the scent of your skin, the way your voice would tenderly wrap around her name. You were married—have been married for quite some time now. And that simple fact was a barrier, insurmountable and cruel.

“Need a ride?”

Yelena quickly turned to her left, where a woman about her age stood with dark hair and soft blue eyes.

“Cabs are pretty scarce around this time,” the woman explained, adjusting the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “I mean, you could try booking one, but…”

Yelena's cheeks flushed. It was one thing to come back to a city after so long and feel lost; it was another entirely to admit it. She hesitated, wrestling with the unfamiliar interface of the rideshare app on her phone. “ll just wait,” she said defensively, trying to hide her discomfort.

The woman gave her a skeptical look but seemed more amused than annoyed. “I'm Kate,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena took a moment before she accepted it. “Yelena.”

“Well, now that we're not strangers, how about that ride? My car's right outside.”

Yelena paused, studying Kate. The offer was tempting. There was something disarmingly genuine about Kate, and Yelena couldn't detect any malice or ulterior motives in her eyes. Still, she was guarded, her defenses up.

“Why would you offer me—a stranger—a ride?” Yelena asked.

“You're not entirely a stranger, Yelena,” Kate replied with a chuckle. 

Their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, Yelena felt an odd sense of kinship. A sigh escaped her lips. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, “But just to Manhattan.”

Kate's smile grew, reaching her eyes. “Just to Manhattan.”

-

Yelena steps into the high-rise building, an architectural masterpiece of glass and steel, shimmering under the vibrant New York sun. It’s her first day on this temporary assignment, and her stomach churns with a blend of anticipation and anxiety. 

She catches snippets of dialogue as she goes: project timelines, deadlines, and weekend plans. Yelena keeps her gaze forward, absorbing the understated opulence of the work environment. It’s a world she recognizes with every fiber of her being, and she’s ready to play her part.

As she steps into the elevator, ascending towards the upper levels of the corporate tower, Yelena takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the introductions, handshakes, and the performative exchange of pleasantries. The first day in a new environment is always a bit disconcerting, but she’s not new to adapting, to molding herself into whatever shape a situation requires.

“Yelena, right?”

The elevator door opens to reveal a woman Yelena recognizes from the previous night. It's not just any woman she encountered during her diligent networking; it's the very woman who was on Kate's arm, that Yelena begrudgingly recalls she paraded around like some kind of trophy throughout the evening.

Yelena nods, maintaining a neutral expression, as she exits the elevator and the woman steps in, effectively switching places.

“I'd love to chat more when I return. Just need my coffee fix,” the woman says, winking at Yelena just before the elevator doors close between them.

Yelena lets out an exasperated sigh as she searches for her cubicle. She doesn't anticipate having that chat and silently hopes that today's encounter is the last time she'll see that woman, or if possible, for the duration of her time in this office.

-

The next several moments don't go the way Yelena expected. Especially the part where she discovers Kate's date is her new boss.

Yelena feels a slight pressure in her temples as she hears the name. “Georgia Thompson.” The friendly demeanor and confident handshake of the woman in front of her sharply contrasts the casual, almost indifferent demeanor she exhibited at the gala.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” she replies, trying to sound as composed as possible. 

Georgia offers a polite smile, her eyes assessing Yelena for a moment longer than she’s comfortable with. “Likewise. And please, call me Georgia.” It's only now that she picks up on the accent and realizes she's British.

Blonde, British, her boss, and apparently Kate’s new girlfriend. Just great. The universe couldn't be clearer about how much it enjoys playing tricks on her.

Yelena nods, pushing down the nerves bubbling inside her. She mentally kicks herself for not doing a thorough background check on her new employers, but how was she supposed to foresee this twist?

“I've heard great things about your work, Yelena. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can bring to our team,” Georgia says.

“Thank you. I'll do my best.”

Georgia leans back in her chair, the slight quirk of her eyebrow revealing she’s perhaps more perceptive than Yelena initially gave her credit for. “I hope you find the environment here conducive to your work. Everyone is very supportive, and we like to think of ourselves as a family.”

Yelena wonders if the emphasis is deliberate, a subtle hint at the glaring elephant in the room. Neither has acknowledged their encounter from the other night.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Yelena responds, trying to steer the conversation back to professional matters. “I've already been given some assignments, and I'm eager to delve into them.”

Georgia nods approvingly. “Good. If you have any questions or need any support, don't hesitate to ask.”

Are you aware of my history with Kate? Do you plan on making my life a living hell for the next several months?

None of these questions escape her lips. Like every job, this one comes with complexities and trade-offs that she has no choice but to endure. She believes she can manage. After all, enduring seems to be all she's doing these days.

-

Kate eventually drops by the office one evening. It's just a week later, and with everyone gone, Yelena is saddled with another article destined for the fluff column for the following day. 

Kate's unexpected entrance startles Yelena, her fingers slipping from the keyboard and sending a disjointed string of characters cascading across her screen, a stark contrast to the meticulously formulated words she had previously been weaving together. A sigh escapes Yelena as she straightens in her chair, muscles tensing, her gaze fixating on the other woman’s reflection in the darkened computer screen next to hers.

Thankfully, it’s who Kate speaks up first. “Working late?”

“Deadlines,” Yelena mutters, rubbing her forehead and trying not to sound as exasperated as she feels. “And what brings you here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and thought I'd surprise Georgia,” Kate replies with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes are searching Yelena's for any reaction. “But I guess she left already.”

“Seems so. You just missed her by maybe half an hour.”

Kate hums, letting her gaze wander around the mostly empty office. “This place hasn't changed much since I interned here,” she muses.

“You interned here?” Yelena's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Yeah. Before everything,” Kate says with a faint smile. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Her eyes roam the open workspace before settling on Yelena's and the stack of papers next to her. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home quickly.”

Yelena shrugs, fingers lightly drumming against the edge of her desk. “Work doesn't do itself.”

The semblance of casual conversation can't veil the tension that simmers just beneath the surface. Kate’s next words are a soft, cautious probe, “How have things been with Georgia?”

She’s testing the waters, Yelena observes.

“Professional,” Yelena replies curtly.

A small, almost rueful smile grazes Kate’s lips. “She’s good at what she does. Keeps things running smoothly.”

“She seems to,” Yelena agrees, resisting the urge to delve into whatever Kate is aiming at. “Is there something you needed, Kate? I'm on a tight deadline here.”

Kate’s eyes, instead of responding immediately, drop to the takeout bag in her hands, then flick back to Yelena’s face. It's as if she’s doing a calculus of how far to press, of how much of Yelena's abruptness to overlook.

“Actually,” she starts, her tone light and easy, “I came bearing food. It's way too much for one person.” She tilts her head, hoisting up a slightly crumpled brown bag. “Care to join me?”

Yelena is on the verge of formulating a polite refusal when her stomach, as if on cue, betrays her with a telling growl. She winces, slightly mortified, realizing her last meal was hours ago.

“Sounds like someone's hungry,” Kate teases, her grin infectious.

Yelena considers the offer, her resolve wobbling precariously on the edge between pragmatic hunger and the need to maintain an emotional distance.

“I don't think—” she starts, but Kate, undeterred, strides closer, placing the bag on a nearby empty desk.

“No strings, Yelena,” she says, an undertone of sincerity seeping through. “Just dinner. It’s been a long day, and it looks like you haven’t moved from this spot for hours.”

A small fortress of skepticism still guards Yelena’s expression, but she doesn’t stop Kate as she begins unpacking the containers from the bag. The rich, fragrant scents of stir-fried noodles and spicy broth waft through the air, momentarily making the whole room feel a bit warmer, a bit friendlier. It reminds her of the countless nights they shared meals at the office, back when they worked for the same company, a time when their friendship flourished alongside their physical hunger for one another.

Silently, Yelena concedes, rolling her chair over to join Kate, who’s already begun dividing the food into two portions. They eat in relative silence for a few moments, when Yelena then, prompted by a momentary surge of curiosity, asks, “Where did you guys meet?”

“We were seated next to each other on my flight back to New York,” Kate says after a thoughtful pause. “From Chicago. When I… when we attended that convention.”

She's torn between laughing or pressing her lips together upon learning that Kate met her new love on a plane, at an airport, echoing their own initial encounter.

“Does Georgia know about…”

Kate raises her eyebrows inquisitively. Yelena just motions between the two of them, drawing a soft chuckle from Kate.

“Right. Yes, she's aware. I told her the moment she said you’d be working under her,” Kate says.

Yelena's heart pulses an erratic rhythm at Kate's words. She fiddles with her fork, twirling it aimlessly between her fingers.

“And she was okay with it?” Yelena asks.

“Georgia is...different. She believes in leaving the past where it belongs,” Kate says. Yelena knows she probably doesn’t mean anything by it, yet it subtly pricks at her own propensity to keep one foot persistently anchored in the past.

“I'm glad,” Yelena finally murmurs. “I just... I didn't want it to be a problem.”

Kate reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Yelena's for a fleeting second. “It won't be. We're all adults here. Just... make sure you're okay, alright?”

Yelena nods slowly, taking a deep breath. It's obvious to her now, more than ever, that some bridges aren't burned but simply left to weather the passage of time.

-

Yelena tries to get back into the dating scene. She registers on three distinct dating apps, uniformly using the same profile photo and an unvarnished bio that reads: Female. Twenty-nine. Single.

Her inbox becomes a conveyor belt of recycled greetings: “Hey”, “You're cute”, and “What are you doing tonight?” It's an endless cascade of faces and screen names, none of which pierce through the monotony of singledom. 

She swipes through profiles, a sea of faces belonging to people she will never meet, let alone speak to. There’s the overly chiseled man with a bio that hints at a penchant for arrogance. The vivacious woman with wild curls, a quote from Virginia Woolf emblazoned on her profile. The musician, shrouded in a cloud of recreational smoke, guitar in hand, always accompanied by a loyal puppy—because, of course, there's always that magnetism of a puppy. And then there's the corporate maven, every strand of hair in place, an entire life airbrushed into LinkedIn perfection.

But Yelena is searching for something else—though what exactly, she is not certain. Yelena’s fingers hover over her phone, frozen mid-swipe, as Georgia and Kate emerge from the former’s office. Dressed less formally than usual, with Kate in a chic blazer and jeans combo and Georgia in a strikingly simple dress, it’s evident that the office is not their final destination for the evening.

Yelena inadvertently becomes a secret spectator to their private moment, and she ducks her head back down, suddenly intensely interested in the glowing screen before her. But her attention strays, her ears fine-tuning to the whisper of their voices as they linger by the office door.

“...really looking forward to tonight,” Georgia is saying, her slightly husky with an intimate inflection.

“Me too,” Kate replies.

Yelena feels an involuntary lump form in her throat, and she realizes she’s holding her breath. Why the sight of them, so blissfully unaware of her prying eyes, should stir this maelstrom within her, she isn’t quite sure. It’s not jealousy, she tries to reassure herself. But what is it then? Resignation? Loneliness? 

Regret?

They depart, leaving behind Yelena’s questions unanswered. A notification pings—a message from a woman whose profile Yelena doesn’t remember viewing. She clicks on it in a semi-distracted state, reads a greeting that is refreshingly devoid of clichés or overtly sexual overtones, and something, just something, flickers within her.

-

Twenty minutes over their agreed time, and her date is nowhere in sight. She had replayed their messages in her head, made certain she got the place and time right. Had even arrived a little early to ensure she wouldn’t keep her date waiting. But as the minutes tick by, Yelena’s optimism dwindles. 

Her hand flutters to the hem of her dress, pulling it down nervously. She had chosen it with such care earlier, wanting to make the right impression. Now, she just feels stupid for even trying.

Yelena glances out, her mood sinking further as she realizes she's been stood up, and now she's trapped by the rain without an umbrella. Taking a deep breath, Yelena signals the waiter, requesting her bill with a tilt of her head and a brief but curt nod. Just as she's slipping her phone back into her purse, her focus inadvertently drifts towards the entrance of the restaurant. 

And there you are.

How could she not notice you? She could pick you out from any crowd. Your jaw, sharply defined, always gave way to the tender curvatures of your facial features in a manner that she found endlessly fascinating. Your ear, peculiarly unique in its shape, partially covered by wet strands that have escaped your messy ponytail. 

She watches, a strange tightness forming in her chest, as you speak to the bartender, presumably ordering something to alleviate the chill from your damp clothes. Yelena’s voice, when it finds its way out, bears a semblance of leniency that was lacking the last time they saw each other. 

“Y/N?”

Your eyes hesitantly veer towards her, interlacing surprise and something else she can’t quite discern. There’s a beat of silence where you simply regard each other, before you navigate through the tight arrangement of tables and subdued chatter to join her.

“Hi,” you murmur, a tentative smile on your lips as you hover near her table, waiting for an invitation to sit across from her.

She nods, eyes minutely tracing the droplets of rain as they adhere to your eyelashes, “You’re soaked.”

You glance down, surveying the damage of the moody weather this afternoon. “It seems so.” 

Before she can think about whether she'll regret this later or not, Yelena motions, inviting you to take a seat across from her.

-

Later that night, as she walks back to her apartment, she comes to two realizations.

First, that she’s no longer in love with you. When she asked you about Wanda, she detected a shift in your expression, a subtle hardening of your features. You had explained, sipping on that hastily ordered whiskey, that you and Wanda spent a year apart, and you didn't return to her on the day you had promised to reunite. You’d been in Montauk for the better part of a year, caring for your ailing mother. It's a noble thing, to put one's life on hold and step up for family. It’s endearing and also a bit tragic. Your brief time today in Manhattan was to check in on Wanda, having boarded a three and a half hour train just for a mere five seconds of her.

She remembers your slight smile, a tad rueful, when you mentioned passing by the café. “Wanted a glimpse of her, you know? Just to see how she's doing. Then, the rain,” you'd said, rolling your eyes at the unexpected twist nature had thrown your way.

The irony wasn’t lost on her, that this could have been her third chance, her third window to potentially be with you. You were there, and you were single, and you were still the person she used to love. But there was no stirring of old romantic sentiments, no lit flame of rekindling feelings. She was touched, not tempted, by your vulnerable predicament. 

Like a raging inferno that had burned brightly, fiercely, and then reduced to warm, comforting embers. It wasn’t gone, and she knew it never truly would be, but it had transformed into something else. She thinks love works in that way; never diminishing, but perhaps always changing. Her memories with you, sharp and painful, have softened around the edges, allowing her to accept things as they are, not as they could have been.

Her keys jingle in hand as she unlocks her apartment door, step inside, and decides that she is ready to take the next step with you and be your friend. 

As she closes the door behind her, Yelena is hit with a second insight: she longs to fall in love again. She realizes she's kept her heart guarded for a long time ever since you took up residence there and then left. 

With a slow exhale, she leans back against the door, allowing the coolness of the wood to seep through her blouse, grounding her in the present moment. She allows a laugh, letting it envelop her to her heart’s content. She's weary of being the Yelena that left you, the one that wasn’t chosen by you. More than anything, she wants to be reborn. To become a Yelena who no longer clings to the misguided notion that love, to be real, must come with an undercurrent of hurt. 

Her hand presses against her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm, affirming her presence, her life, her capacity to heal and be whole again. Yelena realizes that she wants to fall in love where it does not require her to fragment herself, to withhold pieces in safeguard against an inevitable heartache. Love should be able to exist, she thinks, without the persistent ache of sacrifice, without the constant dread of its impermanence looming overhead.

Finally, as Yelena drifts into the embrace of her bed, she imagines that future, feels the potential of it thrumming in the space around her. A face lingers in her thoughts—perhaps, if circumstances change and she offers Yelena a second chance to reciprocate all she's given, that face might belong to the future she yearns for.

-

Yelena's documents fly everywhere as Georgia slams them down onto her desk.

“This is not up to our standards, Yelena. You can do better,” Georgia snaps.

Taken aback, Yelena tries to form a response, but is cut off. “I need this revised and on my desk by the end of the day,” Georgia orders.

Throughout the day, it doesn't get any better. Every time their paths cross, Georgia finds something to pick at, each criticism more biting than the last.

Desperate for a semblance of understanding, Yelena decides to shoot Kate a text during her lunch break. With a forced lightness, she types, What did you put in my boss’ coffee today? 😂 She's tearing through everything I submit!

Send.

The little ‘delivered’ sign morphs into ‘read’, yet the response she half-hopes for, half-dreads never comes. Yelena stares at her phone, then back to her computer screen, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. A deep sigh unfurls from her as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and refocuses on the draft. She can't help but be bothered that Kate leaves her on read, especially since Kate used to reply to Yelena immediately before.

This inattention is, paradoxically, an attention to the details Yelena wishes she could ignore. She had wanted to step out of this, out of feeling sidelined, unimportant.

However, Yelena squares her shoulders.

If Georgia desires perfection, Yelena will morph her work into an epitome of immaculate journalism, and she will do it without riding on Kate’s coattails. Biting down gently on her lower lip, Yelena delves back into the article, rephrasing and refining. But even then, as she polishes each sentence, part of her is attentive, waiting for the buzz of her phone, indicating Kate has replied. Yet, the only sound accompanying her through the ensuing hours is the rhythmic clack of her keyboard.

She doesn't hear from Kate for the rest of the day.

-

Two days later, the entire atmosphere of the office seems to have undergone a transformation. This is especially evident with the heady scent of lilies and roses filling the open space. Yelena, having arrived early, watches from her cubicle as coworkers trickle in, all casting appreciative or curious glances toward the opulent floral arrangement in Georgia’s office.

When her boss arrives, she’s an entirely different persona from the tempest of the day before. There's a different air about her today—lighter, tender, almost apologetic.

Georgia, making her way to Yelena’s desk, clears her throat, a barely-perceptible flush gracing her cheeks. 

As Yelena makes her way to her workstation, Georgia calls out to her. “Yelena, a moment?”

Cautiously, Yelena approaches her desk. “Yes, Georgia?”

Georgia stands up, her posture relaxed and her face apologetic. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It wasn't professional or warranted. I had a lot on my mind, and it was wrong to take it out on you.”

Yelena nods, her relief merely presented as a tight smile on her lips. “Thank you for saying that, Georgia.”

Georgia smiles faintly. “It's the least I can do.”

Late in the afternoon, Yelena hears the unmistakable sound of Kate's voice, its playful timbre unmistakable even from her desk. She's arrived to pick up her girlfriend. She’s greeted by Georgia's lit-up face, and they exchange a quick, affectionate kiss which Yelena pretends not to notice, even though it plays at the edges of her peripheral vision.

But then, Georgia pauses, pulling her phone from her bag with a look of mild annoyance. “Damn, I forgot about this call. Give me a minute, okay?”

Kate nods, shooting Georgia an understanding smile. “Take your time.”

Kate nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips as Georgia steps away, phone already at her ear. Yelena, sensing an opportunity, doesn’t let herself overthink it. She rises from her desk and approaches Kate with measured steps, her heart pulsing a bit harder in her chest.

“Hey,” Yelena begins nervously, hands slipping into her back pockets, unsure why she feels this way. “How’s it going?” Small talk doesn’t come naturally to her, but she hasn’t heard from Kate, and a small voice in her head is screaming that she probably did something wrong.

Kate, slightly startled, turns to face Yelena, her expression neutral. “Yelena.”

The exchange is awkward, stilted, but Yelena is not giving up just yet. “The flowers look beautiful. You picked perfectly,” she says genuinely.

For a fraction of a second, Kate's demeanor seems to soften, but it's fleeting. “Georgia likes lilies,” she states flatly.

Yelena swallows, pressing on despite the stonewall response. “Kate, is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kate responds, the single word sharp and clipped, her gaze darting elsewhere, anywhere but Yelena.

Yelena's patience wears thin, and she scoffs, “Clearly, it's not.” Taking a deep breath, she admits, “Look, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Kate cuts her off, voice cold, eyes finally meeting Yelena’s with a veiled hardness. “It’s not about you.”

Yelena, taken aback by the frigidity in Kate’s words, hesitates but doesn’t back down. “Then what is it about? We can talk—”

“No,” Kate retorts, an unsettling firmness in her voice. “We can’t.”

But before Yelena can argue, before she can claw at the barriers Kate's erected, Georgia re-emerges from her office. She has finished her call and strides over, her arm sliding through Kate's with an intimacy that seems second nature.

“Oh! Yelena, you’re still here. Working late again?” Georgia asks.

Kate, without offering Yelena another glance, merely nods in Georgia's direction. “Ready to go?”

Georgia beams at Kate. “Yes, let’s.” Then she turns her attention back to Yelena. “Good night, Yelena. And thank you for the hard work. I’ll see your draft on my desk first thing tomorrow?”

Yelena nods, though her focus is still on Kate. “Of course, Georgia. Good night,” she murmurs, stepping aside to let the pair pass by her.

She clenches the Broadway ticket in her hand, the one she had intended to give Kate if she'd been allowed to apologize for... well, for whatever she evidently did wrong. Because to Yelena, that distant demeanor doesn’t resemble 'nothing' at all. Kate has never shut her out like this, not even when Yelena repeatedly broke her heart.

-

She can't remember the last time she and Natasha hung out alone together. Oh, actually, she does remember. The memory just makes her cringe now, to the point where she wishes she could crawl into a cave and never come out. It was at Natasha's apartment, the morning she decided she was leaving you, with only enough clothes for the night.

Yelena plays with the olive in her martini, stirring it idly. Her sister smirks behind her own drink—the usual on the rocks—and says, “You're doing that thing again.”

Her reference is obvious, even without the specifics. But still, Yelena looks up, an innocent look on her face, the corners of her lips quirking in a half-smile. “What thing?”

“That deep-in-thought look. The same one you wore when you first came home, trying hard not to ask about her.”

Yelena sighs, her gaze dropping to her drink. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Always.” Natasha gives a knowing smile. 

Rubbing her forehead, Yelena nods slowly. “I ran into Y/N the other week. And then there’s this awkward situation with Kate and her girlfriend... who also happens to be my boss.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift subtly at the mention of Kate—at how Yelena said her name. “I see,” she says cautiously.

“And Y/N…” Yelena’s voice trails off as she momentarily loses herself in thought, the stirred feelings forming a tight ball in her stomach.

After a pause, Natasha gently prompts, “What about Y/N?”

Yelena sighs, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I miss her. I partly blame myself for, sort of, pushing her to be in a relationship with me—”

“You didn't, Yelena. You can't force anyone to do anything.”

“Perhaps,” Yelena interjects, raising a finger. “But I'm not going to ignore my own faults in everything that transpired between us. She wasn’t ready to be with anyone, and I should have been a better friend instead of stepping into the role of a girlfriend.”

“Alright, alright,” Natasha says, leaning back, trying not to roll her eyes. “So what happened next?”

“And we talked about her current situation with Wanda. Did you know about that?”

Natasha nods. “It’s complicated.”

Yelena snorts, “When is it not?” Taking a pause, she adds, “But that’s not why I brought her up. I had an epiphany.”

“Oh?”

“I finally moved on. Like, truly moved on from her.”

Natasha smiles. “Yelena, that’s… I’m happy for you.”

Yelena takes a breath, preparing herself for what she’s going to say next.  “And that revelation led to another—”

But Natasha smoothly beats her to it. “You’re in love with Kate.”

Yelena's laughter is louder than she expects, as she quickly responds, “No, I’m not.”

“Okay, maybe you’re not in love with her. But I’m pretty sure you more than like her.”

Yelena's grin fades a bit. She sips on her martini, trying to buy herself some time. “What makes you say that?”

“That slightly panicked look you have right now? Classic.”

“It’s not…” Yelena starts, then stops, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that. We're friends. Good friends. And it's complicated.”

“Nothing worth having ever comes easy, you know?” Natasha says, signaling the bartender for another drink.

Worth having. Kate has always been worth it, Yelena realizes now. What she isn't sure of is whether she's worthy of Kate. But it shouldn’t matter if she is right? 

Kate has Georgia.

Natasha reaches over, placing her hand over Yelena's, like she can read every thought that’s going inside Yelena’s head right now. “You won’t know until you try. And whatever you decide, remember that it’s okay to be happy. It’s also okay to have wishes and regrets. We’re all human, after all.”

Maybe time is yet to be on Yelena’s side. Still, she silently bargains with the universe, or whoever might be listening, for another chance to try.

-

Yelena walks through the low-lit ambiance of the pub. A corner has been reserved for the surprise party. Colorful balloons float above tables and a banner reading, Happy Birthday, Georgia! is draped across the exposed brick wall. She struggles a little to carry the collective gift from the office on a reserved table, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Kate. The brunette is across the room, arranging last-minute decorations. She recalls her own birthdays this very woman made special for her, from surprise parties to intimate evenings with just wine, cake, and conversations that stretched till sunrise. 

Taking a deep breath, Yelena approaches her, hoping to clear the air between them.

“Hey,” she says, holding up the gift. “I brought the present from everyone.”

Kate looks up, her eyes cold and distant. “You can put it on the table.”

The curt response irks Yelena, and she finally lets out her frustration. “What's your deal?”

Kate looks around, seemingly trying to avoid the confrontation, but Yelena’s gaze stubbornly follows her every move, keeping her grounded. “I saw you,” Kate finally admits with a sigh. “With Y/N.”

Yelena sets her jaw at the mention of your name. She hadn’t realized Kate knew about that. How did she know? Albeit defensively, she responds, “So? We're friends.”

“Why is it so easy for you to be friends with her?” Kate's voice notches higher, catching the glances of a few restaurant staff nearby. “To make an effort to be in her life? Why do you make it so hard for me to stay in yours? Why do you push me away?”

She should’ve anticipated that Kate wouldn’t beat around the bush when confronted, but it still didn’t prepare her for how hard Kate’s words hit her. In a split second, Yelena grabs Kate's arm, gently yet with urgency, pulling her towards the restroom. Inside, she locks the door behind them, making sure they wouldn't be disturbed. But even as they are locked away from the prying eyes of the outside world, Yelena tightly holds onto Kate's wrist, her heart pounding against her ribcage. But Kate retreats from her personal space and leans against the cold tiled wall, her breaths uneven. 

“You need to start from the beginning,” Yelena says firmly. “How did you know I saw Y/N?”

Kate’s gaze drops, “I was nearby that day, getting a gift for Georgia. I saw you two together.”

Yelena, feeling cornered, repeats, “We're just friends. Can't I have friends?”

“It's not about you having friends. With Y/N, it seems effortless. But with me? It feels like pulling teeth,” Kate's voice cracks.

“What—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don't, Yelena. Don’t pretend you don’t know why this is happening,” Kate huffs. “I talked myself into being okay with how easily you coast through our friendship, as if we didn’t sleep together in Chicago and you didn’t avoid me for months.”

Yelena blinks rapidly, memories of that trip to Chicago flooding her mind. The hotel room, the smell of the cologne Kate wore, the way Kate's lips had felt against hers. The guilt she felt afterwards, causing her to distance herself. Her chest constricts, eyes welling up as Kate's words cut through her defenses. Chicago was a sore spot, a turning point that she hadn’t allowed herself to examine closely since it happened.

“I can’t justify my actions after Chicago,” Yelena whispers, even if the slightest hitch in her breath can be heard in the small confines of the bathroom. “And I can’t even begin to explain why I did what I did. Just that…” She sighs, grappling with the words. “I felt horrible. Not just about Chicago, but about feeling like I used you for a long time.”

“I have never resented you for not returning my feelings,” Kate says with a small, sad smile. She's never overtly asked Yelena for more, even though it was clear she wanted it. Yet, it still hurts her how easily Yelena seems to let her go when things get tough between them. 

“T-That's just it, Kate. With Y/N, it’s s-safe. Safe in a way I knew what to expect. I knew she could hurt me, and I knew I could handle it, survive it. But with you...” Yelena hesitates, turning to grip the edge of a sink. “With you, it’s not safe. It’s terrifying because you could break me so easily.”

Kate's eyes soften even as her chin trembles. “I would never want to break you, Yelena,” she says just when the image of her girlfriend comes to mind—her girlfriend who’s arriving in half an hour to celebrate her birthday, the very one she organized. “Georgia... she was there. She wanted to be with me and didn’t make me feel like I was hard to love.”

“I never thought you were hard to love,” she confesses quietly, “I just—I wasn’t—”

“What?” Kate all but screams.

Yelena closes her eyes as she allows the words to finally fall from her trembling lips. “I just thought I wasn't good enough to love you.”

Kate steps closer, her smile edged with a hint of madness, her eyes glistening as they catch every veiled truth in Yelena’s carefully shielded confession. “What the hell are you talking about? You were always enough, Yelena. You were always more than enough.”

In that split-second, Yelena closes the distance between them, lips angling towards Kate's, driven by a longing that has simmered below the surface for too long. But just as their lips are about to meet, Kate abruptly pulls back.

Clearing her throat and breaking eye contact, Kate mutters, “I-I need to check if Georgia's already on her way here.”

Yelena feels as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped over her. She feels her cheeks warming with shame. She takes a step back, forcing herself to breathe steadily.

“I... I'm sorry,” she says. “I shouldn't have done that.”

Kate runs a hand through her hair, looking just as frazzled. 

“Go,” Yelena urges softly. “You should go see her.”

For a moment, Kate seems torn, caught between staying and leaving. But then, she nods slowly and exits the bathroom, leaving Yelena still reeling from the almost kiss.

The door clicks softly behind Kate, and Yelena lets out a long-held breath. She turns the tap on, letting the cold water run over her fingers before she splashes water onto her face, the coolness of it a brief respite from the burning behind her eyes.

Minutes feel like hours, but eventually, Yelena gathers the courage to exit the bathroom. The room outside is livelier now. Among the new arrivals, Georgia stands out, her laughter echoing as she wraps her arms around Kate from behind. Some people wave at Yelena in greeting. She musters a weak smile in return, but her focus is on leaving.

Without looking back, she immerses herself into the evening, letting the city lights guide her away.

-

She's not masochistic enough to complete her temporary assignment in New York, enduring the sight of Kate with Georgia at least three times a week, and hands in her resignation the following Monday.

-

On her last day, Georgia squeezes her hand as she thanks Yelena for all her hard work. When she offhandedly asks Yelena about her future plans, Yelena simply shakes her head, replying, “Back to Chicago, but beyond that, I'm not sure.”

-

She thinks about what’s next for her the entire plane ride back to Chicago. But mostly, she thinks about Kate, about what-ifs and once-weres. She wonders how long this person will haunt her, just as you once did.

-

However, she's blindsided when she discovers Kate sitting on the floor next to her apartment door.

Yelena freezes, keys in hand, as her gaze settles on Kate. The hallway lighting softly caresses Kate's face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes and the strands of hair that fall out of place. She's cradling a coffee cup, and her coat is wrapped tightly around her, but Yelena can still see the trembling in her hands.

“K-Kate?” Yelena blinks several times, attempting to make sense of Kate here in Chicago, right outside of her apartment. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“A few... hours,” Kate says, stifling a yawn.

“Why didn't you call or text me?”

Kate shakes her head, a faint, melancholy smile touching her lips. “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Confusion clouds Yelena's features. “A surprise?”

Kate sighs, looking down at the coffee cup she's clutching, “I mean... a romantic surprise.”

Yelena feels her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”

“Georgia and I... we're over.”

“Since when?”

“Since the morning after her birthday party,” Kate reveals grimly, not with regret but with sadness. It’s quiet for a while, neither of them saying anything until Kate looks up, and her eyes aren’t sad anymore, just hopeful. “I realized I had to end it the moment I felt how strongly I wanted to reach out and kiss you that day in the bathroom. When you tried... I couldn't ignore what that meant for me.”

Yelena takes a moment before she slowly lowers herself to sit beside Kate on the cold floor. The two of them side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

“So, you've been camped outside my door for hours because of... feelings?” Yelena teases, barely restraining a foolish grin, still acclimating to the sensation of allowing herself to be happy.

Kate leans back, her head hitting the wall with a rather loud thud and Yelena can no longer hold back a chuckle from escaping her. “When you put it like that, it sounds rather silly, doesn't it?”

“A bit,” Yelena teases, but her eyes are kind. “You could've just called.”

“I didn’t want to call,” Kate murmurs. “I needed to see you.”

“And where have you been this past month, after breaking up with Georgia?”

“Waiting for you to finish your stint working under her.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow.

Kate grins and tenderly tucks a strand of Yelena’s hair behind her ear. “I want to do everything right with you.”

Yelena covers Kate's hand with her own, holding it in her lap. “I’m sorry about Georgia,” she says.

Kate narrows her eyes and half-smiles. “You’re not, but thanks.”

Yelena lets out a breathy laugh, her thumb tracing circles on Kate's hand. “I’m sincere about that,” she says. “I thought she was good for you, and I am truly sorry if I ruined things for you.”

“No, Yelena, you didn’t complicate things. You just...” Kate pauses, swallowing dryly, “It's always been you I've wanted. I’m not used to lying to myself. I couldn't be with someone else knowing there was even a sliver of hope you might feel the same.”

“Kate, I—”

Kate tilts her head, waiting, a hopeful expectancy hanging in the air.

“I feel the same,” Yelena breathes out, so softly that Kate leans in to catch every syllable.

Kate's lips curl into a smile, and it grows and grows to its brightest, and Yelena thinks about how she wants to be the one to cause it, over and over again.

“You do?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it, to admit it. I'm not used to...this.”

“To what?” Kate asks.

“To being loved first,” Yelena confesses with a shrug. “I’m always the one who cares more, the one who waits, who tries harder. I didn't recognize it when it was given to me without having to fight for it.”

Kate cups Yelena's cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin tenderly. “Well,” she whispers. “You better get used to it then.”

Tears form in Yelena's eyes, but she brushes them away quickly. “It's going to take some time,” she admits. “To trust, to believe that this is real and not just another heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“I promise to be patient,” Kate says, and Yelena finds it so easy and natural to believe her every word. “So, what happens now?”

“Dinner,” Yelena says, nodding towards her apartment. “And then we figure it out together.”

With a nod, Kate leans in and Yelena meets her half way. 

They kiss for the first time after laying all their cards on the table.

[monstersandmaw]

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

[peachjagiya]

why do u think we’re all so invested in tae and jk’s relationship ? like we’ve rlly all decided to make whole ass blogs to discuss taekook (i literally made my tumblr for that purpose LOL) and i do wonder why i care so much? like what got me so so into them that im thinking abt them every single day almost from sun up to sun down 🤡 ? even if i noticed and thought “oh seems like there might me something sus between those two” what do u think lead all of us to caring so much that we’ve watched hours worth of footage, analysis, theories etc abt their relationship and are talking abt it every day when it’s not like we even get content from them that often? sometimes i think am i just filling the void in my own life but ik there are plenty of tkk bloggers who are in relationships so maybe thats just a me problem lmao

Well BTS emit some kind of addictive substance as a group, I swear.

I'm about to get real, hold onto your light sticks: I have depression, clinically diagnosed, and I'm neurodivergent. Dopamine just doesn't happen for me. The reason I listen to BTS most days and click through Tumblr and engage with TK is because I know exactly how joyful it will make me feel when a lot of things make me feel empty. And this is coming from a wife and a mother. My kid plays Minecraft for his dopamine, my wife makes miniature houses, and I do BTS/Taekook stuff.

When something feels good, why would you be inclined to give it up? But also... Why should you?

Also ADHD means I'm prone to hyperfixation. I love being INTO something. It just soothes my brain. I have a super mentally draining job. It's an escape from the stress that places on me.

And finally I just think they inspire a protectiveness in me and I'm invested in those guys being happy. Mmmmmmaybe that's weird.

Edit to add: so it could be any of these things or none of these things but if it feels good and doesn't hurt anyone, keep doing it.

Thanks anon. 💜

[flanpucci]

I already talked about why I love Pucci on a logical sort of level but I didn't get in depth about what I think and feel about him as a character and why he stuck with me enough to get him permanently tattooed on my skin so I'm gonna get into it a little bit. Feel free to skip this one because it's not really analysis and delves a tiny bit into interpretation/headcanon so I guess it's more blogposting than anything.

To be honest although I really liked his design and the cool black representation he is, and Whitesnake was instantly my favorite stand, I didn't like him right away, I thought he was a little bit of a weirdo in his introduction scene with Miraschon, and it took some time for him to grow on me. His design and themes land right in the middle of stuff I've been interested in since forever (Christianity, the moon, space, technology, arts, science...) so of course I had an interest in him. I remember that I really liked the fact that even though he's a priest he's knee deep in the occult with the green baby and making Foo Fighters etc, I thought that was super interesting. It took me til the end of the part to root for him, and then when he was defeated, I realized that I wasn't as happy as I should have been lol.

I guess one of the first reasons why I was touched by Pucci on a personal level is that I felt really strongly empathic towards him, and his behavior and actions just let me feel like I caught a glimpse of his many emotions inside, even though he has a thick facade. For example, his loneliness felt very real to me. Having lost most of his family, and his dear ones by his own fault, them being taken away from him, him choosing to live a celibate life in the clergy, shutting himself in a prison for the biggest part of his life... His self inflicted suffering just saddened me a lot deep down inside. He's also got big existential dread, wondering about the greater purpose of his life from his childhood. Isn't this something that touches everyone at some point?

But not many people have their entire beliefs about their existence and identity crushed at a young age in their life. Pucci, when his brother is found out to be alive, has everything that he built himself upon, his justification for being alive, completely shattered. It then turns into tragedy, yet he seems to find a little hope and comfort with Dio, only for them to be crushed again when he dies. And then he holds on to this impossible grief for 22 whole years, unable to accept that his fate in this world is to suffer so much loss. We don't see him sad after his sister died, we don't see him cry or flinch. Living his life in this manner, he surely had to have a lot of pent up emotion, which he surely dealt with by dissociating them from himself and pushing them onto Whitesnake. But not entirely, it's a little 'see-through'. When you think of it, he's amongst the most 'perfect' characters in the series, he's superior, composed, poised, tightly upkept, articulate. He has both an advantage in status and seniority in age over almost everyone in the part. He seems to be well adjusted and respected by people working in the prison, and in the city. Yet he's also very faillible, often prone to panic, he begs for his life at multiple times. Scenes like the frog scene where he slips and messes up the prime number count because there are frogs on his expensive pants make him reek of humanity when otherwise he could easily feel 'out of reach' and inhuman because of how superior he is (like let's say, Kars is, which is a lot of his appeal though!). Same when I recently discovered his watch is worth several thousand dollars. It felt like peeking into his true self right through the wall of righteousness that he built to protect himself and further the plan. His bad sides and inclination towards cardinal sins are really fun to watch and try to notice. That's also why I don't like when people pass him off as a good person, because to me he's really not, he wouldn't be half as interesting if he was! But he's not completely evil either, and as Weather tells him, being so sure that his evil is necessary for a greater purpose is what makes it even more heart breaking to me.

On top of that, his quirks and unique traits make him both very endearing and relatable, especially if you happen to have similar ones! In my case counting has been my primary means of shutting down anxiety attacks for years now, and when I saw him do it too, I automatically felt really drawn to him. Same goes for his ramblings in the worst moments, they made him really stand out, and I felt drawn to him because of some examples he used that hit close to my interests. If you've read my other analysis maybe you know that I tend to interpret him as autistic and so this hits close to home too. In the same manner, the fact that such a cool and powerful character grew up with a canon disability (in his foot) made me feel happy as a disabled person.

There are scenes where he expresses love and devotion very directly and in a raw way, which is very rare, and was also surprising because of how indirect he usually is to make a point... His love for Dio however you wish to interpret the nature of it is deep and sincere and rooted in both despair towards his impossible situation and the hope that maybe another miracle could occur and turn things around for him. I thought the evolution of the way he talks about Dio was really interesting and it moved me to see him very attached to his dear friend. Also the scenes with Dio let us see how sweet and interested he is when he's with someone he gets along with, and how different Dio behaved towards him made me like Dio a lot more too.

When I watched Stone Ocean I had just finished The Outer Wilds and FFXIV Endwalker, and in a way these 3 pieces of media hit the same nerve in me. I was thinking a lot about the purpose of existence and the end of the universe, so I really wanted Pucci to fulfill his potential and go as far as he could, taking the entire universe with him, breaking every rule of his world and becoming bigger than the story itself. It's still how I see him and why I admire him a lot. I was very shaken by his death and the part it played in the entire series. In a sense I get the feeling that he was obsessed with destiny because he knew he was created to do something, and he was right, he was created by Araki only to suffer his horrible backstory, to have everything taken from him. But his extraordinary inability to accept it pushed him to break the wall of the story and try to subtract himself from it, while opening everyone's eyes on the cruelty of the (fictional?) world they live in, and giving humanity the possibility to be at peace with it. The first time I saw the ending, I was completely crushed by the weight Araki put on him, making his total erasure from the world the only condition for everyone's life to suddenly become better, almost perfect. I was disgusted that it was expected from me to be happy that the world was finally rid of him when it all started with an impossible to predict chain of events. Now that I look back at the ending, I think maybe I misunderstood it, and I've decided to believe that he maybe was freed from the curse that was his existence in the story, and that he took upon him many of all the 'wrong' that was in the original world, making it all right for the other characters. I hope Perla is happy in the new universe... Even though this is probably just delusional coping...

Although I feel sorry for Pucci and wish he could have solved his problems differently, I'm glad the story is sad as it is because otherwise I wouldn't have felt so deeply for him. In a sense I felt his pain so strongly that I was instantly drawn emotionally to find a way to 'solve' his situation, he's like I tormented soul that I have to appease, and that's why I pick up a pen and draw, write, or spread love and wholesomeness. That's also why I draw him peaceful or sleeping most of the time, why I bring my plushie to see nice things 😔🫶 I also get a lot of different feelings coming from Araki's way of drawing him throughout the part, and I think Pucci was a character that Araki learned to love and understand along the way too, instead of liking him from the start like he did Dio or Jolyne, but he probably was a lot to handle even for him lol.

Jojo's been one of my favorite mangas for more than 7 years now and I'm so glad Pucci was the last boss for it, embodying and carrying in him the legendary Dio without being overshadowed by such a legendary character, while giving the story and Dio's character the last missing piece of the puzzle to truly tie things up nicely. Saying goodbye to him and to Stone Ocean after watching it also meant saying goodbye to the universe that I had loved and enjoyed for many years so it was bittersweet. In any case he's the peak, the climax, the strongest and has permanently changed the course of one of the best mangas in existence with his actions, and I take a lot of pride in my taste and the fact that my favorite character is the one who did all that haha 😫

And lastly I'd like to say that even if it's not really related to Pucci as a character, this last year that I've been active in fandom, liking him as pushed me to develop my skills, I started drawing, got back into writing, went on trips cause I wanted an excuse to bring him to the Louvre, go out of my way and explore new places when I made that collection of pictures representing the 14 words, made friends, I'm going to Japan soon and I'll be bringing him with me to meet them, he has fueled my imagination and given me more inspiration than I've ever felt, and I'm forever grateful for that. It is not easy nowadays to feel very intense positive emotions, life can be stressful and tiring, so I'm thankful that liking him has given me the push I needed to start doing many new things, interest myself in the wonders of the world, go to church, explore my city, go see art, travel, feed my mind with knowledge and beauty. Heck I even listened to that Handel's CD, it was wonderful. And read an essay on prime numbers when I have math dyslexia!?

I don't know how much deeper I can get without sounding completely off my rocker so I'll leave you guys here, hope you enjoyed and feel free to tell me how you relate to your favorite characters and how much they mean to you!

Fame redraw for illustration by me~

[fictionalmenxyn]

Your writing is lovely! Would you do something like reader being prone to nosebleeds?(I've had a few nasty incidents of getting them when I'm stressed and it makes me super self-concious lol)

Of course I can do this for you! :)

Tw: Blood

Ghost

He was sat on a chair around a table with Soap and Price

You were walking into the break room after writing a stressful load of paper work

You had already been really stressed from meetings and decision making as your also a Lt

You wanted to grab a water so you could stop the headache you currently have

So going over to the fridge you grabbed a water from a mini fridge

And as you were about to open it you felt a droplet on your hand

Looking down to see the blood you huffed hating that it would always happen

You turned around as you grabbed some paper towels

Ghost saw you walking over with you holding a paper towels on your face

He obviously raise an eyebrow and asked “you alright, love?”

You spoke “yeah, just a nose bleed thats all” Ghost was concerned and asked “did anyone hurt you?” You replied “no, I get them when I’m stressed all the time”

He’s so confused as he’s never seen them that much but come to think about it he doesn’t see you that stressed often

Soap

You and him were out on a walk having a somewhat nicer day than this morning. It was a stressful start to the day but it somewhat got better

As you were both walking you had decided that taking a hike on the hillside closest to base was a nice idea to have a fresh start after the busyness of this morning

You had spotted a cool looking building in the distance and spoke “Soap look” as you pointed out you had felt something drop onto your hand

Soap was looking at the area you had pointed to while you were looking at the blood on your hand

You quickly asked “hey, do you have any tissues?” He turned to you thinking you were about to see until he spotted your nose bleeding

He panicked slightly and asked “how did that happen?” You spoke “I get them often, don’t panic” he was still confused but searched his bag and luckily he had some tissues in there

Later that walk you explained how if you were stressed and your body couldn’t take anymore stress it would give you a nose bleed as a ‘sign’ that you need a break

Gaz

You were walking from the board office after a presentation you had just presented in front of new recruits

It was somewhat stressful as you weren’t a fan of presenting anyways but Laswell told you it would help her and Price out

You left the boarding office and walked towards the brake room to grab some food and a drink for yourself

But as you were walking you felt something drip onto your shirt, you thought it was a leak cause someone the other day mentioned there was a leak somewhere in the base

So you look up to see nothing, no patchy ceiling nor water marks

You looked at your shirt and pulled it out a bit then you saw a few drops of blood on your shirt

Then you felt it on your lip so you touched just under your nose and saw blood on your fingers

You looked around and saw “Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick” on a door

You rushed over and knocked the door, you could hear his boots and then watched as he revealed himself behind the door

He noticed the blood on you instantly and moved to the side while asking “you alright babe? No one hit you have they?” You shook your head

Rushing into the bathroom you grabbed some toilet paper, placing it in your nose you washed your hands

Gaz came over and placed a hand on the small of your back and asked “how did this happen? Eh?” You replied “got over stressed, this happens a lot when I’m stressed”

Gaz nodded and spoke “I’ll get you a shirt” he went over and grabbed one of his shorts and gave it to you

Price

He was in his office at the time this happened

You were in the break room finishing off your paper work to hand over to Price

Once you had finished you headed straight to his office

Walking over to the door you had knocked and peaked your head through and spoke “hey love?”

He replied “hey, come in” you let yourself in and he raised an eyebrow

You asked “what’s wrong?” He stood up and spoke “come here a second” you walked over a little nervous thinking you’ve done something wrong

Then he placed his index (pointing) finger under your chin and lifted your head so he could see better and then he spoke “you have a nose bleed”

You wiped it and spoke “oh” he asked “what caused it?” You replied “over worked myself” Price spoke “alright, here… have some tissues” he handed you a box and you grabbed one

He asked “so me a favour” you nodded as you wiped the blood

He replied “don’t over work yourself, alright love?” You nodded

He gave you a famous smile and a kiss on the cheek and spoke “go to my room and get yourself a clean shirt” you nodded and left

Alejandro

You were in the living room while he was in the kitchen cooking you both dinner

You had been working for a solid two hours on your military prep and corse work for the new recruits

You were stressing so much since the deadline was tomorrow and you were about the third of the way done

You felt as if you had a cold so you wiped your nose with your hand and then saw the red smeared across you hand

You rolled your eyes and headed over to the kitchen to grab some kitchen roll

Walking in you spoke “hey dear, is there any kitchen roll?” He turned and spoke “yeah, over on the dining table” you thanked him and then he spoke “did you spill you coffee?”

You replied “nah, I got a nose bleed” he turned around and looked sorrowful for you

You smiled and spoke “don’t need to look so pitiful at me Ale, I get them all the time it’s no different” he raised an eyebrow then you explained it to him

Rudy

You were both watching tv, it was a nice day so you wore some shorts

You were sat next to Rudy as you watched (your favourite show/movie) and you were enjoying this peaceful time before your big and important meeting with Laswell and some other important people

You had been worrying for the past two days and it’s starting to get the better of you

You were watching the movie until you felt something drip onto your leg

Looking down you spotted a droplet of blood, you knew that you had worried yourself too much

So you tapped your lip and saw some blood on your finger tip

You looked over to Rudy and asked “do you have any tissues on you?” He looked over and instantly got worried “omg what happened?”

You replied “I got a nose bleed for making myself worry about later” he nodded and left the room and came back with tissues

He handed them to you and then asked “do you get them often?” You nodded and he asked “because you worry?” You spoke “yeah had them since I was young, so no need to worry really”

He nodded and gave you a hug then spoke “don’t worry about that meeting my love, you’ll do just fine”

Hope you enjoyed:)

Have a good day/night!

Requests are open! May take time but it is open :)

[j0kers-light]

Hi! how do you think Joker would feel if reader was a runner? I’m not quite there yet but I hope to run a marathon at some point, so I end up having to spend a lot of time running. Which I don’t mind... but I get up before the sun rises and immediately go out to get my run in. Which I feel like J couldn't handle if he slept at the readers apartment that night. And I wonder if he'd be worried about reader being outside alone for long periods of time. I feel like races would be lonely for reader since he obviously couldn't just show up and cheer her on </3. And on a more personal note- I also wonder if he'd or if he'd notice the absurd amount of race t shirts i have 😂. And this is kind of a stupid thing I do, but sometimes I run when I’m sick. Even If have the flu or something I will still try to run it off, which I figure he wouldn’t approve of reader doing. And I’m very injury prone (very). So he might notice notice my slight Advil addiction lol

Sorry for the Kind of random a request. Maybe not a lot to write about, but I feel like I’ve never seen a story/headcannon about a reader who runs 🤔? I had this thought because the running shoes I like are soo expensive (especially when you have to buy them regularly 😵) and I thought of a scenario where he steals reader some shoes in bulk 😅. Anywho you don’t have to write all or any of this if you don’t care (this is basically a self insert of myself so change what you want) , I’m kinda rambling so this may not make any sense. And I love your stories btw 🩷

Hey hi anon!!!!! 🖤✨

You weren’t rambling love, I understood everything you said! AINT NOTHING WRONG WITH A SELF INSERT its why I'm here lol 🤭 thank you for sharing those tiny details, I shall follow them to the letter! Ah! Thank you for reading too!

Disclosure: I am not a runner and I have no idea about this topic so forgive me if anything is inaccurate. Did I drop what I was doing to fill this head canon? YES you're worth it! Representation matters so don’t hesitate to be self indulgent!

I hope you enjoy beloved! Keep runnin'! 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

With the clash of schedules-- Joker usually arrives at your apartment when you're stepping out for your morning run. You pass right by him and he's bewildered on where you're going this early in the day. The sun hasn't even risen yet and why aren't ya wearing anything?!?!! Your sports bra and jogger pants makes him seethe in anger. You look too sexy to be leaving the building!!

This poses a huge safety risk in Joker's mind because Gotham City is never safe but he knows by experience that this is the worst time to be out, alone! Why. Are. You. Out. Running. In. The. Dark? Looking like a defenseless snack? 👀 He flips out when you come back all sweaty yet energized. Whatever that means.... you still look hot. An easy target for sure.

He yells at you for putting yourself in danger until you explain that you're been training for the past few months and nothing has happened. How is it he’s just now noticing? Then you sheepishly explain the odd hours that you run. Mornings and/or nights with no protection whatsoever and Joker.exe stops working.

Joker takes no chances and assigns your security team to follow your training/run route effectively immediately. And as for your skimpy running attire? Girl.

You thought you owned enough race shirts. HA! Joker buys steals you modest running outfits but they do little to conceal your peaches (wink) or your killer legs, much to his dismay. You can wear a trash bag and still look sexy. He begrudgingly allows you to wear your tight outfits because they’re practical.

He stares you down anytime you do a warmup stretch before a run. Oh he'll stretch you out real good.... AHEM! Uh moving on..

Joker most definitely notices your hoard of running shoes. Just how many do you need and why are they so expensive? You explain that they wear down so quickly by running so you constantly need a new pair. Joker takes it upon himself (being the supportive partner that he is) to buy steal the entire store's supply of shoes in your size!

Imagine coming home to a mountain of shoe boxes and Joker's head poking around the corner. 😃 He's so proud of himself but you feel the oncoming headache. He's expressing his love through illegal, over the top gestures.... again. You love this idiot.

And speaking of grand gestures, since J can't attend your races— at least not publicly, he has become rather creative in showing his support. He bribes threatens people to cheer you on in his place or sets up unauthorized checkpoints along the route with banners, balloons, etc. with messages like ‘GO Y/N!’ or ‘Run faster, Bunny!’

It’s so embarrassing when the marathon speakers are hacked and the song, 'Track Star' by Mooski plays because Joker does not know the true meaning behind the lyrics! He just hears, 'she's a runner, she's a track star' and thinks it’s a compliment.

You almost forfeited the race when the urge to hide in shame hits you. The clown dedicated the song to you! Joker means well but this ain't it. The fireworks he rigged to go off when you won the race however were a sweet touch.

Little did you know— if you weren't expected to win, Joker had laughing gas on standby to poison the other runners so you could gain the lead as they fell behind laughing to death... His Bunny will win, no matter what. #SupportiveCrazyBF

Joker does not predict you sabotaging your own chances by running while sick. He doesn't understand your logic of ‘running your flu off.’ It doesn’t make any sense so he’s troubleshooting a plan to help you.

How did you sneak out!?! You should be at home, getting rest and fluids yet you’re knocking back Advil and pressing on like everything is fine. Let's just say Joker is more than furious with you love.

You knew Joker would eventually find out where you were. You shook off your security detail the moment he left and made it to the check in booth for the marathon while still under the weather.

It was just a seasonal flu. No biggie!

Joker was acting like a mother hen thinking you shouldn't lift a finger while sick and he even dressed up like a nurse to further prove just how serious he was about your health. He ordered you to stay in bed and rest— not sneaking out to attend a race. You knew he would be furious but what could he do once you started the competition?

They didn’t perform wellness checks so after everyone got into place and the starter gun went off, the race began.

It was Joker’s fault that he left his patient unattended. The race would only take a few hours and you would be back long before Joker returned from who knows what.

In hindsight, you didn't expect J and his goons to storm the pavilion where the registration booth and spectator zone were set up.

People were none the wiser when multiple vans pulled up, got out, and blended into the crowd. Only when Joker’s goons yielding guns and other weapons started wreaking havoc halfway into the race did things get crazy.

In the midst of the chaos, Joker casually walked up to your upcoming mile marker and waited for you to run by.

He'd only seen you run a handful of times but his keen eye instantly noticed you were more sluggish and less enthusiastic today. You were just going through the motions and looked ready to pass out.

No doubt because his Light was hardheaded and ran a marathon with a flu.

Good thing Joker was good at handling brats. He had no problem plucking you from thin air and hauling you (kicking and screaming) into his van. He hit the wall and it sped off back to your apartment in record time.

If you weren't sick maybe you would've had the energy to fight back more but Joker was able to swat your punches to his face away like a fly.

"J?! What the.. What is your problem!!?! You just ruined a charity race!" You coughed into your elbow as Joker watched in silence.

His face was unreadable and the both of you just swayed with the van's motion as it barreled through Gotham traffic.

Not a peep from your lover. This wasn't good. You were, in essence, in the principal's office. Joker went out of his way to snatch you— in broad daylight— from a public event and he had nothing to say. His intense gaze spoke volumes.

You immediately backtracked to save your skin.

"That wig looks great on you, J. It uh.. *cough* ahem, accentuates your features." You said weakly.

"Don't play with me, Y/n."

Oh. Government name. You f__ked up.

Joker ripped off his ginger wig and fluffed out his own hair underneath. It was a scare tactic, one that was working very well. He was prolonging the inevitable and you knew he was holding back the full severity of his anger.

Finally he licked his lips and spoke. "You wanna know whhhhhhhy it’s a bad idea to, run, while you’re sick hmm? Let’s see.. Respiratory problems, dizzy spells— tch, your accident prone a** can trip on thin air and crack ya head open. Do I need ta go on?"

He waved his hands at you until you shook your head meekly.

"Good! Now... if my Bunny had listeneddd to me.. and stayed in bed, your uhhh charity marathon? Wouldn't have been sabotaged. What's that saying of yours? Play stupid games, win stupid prizessss."

You turned your head in embarrassment but Joker reached over to turn it back towards him. Gone was his stern gaze and replaced with a much more softer expression.

"Think of it this way, Bunny. I came and supported my girl at her uh race." Joker cracked up laughing.

That was not the support you had in mind.