#(Just that responsibility and experience are odd reasons to give considering who he's talking to)

[mdhwrites]

So, do you find it odd why the Guardian couldn't just give Anne a new set of stones or even the ability to be able to go back and forth between worlds? Like considering they were able to give Anne the means for a one-way trip back home, why not just let her travel between worlds since she made it clear she isn't gonna take advantage of the stones' powers for selfish purposes?

So I've talked before at decent length on how I LOVE the reasoning for the Guardian to have done what he did, how he did it and how it even ties into the show thematically. Part of that analysis of mine in the past has been that the Guardian himself even points out that his experiment lasted WAY. FUCKING. LONGER than he expected because it took so long for one person, out of potentially millions or even billions of people, to FINALLY do the right thing with the stones. What was meant to be fun and spice up his job now became an annoying nuisance that he was too stubborn to take back.

With that said: Yeah, Anne won't abuse them... But you obviously wouldn't want Anne to be the ONLY one using them, would you? Because the point of her having the stones permanently is for a way back to Amphibia. Well... Does the Guardian think Marcy is a trustworthy enough person to have the stones? Sasha? What if one of them decides to just take them and go, never to be seen again, in a moment of weakness like the one Marcy had at the start of the series?

But let's be kind. Let's say the trio only uses the stones when Anne is around because Anne is the only one allowed to use them. Well... What if Anne trips one day and the stones slip out of her pocket? Or hell, they live in Los Angeles. What if on their way to use the stones, a pick pocket takes them? Or someone steals from the Boonchuy's/Anne's house and gets ahold of them? Well, I guess now some other person has unlimited, ultimate power, don't they? Sure, the Guardian could have a fail safe now to nuke them at any given time but that still means that Anne has screwed up and let that power go and now it's gone because of her negligence. She has failed with this responsibility that she didn't even want. If you think she did or she wouldn't fuck up somehow...

Did you not even listen to Anne? Anne admits that she's not a perfect person. She has a lot of growing to do. That could also mean negative growth though. If anything went wrong in her life while she still had access to unlimited power, to the ability to go between worlds to find an answer to solve what was upsetting her... Does she ever abuse that? Does she ever give into that despair or hurt? After all, change is hard. Wanting to deny it and undo it so that you can keep living the comfortable existence you once had is a lot easier to chase, even though it's a mistake. It's essentially the cardinal sin of the show after all. Marcy has them use the music box so she doesn't have to face the harsh reality of losing her friends.

So yeah, he could have made a perfect set of stones that was outlined to need Anne's entire being scanned each time they were used so only she could use them and no one else but... How is that a better ending? Instead of book ending the story with saying goodbye to your friends and having to face that, we'd have a comfier ending for the audience that didn't make sense for the themes of the show and is weirdly bent towards wish fulfillment in a show that's never really been about that. It'd be worse except for the members of the fandom who want Amphibia to give them all the answers they want in their own life. Who don't ever want the discomfort of leaving their frog show behind or the cruel reality that someday they'll likely say goodbye to their friends too.

When that times comes, no god is going to give you a magic set of stones that let you go back and forth as you please. You'll have to accept that change because sometimes change is forced upon you as a part of life. Not even in the worst ways. Sometimes it's just unlucky circumstances or your own choice. Your dream job may mean leaving your hometown because they ask you to relocate or you already knew that the company's offices were FAR away but you still wanted to work there. Sometimes the college you want is too far away for a day trip to your family so now if you want to keep those ties together, you have to put in the work and find new ways to get back to them.

But if you put in the work, you'll be surprised how loyal and deep those bonds can be.

Like I've said so many times: There's almost nothing in the finale, ESPECIALLY once the Guardian shows up and beyond, that I think you could change to make for a better ending to this show and its themes. Period. You can try to be a pedant about it but you're asking for the show to give you more comfort at the cost of a worse story. That's not what I want and it's not what we should want out of our media, not if we actually want it to ever challenge us and help us grow.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[harmonyckrs]

DAY 7 in Twisted Strangetown: Investigating the Beakers

THE PREVIOUS DAY

Now that Vidcund is safe and Aktu is in Ajay's possession, Chloe and I figured it would be a good idea to move out and observe the Beakers. We told Pascal that we were doing a secret investigation to locate Bella Goth, which he seemed to take rather well.

He offered to escort us to the Beakers, which I initially assumed was out of kindness. It turned out there was another reason why he asked, though - that weird guy that Boss insisted we protect.

I'm not really into sex or romance, but I'm glad there's at least something going well for him after everything that happened.

Pascal also claimed that he got some valuable information to share to help us with our investigation in regards to "Bella Goth," but it turns out he just wanted to talk shit about Loki and make false claims about him being responsible for every bad thing that's ever happened in Strangetown. He and Chloe spent some time talking trash about him, even though our interactions with Loki are still incredibly limited and we have yet to figure out who he is a person.

Pascal tried to do the same for me, but unlike her, I take my job seriously (okay wow. I'm sorry for trying to enjoy myself and actually interact with other people for non-work related reasons? You gotta learn how to blend in man). I refuse to involve myself in petty drama, especially after what happened with Erin and Kristen.

Needless to say, Pascal did not appear happy about that. I expected better from him, considering his reputation as the most reasonable person in Strangetown. The competition doesn't really appear to be very strong considering the eccentric nature of everyone else, but I hope you can understand my point.

Mr. Beaker was out harassing the other two brothers while Mrs. Beaker was at work, which left only Mr. Subject inside of the house. I watched him try to cook hotdogs, but he ended up setting the grill on fire that nearly killed all three of us (and you didn't do shit when it came to putting it out lol). It's a miracle we were able to live (the miracle is called ME bitch. Give me some damn credit). Either way, I hope the Beakers are better at cooking than he is.

The General told me fascinating information about the Beakers, such as the rumors of Mr. Subject being their living test subject that they perform harmful and illegal experiments on. Erin also told me about her parents being well-loved scientists and not approving of her becoming an oracle, so I suppose Mr. Beaker may be the same way considering he follows the path of his parents.

On an unrelated note, a lot of people tend to think I was the golden child among Chloe and I as some kind of justification for why Chloe is the way she is. The truth is, that was neither of us. Aunt Glabe raised us the best she could, what with our father abandoning us for his new family. We don't know much about them at all since he never visited or wrote us letters, but Aunt Glabe mentioned that he had four kids.

FOUR FUCKING KIDS.

I'd understand abandonment if he wanted to live the childless life, but this is just irrefutable proof that we were unwanted! And the worst part? I don't even know where that man's grave is. Even if I wanted to yell at him and crush his tombstone the way he crushed my aunt's well-being, I can't.

On the bright side, the odds of me ever encountering any of those four kids is pretty low. I imagine they're probably all scattered around the world, living their best life with help from our father. I'm not even sure what they look like. For all I know, I could've encountered one or two of them already. The odds of me somehow meeting all four is really low.

THE NEXT DAY

[starmora]

I think Gunn cared about all the characters but he cared about the finale he wanted even more. The difference in character building, paying attention to smaller details and giving more equal space to each individual dynamic in vol 1 & 2 compared to what we see in vol 3 is pretty noticeable. Even with its flaws IW balanced muiltple characters and smaller plot points better than vol 3. As others have said in vol 3 you'd think IW and EG never happened. You have barely any idea about what happened after EG either except Peter clearly fell apart and Gamora somehow ended up a ravager who was somehow keeping up Nebula for some undisclosed amount of time. That's not good storytelling. We don't even know if the characters think Gamora was ressurected with no memory or if they know she's from the past. I'm also confused because the film treats it as if Gamora herself wasn't in EG

Gamora finally got to connect with the guardians and at least feel something for Peter but that's it. She's back with the ravagers like she didn't just go through a pretty emotional experience that opened up a whole new view of herself and what had happened before. I get the ravagers are who she's been with but there's too much that's went on to act like things hadn't changed.

I don't know what happened behind closed doors and I'm sure there were more details to all of this than we will know. But I do think people had enough self awareness to realize Gamora shouldnt stay dead dead but not enough to realize just being alive and present wasn't enough. Add to that Gunn having zero flexibility to work with the complexities of a shared universe and sexism/biases and everything became disjointed. There's good stuff for Gamora in vol 3 but there needed to be more and I think whatever small details played a part in larger decision making need to be talked about by Gunn away from Twitter so there aren't vague answers running amuck or a dozen different types of responses to the same question that are similar enough to not be a complete contradiction but different enough wording to cause confusion.

You’re right, maybe it’s unfair to say he doesn’t care about Gamora but it just feels like he cared about Rocket and his story the most and Gamora is unfortunately the one who suffered the most for this, for some odd bizarre reason, when it really didn’t have to be that way.

It’s funny you mention that about not knowing anything after eg, because I went with my mom to see the movie again (this was her third time seeing it with me, and she has seen every other movie the guardians are in multiple times, so it’s not like gotg is new for her) and she turned to me and told me she was confused about pretty much everything that happened in the opening of the movie and asked me what happened for them to have gotten to the point where they all have this base on Knowhere and Gamora is a ravager and everyone doesn’t seem to really care what she’s been up to and she asked me to explain it to her and I just. Couldn’t, because there wasn’t an answer. Like you just have to use your imagination I guess and that’s fine but it also feels like he just kind of wanted to jump to the end and tell his rocket story and get out.

I truly believe he thought about it and considered what would be best for her but it’s just clear to me he didn’t give her the same level of attention he gave Rocket or Peter, and honestly probably didn’t even consult anyone or get any sort of second opinion on it because he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do that with all his talk about having complete control lmao. And like in a perfect world where infinity war had never happened to her, I don’t think that would have mattered AS much but it did and she needed a little more love and attention from Gunn because of it that he seemingly just didn’t wanna give

[mamun258]

Young man who resigned naked at the end of the year

There was a time when platforms such as Xiaohongshu were flooded with sharing content such as “Beautiful baby quits”, making people HE Tuber envious of their post-resignation life. But is this really the case? In fact, it is not recommended to make naked remarks, and do not make naked remarks easily. The real world has not reversed. There are no conditions that others would envy, and you can only bear the taste of it yourself.

It sounds like a cool thing to resign naked, say goodbye to a terrible job, give up year-end bonuses, paid holidays and various benefits, and bravely pursue the new life you want.

Many people on social platforms took a break, traveled, lived freely, and restarted their lives after resigning. Many people were eager to follow suit.

The mental process of most people is that after resigning, they will first experience a period of excitement, where they relax physically and mentally. Soon, uneasiness and anxiety will replace the excitement, irregular work and rest, and the rhythm of life will be lost, and they will start looking for a job. People who resign naked at the end of the year will inevitably encounter the problem that most companies have no recruitment quotas at this time, there is no response to the resumes they submitted, and the companies they interviewed are unreliable. After successive setbacks, many people start to panic. Regret it.

So some people couldn't bear the pressure and found a job that was unsatisfactory, some people worked part-time jobs intermittently to make ends meet, and some people simply failed and just had to find a job. They are banking on a strong recruiting season next year.

In fact, the end of the year is indeed the off-season for recruitment. For professionals who do not have full planning and confidence, a relatively safe approach is to attend some interviews before resigning to understand the latest workplace needs and your own strengths and weaknesses. Think carefully about whether and when to resign. After all, the real world doesn’t have so many reversals and counterattacks.

1. What are the young people thinking when they resign naked at the end of the year?

Resigning naked is a high-risk operation. If you resign naked at the end of the year, you may lose your year-end bonus and paid vacation, or you may not be able to find a new job for several months.

The reason why workers choose to resign naked at the end of the year usually has a compelling reason. To put it simply, the reasons for resigning at the end of the year include lack of business prospects, lack of money, people being wronged, health problems, etc.

Jiayin, 23, is from Ningbo and resigned at the end of November 2023. She is a sales assistant of a foreign trade company. She has been doing odd jobs for more than half a year. "My leader is the company's sales champion, and my job is to assist her. We are stationed in the factory every day. Our products have many different combinations of fabrics in various specifications and sizes. Every time a customer makes an inquiry, they want to see the real thing as soon as possible, even after getting off work. The boss also asked me to go to the warehouse to deliver the express."

Jiayin is a law graduate. This job has almost nothing to do with her major. What she does most every day is measuring product dimensions and making forms, shipping, moving boxes, posting express orders, and even sales work. All are out of reach. Considering that there was really not much room for development in this job, she chose to resign naked.

Li Fei works in a pharmaceutical company in Shenzhen. He chose to leave at the end of November because the work pace was too fast, the pressure was too great, and the working environment was too depressing. Colleagues in this company have very indifferent relationships, and they usually don’t talk to each other at work. She once asked several colleagues how to scan documents on the company’s printer, but all she received were impatient excuses and no one. Willing to help her answer. In the end, she didn't even want to wait for the year-end bonus. She just wanted to escape from this environment quickly. Without thinking much, she resigned.

Anchor Xiangxiang is doing live streaming in Guangzhou and is 25 years old. She also resigned in November 2023. The direct reason was that the company adjusted her live broadcast time to 3 or 4 am, because the data performance during this period was relatively good. She needs to arrive at the company at 2 a.m., take a break after broadcasting for about two hours, and then broadcast the second show. In addition, the company requires her to stay in the office for eight hours even after the broadcast is finished, so she can only get off work from about 10 a.m. to 12 p.m.

This rhythm lasted for two and a half months, and my body couldn't bear it anymore. It was unbearable, so Xiangxiang gritted her teeth and resigned.

The reason why Qingqing resigned was that her body began to suffer from long-term and intensive work.

The company she works for stipulates that she can only take three days off per month, but in fact she can only take two days off per month. "Before I resigned, I had three fevers one after another. One night my fever reached nearly 39 degrees. My boss asked me to work overtime until I finished my work before letting me go back to rest. In September, my elderly family member died in a car accident. We The family members have been asking for an explanation from the perpetrator. I asked for 13 days of leave, and my boss has been using my leave as an excuse."

In addition, her workplace was far away from her family and friends, and her relationship with her bosses and colleagues was not good. Qingqing felt that her body and mind were no longer healthy. She resigned in early December. After resigning, she felt that her complexion and mood had improved.

Some people choose to resign naked at the end of the year because they want to change cities. Zhang Jin resigned from Nanning, Guangxi and moved to Chengdu in December. She has a relatively well-planned career, with each working period lasting more than three years. Based on her own experience, she believes she can work in a more promising city. Stand firm. After resigning, she first traveled around and then spent time with her family. Because she had a certain amount of planning and savings, she was relatively calm. She gave herself a time limit of three months to find her next job, so she was not in a hurry yet.

There are countless reasons for resignation. What is different is that some people resign because the company's torturous annual meeting is about to start again. The Orange Company prepares for the annual meeting two or three months in advance every year. The department leaders have very strict requirements. In the past few years, she spent an hour rehearsing the dance after get off work every day for a month. The leader would also personally pay attention to the details and movements, which made it very difficult. Exhausted physically and mentally, all the winnings in the end will be confiscated. After learning that the leaders of this year's annual meeting planned to select her for the C position, and that she had not been happy with the leaders for a long time, Chengzi gritted her teeth and gave up the year-end bonus and resigned naked.

[unnounblr]

#and i wonder how much of the disjoint has to do with the fact that like...remedy is a finnish game company

#writing stories that do tend to grapple with these major entities of the american subconscious

#(i.e. The Mysterious Feds And What They Are Hiding From Us in control; The Small Town With Something Innit in aw)

#but...and i do say this with respect for their willingness to try and what they have achieved...

#they are writing these stories about an archetypal america without really grappling with THE archetypal struggle at the heart of america

#which is. yknow. structural antiblack racism.

#like i do love that saga is a protag and player character of the award winning sequel to a beloved cult classic game

#love that we are made to sit with her narrative and her perspective

#but at the same time. like. i think a lot about the anderson bros reveal

#and how like. as a nonblack woc. if i were to discover that i had two aging biker relatives of nordic descent living in smalltown pnw

#who my mother had basically disowned and who had beef with my presumably nonwhite dad.

#my first response would not be ''oh how kooky and odd'' my first response would be OK THERE IS A VERY BIG REASON I NEVER KNEW THESE MEN

#and like. just watching saga walk around watery and blithely talk to people. again not black but i would not get out of the car in watery.

#i would make my white partner buy snacks at the gas station and then be like OKAY WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW

#in universalizing saga remedy has kind of by necessity sanded off some edges that make her experience in the game a jarring fantasy

#and honestly i don't even really know if they realized they were doing it a lot of the time.

#idk. maybe i'm not giving sam lake and his crew enough credit. or maybe i'm giving them too much slack

#but it's a difficult line to walk and i think they landed juuuuust short of the mark with how saga was written in this game

#(which is not to say they got everything wrong! i agree with unnounblr that her moment of connection with the Bookers

#was a welcome surprise; and i did really like that she got to rage against ''white assholes'' in extremis bc that DID feel very real)

#(it's also definitely an improvement over control; a game i love but which did treat the one major black character a little incoherently)

I agree, there's definitely a degree to which I sorta feel like Remedy didn't quite. I dunno, "get it", fell just short of the mark, and the bit about the Andersons I definitely agree about because. Like, I liked Tor and Odin from Alan Wake 1, but the sorta sinking vibe I got the more we learned about them and Freya and Saga's dad was "oh no, they were probably racist".

Like, figuring out that her dad was probably Door, and Door is probably a copyright-free version of Hatch from Quantum Break (I think Lance Reddick died literally the day before they started filming or some shit) sorta alleviates that, maybe, for me. Like, Martin Hatch sorta tried to end the world that one time, there's valid reasons to not want him to be with your daughter.

And I do sorta think it's interesting maybe that. The things Tor cites that he disliked about Saga's dad were that he was "complicated" and always "planning" and thinking ahead and. Like, there's an element of privilege involved that Tor Anderson, who probably inherited that farm, was able to get by with his bohemian, freewheeling, sex drugs and rock-and-roll lifestyle, and if Saga's dad was an ordinary black man, he's less likely to have the privilege to get away with the shit that Tor does.

At the same time, I did sorta appreciate that it was the traits of Saga's dad that in most circumstances would have been considered. "Respectable". That Tor specifically objected to. I thought it was unique. And made sense with the characters as established. Tor's rebellious, anti-authoritarian streak.

Like, it's a little odd that only two of the cops, Mulligan and Thornton were racist, but then again. Like, as far as I can tell, the Bright Falls Sheriff's department has basically been an unofficial front for the FBC for its entire documented history, through the Breaker family.

Like, I get what you mean about Control, and how it doesn't quite make sense for Marshall to have been a black woman in the CIA and later the FBC with the authority she evidently had, but. Then again, if that's true, then presumably Frank Breaker and Helen Marshall might have been colleagues at some point before he retired to be a sheriff, so him and Sarah and Tim (who I'm not even sure is from Bright Falls, or was even originally a cop? It seems like he showed up because he was looking for Door for Quantum Break-related-reasons and got the job because it seems like the Breaker family has the sheriff's office on lock) not being racist and not making racism, like, institutionalized, at the highest level, sorta makes sense?

Like, to some extent, the fact that Saga is a cop at all is also. Like. A factor?

Speaking of Tor's anti-authoritarian streak, and Sheriff Frank Breaker, I sorta want to point out that before Wake 2, the only thing we knew about Freya Anderson was that she called the cops on her dad that one time he caused a hurricane. And if we assume that the person who filed the missing persons report for Door that brought Tim to Bright Falls was Freya, there seems to be a pattern where Freya seems relatively comfortable with authority? And, like, cops in particular. Which is. Interesting, and maybe related to why Saga joined the FBI to begin with.

Stubled upon your post about saga and it was a very interesting read. I have to say that i havent noticed mich racism, but thats mostly becuse i started avoiding gamming websites when the release date came.

I saw a few ppl on Reddit angry about the "white asshole" line. That line is weird but it makes sense in context. Shes at her absolute lowest, unable to resurface back and fight againts her self doubts. Shes spiraling! And alan did put her in there, kind of. While we can see in their interactions that she doesnt hate him or anything, her feelings of anger and sadness take over, making her lash out as someone rven though she knows its not really his fault. And as some said, it reflects racism of the real world and tells us soemthing about saga - that she experienced this kind of feeling before, implying greater history. And idk, just feels that it makes sense for a black charscter to agnowladge these issues.

i could be rambling but im typing this out on my phone, whoops!

The gaming bros were definitely the worst offenders of it, so you were smart to ignore the gaming websites. It's why I had such high hopes for tumblr and AO3 because I thought for sure Saga would be the most popular new character. Sucks that I was wrong.

The "another white asshole telling me what to do" line CAN seem out of left field, but at the same time, perfectly fits the narrative. Because up to that point, nobody was telling her what to do. The only person who could have immediately took himself out of that position.

At the point the line was uttered, she was at her lowest, like you said and it was evident she had been in that position before. It gave us another character trait in Saga and another hint at her backstory. Alan tried to play God with her life, however unintentionally and Saga had every right to be angry at him.

The fact that she DIDN'T hate him says so much about her, and it's all wonderful. She chose to forgive him. As a black woman, it made sense to reflect on that, however brief the moment was, and I appreciated it.

[merlinpetpeeves]

[captn3]

A discussion on ableism in AI: The Somnium Files

Happy Disability Pride Month! I hope everyone's July is starting out well, despite the loud fireworks of the fourth.

For this month i thought it would be fitting to discuss a major problem in the game AI: The Somnium Files: ableism. There will be major spoilers for the game's plot described, and there will be one singular mention of Nirvana Initiative that isn't really a spoiler but I'm just putting a warning here. The reason there's only one mention of it is because I have not finished that game yet, and don't even know if it has any ableism in it. Working on that while writing this post, actually. Don't get me wrong, I love this game a lot, but obviously everything has its issues, and you've gotta be critical of that. That's the whole reason I'm making this post- so people can learn to be aware of this so they can avoid being ableist themselves, and understand the issues behind it.

I very strongly encourage abled fans to reblog. Even if you know all of this, I want more people to hear.

First of all, the usage of psychopathy(and other similar terms) in a derogatory way. Countless times the game refers to the culprit of the New Cyclops Serial Killings as a psychopath. I do not experience psychosis myself, but I have studied a bit before making this post (reading various articles written by people who have been diagnosed with psychosis) Not only that, but by now it should be wildly known that calling people psychotic when they are acting "crazy" or "insane" is very ableist, even if you don't experience it yourself. Unrelated to anything that happens in AITSF, but this can also be said for bipolar disorder and OCD when it comes to talking about yourself when you do something unrelated to it at all, and more aligned with the stereotypes of said disorder. For example, saying "im so bipolar haha" in response to a "sudden" change in how you're feeling, or "omg it triggers my ocd!!" when you see something terribly unorganized, something Most People Hate To See, OCD diagnosis or not. The rest, and majority of the post is under a read more. This is a final warning for major plot spoilers, as the true culprit of the New Cyclops Serial Killings will be namedropped, and talked about in-depth, as well as other major spoilers, including the biggest plot twist in the game. Key points, parentheses, and the beginnings of paragraphs will be in bold to make it hopefully a bit easier to read.

Back on topic, the treatment of Saito is odd- especially when Date doesn't have any of this happen to him- y'know, being in Saito's body. It is implied in the bad end of annihilation route that Date does reach this "reward system" of killing people for pleasure, but it's still odd. Would Date not have, I don't know, killed a bug or something and then been like Oh shit. Because clearly even though Aiba supplies oxytocin for Date, the implications in that bad ending still happen. It's also odd that within the time he went without Aiba before she was created, that he was fine. Though since most of this relies on a loose implication, I won't stay focused on it for that long. So, I'll move on. Saito being called a psychopath is especially worrying considering the reason he is called this is because of a physical brain disability. This part I can actually speak from my own experience, as I am missing my own pituitary gland. I have a health condition called Panhypopituitarism. It can be shortened to Panhypopit, or PHP. You can study it more if you'd like, if not, here's a short definition from a google search: "A rare condition in which the pituitary gland stops making most or all hormones." It is so rare, when typing the condition's name in it gives it a red squiggly line, implying I either misspelled or typed in a word that doesn't exist! And for the nerds out there, specifically about 4 in 100,000 people are diagnosed with it in a year. For a somewhat silly comparison, the chance of having Panhypopituitarism is lower than the chance of getting a shiny Pokemon. (meaning i can have a pokesona that's shiny for an actual reason other than "shinies are cool, idc if they're rare" /j) People can have this condition at birth, or if the gland is damaged at all throughout their life. I was born with my pituitary gland LITERALLY MISSING. The doctors couldn't find it. And since this condition is rare, it is a very hard condition to deal with. I will not go into too much detail, but I have had a doctor for most of my life who clearly didn't know what he was doing in relation to the condition, and that affected my life in more ways than one. Not only that, but some people suffer from it more than others. It depends on how severe the case is. In Saito's case, his body cannot properly produce oxytocin. I don't know the specifics of everything the pituitary gland is supposed to secrete and produce but I can tell you I have it from somewhere else in my body because I do not take medicine to supply it, and I frequently experience feelings of love and comfort and trust and????? You get it. I do have depression, which might be because of this?? But like, I still fucking feel love and shit. Most importantly though.

I do not have an urge to kill things so I can experience love and joy. I do not have an inability to feel love.

As someone with such a rare condition, I've NEVER found any representation for Panhypopit before. I'm not too surprised or sad about it, but when the only time a character DOES have something similar to it, it's extremely unrealistic, it causes them to only feel love when murdering, and they're called a psychopath for it, I'm obviously gonna be a bit upset. When Pewter deliberately explained Saito's brain dysfunction that I can relate to in such a harrowing way; describing that because of said dysfunction he can only feel pleasure by killing things, I felt very distraught. At the time though, friends around joked about it, saying "haha, just like Memo!" Because I was young and ignorant, and a kid who very much depended on others to seem normal and find interests, I nodded along, and started laughing too, ignoring i was distressed about the scene at all. Later on though, when my group of friends changed drastically because I didn't want to talk to people who are now ex-friends (for reasons you can probably guess, lmao), a different friend happened to start playing AITSF. I was very excited, because like I said, it was one of my favorite games, and one of the only instances of bodyswaps that didn't trigger me (i know this is a silly trigger, and its silly that there are exceptions, but thats just how my brain works, and also its disability pride month so you cant be mean to me /hj) and I love to talk about my interests with others, whether I'm currently hyperfixating on them or not. When said friend, who I'll call S from now on (hi S if you're reading this. leaving you in the anonymity zone out of my own choice actually which is why i didnt ask you if you wanted me to mention you by name or not) finished AITSF, and started thinking about everything, connecting everything, y'know, the usual process after you finish a Uchikoshi game, we ended up talking about Saito's problems. I mentioned my ex-friends said that, and he made me realize, Hey. That Was Fucked Up, Actually. In general, I never really considered it ableist until he mentioned it. Which is kinda why I'm making this post- so people CAN know that these things are ableist. People should be aware that doing things like what my old friends did- no matter the commonness or rarity of the disability in the scenario, is ableist. Specifically the parts where they didn't acknowledge the ableism of giving the disability to the villain, and instead began to compare said villain (who fucking MURDERS PEOPLE) to someone they knew that had the same, or similar disability. Sorry for the long portion about Panhypopit, I meant it. Seriously, I'm betting everyone reading this except for my friends had no idea it existed, so of course I'm gonna explain it in detail so they do know. Anyway, let's move on from Saito.

(ID in alt text)

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hitomi Sagan, as we all know AS IT IS LITERALLY A HUGE PLOT POINT, is shot in the right shoulder, which paralyzes that arm. Paralyzes. WHY IS IT MOVING. Now, yes, perhaps this was an oversight, but there's also the possibility they didn't want to change the animation just a bit just for one character. I don't know the complications of just.. yknow, making the arm stay still, but either way, it's still fucked up. If it was this hard, though, why not omit her from the scene entirely? Or even just, don't have her dance? Mayumi is seen standing still next to Ota during his segment of the song, why not Hitomi? It's possible I'm just being very nitpicky, but I feel like this could have easily been avoided. You could say perhaps she got surgery the same way Iris did to help her arm, but wouldn't that have been mentioned as well? And if it for some reason wasn't, we visit the Sagan Residence in the epilogue. Her arm is still paralyzed. There's no reason for her to hide she had surgery done. In fact, wouldn't she tell Date as soon as possible? Tell him not to worry he shot her cause it's alright now? But that wouldn't matter anyway- her arm is still paralyzed even in AITSF nirvanA Initiative. Well I don't know. That one I'm not as upset about as... [gesturing] Saito. But, as bad as Saito is, the game does have other disabled characters that aren't treated as badly. Say, Iris's brain condition, or Mayumi's dementia. But that still doesn't make up for how badly Saito was handled. That'll be it, really. Can't think of anything else on this specific topic. If you wanna add on at all please feel free! I could've missed something, or not have explained stuff that well.

Happy Disability Pride Month!

[tarydarrington]

It takes about half an hour for the general topic of conversation at the party to turn to his scars.

It shouldn’t be a surprise; any guests of Archmage Beck’s are bound to have at least a passing familiarity with the way a Scourger’s arms are meant to look. The maze of ink is a symbol of power, a sign of something dangerous and elite, and his ragged array of raised, pale cuts is a far cry from elegance. It’s natural that they would pick up on the difference. It’s natural that it would be gossiped over. It’s natural that Caleb feels rather like teleporting straight home and letting his future self deal with the social consequences.

To borrow an odd turn of phrase Veth had once used, two halves are at war inside of him. One is filled with an angry, headstrong pride that makes him want to shove his scars in the faces of all those who care to gawk and let them have their fill. The other wishes he had brought a coat.

It’s rare that Essek does much at these functions aside from artfully disappearing in such a way that lets him mingle with as few fellow guests as possible, but after only a few moments of stares following him, the elf appears at his side.

“May I borrow you, a moment?” he asks.

The way his eyes dart around the room reminds Caleb of an irritated cat’s tail swishing.

“As many moments as you like,” he replies, and follows Essek into an empty hallway.

The sound of the crowd is immediately muffled by the walls as they step inside, and Caleb wonders fleetingly if this is where Essek has been all night. Someday, if they ever manage to talk about whatever this is between them, maybe the two of them will attend a party without the rest of the Nein. Just for the pleasure of being able to leave early without stranding anyone, if nothing else.

Or they could stay. Caleb thinks he wouldn’t mind a party like this quite so much, if he were with Essek.

He shakes the thought as Essek finally looks him in the eye for the first time, and Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up as Essek begins to shrug his way out of his cloak.

“Herr Thelyss, we are in public,” he deadpans, and grins at the way Essek’s face - not quite his own, here, of course - flushes.

“What is the Empire saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” He takes the cloak in both hands, holding it out between them at its full length and width, turning a critical eye on Caleb. He seems satisfied with his findings, folding it neatly over one arm before clearing his throat. “If you like,” he says in a softer tone, “you may borrow this.”

He might have been less surprised if it were a striptease. Essek is fond of his layers. They’re elegant, they present an image of inscrutability, and - most importantly to Essek, he has learned - they obscure his body. It gives him privacy, this kind of which he values greatly. To be offered something like this is quite a gift, indeed.

Essek seems, as usual, to know what he’s thinking. “It is rather warm, tonight. I dressed accordingly.”

Caleb gives him a once-over for precisely the length of time that could not possibly be considered staring. He’s not lying. The fine, light clothing beneath his cloak is amorphous enough to preserve his modesty.

Caleb thinks of the way their stares follow him. He thinks of all the pain he went through to get these scars, and all the good he’s done to ensure they are never inflicted on anyone else. He is not ashamed of these scars. Essek will understand, if he turns the offer down. He always understands.

Then, he thinks of the faces they’ll make if he returns to the room wearing Essek’s cloak.

The rest of the night passes about as he expects, with three important observations made. Firstly, Essek’s cloak is still warm and smells very much like Essek. Secondly, the well-tailored, black tunic he had been wearing underneath follows the lines of his body loosely enough to obscure most details, but just closely enough to draw his imagination to fill in the blanks. Thirdly, despite the smattering of murmurs and stares that still turn in his direction from time to time, the sum of the previous two facts makes this evening entirely enjoyable.

He suspects, from the way Essek steals a few more glances than necessary, that it might be a positive experience for them both.

-

The number of times the Mighty Nein find themselves in combat before the end of a fancy party truly ought not to be as high as it is.

Then again, Essek remembers the circumstances of their first meeting. It may be absurd, but it isn't surprising.

What is surprising - or rather, what would have been surprising, had one informed him of it several years ago - is the way he doesn't think twice before placing himself between a nearly-downed Veth and the blow intended to finish her. The blade cuts him from shoulder to chest, catching him at the wrist on the follow-through and leaving a stinging cut in its wake.

Caduceus sees to the wound with his usual easy precision, but the magic doesn't work the same way on his clothing. He picks dejectedly at the tattered remains of his neckline, the end of his sleeve hanging ragged to match. This had been a nice cloak. That, and the Ruby’s festivities inside, blissfully unaware of the commotion in the gardens, are still due to continue for another few hours.

Just as he's considering how bad a faux pas it would be to call it a night, Caleb ducks down into his line of sight, squatting beside him where he rests against the low stone wall.

"You know, I think perhaps you are a little breakable to be trying for Yasha’s role,” he says with a bemused smile. Before Essek has a chance to respond, he adds, “That was very brave of you. I will thank you on Veth’s behalf, since I think she has, ah, moved on from the moment.”

Moved on from the moment seems, in this case, to mean that she has been offering for the last several minutes to bandage Bluud’s barely-scratched biceps. Essek waves a hand.

“It’s perfectly alright,” he says. “Though I must admit, I will mourn the clothing.”

Caleb gives him a sympathetic grimace, and Essek tries not to fidget as he watches those blue eyes assess the damage and catch on the strips of rarely exposed skin. He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue as he takes it in that is much more attractive than it ought to be.

“Would you like to…” Caleb’s brow furrows in thought, and to finish the question, he takes the end of his scarf in one hand and dangles it between them. “If you like?”

Essek wipes the look of wide-eyed, touched surprise from his face as fast as he can, but he’s sure from the way a small smile tugs at Caleb’s lips that it hasn’t gone unnoticed. His gaze drops down to his ruined neckline. The damage is high enough that it’s possible the scarf could cover it, if properly arranged.

“That would…” He takes a breath. “I would be… grateful.”

With an encouraging smile, Caleb ducks out from the middle of the scarf and pools it in his arms, offering it to Essek. When he takes it, the warmth and weight of the fabric reminds him of Caleb’s cats. He tries to keep his breathing steady as he turns it in his hands - and realizes only when he attempts to duck through the center that he has no idea how to properly wrap something like this.

He’s slighter than Caleb, so the loops that circle Caleb perfectly slip awkwardly off his shoulders; besides that, the elegant coil has been tangled in the handing off. He tries to wind it around his own neck from the beginning, but finds it frustratingly difficult to get it to sit the way he’d like it to, and is entirely uncertain of what to do with the ends.

“I… am afraid I am rather at a loss,” Essek admits begrudgingly.

Caleb cocks his head to one side in curious surprise, but instead of questioning, he holds out his hands. “Would you allow me?”

He takes the scarf back when Essek nods mutely in response, and suddenly he is very, very close. Caleb gives him a reassuring smile, as though he knows - and of course he knows, he always knows - that he needs a moment to adjust to the proximity. The care in those eyes almost knocks Essek’s gaze away, but instead holds it locked in place.

“Is, ah…” Caleb begins, and his voice sounds thicker than before, “is this alright?”

Essek hopes the somewhat dazed half-nod he manages gets the point across.

He’s had Caleb’s arms around him before, but for some reason the feeling of them bracketing his neck as Caleb drapes the scarf around and around him is so achingly intimate that it stops his breath. 

His gaze breaks from Caleb’s for just long enough to notice the v of bare skin now visible at the neck of his shirt, and he snaps his attention back to Caleb’s eyes as his face burns. Caleb’s smile quirks upwards on one side at the sight. He gives the scarf a few gentle tugs to place it just right.

As his hand draws away, he lets it rest cupped against Essek’s cheek for just a moment. The night is cold, but the space between them feels warmer than a fireside. The fireside, as well, would have fewer sparks.

Caleb clears his throat as he pulls away and stands, and the spell is broken as both of them turn to studiously examine their surroundings. Essek shifts the weight of the scarf experimentally. Sometimes, one of Caleb’s cats will climb the man and wind itself around his neck in a thoroughly endearing display of affection. Caleb has always thought of it as the highest compliment, to be chosen in such a way, and Essek imagines it must feel something like this. And never, not even covered in four layers and his old mantle, has he ever felt so protected from the outside world.

“Thank you,” he manages after a moment.

“Ja, of course.” It’s a minor relief that Caleb sounds about as breathless as Essek feels.

As he stands, letting his levitation spell carry him gently off his feet, the hem of his sleeve catches his eye. Caleb’s gaze falls that way, too, then flicks back up to his with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well,” he says, and holds out his arm, “that is a shame.”

Essek looks from Caleb’s face to his arm and back, heat creeping up his neck. Caleb knows him well enough to understand this is no small request. He knows Caleb well enough, in return, to understand that he will take no offense if he refuses.

Carefully, holding his breath, Essek tucks his hand under Caleb’s arm. The billowing cloth of his sleeve falls down to cover the ragged end of Essek’s, and Essek finds himself wondering for a moment if the loose style was intended to mimic his own.

The smile on Caleb’s face is so fond that Essek can’t help but return it.

“Well,” Caleb says, leaning in conspiratorially, “shall we?”

They’re not the last of the Mighty Nein to return to the party - Essek suspects Beauregard and Yasha have found their own pursuits in the garden, judging by the looks they had been exchanging after the battle - but they’re not the first, either. Jester and Fjord have found the Ruby and joined her in polite conversation. Caleb steers him dutifully in the other direction; they both know well what will happen if Jester sees them like this, and perhaps Caleb is as loath to break the moment as he is. They make the rounds together, and Essek thinks that they must look for all the world like a real couple. The thought brings a strange lightness to his chest, and he finds himself absently curling his hand around Caleb’s arm where it rests.

“My nefarious plot has gone off without a hitch,” Caleb murmurs with a grin. “Now, you are stuck with me for the rest of the evening.”

Essek doesn’t bother holding back the smirk. With a covert flick of magic in his free hand, he draws away from Caleb’s arm to politely retrieve a glass from the tray of a passing waiter. Caleb watches him with incredulous surprise, eyes trained on the end of his sleeve - perfectly intact through a Seeming spell.

“I think I can manage without, if I must,” Essek says mildly.

He passes the drink to his off hand as Caleb flushes a bit.

“Well,” Caleb says sheepishly, “that is one way to do it.”

Essek raises his eyebrows at him teasingly, and before he can talk himself out of it, slips his hand back into the crook of Caleb’s arm.

To his credit, Caleb doesn’t tease. The surprised little smile he gives Essek instead gives him more warmth than the scarf does, and Essek lets himself smile back as Caleb’s hand comes up to rest over his. Not enough to hold him in place, just enough for a little more contact.

“You know, you could have done that before,” Caleb murmurs. “At Astrid’s party, when you lent me your cloak.”

Essek takes a sip of his drink to hide the blush. “I realize,” he replies. He could admit that the way those people had treated Caleb lit his anger in a way few things have since he left court. He could admit that he knows, from experience, that it’s more of a comfort to have something real between you and the rest of the world. He could admit that giving his own cloak as such a barrier for Caleb had felt like a more personal kind of protection.

He could even point out that Caleb could have used the spell himself, if he had wanted to; but he finds he likes the quiet implication given by the fact that he took Essek's cloak instead.

"It suited you,” is what he settles on.

Caleb gives him a hum of acknowledgement in response. “Ja, well,” he adds with a soft, knowing smile, “the scarf suits you.”

Of course, Caleb always understands. And as they move about the party for the rest of the night, arm in arm, Essek thinks that he doesn’t mind parties quite so much with Caleb by his side.

[pies-writes-and-more]

jealous

Word Count: 3,130

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some insecurity angst (only a little though) but all fluff otherwise!

A/N: thank you for the help and love you two give me @satan-ruler-of-hells​ @thisnoodlewritesao3​. Was having a shitty day so I queued this fic up to hopefully bring some smiles to people’s faces <3

Haikyuu Masterlist

Ushijima would never understand why people flocked to him the way they did during tournaments. No matter where the team went, there were people begging for answers to their invasive questions, people screaming in excitement as soon as they saw them, but why?

“You’re a big strong attractive dude, Ushi, I dunno what to tell ya. Not to mention, you’re the ace of a powerhouse school,” Tendō laughed when Ushijima asked him why. But it wasn’t like any of these girls knew him so why were they always asking for pictures?

But despite not really understanding, Ushijima often complied with the request for photos, standing there as stoic as ever, not even bothering to crack a smile. He didn’t want to make anyone upset and he felt like just going along with it might actually be easier than trying to run away.

But today, Tendō watched as one girl got prepared for a selfie, and surprised Ushijima with a kiss on the cheek for the photo. She squealed in excitement, thanking him even as she ran away. The two Shiratorizawa boys stood there in confusion, Tendō’s eyes looking around to make sure you weren’t around to experience that.

Ushijima stood there for a moment longer, his hand going up to his cheek and touching the place she had kissed him. Had that really just happened? How odd. Why would someone he had never even met before do something like that?

The thought left his mind as soon as it had entered, turning around to follow Tendō onto the court. But he noticed how his friend’s eyes seemed to glance around the hallway, as if looking for someone, then fall on him questioningly.

“What is it?” Ushijima asked, watching his friend’s eyes carefully. 

Tendō just laughed and shook his head, “I’m just glad poor Y/N didn’t have to watch that. Can’t say I’d envy her.”

Ushijima’s brow tensed a little hearing those words, trying to comprehend Tendō’s words and tone, “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you’re constantly followed around by girls and you must see some of them all the time at every one of our tournaments. But you and Y/N haven’t had a lot of time to see each other now that practice is every day right? Plus... what girl wants to see her boyfriend get kissed by some random fangirl?” Tendō explained, holding his hands behind his head as they walked into the stadium courts. 

Ushijima frowned a bit, still not fully comprehending. You knew that he was busy with volleyball and you knew he loved you, didn’t you? So why did it matter what some insignificant people thought? Or what some random person did for that matter? Sure, it was an uncomfortable kiss and was awkward but would it matter? He didn’t even know the girl. 

Unbeknownst to either of them, the girl had posted the pic onto social media. Swarms of jealous students and gossip news reporters started to share the picture and repost it with the question “Is this Ushijima’s girlfriend?”

It didn’t take long for you to be tagged. One of your friend had sent the photo with a questioning keyboard smash, wondering if you had known.

You hadn’t.

You had been up in the stands when it all took place - you didn’t see Ushijima often before a game since he was usually stretching while you got there early to get good seats. You had been sitting up in the stands, talking to another friend of yours and some of the other players’ friends and family. But when you saw the picture, it was like everything around you started to move in slow motion.

Your heart felt like it was moving up your throat, your chest tightening. Who was this girl? Your fingers instantly clicked onto her profile, glancing at all of her public photos. She was gorgeous, thin, smart by the looks of it too. She even had a picture or her playing volleyball.

Something inside of you asked the question, “Would Ushijima be better off with someone like her?”

He wasn’t following her on social media, so he didn’t know who she was. It wasn’t uncommon for people to post their photos with Ushijima, but no fans had ever been so bold to kiss him for a picture before.

You couldn’t even remember the rest of the game. Your stomach was churning so much you thought you were going to be sick.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Your friend asked when they realized you hadn’t cheered as loud as you normally did during the games. You quickly plastered on a smile, nodding quickly.

“I’ve got to head out early! Tell the boys I said congratulations!” You asked them as the game came to an end, your feet quickly moving out of the stadium before the crowds left.

Ushijima could’ve sworn you had been up in the stands and you always came to his games. So where were you? Why hadn’t you come down yet? He stood in the hallway, watching as crowds of people left. Loads of them congratulated him or tried to strike up a conversation with him. But not a single one of them was you.

“Oh Ushijima! Y/N asked me to say congratulations!” Someone smiled up at him giving a thumbs up. He recognized them, they were friends with you weren’t they? So you had been here...

Ushijima’s forehead creased ever so slightly, “Where is she?”

“She said she had to go for some reason! She didn’t look so good when she left to be honest. Maybe she was feeling sick?” Your friend shrugged and gave another wave before rushing off.

Ushijima glanced at his phone, finding no notifications from you. If you had been feeling sick, why wouldn’t you tell him?

“You alright there, Ushi?” Tendō called, slapping his shoulder playfully. “We won, it’s time to go! What’re you standing around for?” His head spun around, looking for the missing part of their trio. “Where’s Y/N? It’s almost time for our celebratory dinner!”

“She left,” was all he said with a frown.

Tendō sucked in some air nervously, glancing at his own phone and all the notifications he had gotten over the recent scandal photo. “Think it might have to do with this?” He asked, showing the post to his friend. “Didn’t you get tagged in it too? Seems like the whole team was.”

“I don’t have notifications for those apps,” Ushijima shrugged. “I get tagged in a lot of things and it gets annoying.”

Tendō pouted at this, realizing that’s why Ushijima never responded to the hilarious things he would send him.

Ushijima was still frowning, wondering why everyone seemed so concerned with his dating life. He scrolled through the notifications that Tendō had on his phone, news reporters questioning Ushijima’s relationship status, people from their school mentioning Y/N and curiously wondering if they had broken up. 

All of this over some random girl? He glanced at her post a little closer, noting the caption read, “Ushi” with a little heart emoji next to it. He hadn’t been happy at all that some girl had decided to plant a kiss on his cheek but he never had the chance to tell her that before she ran off. 

“Why would Y/N leave over that?” Ushijima finally spoke, glancing again at his own phone to see if maybe you had texted him in the last few minutes.

Tendō sighed and raised an eyebrow to him, “Ushijima, some people get jealous.”

Jealous. The word echoed in Ushijima’s mind as he tried to consider the possibility that you were jealous over someone whose name he didn’t even know. 

“Wouldn’t you be jealous if you saw someone posting a similar photo of Y/N?” Tendō asked with a tilt to his head, curiously watching his friend’s expression. 

Ushijima let the thought cross over his mind while the two of them walked to where the rest of the team had gathered. What if some dude had posted a picture of Y/N, kissed her cheek, and everyone had assumed they were together? He frowned and shook his head of the awful thought, now understanding that maybe jealousy was that pit in his stomach he was currently experiencing. 

Although Coach Washijo growled a little in response, Ushijima insisted that he would not be joining the team for a celebratory dinner. When Goshiki asked Tendō where Ushijima was going, he’d just shrug and smile saying, “He’s off to be a good boyfriend.”

It must’ve been strange, seeing this tall man running around town, looking confused and frustrated. Numerous people around him glanced back at him, watching him with questioning eyes as he passed but Ushijima didn’t even noticed. He needed to make sure that you were okay.

You weren’t really sure why you left so quickly after the game was over. You knew the longer you waited to have this conversation with Ushijima, the more awkward you’d feel and the more upset that he’d be that you hadn’t brought it up sooner.

It’s not like you were mad at him or anything - how could you be? It wasn’t like he was the one kissing her, or that he had known she was going to do that - you knew it wasn’t the latter since Ushijima wasn’t all that big on PDA anyways so there was no way he’d be okay with it with some random girl... you hoped at least.

So if you weren’t mad, why did you run? You frowned as you tried to think of a good excuse, trying to tear apart the reasons for your behaviour. But all you could really think of is how insecure you had felt, seeing that picture. That girl was everything and you were... well what even were you?

Ushijima didn’t know how to beat around the bush - he didn’t know anything but being blunt and honest. So he had to be with you for a reason right? If he wanted to break up with you, he would’ve... right?

You groaned quietly, stuffing your face into the pillow you were holding into your lap. You needed to text him - he was probably wondering why you didn’t stay till after the game. But he hadn’t even texted you... hadn’t called... maybe he hadn’t noticed? You glanced at your phone one more time, as if waiting to see a notification you had missed or a text that you hadn’t heard the alert for.

Maybe you should just call him. Maybe if he hadn’t noticed, you both could just go out for food or have a nice night in and you could forget you ever saw that photo. You nodded slightly at your plan, moving your finger to call him. 

But a knock on your door distracted you. You looked up at the sound, glancing between that and your phone.

You dragged yourself out of bed, starting to type out a very nonchalant casual text to Ushijima as you made your way downstairs. Though it was very obvious once you opened the door that the text wasn’t needed.

“Y/N.”

What was it about the way he said your name that sent chills down your spine? 

You bit down on your lip nervously, realizing that all that time spent coming up with excuses was useless because here he was right in front of you, panting slightly, and you were drawing a blank.

“H-Hi, Ushijima,” you hesitated slightly, both standing there awkwardly until he nodded towards the inside of your house.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly, his voice more gentle than usual even with his heavy breathing. 

You nodded slowly and let him in, watching as he tucked his shoes away and stood in front of you as if waiting for you to say something.

“So... congratulations on your win,” you offered after moments of silence.

His eyes just watched you, as if checking to make sure you were okay, “Your friend said you had to leave. They also mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Is that why you didn’t stay?”

You stuttered out some sort of syllables that were no where near to being words as your boyfriend placed his hand on your forehead, cupping your cheeks in his other hand, “You don’t feel feverish but you are a bit warm,” he stated quietly. “Would you like me to make you some soup?”

You shook your head quickly, stepping back from him slightly, “I’m okay, Ushijima, promise. My... stomach just didn’t feel right.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched you, “Your stomach?”

You nodded, staring at your feet. You should just be honest, shouldn’t you? Ushijima was always honest with you. But what if you were honest and he came to the same realization - that he could do better than you?

“So this has nothing to do with that Instagram post?” Ushijima’s voice was stiffer this time around, almost... awkward? He shifted on his feet, trying to get you to look at him but when you wouldn’t, he just gently put his fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. “Please talk to me, darling.”

It was as if you had been hiding tears this whole time and didn’t even realize it. But the softness in his voice and his eyes, the way he touched you, just made your eyes start to tear up, “It’s stupid,” you admitted after a moment and Ushijima’s thumb wiped away a tear that escaped you. “I know you don’t even know her.”

He nodded in response, stepping a bit closer to you now, “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he told you, confirming what you had already assumed. “But I’m sorry.”

You gave a little laughing, shaking your head, “Ushijima, you have nothing to be sorry for. I know you take pictures with your fans sometimes.”

“No, I’m sorry because I didn’t understand why you would be upset at it at first. But Tendō helped me understand. Please don’t go taking photos like that with other men,” Ushijima asked you and made you laugh again. “I... I wouldn’t like it.” He admitted shyly, his lips turning to a small smile as he watched you laugh.

“She’s rather pretty though,” you mumbled softly, finally wiping the rest of your tears that were building in your eyes. “I just... You two look really good together.”

Ushijima seemed to think about this, lifting his eyes up to the ceiling as he considered your words, “She’s not ugly.” He stated simply, finally looking back down at you. “But I have no feelings towards her.”

“Feelings can be developed,” you suggested, hating every word that was coming from your mouth. Why were you arguing for him to leave you? Why were you trying to convince him?

Ushijima gave a chuckle this time, patting your head softly, “Why would I want to develop feelings for anyone else when I have so many feelings for you? You have nothing to be jealous over, love.”

Ushijima always said things with such honesty and you knew he would never say anything he didn’t mean... but didn’t he know there were girls out there much better than you?

“You are the one I want to be with. Not anyone else. All those girls I see at my games all look the same. But when I look at you,” Ushijima let his thumb graze over your lips gently, a small smirk on his lips, “I have to remind myself to stop looking at you. I have to tell myself that I’m staring. Before we started dating, Tendō told me you might think I was creepy because I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

You giggled, trying to not focus on the tingles this man’s finger left on your lips, “Oh ya?”

Ushijima just nodded firmly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. I couldn’t care less about anyone else. Do you trust me?”

The question hung in the air for a moment - you knew you did but how long would it be before he realized just how incredible he was?

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to shove down all of your anxieties. 

He watched you and even though you were saying yes, there was something about the way you were standing that didn’t match with your words. Ushijima wasn’t the best at understanding people, but he knew you. “Everyone of those fans would stop coming up to me if I wasn’t as good at volleyball. One day, when I can’t play as well anymore, or if I ever get injured, all those fans will disappear. But the only one I’d still want with me is you. That’s how I know I love you.”

And even if it was just for a moment, all your anxieties stopped. You smiled to yourself and threw your arms around him into a tight hug. Ushijima’s massive arms wrapped around you as he pressed more kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “Next time, please talk to me honestly,” he whispered to you.

You nodded into his shoulder, closing your eyes tightly and murmuring back, “I love you too.”

The two of you would end up in your room, curled up with some show playing in the background before you’d sit up in realization, blinking at him in surprise, “Hang on, didn’t the team go for your celebration dinner?”

Ushijima shrugged and nodded, glancing at the time displayed on his phone screen, “Yeah they should be done soon. I imagine Tendō will text me to make sure you’re okay after.”

Your forehead creased in worry, staring at him, “Did... Did they drop you off on the way or something?”

Ushijima’s eyes shared your level of confusion, tilting his head as he tried to think about your question, “Why would they?”

“Ushijima, how the hell did you get here?” You asked with wide eyes, remembering how out of breath he was and wanting to hear the words from his lips.

“I ran,” he stated simply as if it was such a casual thing to do. “Is that important to know?”

“Babe, your tournament was across the city,” you gaped, mouth open slightly as your eyes widened even further. “That must’ve been such a long run, especially after a game!”

Ushijima thought for a moment, thinking about how the team had to take a bus to the games today, and how Y/N had to take transit. His mind tried to calculate the distance, though it wasn’t likely he’d get an answer. He just shrugged, thinking nothing of it as he settled back into your bed, “I could’ve gone farther,” was all he said as he pulled you in for some more cuddles, “as long as it was for you.”

Haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@al0ehas​ @aurumk​ @devilkittymusic​ @thisnoodlewritesao3​ @satan-ruler-of-hells​ @trashy-simp​ @jeppiet​ @lucyheartfilias-wife​ @darkvadeeer​ @haikyuutothetop​ @wolfishwriting​ @livy384​

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Long Way From Home

Summary: Her arrival was an accident, but some blessings come in disguise.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 4,466

* * * * * *

A long heavy sigh falls from the doctor’s lips, his fingers nervously cleaning his glasses.“ I’m just not too sure about this Tony. Last time we experimented on an infinity stone we-”

“Were severely uneducated.” The billionaire replies, pulling his usual smirk as he looks at Bruce.“ We’re in the right league now. And we’ve got back up, just in case.”

A chorus of grumbles sounds around the lab, each member of the team a little less than happy to be here at the moment but also not willing to allow another Ultron situation.

Steve sighs, almost as heavily as Bruce did, and crosses his arm.“ Just be careful Tony. We’ll shut this down if need be.”

Tony raises his hands in a show of innocence and nods,“ don’t worry Capsicle, we’ve got it under control.”

With those words spoken, Tony nods to Bruce who commences the first test of the Space and Time Stones.

Everyone stands with bated breaths as the stones spin in their chambers. There’s a brief flicker of the lights as the stones pull on the energy from the compound, in the dark it’s hard to see the chasm of space that appears in the gap between Wanda and Natasha.

When the lights finally come back in the room of, now armed, superheroes they all cautiously take in their surroundings.

“Why do all these science experiments involve children?” Steve asks frustratedly.

Natasha frowns, tilting her head at him in confusion,“ Rogers what kid?”

The blonde man slowly lowers his shield and nods behind her. Frown deepening, Natasha slowly turns around, using every bit of her willpower to stop her jaw from dropping.

Standing a few feet shorter than her, is a little girl. Her eyes scan the girls body, searching first for any signs of injury and second for any clues as to how she got here. Instead of finding those things, Natasha discovers the child's very clear state of horror.

Glancing around at her family, some members of which are still holding weapons, Natasha understands how terrifying this must be to a kid.

Quickly disarming her widows bites, Natasha lowers herself to catch the e/c eyes of the red haired little girl. Smiling as softly as she can, the ex-assassin nearly whispers,“ hi.”

The single word pulls the girl’s attention from the big scary Avengers, to Natasha. A look flashes through the girl’s eyes and she almost instantly calms down. Looking from Natasha’s eyes down to her feet, the little girl plays with her fingers, mumbling,“ hi.”

Once again Natasha glances back at her team, catching sight of Steve, Bruce, and Tony talking over by one of the desks, Sam and Bucky’s confused glances over her way, and Wanda’s soft yet confused eyes on her as well.

Looking at Natasha, Wanda finds a slightly panicked look in the Russian’s eyes. Slowly walking over, Wanda assumes the same position as Natasha, squatting and looking at the little girl.

“Hi,” she speaks quietly, a soft smile on her lips,“ my name is Wanda. What’s yours?”

Shyly looking at Wanda, the little girl quickly averts her gaze back to Natasha. An uncertainty sits in her eyes that makes Natasha incredibly curious. It’s not as if she’s uncertain of Natasha, it’s almost as if she’s asking for permission.

“I’m Natasha.” She says, in hopes that the little girl will take that as an invitation to tell her name.

She does, once again playing with her fingers.“ My name is Katya.”

“Katya is a very pretty name.” Wanda tells her.

That gets the girl to smile, a light blush coating her cheeks,“ my mommy says it means pure.”

Natasha nods,“ it does.” What’re the odds that she has a name of Russian origin.

“Um, ladies,” a deep, clearly nervous, voice speaks up behind Natasha and all their eyes move to Steve.“ I think it’s best we all leave, let the scientists finish their work uninterrupted.”

Work, as in finding out where this girl just came from and how to send her back.

Nodding in agreement, the two women stand up and look down at the girl,“ come on Katya, we’re going to go find somewhere else to relax okay?”

Katya nods hesitantly.

While Bruce and Tony get to work on finding Katya a way home, the rest of the team works on making sure she feels safe and as comfortable as she can be in an unknown environment. Even though they have their own questions and concerns, they’re more worried about keeping the child in a peaceful state.

Unsure of where to take a child in the compound, Natasha just follows Wanda’s lead.

A moment of shock hits her hard when she feels a soft little hand slip into hers. She’s tempted to jump away from the touch but oddly enough, the instant she looks down into soft e/c eyes she relaxes a little, allowing the child to hold her hand as they walk through the compound. Until they all end up in the common room.

Just as they’re all sitting down, the glass doors open and Natasha elicits the hardest eye roll at the announcement of her last teammate's arrival.

“Honeys I’m home!” You playfully exclaim as you walk into the common room, arms spread as one hand holds your duffle bag.

Sam and Wanda’s faces light up at your presence, surprisingly so does Katya’s. All three of them hold bright smiles, Wanda popping up off the couch to run over to you, wrapping you in a hug.

Arm wrapped around her, you and Wanda walk back over to everyone. Sam jumps up to give you a one armed hug and you get waves from everyone, everyone except one person. The one person who seems to dislike you the most.

“What Romanoff, I don’t get a-” your words fall short as you look at the person beside Natasha. Eyebrows raised you glance around at everyone, taking in their calm expressions and realizing they all obviously know something you don’t.

Clearing your throat, you smile softly at the little girl.“ Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Katya!” She exclaims, making everyone raise their eyebrows. Natasha frowns at it though. The little girl had been quieter than a mouse since appearing here and yet your presence draws out such an enthusiastic response.

You smile brightly at her,“ Katya is a gorgeous name.”

“Mommy says it means pure.” She exclaims again, slightly quieter than before.

“That’s beautiful, It’s clear your mommy really loves you,” you tell her, then looking around at everyone again,“ where exactly uh, is she?”

Steve stands up and nods for you to step over to him. As you do so you feel the eyes of the little girl on you. Off to the side of the room, Steve explains the situation to you. Everything he knows for that matter. And you laugh a little.

Leave it to Tony and Bruce to bring a child from some random place and time in space to the compound in one of their experiments.

“No murder bots though.” You say, patting his shoulder, then turning to look over at the little girl at Natasha’s side.

Something in the way she looks at Natasha tugs on your intrigue. Even more so, you’re intrigued by the way Natasha is with her. It’s clear she’s a little out of her comfort zone but she’s still very soft with the girl, delicately speaking to her.

You and Nat haven’t been on the best of terms for years. At one point, when you were just an enhanced agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, you and Natasha would work seamlessly together. You considered yourselves friends and quite honestly loved spending time together.

When it all went downhill you aren’t entirely sure(and neither is she if she’s being honest) but things have been tense between you two ever since. Little things you do annoy her and for whatever reason you now find her closed off personality to be a bit much.

Shaking your head to clear the thoughts away, you cross your arms over your chest,“ so what’s the plan Cap?”

“Not sure entirely,” he sighs softly,“ for now it’s to keep the kid safe and as happy as possible till we can get her home.”

You nod,“ sounds good.” Clapping your hands lightly, you grab everyone’s attention,“ Katya, you got a favorite movie girly?”

She nods excitedly,“ Little Mermaid. She has red hair like me.”

“I think your hair is prettier,” Natasha says with a soft nudge to Katya’s arm that makes the little girl blush and say a quiet thank you.

“To the theater then.” You say, once again smiling at her.

Everyone agrees and they all stand and start down the hall to the theater(once team movie night began a set thing, Tony had the theater built).

On the walk over, you can’t help but notice how Katya remains close to Natasha, following the redhead’s every move, all the while continuing to glance back at you.

Admittedly, there’s an odd feeling that stirs in your chest when her bright e/c eyes look into your e/c ones. There’s an abundant amount of love and admiration in them that could melt the coldest of hearts. Why that emotion is in her eyes as she looks at you makes you wonder, but you’ve decided not to think too hard on that for now.

However that exact feeling bursts forth in this very moment.

As you’re preparing the popcorn machine, everyone assumes a spot in the room. The little girl sits right beside Natasha as Sam tries to entertain her while Clint goes to put the movie. How does a grown man get a ten year old girl to have fun?

He challenges her to an arm wrestle. Apparently.

“Come on Lil Bit,” Sam eases himself to the floor opposite Katya,“ show me what you got?” His teasingly playful smile accompanies his action of resting his elbow on the table.

Katya glances up at Natasha uncertainly, as if asking permission. The redhead’s face projects her surprise but she quickly reigns it in, smiling a little and saying,“ go ahead. It’s about time someone put Wilson in his place.”

Unexpectedly, the little girl turns her gaze to you. You can only imagine your expression resembles Natasha’s. Only to soften as you smile and nod.

That’s all it takes for her to go along with it. She scoots to kneel on the floor across from Sam. Placing her elbow on the table and locking her hand with the older man’s.

It’s overly amusing to see how intrigued everyone in the room becomes. Bucky and Steve seem to be commenting on the little game as if it were the World Series. Sam pulls his game face. And Wanda and Clint keep their eyes trained on the hands of Sam and Katya.

A three second countdown is spoken before they both tense up their arms and fight to win.

Not a single soul in the room is expecting the outcome.

In a split second, Katya gains the upper hand, and slams Sam’s arm through the glass of the table. Wide eyes stare on in completely silent shock.

Katya drops Sam’s hand and pushes herself up and away from the table.“ I-I,” you can tell what’s about to happen before it does and you move without a single thought.

Food forgotten, you now kneel in front of Katya, gently grabbing her arms.“ Hey it’s okay, it’s okay.” Teary e/c eyes look at you and you feel your breath snatched away.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers.

“It’s fine Katya. It was an accident,” you nod as if to convince her that it’s okay. It seemingly works as she nods as well.“ Are you hurt?” She shakes her head and you glance over at Sam.“ You alright Wilson?”

His face is still one of bewilderment but he nods,“ yeah, yeah I’m good.”

The whole room takes in the look on Katya’s face and it’s Steve that manages to break everyone’s frozen states.“ Kid’s got an arm.”

Wanda snorts first and it causes a ripple effect of laughs from the team. Slowly looking around at all of them, Katya’s tears dry up and she smiles softly.

You sigh inaudibly as she starts to laugh and funnily enough, when you look up, your relieved expression meets Natasha’s. There’s a slight moment between you two, your eyes locking as you share your relief over the little girl being okay. Whatever attachment you seem to have for the girl is obviously shared. But you also catch something else in her eyes, something that doesn’t have to do with the little girl.

However the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. You shake your head and focus on Katya.

Softly rubbing her arms, you smile at her and take her hand, guiding her back to the seat beside Natasha and she tugs on your hand,“ sit with me?” She asks.

And you nod without a thought of hesitation,“ just let me grab us some popcorn okay?” Nodding happily, she scoots back on the loveseat and looks at Natasha. They have a quiet conversation as you fix three small containers of popcorn. Holding them in your hands and going back over.

Even though it’s the smallest thing ever, Natasha makes a face of surprise when you hand her the popcorn after giving Katya hers. When she looks up at you, it’s like a smack in the face how similar she looks to the girl beside her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs and you nod dazedly.

It’s almost haunting to you how much they look alike. Katya’s eyes are e/c but that hair, her nose, even the shape of her eyes looks damn near exactly like Natasha. The thought sticks in your head throughout the entire movie, causing you to occasionally glance over at the little girl and Natasha.

About halfway through the movie, Katya falls asleep. Her body tilts towards you, her head resting on your arm as she sleeps quietly. Once everyone notices that the girl is asleep they start to leave out.

Steve’s first, and possibly only, thought is heading to the lab for an update from Tony and Bruce. Bucky and Sam are in the middle of a heated argument over Ariel’s decision to make a deal with Ursula. Clint left before the movie, having a wife and kids to get home to. Wanda lingered, glancing at you, Katya, and Natasha.

“Are you-” the younger woman stops,“ do you need any help with her?”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Natasha does.“ I’m gonna stay up with them for a moment. Go get some sleep Wan.”

Wanda nods with a soft smile and you can see the sleepiness in her eyes. You return the smile and tell her a quick goodnight before she leaves out.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you look down at Katya, a small smile on your lips at the sight of the young girl.“ You know, she looks like you.” You say, not knowing how else to voice your thoughts.

“Like me?” Natasha asks. The tone of her voice tells you that she realized that herself, probably thought about it for a bit, but possibly pushed it away.

You nod,“ that hair, her nose, her cheeks,” you look up from the girl to Natasha,“ I knew when I saw her she looked familiar but I guess I just didn’t put two and two together.”

“Well she’s got your eyes.” Natasha adds, raising her eyebrows at you as if to argue your point, but you just chuckle and nod.

Gently easing yourself away from the little girl, holding her up with your hand,“ she does.” Then you pick her up, holding her in your arms.

The way you’d done so makes Natasha’s eyebrows raise. For a moment she’s surprised to see you so familiarly handle Katya. Then she remembers that there were children as small as Katya in your family a few years ago. You’ve almost always been around little kids due to how often your siblings were popping out babies.

She remembers being around them often, before you two fell out. She’d been almost as close to your nieces and nephews as she is to the Bartons.

“Um, where is she sleeping?” You ask, glancing down at the little girl in your arms, her back softly rising and falling as she breathes.

Natasha shrugs,“ we can put her in one of the rooms in our hall.”

Nodding, you follow after the redhead, walking through the common room to the elevators, taking them up to the floor you and Nat sleep on. She opens the door to the room right beside yours(the room that used to be hers) and steps in after you as you carry the little girl to the bed.

As you lean down to lay her in the bed, her arms tighten around you, a little whimper leaving her lips that makes you instantly hold her closer. Frown on your face, you turn to look at Natasha who raises her eyebrows at you.

“Just lay her down Y/ln,” she whispers at you.

You sigh turning back to the bed to try again, but the instant you lower your upper body down she clings to you. Once again you turn to Natasha who looks at you frustratedly.

“Just. Put. Her. Down.” She continues to whisper, now aggressively pointing at you then the bed.

Your frown deepens and you place your hand on the back of Katya’s head, as if shielding her from your equally aggressive whisper to Natasha.“ I can’t Romanoff, she won’t let me go and I’m not prying a child out of my arms.”

“Then I guess she’s sleeping with you.” She smiles sarcastically at you before turning and leaving the room, walking straight across the hall to her room.

With Katya still in your arms, you quietly sigh and ease yourself on to the bed, gently laying back with the little girl still in your arms.

The moments before you fall asleep are full of you thinking. All about Katya and Natasha.

Not knowing where Katya came from drives you a little crazy over the next couple of days. But you manage to never make that known to the little girl. She’s the sweetest kid, her innocence adding something to the compound you hadn’t ever felt before.

That attachment you and Natasha felt towards her the first day, grows stronger. So strong that the little girl takes turns sleeping in both yours and Natasha’s rooms. Her presence draws yourself and Natasha closer and while it doesn’t feel like it had all those years ago, it feels really good to be able to talk to her again.

Today officially marks a week with Katya and while you haven’t fallen into a complete routine, things have been a lot calmer since the first day of her being here. You all have accepted that she’s sticking around until Tony and Bruce find her a way home. So for now your main goal is making sure she’s comfortable here.

After having taken Katya with you on your run with Steve, she wasn’t the happiest when you left her with Wanda in the kitchen to go take your shower, but you promised to come back. Which you did.

Now you stand at the counter, making a pot of coffee after Sam and Tony drank the first one and didn’t refill it, as Katya helps Wanda bake muffins for breakfast.

A gasp followed by an adorable little giggle hits your ears and you turn around to see Natasha now beside Katya, a bit of flour on her finger. One look at Katya’s face, the flour swiped across her forehead, you know what happened.

Smiling softly at them, you catch Natasha’s eyes.“ Coffee?” You ask quietly, voice barely above a whisper. But she catches it(mainly because her eyes had been on your lips before you even spoke) and nods.

Turning to the machine, you take down a mug and start to fix Natasha’s coffee just how she likes it. Smiling softly at her as you offer the mug up, her accepting it with a soft smile in return.

Both of you look back to Katya as she pours way more chocolate chips into the mix than necessary, then watching Wanda pour the mix into the pan.

As soon as they’re in the oven she claps excitedly making all of you smile at her. The little redhead runs up to you and Natasha, looking up at you happily,“ mo-” she cuts herself off with an uncertain look and sighs, her smile slipping for a moment before she speaks again,“ I made muffins with Wan!”

You and Natasha share a quick look at Katya’s little slip but, not wanting to make her feel any worse than she seemed to have felt, you both move past it.

“We saw,” Natasha smiles at her,“ what kind of muffins?”

“Chocolate chip!”

Eyes widening in excitement, you look at her with your eyebrows raised,“ you know,” you squat down to look her directly in the eyes,“ chocolate chip is my favorite.”

Her smile gets even brighter,“ it’s mine too. Momma always gives me milk with it.”

Your jaw drops, continuing to show an abundance of excitement for the girl,“ that’s exactly how I like to eat my muffins. We’re gonna have milk when we eat these muffins okay?” She nods and you hold your hand up for a high five.

“Muffins are best with coffee.” Natasha says, shaking her head at both of you.

Katya shakes her head, mumbling quietly,“ you always say that.” She giggles softly.

Doing your best not to frown at her words, you wonder when Natasha may have said that to Katya over the last week and drawing a blank. Wanda hasn’t baked muffins in almost two weeks.

As you all wait for the muffins to finish, you move to the common room, sitting around on the couches, Katya finding her usual place between you and Natasha. The second you grab the remote she looks up at you, eyes soft as she silently asks for it and you sigh, handing it over without question.

Looking up you catch the green eyes of Natasha who quirks her eyebrow at you, a small knowing smirk on her face that makes you shake your head, mouthing ‘don’t say a word’ which makes her laugh quietly.

While waiting you all watch the cartoon Katya put on. Slowly the rest of your team trickles into the room, finding spots all around, finding entertainment in the cartoon.

Looking around at your team, a small smile pulls at your lips. More of than innocence showing itself in the moment.

A group of ex-assassins, ex-military men, a witch, former agent, doctor/green giant, and a billionaire all sit around the room watching a cat cause chaos with a walking fish. It’s already crazy to see all of you as the family that you are, to now see all of you so seemingly childish is crazier.

The episode goes off shortly after, a commercial, playing before yet another episode of the show starts up. Katya is so invested in the show she doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the timer going off in the kitchen.

Looking over at Wanda, you shrug with a smile and she chuckles softly, shaking her head.

Just as she stands up a blackhole like chasm forms in the common room.

Exactly like they had when Katya arrived, everyone once again produces their weapons seemingly from thin air. You pop up from the couch, moving the little girl to stand behind you as you accept the pistol Natasha hands you.

Every on guard stance slacks, expressions forming into very confused ones at the person who steps through the chasm. Long red curls fall down her shoulders, body clad in a black cat suit, all too familiar green eyes scanning the room, landing directly on you.

She smiles softly, then glances down behind you, that smile getting even brighter.

There’s an odd tug in your heart at the sight of Natasha’s smile. One that bright? You hadn’t seen in years. God you missed it. But that was the last thing you should be thinking about, not when the very woman smiling at you is also standing beside you.

“Um what-”

Tony’s question is cut short when Natasha squats down, still looking at the girl behind you,“ Katya, come here honey.”

“Mommy?” Katya peaks around your legs and smiles instantly at the sight of Natasha. Breaking away from you, she sprints over to her and throws her little arms around the woman’s neck.

Watching that whole interaction brings everything together in your head.

Tony and Bruce were running tests on the space and time stone. Of course some time traveling was possible. And of course on their very first test they bring Natasha’s daughter from the future.

Realizing that you’re slightly freaking out brings another thought to mind. If this is you panicking Natasha must be losing it.

A glance over shows her blank expression. Almost blank that is. Cause in her eyes you see the shock, the amazement, the wonder, the hope.

She noticed the similarities in her’s and Katya’s looks, she couldn’t ignore the attachment she and the little girl felt towards one another. This is why.

Looking up from the little girl to herself. She reads her lips, ‘now how did you end up fifteen years in the past malen'kiy?’

Fifteen years. In the past.

Katya is her daughter. She’s going to have a daughter in a few short years? With who? Is a question that quickly answers itself.

She and Katya slowly look over to everyone, green eyes and e/c ones scanning over the group then landing on you and Natasha and staying there.

Their gazes, looking into the e/c eyes that belong to the young redhead, you both come to the understanding. Which makes you both slowly look at each other.

You have a child together. You and Natasha end up with a kid.

“Where are momma and Domi?” Katya turns back to Natasha and asks.

Two children!!

Your next question is answered when you see the glint of the ring on Natasha’s finger.

Holy sh-

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Natasha says, offering each of you a smile, wasting no time in nodding, scooping up the little girl who waves to you all as they disappear into the void.

A long moment of silence passes, then Bruce sucks his teeth and Tony hums.“ No more playing with infinity stones.”

Still looking into Natasha’s eyes, you release a slightly shaky breath,“ holy shit.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

[lubdubsworld]

Take all of my Firsts.

Genre : awkward humans in love. A lot of first times done wrong? Or possibly done just right. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Its written by me. Thats all the warning you’re gonna get. also Jungkook here is a whole cutie i’m in love. 

Summary : After getting fired and blacklisted for refusing to sleep with her boss, 26 year old Hana is kind of desperate for a job. So much so, she applies to be the secretary of the painfully awkward, absolutely anti-social Jeon Jungkook, the bumbling CEO of a brand new start up company. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

1. First Date. (1/?) 

 “ This is blue.” Jeon Jungkook's impressively large figure filled the entryway to my tiny cubicle, shoulders brushing the two wooden frames on either side of him and when he carefully stepped into the workspace, the rickety old boards beneath our feet creaked ominously. 

Both of us paused, waiting to see if today would be the day the dilapidated warehouse finally gave up on us, plunging us twenty  feet down into the basement. 

When after a second, Jungkook still stood tall, very much not falling to his untimely demise in an explosion of broken floorboards and rubble, I finally exhaled in relief and looked at what he was showing me. 

I blinked, staring at the pen in his hand. It looked pretty ordinary by all standards, nothing remarkable. But the way Jungkook was staring at it, implied that it had done some sort of very personal affront to his person. 

“Uh..yes?” I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this whole thing. 

“There are three blue pens in my draw. I only require two on any day. One that i use and another as a spare in case the first one fails in some way. This is not required.” He intoned gently. 

I could feel the urge to scream, slowly build.

“Right... of course. Very carefully analyzed and concluded, sir. I just don’t know...” why  on earth are you telling me this?

“My draw is cluttered by this pen. A second spent picking and dropping this around is a second of my time wasted, Hana. And you know how I feel about wasted time and its effect on our productivity.”

And you know how I feel about this moldy ass warehouse office that you insist we use because its free and you don’t have to pay rent, there’s insects here that are probably extinct in the outside world, not to mention there's a very suspicious looking algae growing on the underside of my table and I don’t wanna know if its going to mutate and eat me whole, but you don’t really care about any of that , do you, you murderously oblivious pinhead ??

 “ Hana! Are you listening to me?” Jungkook’s voice snapped me out of own head and i smiled weakly, carefully plucking the open out of his hand.

“I’ll get rid of it , sir.” I said dutifully, getting up to drop the pen on a side table and the floor boards creaked again, louder . I froze, staring down at the small cracks in the floor, offering me a glimpse of the dusty basement underneath us. 

 Please God, don’t let me die in this hellhole.   

“Get rid of it?” Jungkook looked very serious, his handsome face scrunched in displeasure and I wondered yet again why I was still here. 

And yet i felt the familiar curl of reluctant affection as well. I had only been working for him for a little over two and a half months and i already felt a desperate need to save him from the world and himself.

Mostly himself. 

“Uh..no?” I asked confusedly and he sighed deeply. 

“That would be an awful waste. The pen should merely be stored away for future use, hopefully somewhere other than my draw. I hate clutter.” 

Right. Right of course. I tried to smile soothingly.

“ I understand your sentiments perfectly, Mr. Jeon. i take full responsibility for not ...de-cluttering your draw this morning.”  because i was too busy adjusting our budget for the month, setting up seven interviews with potential employees and seventeen other meetings with clients and investors. But who cares about that right? When there’s a whole extra pen that needs to be taken care of. 

“ Excellent. Also, the dinner with Kim Sera? Could you tell her that I am not available for coitus?” 

I choked on my own saliva, coughing in disbelief. 

“Are you dying? Do you wish me to call the ambulance?” He frowned and i spluttered, shaking my head. 

“No.. i... No. Just... Sera... You. I... What?” I choked out. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I said, Could you tell Ms. Kim that I am not available for coi-”

“I HEARD YOU.” I shouted and he jumped a bit. “ I.. I heard you, sir. But ...just... She merely asked you out to dinner? She’s a potential client and-”

“I only meet potential clients here in my office. I only get asked to dinner, in order to have coi-”

“SEX!!” I shouted in desperation. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around Jungkook saying coitus. it was warping my insides and making my gut clench, intestines twisting like little snakes. 

“Excuse me?” He tilted his head in confusion and I felt my heart ache, completely at odds with the throbbing headache he was giving me, pulse racing at how ridiculously cute he looked, considering he was a grown man of twenty five. A whole three months older than me and yet it felt like i was babysitting him all the damn time.

“Please just say sex. its what every one says... coitus is just-” i felt slightly nauseous. 

Jungkook frowned deeply.

“Sex can hold different meanings. Like gender , for example. I merely wish to avoid confusion. when i say coitus I’m talking about the physical act of a penis-”

I brought my palm down on the table with enough force to scatter the papers and send the stationery flying . Jungkook jumped a little. 

“I  feel-” i shuddered, “ this conversation is getting derailed, a bit Sir.. Lets just talk about why you think, Ms Kim wants to have sex with you.” 

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue and i groaned.

“Coitus.” i choked out quickly. “ Why do you think Ms. Kim wants to have coitus with you?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“Its what I get asked out for.” 

I blinked.

“You... Dinner is ... It doesn't always have to be for sex, Sir. People go out to dinner to talk to each other all the time.” I protested.

Jungkook frowned.

“Really? People don’t like when I talk.” He stared down at his feet. 

I felt that familiar fist around my heart again.

“I... “

“Its alright, Hana. I understand I’m peculiar and i make people comfortable. So they often just want me to eat in silence and take then back to my apartment.” He shrugged. “ It was wrong of me to assume that that is how all humans behave. I still don’t think Ms. Kim would want to have dinner with me. Even if she did, I may ruin our chances. I’m not.. I’m not good with people.” 

I stared at him.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” I blurted out, before I could think it through.” Sir.”

Jungkook looked up, frowning. 

“What?”

“A dinner date sir. You and I, tonight. I’ll reschedule your meeting with Ms. Kim to tomorrow night. I’ll show you how dinner dates go. And you can be ... well... you can feel more comfortable when you meet her.” 

Jungkook considered.

“That is an excellent idea. You will take me out on a date and teach me what to say and do.” 

I smiled, nodding.

“And there will be no coitus.”

That word had definitely grown on me. 

“No sir. No coitus.” I fought the urge to grin. 

“It would be my first date then. A proper date.” He looked excited. 

And then he frowned.

“What must I wear?” He asked confusedly. 

“Oh something casual should be fine?”

“Casual....you mean like my beige suit? i admit I haven;’t work it in years because its a bit too frivolous but I can make an exception. You’re a bit ...” He paused,” wild yourself.” 

Not sure what he meant by wild, i merely shook my head.

“No suits sir. Just some shirt and slacks should be fine.”

Jungkook frowned again.

“That sounds incredibly scandalous. Are you sure you don’t wish to have coitus?” He asked eyes narrowed in suspicion.

This time the laugh escaped against my will. 

“Your virtue is safe with me sir.” I said with a straight face and he sighed.

“Well, then. I shall meet you at the same restaurant where I was to meet her? At 8.00?”

I hesitated.

“Sure. Unless you’d like the full date experience?”

Jungkook leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

“What is that?”

“If you meet me at the subway station near your apartment at six, i’ll show you.” I grinned, “ Sir.” 

Jungkook nodded enthusiastically. 

“Excellent. I’ll do that Hana.” He smiled and then glanced at the pen , smiling.

“I’ll keep it safe , Sir. Don’t worry about it.”

I watched him walk out of the cubicle, heart racing. i willed myself not to stare at the broad back and narrow waist. 

 If you develop a crush on him, there is no doubt that you are the weakest link in human history. The reason humanity will die out will be because of your lack of sense, Hana, because even stupidity should have its limits. 

( TO BE CONTINUED) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : So, this is the drabble i was talking about. And i am terrible at fluff so give me ideas for their first date :’( 

[ray-ray-writings]

HELLO RAY! I have a sorta cute image prompt for you to possibly do? Idk it's cute to me so ima just day it, it's a Sam x Reader. Now they aren't together in it but actually get together in it, so basically we all know Sam has adopted Tommy at this point, but what if the Reader did the same thing *gasp*! Sort like a mother figure? But anyway, it's clear that Sam and the reader like each other but are awkward about it because reasons, so Tommy does as Tommy does and becomes WingmanInnit and attempts to get the two together, with out actually saying to either of them that's what he's doing. Thank you for doing this if you do💙💙💙 have a good day or night, make sure to eat/drink/take your meds, and have a good nap you deserve it!

HELLO FRIEND! I’m so sorry this took so long to write but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! This is a fem! reader because reader is referred to as “a mother figure” but you can honestly just pretend it’s “parental figure” and make it gender neutral! 

Honey Barbecue-Awesamedude

You first met Tommy while you were walking the Prime Path back to your home from a trip to gather a specific type of wood. You quite literally crashed into the boy because he was so beaten up and disoriented that he didn’t even notice you and ran right into you. Your hands immediately reach up and grab onto the younger boy’s upper arms to stabilize him. “Tommy?” His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can tell he’s pretty out of it. “Okay kiddo, let’s get you to my house huh?” 

With a little bit of struggle, you manage to get Tommy into your home and into your bed. Once his head hits your pillows, he’s out cold. You carefully clean him up and patch up his wounds before setting a glass of water by his bed and leaving him in the room. 

Tommy doesn’t come out of the room until around sundown. He’s yawning, but he looks so confused but when his eyes meet yours, everything seems to come back to him. He gets this really sheepish look on his face and he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey… Sorry about earlier. Thanks for taking care of me.” 

You give him a bright smile and nod, “Of course, Tommy. There’s no need to be sorry. It’s something anyone would do. Now come sit down. Dinner is almost ready.” Tommy hesitates for only a moment before seeming to get a whiff of whatever it is you’re cooking and making his way to the table and seating himself. 

You force Tommy to stay the night at your house. It was getting really late and you didn’t want to run the risk of him getting into more trouble and hurting himself even further. He left once daybreak came, but that wouldn’t the last time he’d be spending the night at your house. 

After that day, you kind of became like a mother figure to Mr. Tommy. You were always there for him and he always had a place in your home. You were one of the only people that was always on Tommy’s side no matter what and was able to remember that he was a liter child that needed to be taken care of. There was only one other person in the entire SMP that looked after Tommy like you did… And Tommy believed that you two would make a perfect couple. 

You and Sam were the only ones that looked out for Tommy for no other reason than to look after him. You two had kind of become the young boy’s unofficial parents. Yes, Tommy had his own house, but most nights he could be found in either your’s or Sam’s house. 

You and Sam knew each other, of course you knew each other. You two interacted sometimes but most of your conversations were about Tommy. Even with your limited conversations, you both quickly caught feelings for each other. The mutual care over Tommy was something you bonded over as well as, Tommy definitely doesn’t stop talking about you. You both had fallen for each other through your shared love of the boy that you considered your son, but also his words that he spoke about the two of you. 

It would have been impossible not to fall in love with him. 

However, it almost would be more impossible to tell him that you were in love with him. 

And the same goes for him. Sam had feelings for you, but there was no way in hell he would ever tell you that. 

This doesn’t make your feelings for each other any less obvious to one Mr. Tommyinnit. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy isn’t stupid. He’s very smart and very observant and he could tell almost instantly that the two of you clicked and that you two had developed feelings for each other. But it was also very obvious that you two knew of your feelings, but refused to acknowledge them.

He was going to fix that. 

Sam had informed Tommy that he had made a nice steak dinner for supper that night and that he really would love it to have company over to share it with. Tommy saw this as the perfect opportunity to push you two together. Tommy told you that Sam had invited you two over for dinner that night and you believed him. So you dressed up in a cute outfit and at 10 minutes till, you and Tommy headed over to Sam’s place. 

Sam was very surprised to find you standing at his door with Tommy, but it was a very pleasant surprise and one that he welcomed. Sam moved out of the way of the doorway and allowed you inside. You turned back around to face him and Tommy and found an odd sight. Tommy was still standing outside, staring down at his communicator. “Everything alright Tommy?” You ask, a little concerned as to who he was messaging. 

Tommy’s head snaps up and meets your eyes, a small smirk forms on his face as he speaks. “Oh yeah. I’m fine… Tubbo not so much. I have to go help him. I don’t know how long it will take. Go ahead and eat without me.” 

Not realizing what he was doing, you jumped in, “Oh! Is he okay? Do we need to come help?” 

“No, no, no, no. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. You two being there will probably just embarrass him. Seriously, enjoy your time together,” Tommy tells the two of you before turning and running away. 

Sam knows what the child had just pulled, you not so much. Sam could only glare after the boy but once he turns around his eyes find your frame, they soften. “Should we follow him? I know he said it’s fine but I don’t want--” 

“Y/N. It’s Tommy and Tubbo. They’ll be fine. If not, they have their communicators. But if you want to leave, I would completely under--” “No! No. I want to be here… with you.” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Sam cleared his throat and held out his hand to you. “Well in that case, may I?” You carefully reach your hand out and let him grab it. He gingerly leads you through his house and to his kitchen table where he carefully guides you to sit down in a chair before pushing you in. He walks over to the counter and picks up two plates that he prepared right before the knock on the door and sits one down in front of you before sitting himself down with the other one. 

“I hope everything tastes okay. I’m not the best chef but I wanted to do something nice for once,” Sam tells you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but your face. Even though he’s not looking at you, you offer him a sweet smile and a laugh. 

“I’m sure it will taste great Sam,” you assure the creeper hybrid as you pick up your fork and knife. Sam copies your motions and gives you a big smile and together you begin to dig into the meal. 

The food tastes great. Sam really undersold himself, and you were sure to let him know. You complimented his cooking over and over as you two dined and chatted. It was really cute to watch his freckles light up as a form of blush to coat his cheeks under your heavy praise. A lot of the time all he could manage to get out in response was a small “thank you.” 

The conversation flowed naturally between you two as you discovered you had a lot more in common than just caring for Tommy. You two talked about what you did for work and what you did for fun. Some of the conversation revolved around Tommy, but not a whole lot. You mostly used your experience with Tommy as a way to jump from on topic to another. 

You two continue to talk even after you’re done eating. You help Sam clean up, despite his protests, and you two take a seat on his couch and talk for a while more. You two snap out of your conversation when one of the redstone clocks he’d made chimes loudly letting the two of you know that it was now 10pm (2200). You’re both shocked about how late it had gotten, and although you wanted to keep talking, you knew you should probably get home. 

Sam, ever the gentleman, offers to walk you home, and you still wanting to be able to spend a little more time with him, you accept. Together, the two of you walk back to your house. Sam has his sword just in case but no mobs bother you. You two get to your front door sooner than you would have liked. The two of you stop and turn toward each other in front of your door. 

“Well… This is me,” you state after a few moments of silence. 

“This is you… I had a really nice time tonight Y/N… Would we be able to do this again sometime?” 

A wide smile spreads across your face as you nod a little frantically, “Yeah. Yeah, I would love that.”

There are a few more moments of silence before Sam takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “Can I kiss you?” 

You’re surprised at the question, but you find yourself giving him a small nod. Sam seems a little shocked at your answer, but his hand comes up and cups the side of your face and he ever so slowly leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You immediately melt into him, your hands finding their way onto his chest and slowly dragging up onto his shoulders and you pull him a little bit closer to you. His other hand finds itself on your waist, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss. 

The kiss ends too soon for your taste, but you also know that if it didn’t end when it did, you’re not sure it would have ever ended. Sam gives you a soft smile after pulling away. He carefully removes his hands from your body, you doing the same. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” 

“Goodnight Sam.” 

You stand there, back pressed against your front door, watching after him until he was no longer in your eyesight. You let out a small dreamy sigh before turning around and letting yourself into your own house. 

You are immediately startled by the presence of a teenage boy sitting in your kitchen, gorging himself on what looks like some chicken wings. “What the heck are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is Tubbo okay?” You ramble out as you rush further into the kitchen, placing yourself between beside him, your eyes scanning over his body, making sure that he’s okay. 

Tommy just rolls his eyes and laughs, “Tubbo’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just needed a place to eat my wings. Wings for a wingman. I’d say I’m a pretty successful wingman?”

It was then that it hit you. Tubbo never really needed help with anything. Tommy didn’t leave you two alone to help Tubbo. He had set you up. Tommy had forced you and Sam to be alone together because he knew that this would happen. That the two of you would fall deeper and in turn would admit that you had feelings for one another…. This sneaky, meddling kid. 

You wanted to be mad. You really did. But you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at the boy for giving you the opportunity to go out on a date with the man you had been crushing on for many weeks now. So instead of taking the time to scold him, you instead opted to playfully push Tommy’s head before snatching a wing from his plate. 

Tommy opened his mouth to complain but fell silent at the sight of your playful glare. “Now, I will be taking this honey barbeque wing and will be heading off to bed. Clean up after yourself and get to sleep soon. Goodnight kiddo.” Tommy gives you a small smile and a nod before wishing you goodnight as well. You turn on your heel and walk out of the room toward your bedroom. But right before you were about to exit, you stop and turn back around. 

“Hey Tommy?” You call, drawing his attention to you. You give him a soft smile before raising the wing you had taken from his plate. “Thank you for being our wingman.” And with that you turn on your heel once more and continue on your way to your room. Even though he’s a sneaky, meddling kid, you couldn’t help but be very thankful for the boy that had brought you and Sam close together… You’ll have to make sure he’s the best man at the wedding. 

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

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taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

[spockandawe]

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting. 

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned. 

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

[skellebonez]

With the prompt list, how about someone seeing MK with Monkie King with number 15?

Picking prompts back up with a nice dose of Dad Wukong! I needed some fluff! This is set in *shrug* post-season 2 because despite us only having 2 episodes so far I’m going to pretend season 2 wraps up just enough to give us a hook for a possible 3rd season but everyone is doing ok. For now. I just want everyone in the show to be safe and happy dang it!

Oh god, you’re just like your dad.

"Where to next?" MK asked, looking around the shopping district in excitement. It had taken him so long to convince Sun Wukong to actually join him on a day of just hanging out, outside of a couple short trips to the Anti-Gravity Arcade, and he wanted to cram as much into the day as humanly possible. "Video game store? Cheese tea stall? The new bakery, th-!?"

"Whoa, Bud, slow down!" Wukong eased with a smile. "We have all day. We can go wherever."

"And you’re sure you’re doing good?" Despite the Monkey King's soft tone, MK couldn't help but practically vibrate in equal parts excitement and worry. "There aren't too many people or anything?"

His concerns weren't unwarranted. Sun Wukong had been nearly completely isolated for centuries, company kept only with the monkeys of his mountain home and the odd outing into the world outside. And, of course, online correspondence with his lawyer after a time. Typically he was transformed in some way, a butterfly or bird or cat or something easy to blend in, and though he had made a couple short stops in a human disguise in the past. A quick drink here, a bun or fruit cup there. Nothing that required more than a quick transaction, however.

Now he was in the city, Wàn Qiān Chéng, in that human disguise and staying around. In jeans and a t-shirt and jacket (that MK was genuinely shocked to know he owned, until he realized that they were all branded Monkey King merchandise... including his jeans). Surrounded by people and cars and all manner of things the Monkey King would typically avoid. Despite the gradual introduction to being out and about MK was trying to ease him into, he couldn't help but worry that it would be overwhelming.

"Like I told you before, I'm doing fine!" Wukong put a hand in MK's hair, ruffling it gently with a soft smile.The sudden contact was... well, not that unusual actually. Nor was it unwelcome. The Monkey King always seemed to be a tactile person after all. "But, uh, now that I think about it I am getting kind of hungry. There was a little food stall pretty close by that I’ve been to a few times..."

“Oh, yeah!” MK exclaimed in glee, any place that his mentor frequented (however rarely) must be somewhere nice and he absolutely wanted to experience that! “Lead the way!”

Wukong laughed at MK’s exuberant response, smile softening as he indeed lead the way. “It’s, uh... actually the only place I’ve gone to for food when I’m checking in on you. So don’t be surprised, they’re going to recognize me.”

Ah, that made sense in MK’s mind. Had this been a few weeks ago MK might have been surprised to know that he was being checked in on, Heck, if this was before the Lunar New Year festival he would called anyone who told him a liar. Sun Wukong was not protective of him and he always left MK on his own because he trusted him!

And that last statement was very correct. Wukong did trust MK, more than enough. He knew he could handle just about anything that he would have gotten thrown at him. But not protective was a lie. Maybe it was Macaque, or maybe it was the Spider Queen, but after a while something in his mentor changed. He went from being aloof but helpful to being nearly non-existent (and when MK learned exactly what he had actually been doing he was not happy) and then “I’m just checking in, Bud, my dude, my student who I am not at all protective of what are you talking about” upon his return from his “vacation”.

Wukong trusted his student to handle himself. But that didn’t mean he didn’t worry about him now that the full extent of the danger he had put him in was known. And while some parts of it had been frustrating at times (he had been way too eager to stay at the Noodle Shop at first for Pigsy’s liking) it was kind of nice to have him around in just a casual way. Like when they watched the fireworks.

But beside that point, they finally arrived at the food stall. It was a street vendor, the booth decked out in bright colors and rows of food on offer, mostly...

“Baozi, should have known,” MK chuckled. The Monkey King didn’t make a lot of food at his home, but he made more than enough. Baozi was one of his favorites. “Well, they have got to be good if you keep coming back!”

“They’re not the only reason!” Wukong replied as they stepped up, the lady vendor doing a double take before smiling wide at him. “Hey!”

“Mr. Cheung!” She smiled wide, turning her full attention to the customers. “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise, you’re a day early! Would you like your usual vegetarian order again?”

“Yes, please!” Wukong’s smile was wide, and if his tail had not been wrapped around his waist MK was certain it would have been swishing wildly. He’d clearly gained some kind of rapport with the vendor of this stall if they were on a “human disguise name” basis. “And, uh, something for my bud here too. Doesn’t have to be vegetarian for him though.”

“I’ll take whatever you think is tasty!” MK stated excitedly, nearly bouncing on his heels in the spot.

"Oh god, you’re just like your dad," the vendor laughed out with a smile as she turned away from them, and Wukong froze beside MK in response.

MK froze in response.

The Monkie Kid was almost certain he had never seen his mentor go this still. Ever.

" Oh no, he's n-"

"He is, huh!? Peach doesn't fall far from the tree!" Wukong laughed almost giddily and almost excessively loud, suddenly wrapping an arm around MK's shoulder and reaching around with his other arm to ruffle his hair once again. “He’s kind of embarrassed anytime someone points that out.”

MK could hear the vendor chuckling and responding with something else, but he couldn’t really understand it as he mulled over what Sun Wukong had just said.

“He is, huh!?”

He didn’t deny the vendor’s assumption at all. He just... went with it. Sun Wukong... just went with someone assuming MK was his son...

He barely paid attention when they were handed their food, the vendor insisting that since he was such a loyal customer that it was free of charge for finally introducing his son to her. Wukong did not deny it again, making pleasant conversation for a short while before they headed off. Wukong’s free hand was firm on his back as he led him away.

“Bud?” Wukong said once they were out of earshot, his tone oddly soft and uncertain for someone of his status. “That uh... I mean... you see... I wasn’t expecting her to just...”

“Have you been bragging about me like I’m your kid to a street vendor every time to check up on me?” MK asked softly, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

“... maybe?”

“... you adopted me and you didn’t tell me?” MK asked with half joking offense in his tone, pointing his baozi at his mentor. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he said it.

And it seemed that somehow the combination of the way he said that and his exuberant expression drove the Monkey King into a fit of laughter that drew the attention of many passersby.

(The baozi were, as expected of a place that Sun Wukong would frequent, some of the best that MK had ever tasted in his life. Though, perhaps, they were made all the tastier knowing that he was eating them with someone who he had long secretly considered a father figure to him who had seemingly adopted him without meaning to.)