#i have a google translate extension at the ready

[raiynesummers]

welcome to every new person, have a wonderful time !! <3

Btw guys, expect another twitter migration because, apparently, twitter has a high chance of being banned in Brazil

To any new people coming here: Hi! Please don’t feel pressured to speak English, speak Portuguese or Spanish or Your Language Of Choice!! We may not have automatic translations like twitter does, but that doesn’t mean that you should have to cater to English-only speakers

[multifandomgirl08]

Shadow Cast On Devotion [Bittersweet Mini Series]

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: Maybe you were meant to see him again.

Warning(s): Google Translated French

A/N: I literally just finished this yesterday and haven't gotten it beta-read at all. Any and all mistakes are mine. Names for all of the FIA Galas/Parties I made up myself. I already have part 3 in the works, and it's going to be from Charles's POV.

Words: 2.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Bittersweet Masterlist

Monaco hadn’t changed in the 6 months since you had seen it last. It was just as glamorous at night as you remember it.

Your uncle had told you when you had gotten home that he was very impressed with how you presented yourself at the end-of-the-year FIA Gala. So much, so that he had already sent in his RSVP for the charity event that the FIA held after the Monaco Grand Prix, and you would be going in his place as a favor for him.

It was the same arrangement as last time. All expenses paid, on your uncle's dime. You were lucky because you couldn’t afford the luxuries that came with having to go to events like this twice a year.

It would probably be a night alone, making polite small talk in a designer gown that was out of your price range gripping at the black satin clutch in your hand. Waiting for the night to end. You knew from your uncle’s secretary, that the charity event that happened after the Monaco Grand Prix didn’t always mean that any of the drivers would show up. It was meant for team sponsors, members of the FIA, a few selected members of The Grimaldi family of Monaco, and investors.

As you entered the ballroom of the hotel, you were quick to notice that it wasn’t the same black tie event as last time. However, everyone was still dressed in their very best. Bow ties were perfectly straight, and there was not a single stain on the white tablecloths that covered all of the tables.

You gave polite gentle smiles to the people who knew your uncle and by extension you. Your bright red dress gave a big contrast to all of the other women in their dresses in the room, all light creams or dark midnight blues. And as you looked through the crowd, there wasn’t a single driver in sight.

You walked around, making your second round of the room so far before finding your name on a thick cream place card in cursive. You had gotten dragged into a conversation with an older woman and her husband, they were a part of some corporation that sponsored one of the teams. You couldn’t even remember which one. You kept making small talk with people and then excused yourself when you couldn’t handle it anymore. You ended up in a long hallway that you hoped would lead outside.

You needed air, now!

You weren’t meant to handle parties like this by yourself. It was too suffocating. Even thinking about Charles didn’t help. He was probably tired from having won his home Grand Prix earlier in the day. That you had seen with the Paddock passes that your uncle had gifted to you during the holidays.

You pushed open the grand doors, taking in the cold Monaco air, the fabric of the dress you were wearing wouldn’t help you fight the cold but you didn’t care as you looked out into the city of sparkling lights. You just let yourself stand there for a while. You could hear clapping coming from inside but paid it no mind.

When you finally felt the cold getting to you, you turned around ready to go back inside. When you were just about to pull one of the doors closed, you heard footsteps before seeing a head of brown hair turn a corner.

“We meet again, chérie.” Your hand laid over the handle of the ornate door.

There it was, Charles's unmistakable voice. It called for you to turn around.

“Why do we always meet with you sneaking away from a party?” He asked. Your smile broke through with your back still turned to him. You turned around with light tentative steps.

“Well the last time, I wasn’t sneaking away. I was leaning against a wall.” You let slip out. You turned your head down towards the floor before feeling his fingers lightly push your chin up to look at him, meeting his eyes. You could see his lips forming a response but stopped almost instantly.

“How did you know it was me?” You asked to see him in a full dark velvet black suit with pinstripe detail, instead of black dress pants and a matching jacket from the last time you saw him.

“Because even in heels, you walk as light as a cat.” He teased, tapping at his temple as if to say that he remembered. “It would only make sense that you try to sneak away like one too.”

You had never realized that Charles paid that much attention to you in the few hours that you had spent together.

He stepped closer to you, his lips brushing over your ear. “You have ruined me."

You just shook your head stepping away from him a little. He was laying it on thick again. Trying to sway you with his words as if he needed to win you over. He already won you over but you didn’t want him to know that. “I don’t believe that.”

You both stood there for a second, Charles letting his eyes fall over the dress that almost touched the floor.

“You're wearing my color,” He said gesturing to the red pocket square that matched the color of your dress almost perfectly.

You were wearing the closest things that you could find to the iconic Ferrari Red. It wasn’t a conscious choice and by then it was already too late to pick a different dress.

“Everybody is a Ferrari Fan, even if they say they aren’t.” You quoted to Charles. He was aware of those words more than anyone since he had Sebastian as a teammate for a few years.

He started to laugh. “True, if you believe everything that Seb says.”

Charles slowly pulled back, leading you out of the long hallway back towards the party.

You selfishly wanted to hide from the other people in the room with just Charles as your company, but you let him lead you through the room of people with his hand on your lower back. You ended up in a small circle talking with Charles, Max Verstappen, and his wife. For someone who just had a baby 6 months ago, you couldn’t even tell.

“Quite the girl you’ve got on your arm Charles,” Max’s wife said. “How do you two know each other?”

You wanted to correct her. You weren’t here with Charles.

“My uncle is a team sponsor.” You cut in. “He couldn’t come so I came instead.”

Charles looked a little surprised at your answer. Unlike your uncle who had no children, your parents weren’t as well-off so he helped pay for things and spoiled you where your parents were unable to.

Max and his wife shared a look that was in no way malicious, just a silent understanding between the two of them. You couldn’t help but instinctively watch their body language, still open and inviting towards you. Max had stepped away from Charles though pulling his wife into his arms, letting her lean against his chest. You had been wrong about the first time that you saw Max, he had the look of utter devotion in his eyes when it came to his wife.

“Is it your first time at one of these events?” She asked, not paying Max any mind as he slipped his hands down to hold her hips, his hands pressing into the black velvet of her dress.

You were grateful that she didn’t ask any more questions about why you were here.

“It’s her second time,” Charles said before you could. “We met at the FIA End of the Year Gala last year.”

You didn’t mind that Charles had spoken for you, you were grateful for it. As you looked at her, she had given Charles a knowing look with her perfectly shaped eyebrows, raising them and then over at you with a gentle and kind smile.

“Really? How was it?” Her voice was soft and her question didn’t hold any type of double meaning. How did a woman like her fit into this world? She was nice to everyone, but ruthless when it came to the media.

You couldn’t help but look at Charles to see that his smile had widened just a bit.

“When I asked Max about it he only said that it was boring.” She teased.

You looked back at Max and his wife and were a little in awe of them both, as she leaned back. It was as if no other person existed in the room to Max except her.

“Mijn leeuwin, you know this. It was boring, just like the last time you went with me.” He said, and from there you could see the silent conversation that they had with their eyes.

They fit together, like a matching set in their color-coordinated dress and tux combo, even Max’s shoes somehow matched her handbag.

The Verstappens excused themselves from both you and Charles calling it a night, but not before you saw her give Charles a smile and a wink taking Max’s arm and walking towards the double doors that lead out into the lobby of the hotel.

“Are you close?” You asked him walking away from the tables, closer to the band at the front of the room.

Charles stopped walking for a second before looking at you with wide eyes as if he had been caught red-handed.

“Close with Max and his wife?” He asked back. You gave him a slight nod before pulling at the skirt of your dress.

“Yes,” He said before pulling at the sleeves of his jacket a little. “We are quite close, closer than we used to be when we both started in Formula 1.”

“Should I ask why she was winking at you?” You weren’t even sure if you had the right to ask that question but couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“She was winking at me because I told her that I had met you last time you were here. That you weren’t like anyone else I had met at one of these parties before.”

You were surprised by Charles’ honesty, most guys would try to play it off as nothing, or let the other person let their thoughts run wild. Charles being honest with you was refreshing. He truly was an anomaly in the world of Formula 1.

“That’s nice,” you smiled at him. “It’s nice to have someone remember you like that.”

You had to downplay this as much as possible. You didn’t want to assume that Charles meant anything by it. He could have just told her, that you were some lonely person at the party and spent the evening with you because it was an FIA Gala, and it was better for him to assume that you were the child of a shareholder or something or other. He didn’t know that you didn’t fit into his world back then.

“I told her that I wasn’t sure if I would see you again,” He cleared his throat reaching up to adjust the collar of his shirt a little. “I’m glad that I am wrong.”

Without knowing it, you had ended up in the middle of the dance floor. You looked around at a few couples slow dancing and welcomed the feel of Charles’ hands, one on your waist and the other outstretched to lead you in a dance.

You and Charles swayed to the classical interpretation of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. The cellos filled your ears, as you moved in sync together. Your eyes stayed with his, feeling like it was just the two of you in the room isolated from the world. It seemed like it lasted forever but as the final few notes were plucked, you closed your eyes trying to savor this moment. You opened your eyes to meet Charles’ and couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment.

You never thought that you would get to spend another evening with Charles. You had selfishly hoped that you would get the chance. But not like this. You had flirted with him a bit, and met some of his friends, even if it was only Max and his wife.

“I should go,” You pulled away from him.

“Wait.” He said catching your hand.

Charles didn’t try to pull you away from the party. Not when he looked away from you to notice that people were staring at the both of you. He took you back over to the tables, pulled out a chair for you to sit down, and sat next to you.

“I know this isn’t what you are used to.” He kept his hands open as he talked. “I don’t know why. But I would like to get to know you more.”

You wanted to protest and tell him no. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. Charles was too good for you and he would get bored of you once he got to know you.

“So, can we at least agree that if we see each other again, I will get to spend more time with you?”

It was like he knew that you were going to tell him that you couldn’t spend more time together. It wouldn’t be right to give Charles false hope for you to see each other again.

“What do you get out of it?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Aside from spending the evening with a beautiful girl?” He asked. You nodded.

He leaned forward, his lips just over your ear, “It would make my time here worth something for once.” You faintly remember Charles saying something similar the last time you saw each other.

Well, you didn’t want to waste Charles’ time. You indulged him for the rest of the evening, talking with him, even letting it slip that you were still in college and would be finished with school in another year.

Later on, as the night was coming to a close and more people walked out of the event, Charles stopped you while you both waited for the valet to get Charles his car and you waited for your town car to take you back to your hotel.

“Can you promise me something?” He asked.

“Promise you something else?” You said with a slight shake of your head.

“No, the same,” he started to say. “If you end up at another one of these events. Promise me that I will get to see you again. Even if it’s only to share another dance.” 

You were blown away that he wanted you to make such a promise. You didn’t know if you were going to even end up at another one of these events. The first time was by chance, and the second was a favor to your uncle, a third time however seemed unlikely or too good to be true.

You felt like you couldn’t say anything at first. You lightly nodded, “Yes, I promise that if I get the chance, you’ll see me again.” However, you had no way of knowing when that would be.

The valet had pulled up with Charles’ black Ferrari. Charles collected the key from him, thanking him, and then turned to you. As you looked at him you couldn’t help but feel like he wanted to ask you something but in the end, didn’t.

“A bientôt, chérie.” He whispered into your ear before you felt the faintest brush of his lips against your cheek.

You could only look at him and give him a small wave as he got into his car. As you watched the car pull away you were quickly broken out of your thoughts seeing the town car that you came in had pulled up.

When you got back to the hotel and got ready for bed, you pulled back the covers of the sheets. Your fingers played with the expensive silk fabric and you lightly muttered to yourself, “See you soon, Charles.” Before turning off the lights and going to sleep.

Translation(s): A bientôt, chérie - See you soon, sweetheart

Bittersweet Series taglist: @omgsuperstarg, @bite-me-en-la-boca, @itsjustkhaos, @janeholt3, @cixrosie, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081

[crack-canon]

Drawing Gender-fluid Akechi Touma and low-key kinda feeling actually happy for this fictional character right now (wip)

She’s nervous but happy to finally have found themselves. She just came out of the changing room where the other Psykickers are waiting

-Kusuo picked out the clothes with help from Kusuke since Akechi and Kusuke have a academia kinda clothing style

-Reita and Aiura helped with the extensions and makeup (and are the hype [wo]men)

I’ve decided to name em “Areru”

With Google translate as my only witness, I decided to give her the opposite of Touma’s name. His name is a pun for invisible I believe and broke down a Google translated word for “Visible”

New post

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Hi!! First I want to say that A Fresh Start is absolutely my favorite thing I’ve ever read. I binge read it over the past week and I’m getting ready to re-read it. You write so amazingly that I was hoping I could ask you some questions? I’ve been trying to write a Din Djarin piece for a couple months now and I just hate it every time I read through it; and you write him so well! I am not new to the Star Wars fandom, my parents practically raised me on Star Wars, but I’m new to writing fan fiction for the Star Wars community. Do you do a lot of research to get the languages/terms? Do you also do a lot of research on the different worlds? When you’re writing do you pre-plan your plot or do you just write while it feels good? How extensively do you edit? I feel like editing is my downfall. Do you have any advice for for someone like me who is striving to be as good of a writer as you? 🥹 thank you and I can’t wait to read more of your writing!!

PS. Don’t feel like you have to answer this publicly or at all! I mostly just want to give you love on your writing because it is absolutely amazing!! 🩵🩵

OKAY FIRST OF ALL, YOU’RE SO FUCKING SWEET. Thank you so much omgg. And absolutely yes ask me all the questions. I will always answer (you didn’t even have to butter me up with compliments💁🏻‍♀️✨)

I love when people say they like how I write Din b/c I’m low-key just throwing a bunch of headcanons together and praying for the best lolol.

Long rambles ahead of me attempting to answer questions:

For Mando’a, I am not awesome at it. Some people are so way better. I had someone actually correct me once on the tense of a word and it blew my mind. However, I use this dictionary and this translator. I have no idea how accurate either is but I wing it from there lol.

I am a big researcher and it’s b/c I’m a perfectionist. I’m shockingly more lazy about it when it comes to Star Wars worlds. Like, I’ll search it up and get the big things (world name, setting, city names, etc.) but from there I just toss things in that I think would make sense? And in my last chapter of AFS, I just straight made up a world b/c I didn’t feel like doing research. I think that’s part of the beauty in working with a medium like Star Wars is that when it comes to setting you have a lot of free reign.

Ah. The age old question of ‘plotter vs pantser’. There are huge merits to both. For my original story, I have sat down and extensively plotted things out. Like a good little organized writer, which tbh is part of the reason why I’ve been lazy with it. Naturally, I am very much a pantser. I will come into a story with a vague idea of what I want, a few mental scenes I want to play with, but from there I just sort of let it roll. Writing fan fiction is like playing jazz for me. Very in the moment, improvisation, winging it.

Many times, I am surprised by my own ideas and that’s why it’s so much fun. Now, granted once I start writing a plot begins to form in my head. A rough outline. For example, in AFS, I started out with one idea: Domestic Din Djarin. And I had one scene in my head I specifically wanted to write: the scene where reader save a sick Grogu. So, I just started writing things and around chapter 6 or 7 my brain had a rough plan on where I wanted the story to go and how I want it to end, but I still leave it very open for if a new idea suddenly comes to me.

UGH EDITING SUUUUCKS. I go through one round of editing b/c otherwise it feels miserable. I write the chapter or the drabble without stopping to look back and edit. My only recommendation is ‘DONT EDIT WHILE YOU WORK’, b/c you end up getting stuck in this loop. Write it all out, just get it on paper, then read through it and edit afterwards.

I’ll type out a Drabble in google docs without re-reading it or editing it, then I post it over to Tumblr and when it’s on that new page win a different style I read through it and edit as I go. Then I hit post. (So if you come across errors in my work that’s why lolol)

My advice is don’t strive to be like me. (I mean I am totally honored to hear that you think I’m a great writer and want to be like me, that went STRAIGHT to my ego).

But what I mean is, never try to shape yourself into any other style. Don’t ever compare yourself to others. Because I guarantee you, right now, that you have skills and gifts that I probably can’t bring to the table. You are going to write something and just by it being in your voice you are creating something unique and beautiful. So don’t ever try to edit the way you write to match someone else b/c then you’d be depriving the world of your own voice. That being said the best advice I was ever given about improving my own writing skill and style was ‘JUST WRITE’ and it’s so hard lolol. B/c I wanna write but I don’t wanna write. You feel me? I just want all the words in my head to be on paper and that be it hahah. But the point of that is, it’s like any other skill or hobby or sport, the more you do it the better you become and the more comfortable you feel with your style.

I have no formal training in writing. My degree is in science, only took the baseline literature classes in college, so everything I know and do is self taught through trial and error. One of these days, I might post one of my early works b/c it is ATROCIOUS. Like literally godawful. I swear to you I’m not being humble, it was actual trash BUT IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. The first things you create are not going to be brilliant or moving and they might even make yourself cringe when you look back on it, but as long as you had fun writing it that’s what matters. Then you keep writing and writing and writing and eventually you find your rhythm.

I started writing in the 7th grade. If you compare my 7th grade work to my 10th grade work, I improved by leaps and bounds. Compare my 10th grade work to my sophomore year of college works, again HUGE changes. Compare my college years of writing to what I do today? Even better.

I still have days where I’ll stare at a page and feel incompetent and illiterate. It happens. But I never gave up on writing, b/c it was truly what I loved to do, and gradually I found and solidified my voice. I don’t think I’m an extraordinary writer by any means, but I am confident in the words I use and the style I write in. And that makes me happy.

So, that was my VERY long winded way of saying: I am so proud of you, I think you're being harder on yourself than necessary (everyone is their own worst critic), and have fun. 💜

[productsreviewings]

ChatGPT often is the sizzling subject in the meanwhile, however Google has been engaged on constructing AI fashions for years now. One in all these initiatives is an AI language mannequin able to supporting greater than 1,000 completely different languages. And, in keeping with a New replace (opens in new tab), Google has taken an "vital first step" in constructing it. In the meanwhile the mannequin helps greater than 100 completely different languages; Solely 10% of what Google needs to do for you.Google has introduced its plans (opens in new tab) to develop the language mannequin, dubbed the "Common Speech Mannequin" (USM) in November. Apparently, USM is a "state-of-the-art household of speech fashions" with 2 billion parameters and skilled on 12 million hours of speech and 28 billion sentences from over 300 languages. Capabilities will embody computerized speech recognition, particularly for languages ​​that usually do not get the identical sources as extensively spoken languages ​​like English or Mandarin. It's already getting used on YouTube to create closed captions and subtitles for movies Nonetheless, solely 73 of USM's present 100 languages ​​above are presently supported on the location.These of you curious about the extremely technical particulars of USM's coaching system can test them out once more Google weblog submit. (opens in new tab)Google is not the one firm within the AI ​​translation enterprise proper now, however the prospect of making use of machine studying to translation is an thrilling one. Having simply returned from MWC in Barcelona, ​​I can let you know that the Spanish I discovered in highschool is lower than scratch. Google Translate was useful, however not significantly handy once you're in the course of a dialog.(Picture credit score: Shutterstock)It is not solely clear what Google plans to do with USM, however the prospects are seemingly limitless. If the system may obtain and translate speech in actual time, whether or not expressed as textual content or artificial speech, it may show invaluable. Extra so if it is ready to translate textual content shortly and effectively.Extra so if now we have augmented actuality glasses that may acknowledge and translate for us with out essentially prompting first. So long as AI can acknowledge with out having to translate. The very last thing we want is background conversations consistently being translated and pumped into our ears.However USM nonetheless has an extended approach to go earlier than reaching Google's lofty purpose of 1,000 languages. 100 languages ​​is a superb begin, however many extra exist around the globe. So we'll simply have to attend and see what occurs. Google I/O 2023 is not too far-off, and with 20 AI merchandise rumored within the pipeline we would hear extra about them and USM in the course of the keynote.Extra from Tom's InformationAt the moment's greatest Google Pixel 7 Professional offers (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content4 GBDataname: Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps) (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content4 GBDataname: Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps)without spending a dime (opens in new tab) in entrance (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content10GBDataname: Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps) (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content10GBDataname: Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps)without spending a dime (opens in new tab) in entrance (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content15GBDataname:

Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps) (opens in new tab)There isn't any contractLimitless minutesLimitlessthe textual content15GBDataname: Contains calls to MX and CATextual content: MX and CA embody messagingData: (gradual to 128kbps)without spending a dime (opens in new tab) in entrance

[secretlifeofmoney]

Opportunities to make additional money are more plentiful than ever, both online and offline. Though choosing where to spend your time might be challenging, that's great.

Learn new work-from-home and internet income opportunities with this list. Earn money when you stroll, recycle, evaluate music, or perhaps just surf the web.

1- Become a 'Clickworker'

The Clickworker.com idea is based on "internet crowd-sourcing," in which businesses post advertisements for the completion of particular, scalable activities. And for us, it's a simple approach to generate income quickly from home.

There are many different duties, but the ones that entail mindless data input, web research, or form filling are the most prevalent.

For the task you choose to complete, you get paid in cash (through PayPal).

2- Gigs on Fiverr

The largest marketplace for people to offer tiny services (often referred to as "gigs") and earn money is called Fiverr.

Anything might be included in what you give. From writing and translating, to publishing on social media, pulling practical jokes, and instructing, to making music, voiceovers, and little videos for viewers around the globe. Five dollars is the standard pricing (hence the name Fiverr), but you may add other services to gigs for a fee.

There are thousands of people making a very decent income off the site, and earnings may pile up rapidly. The idea is to set up a strategy that cuts down on the amount of time needed for each gig.

There is another method to make more money on Fiverr, maybe with much less labor. How? merely by reselling performances elsewhere.

Find a good logo designer, for instance, and then respond to job postings on Upwork or in your region. Spending $5 may easily grow to $50+, and the process is repeatable! Just make sure your designer is satisfied with this by checking with them.

There is a plenty of nice stuff you can do for yourself if selling is not your goal. Browse around on Fiverr to get inspiration!

3- Review music for money

Slicethepie lets you evaluate unsigned bands and musicians online for money if you want to turn your passion for music into a business.

Some website users assert that they make £40 each month. Not drastically altering your life, but if you love it, it shouldn't be difficult.

Although anybody may sign up and review, you will be rewarded in US dollars. Visit Slicethepie to get started.

4- Buy and sell domain names

There are several extensions for a domain name, which is just a website address (such as "google.com" or "Facebook.com") (.com, .net, .co.uk etc.). With GoDaddy.com, they may be registered for as cheap as £4, or even for no cost with Bluehost plans. Premium domain names, however, may sell for thousands or even millions of dollars. VacationRentals.com was sold for a good $35 million in 2007! Although you won't find anything similar today, a little bit of research might still help you make a fast profit. Finding accessible domain names with some economic worth is the trick. Grab them and put them up for sale on a website like Sedo.com after that.

5- Create YouTube videos Recent statistics show that we now watch more YouTube videos than we do Google searches. Additionally, you may make money from creating and sharing videos through the YouTube Partner Program. Per 1,000 views, a portion of the advertising earnings will be yours. You may earn a lot of money depending on your success (view time, subscriber base, and topic). Every week, there are several instances of YouTubers who have made it their career.

Conclusion

In the end, I hope that some of the ideas we've shared here will help you to make a little extra money. It's never too late to start earning a little extra on the side, and our list offers lots of different ways to do that.

No matter what your interests or hobbies are, or how much time you have available, there's something here for everyone. So if you're ready to turn your free time into a little free money, check out our list today.

[raisengen]

I understand why many people are unhappy that Mudrock is of decidedly average height, and I have some sympathy with the cause, but I think it means that the implications of the fact she is padding out her battlesuit with Arts are overlooked.

There are some small details like the hydraulic systems around her armour’s legs to let them better act as an extension of herself, but the big thing I want to talk about is her hammer. It’s a weapon that’s appropriate for Mudrock the armoured giant, which means it really is big. While suited up, she swings it with control and confidence, and it barely ever risks touching the ground.

In her two skins she uses the same type of hammer to fight, but of course she’s no longer benefitting from the bigger body her armour provides. This not only shows us the height difference between Mudboulder and Mudpebble, it also shows the way she adapts her style of fighting.

In her default armour, she’s the confident veteran you’d expect. She makes large overhead swings with her hammer in normal attacks, slightly lifting her foot with each strike to give additional height to the blow. Her S3 outward-and-upward strikes are powerful but controlled, barely skimming up some rubble at the lowest point of the swing.

In her older swimsuit skin, it feels like she’s still getting used to fighting at her natural height. Her normal swings are a little more understated, but the obvious change is in her S3. Since she’s shorter, she’s resorted to jumping during each swing to get the same height and clearance she had before. Yes it’s pretty cute, but put that aside and this is someone going all-out to pull off attacks with an oversized blunt weapon, and succeeding.

Then there’s her new concert dress, and this one I really like. Rather than crouching with her hammer held low like with the swimsuit, she actually lets the head of the hammer rest upon the ground while idle (it seems she noticed the ground wasn’t that far away any more). In exchange, her normal attacks are more energetic, and she allows the hammer to smash back down onto the ground, since that’s already part of her new stance.

It’s the S3 that really sells to me that this is a Mudrock who has properly figured out an adapted fighting style, though. She flips the weapon into her ready stance with strength and confidence, and when she starts swinging the arcs are more horizontal than before, meaning she doesn’t have to worry about hitting the ground. Instead of jumping, she gets extra length into the swings by sliding her leg forward as she attacks.

Rather than using the same moves with compensation to make up for her physique, she’s adapted them into something that works directly for someone her size.

(There’s not usually much to read in to the S2 animations, but I do want to highlight that this time they actually animated the footwork that goes into the swing, which helps to sell the effort behind it.)

For a bonus fact: in the art for this skin she’s holding a red drink with an amber drink behind her, but her base animation shows she finds the red one disgusting, so this is a photo taken moments before disaster.

I also like google translate’s quote for the concert dress, where she’s providing backstage checks: “Seeing the hammer she carries with her, most hotheaded troublemakers will back away“. She takes that thing on patrol.

And of course, the fact she’s able to use the hammer at all, let alone so well, outside of her armour mecha is a testament to her strength and skill. So, sure, Mudrock might not be 3 metres tall and built like a brick shithouse, but won’t you still love her for her seasoned techniques and her devastating greathammer strikes?

[acourtofsnakes]

Tome - Rogue, Chapter 10| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: You find yourself talking to a mysterious stranger, whom you can’t help but feel a pull towards. Will the Mandalorian get there in time? And what will happen when he shows up?

Warnings: Gonna put this as an 18+ but it’s not SUPER graphic,  Swearing (this is a given by now), a little angst, sexual tension – a lot - &mentions of sex that are kinda detailed, WE GETTING HOT IN HERE TODAY

AN: I was trying to hold off on the sexual tension but I couldn’t wait any longer and I needed to add some of Din’s darker side – I blame all the fanfics and Tik Tok, and i’m not ashamed 

Word count: 6.5k+

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:

@snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome |

Mando’a translation: Tome – Together

You studied the man as he drew off his hood. 

He had inky black hair, so dark the loose waves caught a blue tone in the light of the cantina, like the wings of a crow or a raven. 

His skin was softly tanned, yet still a little pale, the pallor set off by the darkness of his hair. 

But it was his eyes that drew your attention first. 

They were the colour of melted amber, shockingly bright, like they almost glowed from within. They sparkled with flecks of gold, watching you with a keen interest, seeing what you would make of him and his offer. They glimmered like they already knew the answer before you did yourself. 

He was heartbreakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Almost flawless. 

So, where was his mark, his tell of a dark past, twisted with horrors and darkness that always seemed to follow beautiful people?

There. 

As the light shifted, you saw that he bore two long, wicked scars on his face. 

One began just above his eyebrow, parting through it and narrowly missing the edge of his eye, before coming to a thin point on his high cheekbone. 

The other was smaller, drawn across the plush curve of his lips. It twisted it only slightly, just slightly tugging up one corner, but they did nothing to mar his sheer beauty. 

It was.. almost otherworldly. Disarming. 

That, combined with his watchfulness gave you a distinct feeling that you were dancing the line between prey or… company?

Or maybe it was the way the light seemed to shy away from the planes of his face, whereas the shadows clung to him like a second skin, like they were an extension of him. 

You remained perched on your seat, torn between immediately leaving and putting distance between yourself and this too-beautiful man… or joining him. 

He tilted his head, leaning back in his seat and he motioned gracefully to the stool in from of him, “Join me, love. I won’t bite.” His lips curled up into a wider grin and you swore you could almost see fangs, “Not unless you want me to.” 

You rolled your eyes, but something about the comment made you realise he probably wasn’t going to kill you if he was flirting with you. “Well, since you paid for my drinks.” You shrugged lightly, slid off of your seat and then joined him at his table. “I’m not so easily won over though, just to inform you.” 

The man’s smile turned lazy, feline and he chuckled. The sound of his laugh was like velvet, sliding over your bones and whispering in your ear, “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second, love. I can tell you need more than a few looks and drinks.” He ran those ridiculous eyes over you, taking in every inch and it felt like was seeing straight into your soul. He made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat, lifting his eyes to yours again, “No. You strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be truly impressed with more than empty promises.”

Your skin warmed with his gaze, your eyes narrowing a little, but you mirrored his feline smirk, leaning forward and dropping your voice, “And you think you’re the one to impress me, do you?”

He looked over your face, leaning forward and the scent of rain-kissed cedar and thunderstorms washed over you, swirling around your head and filling your lungs, “Maybe. Though something tells me that I might have a contender.”

Unbidden, the thoughts of that night on the Crest came back in a rush, Lori’s bare hands tracing over your skin, your throat and pulling through your hair with utter adoration. 

You tensed, an ache of longing ripping through you and it blew your cocky response out of the water. 

The man blinked a little, his eyes softening as he read your response that was obviously clearer than you’d like it to be, “Apologies. I didn’t mean to step over the line, so forgive me if I have.” He leant back again, raising his drink to you. 

You shook your head softly, giving him a smile that was perhaps only a little forced, “Don’t worry about it, really.” You clinked your glass to his and then sipped your drink, maybe taking a deeper drink than the situation required. “So, what really made you pay for my drinks?”

The man looked a little bashful, gazing at the back of his gloves, “I’ve only been on the planet for the day. I saw you practising with the Marshal earlier and I was impressed. And… wanted to meet the woman who fought like she was dancing.” With his eyelashes lowered, you could see that the scar just tugged at the edge of his eyelid, and you briefly wondered how he managed to walk away with his eye still in his head. 

However, his words had you frowning slightly because… they were the exact same words the Mandalorian had spoken to Greef, in awe of you.  “Mmm-hm…” You raised an eyebrow at him, starting to believe you may have made a mistake in sitting here. “What’s the real reason?”

He lifted his eyes back to you, and had the good grace to look a little awkward, “I…” He sighed, “I fear I’m giving you the worst first impression of myself.” He spread his hands on the table almost in a gesture to show he meant no harm, “There have been rumours that… The Mandalorian who stole the Child had taken off with another bounty. And that…” 

Your gaze was level and hard on him, wanting an answer and wanting it now, “And?”

He bit his lip, that curl of hair still resting over his forehead and making him longer especially with the guilt in his expression, “That there was something between him and his old bounty. Him and… you.” He inclined his head toward you slightly. 

Warning bells began to tinkle in your head. “And where did you hear that?”

He shrugged lightly, lifting a hand, “Oh, one hears many things. Especially about you, my love. You’re famous in planets that don’t even know about the Mandalorian. Everyone knows someone who’s seen your puck.” He was reaching toward the sword on his back, his hand closed around the hilt.

Within a blink, your hand was on your own knife again, “I am going to give you thirty seconds to tell me the truth, or I swear, I will run my knife through that pretty eye of yours so quickly you won’t even have time to breathe.”

He blinked, something flickering in his expression, but he held his hands up further, “Easy.” He pulled his sword free of his holster, setting it on the table between you both. “I’m not here to take you in. I was shown your puck, but I refused. I had heard you were here, and I wanted to warn you.”

Your hand didn’t budge from the knife, “Warn me? Of what? I know that everyone is after me. I don’t need some stranger telling me that.”

The man tilted his head, adjusting the hood of his cloak over his shoulders now that his sword was out of the way, “Don’t you want to know who employed them all? All of the people who have been after you?” 

Is he playing with you?

You were entirely focused on him, ready to fling the knife and bolt should you need to. You knew how to get out of here, how to get up to the rooftops and dart across them. 

Don’t. Don’t ask him, just in case. Get out now.

He knew… He knew who sent everyone after your head.

No. 

This man knew who was responsible for the lives of friends and strangers.  

You shouldn’t ask. This was a mistake. You needed to leave. 

You looked away from his golden stare, drawn to look at the sword lying there on the table. 

Your brows furrowed imperceptibly as you beheld the strange symbols carved onto the sheath. 

Something about them seemed… familiar. Strangely so. They itched at the back of your mind like a forgotten language. 

He lowered his golden eyes to the sword between you, sucking in the light of the room.

“The symbols on this sword… they call to you, don’t they?” He ran a gloved finger along the sheath, tracing delicately over the inscribed symbols. 

You bit your lip, hesitating as you watched him. 

He looked up at your expression, your hesitation and then he slowly unsheathed the sword, revealing the blade to you. 

The blade was made of a deep, dark obsidian coloured material. It was like no metal you’d ever seen. It seemed sheer almost, like a gemstone but it was a rich ebony colour, as endless as space. It pulled in the light around it, sucked it dry and seemed to use it to glow darkly from within. 

Along the centre of the blade, the same symbols were inscribed, but this time in a rich golden gilt. 

With each symbol that was exposed, something rose within you. 

He was right. 

They truly did call to you. You didn’t know how, or why, but you felt like you knew what they meant, that you should understand them. 

The caged power of the Force within you felt it too. 

That’s what they were calling to, what they were connecting with.

The raven-haired man smiled that disarming smile again, his lips twitching up in delight, knowing he was correct. He remained silent for a few seconds, “They call to your power.”

Wait. 

He… knew? 

How the fuck did he know about you?

No one knew. Not even the Mandalorian knew. 

You reached for your blade instinctively again, watching the man in front of you. 

Fear must have registered in your eyes, mixed with a defensive warning, because he held up his hands. 

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that. I’m not here for you, or the bounty.” He shrugged a little, “Okay, I am here for you, but not like that. You see, my sister was the same. She had the same… gifts, as you.” He mercifully kept his voice low, soft enough that only you could just hear it. 

You didn’t speak, couln’t say anything, only watched him. Waiting. Even if curiosity did spark within you. 

He smiled softly like he saw it, the scars on his lips doing nothing to mar the overwhelming, stunning impact of that simple gesture, “That’s right… she was so incredibly talented, and I adored her to pieces. She was beautiful and had such a light within her. Much like you. And I want to help you… like I tried to do for her.” He tilted his head a little, his molten eyes shimmering with sadness as he spoke about her. IT was etched in every line of his body, the pain of losing a loved one that you held so dear. 

You swallowed, slowly letting go of your knife, “What happened to her? How do you know about me? Who is sending the hunters after me? Who are you?” The questions tumbled form your lips like rain, unable to stop them as you were faced with a man who could.. maybe help you?

He chuckled softly, filling the air with that musical sound again, “Let me answer the easiest one first. My name is Rena and-“

The doors to the cantina opened, letting in a warm, volcanic breeze. 

You felt, rather than heard his presence behind you. You could recognise the almost silent footfalls, the barest scrape of armour as it got closer and closer to you. 

With every step, it felt like you might jump out of your skin. 

He was here. 

He’d come back. 

Had he come back for you?

“Get away from her.” His snarl made the chatter in the cantina drop a few notches, the atmosphere subtly changing as everyone tried not to listen in. 

You could feel his height rising up behind you, and turned around in your seat to greet him, despite the snarl in his voice. Your elation at seeing him, the very way your bones hummed in delight made you miss what he just said. 

“Lori.. you’re here.” You couldn’t deny the way you greedily took in his tall, beskar-clad form. His armour looked… dustier, dirtier than it usually did. Like he hadn’t had time to clean it. There were a few patches smudged over the chest plates, and the fabric beneath looked a little torn. The more rugged look was good on him, giving him that edge that you knew lingered beneath the surface. 

Grogu rested at his side, in his little pouch bag. He cooed delightedly when he saw you, earning himself a grin and a wave. 

And in the Mandalorian’s other hand…

Duru. 

Held in his hand like he normally held the Child. 

You tilted your head, reaching out to take her, “Lori, why are you carrying my cat like a baby?” You laughed, holding her furry body close  

He ignored you, his helmet focused on the figure opposite you. “I said, get away from her.” The rough baritone of his voice held a fierceness you’d never heard before, the promise of a thinly veiled threat should your companion continue to ignore him. 

You blinked in surprise, at the fierceness in his tone. 

You’d expected a ‘Hello’ at least, but here he was, acting like you were invisible and giving a death stare (you presumed) to the man opposite. 

Rena chuckled softly, that laugh like flowing water over smooth stones, “Calm down, friend. I’m not going to hurt her.” He smiled at the Mandalorian, all easy charm and glowing eyes. 

Mando growled, striding forward and he flung his arm out across your body… like he was protecting you? 

“I am not your friend. And you are nothing to her. So back off.”

You frowned, something prickling at the back of your neck, a feeling you couldn’t place. You appreciated the Mandalorian defending you but… from what?

Did he think you couldn’t be trusted to sit and talk to someone? That you were dumb enough to make a foolish mistake with so many after you?

“Mando. Enough. You don’t even know Rena. Neither do I. Calm down.” Your voice was soft, but firm. To tell him you appreciated the defence, but you didn’t need him to save you. 

Besides, you wanted to know more about him, more about how he knew what lingered within you and how he planned to help. 

He barely looked over his shoulder at you, keeping his head turned to Rena, “You’re right in that you don’t know him. But I do. So forgive me, but I’m the one calling the shots in this situation. Take the kid and go back to the Razor Crest. We’re leaving.”

Your shoulders straightened and your eyes flashed as you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re the one calling the shots?” Your voice was flecked with icy coolness, and disbelief, “I can make my own decisions, Mandalorian. Despite what you may think.” You let acid creep into your tone, let him know you were referring to him decided to dump you here. 

Rena’s amber eyes flicked between the two of you, dancing in amusement as he tilted his head, “I’d listen to her, Mandalorian. I think she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes to be told what to do.” The light bounced off his dark hair, making the inky curls catch a deep blue. His posture was at ease, leaning back in his chair, his sword within easy reach, should he need it. 

The cantina was silent now, everyone flat out watching or listening to the potential fight that was going to ensue… and whether it would be between Mando and Rena, or Mando and yourself. 

Mando still had his arm across your body and Duru’s too, actually. “And you don’t strike me as the kind of monster that plays with their food for so long. I know you like to have your sick little games, but this isn’t exactly your style is it.” His words were venomous, a tone you’d never ever heard before. 

Anger flashed through you, chasing away the initial delight you had at seeing the Mandalorian. You understood his wariness of strangers, but he was being out of order. You weren’t stupid. You’d been doing this for long enough that your instincts were pretty sharp when it came who to trust and who to run away from. 

You stood up, glaring at the back of his head, “Enough, Lori. This is ridiculous.” 

Mando ignored the cold anger of your voice, finally looking at you over his shoulder. “Just wait outside. Please.” 

His plea stopped you short. He had only ever used that word in such a tone once before.

In the kitchen area, with his hands on your skin and in your hair. 

Please.

And… was there a layer of fear beneath it?

You sighed, looking from him to Rena, reluctant to leave them in case the fight did indeed break out. This man… he said he could help. And he couldn’t very well do that dead, could he? 

You didn’t doubt for a single second that Mando wouldn’t go down without a fight, but you sensed there was something coiled within Rena, a slumbering beast that was waiting to be provoked. It prowled behind his eyes and his smile. 

As if reading this in your eyes, Rena smiled at you, shaking his head a little, “I’m not looking for a fight, love. Your Mandalorian will come back to you in one piece. And I’ll leave here in one piece as well.” His eyes shifted to Mando, something in them shifting, “Won’t I?”

Mando was still, his instincts on trigger mode and just waiting to explode, “I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you took Grogu from Mando. “Fine. You have five minutes.”

You rested the bag across your body, ignoring the eyes watching you as you stalked out of the cantina. “Men.”

~~

The cantina door opened, and the Mandalorian walked out. 

A quick inspection revealed no damage, so you turned your gaze back to your knife. 

You were perched on a wall, Grogu on your lap and Duru around your shoulders as you waited for the Mandalorian. 

Having spotted you, he walked over, hesitating a few steps away like he was approaching a raging fire. 

Good. Let him hesitate. Let him know how fucking furious I am with him.

You said nothing, continuing to clean the blade of your knife on the edge of your cloak. 

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft thump of Duru’s tail, and Grogu’s tiny huff as he looked between you both. 

Mando observed you for a moment, before placing his hands on his hips and sighing, “Come on then.”

You turned over your knife, methodically buffing up the blade, “What the fuck was that? Do you treat all strangers the way you did in there?”

The Mandalorian was still, watching you carefully, “He’s not a stranger. He’s dangerous. Deadly.”

You still hadn’t looked at him, “I am dangerous. And deadly. I’ve killed people and ‘played with my food’. Does that mean I am a monster too?”

He shifted his weight to his other leg, “I didn’t call you a monster. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry if it stirred anything up, I didn’t think” Your old argument must have flashed through his mind because it did yours. But that wasn’t the issue. 

Grogu looked at you as you shook your head, “Nope. You didn’t think, did you? You waltzed in there. And made a scene.” 

A noise filtered through the vocoder and over to you, “A scene? I would hardly call it making a scene. That guy is a stone-cold killer. He was sitting there, toying with you and no one would have batted an eyelid to help you. There are people after your head, him especially!” 

Fire simmered through your veins. “Oh, for the love of all the stars, grow up! He isn’t deadly. He knew who I was, and he didn’t once raise a hand to hurt me. He said as much himself.”

The Mandalorian laughed, that damn laugh that made your teeth set on edge, “He told you, did he? Oh, forgive me then. Of course, he was telling the truth.” He shook his head, pacing and then coming back to you. 

You frowned, watching him pace, “What is your problem with him? So I was talking to some guy in a bar, that immediately makes him a monster?” 

The Mandalorian made a frustrated noise, raising his hands, “My problem, sweetheart, is that I thought you were smarter than that! Some creep tells you he knows who you are but he ‘isn’t going to hurt you’ and I thought you’d be running the other way and he’d be laying there with a knife in his chest! Not laughing with you over that fucking sword of his.” 

This man was being ridiculous. 

“So, this about my supposed stupidity now too, is it? Because I did something that you didn’t expect me to do?” You shoved your blade back into it’s sheath, nearly slicing your leg as you did. 

Mando made another frustrated noise, “Fucking hell, you’re not listening to me, again!! This is not about you! This is about him!! He cannot be trusted. He is a monster and a murderer. And I don’t care if he was singing you nursery rhymes or telling you about the baby Porgs he adopts, he was lying! He is going to kill you and I am not letting that happen!”  

Jaw clenched, you glared at him still, “Have you seen him do such things? Where’s your proof he was going to kill me. Do you know him?”

“Not exactly. But I-“

“No. You don’t know him at all. You didn’t trust me to be able to handle the situation, even though there wasn’t a situation until you walked in.” 

Mando crossed his arms across his stupidly broad chest, “Like I said. You clearly didn’t know what you were dealing with. Again.”

You slowly looked up at him, eyes blazing and Grogu made a noise, his little body going still. “Oh?”

The Mandalorian kept his gaze firmly on you, oozing that cockiness that grated on you as much as your own grated on him, “Nope.” He tilted his head, “Someone has to keep you safe.”

It was the insinuation on the word, ‘someone’, that had you picking up Grogu and placing him on the wall. He immediately tucked his chin into his tunic, his hands coming up to cover his ears. 

A beat later, your fury exploded. 

“Someone needs to keep me safe?! And I suppose that title oh so graciously falls on you, does it? Because you know everything about everyone who comes into contact with me?” You stalked toward him, poking a finger into his chest, “I was doing just fine before you. I don’t need you to keep saving me. If I remember correctly, it was me who saved you the last time. So don’t come out here on your high and mighty hero argument, you pretentious, shiny, asshole!” You pointed at him, “You can’t just walk in and start accusing people of being murderers when you clearly don’t know them!”

The Mandalorian sighed, “Don’t start this again. You know I didn’t mean it like that. So, don’t start calling me names either. I was trying to protect you, like I keep saying.”

You growled at him, “So you’re allowed to waltz in there and start spewing accusations, but I’m not allowed to call you out for being an asshole?”

Mando walked over to the wall where Grogu and Duru were perched, “I wasn’t spewing accusations, princess. I was telling the truth. When are you going to believe me?” He scooped up the kids, placing Grogu back in his pouch over his shoulder and holding Duru in his arm again. 

For some reason, that fuelled your anger even more, that he took your cat and strolled off. You scrambled off of the wall, “Are you going to explain to me how you know then?” You followed him as he began to walk down the street, winding through the paths. 

He didn’t even look at you just kept walking, “I just know that he went in there to kill you. He was playing with you first.”

You darted around a fruit cart, the setting sun bouncing off his shiny head and getting in your eyes, “And I asked you for your proof. Which I’m still waiting for.” 

Mando stopped, so suddenly you bumped into his back with a soft oof. “Look. I just know, okay. Can’t you leave it at that for once?” You just knew there was a pleading expression underneath the helmet, but you weren’t letting it go. 

You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him, “I’m gonna give you a minute to remember who I am and answer that question for yourself.” 

He groaned, dropping his head back and looking at the darkening sky for a moment. “Fine.” He lowered his head to look at you again, “In Mandalorian culture, there are legends of a creature so foul, he was spat back out of the deepest pits of darkness. A man so cruel that darkness itself shies away from him. They say he has no soul. I didn’t believe in it when I was a Foundling. I thought it was just a story they told us to make sure we stayed in line but… I know that it’s true now. He is true. We call him Haran. It means cosmic annihilation, because that’s what he brings. He kills people for pure pleasure, but he drags it out in the worst way possible first. And he’s after you.”

You said nothing. Simply staring at him. 

He stared back at you, waiting. 

The seconds ticked by, Grogu and Duru looking between you both. 

Finally, you spoke. Your voice was very quiet, very calm, “You mean to tell me. That you walked into that cantina, after over a month of not seeing me, without even saying hello, I might add. And you walked over to this man, accused him of being a murderer and threatened him… because you think he’s a children’s story?!” 

The noise of exasperation that came from the man before you mirrored your own emotions, “For the love of- You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re talking bullshit.” You snapped the words, arms still crossed, and you were just getting madder by the second. But something was suddenly becoming clear in your mind, some dark whisper to play with him. 

Mando almost audibly rolled his eyes, shaking his head before turning around and continuing to walk. “Whatever, princess. You asked, I told you.”

There was no hesitation as you followed him again, “You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” His voice was flat now, bored almost. He weaved through some more corners and streets, the paths getting quieter and some empty buildings rising up around you.  

“Yep. And I think I know why. I know why you suddenly went alpha male protective on me. I know why you made such a scene. And I know why you’re acting like this now.” You were poking at him; sure you knew the truth now. And if you were wrong, hell, maybe you could make him as frustrated as he had made you. 

“Do enlighten me, princess. How do you know such things?” There was an edge to his voice, like he knew where you were going with this. 

“Because to me, it sounds like you walked in there, saw me sitting with someone else and…”

He stopped, putting the kids down on a wall again as he turned to look at you, “And what? Say it.” The visor of his helmet was locked onto you and you had that feeling again that you had locked eyes. 

You stared back at him, crossing your arms, voice dripping with fury and contempt, but now with an edge, “You were jealous.” 

The evening was quiet, this part of town abandoned by the look of the crumbling buildings around you. 

The Mandalorian laughed, but there was no humour in his voice, “Jealous? You think I was jealous of him?”

You bristled at the cocky laugh, eyes flashing again and that hidden part of you shimmered and trembled, “It sure as hell looked like it. You didn’t even say hello to me before you were descending upon us like an alpha male claiming your territory.” You stalked closer to him, two predators dancing around each other again, “I am not your territory, or your property. I am no-ones.”

Mando didn’t move, letting you come closer, “I know that. I never once laid claim to you. But when I walked and saw you sitting there with that.. that..”

You snarled softly, “Don’t say it again.”

He looked at you for a moment, “That creature… I lost it. You shouldn’t be on the same planet as him, let alone across the table.” He dropped his arms to his sides, displaying that restless energy that was so rare for him. 

You couldn’t help but laugh this time, “Because he’s some kind of spooky shadow man from your childhood stories? Please.”

Mando shook his head fiercely, pointing at you, “It’s the truth. Haran is real. And he was sitting opposite you, playing with you and pretending to be some bashful pretty boy.”

You prowled toward him, mimicking the shaking of his head. “No. Not good enough. Stop lying to me, Lori.” 

“I am not lying to you!! Get it through your head, he was going to kill you!!”

You were right in front of him now, peering up at him, “Admit it.”

His voice was tight, but he didn’t back away, “Drop it, princess. I already told you.”

You shook your head, “I don’t believe you. If you wont tell me the truth I’ll help you.” You took a tiny step closer, so close your chest brushed against his as he panted a little. “I think you went to my room, expecting me to be there. You saw that I was gone and Duru was alone. You immediately thought the worst, and came rushing down to the cantina, hoping you’d find me there. And you did. Only it wasn’t what you expected.”

Mando was silent, his hands curling into fists and uncurling again. 

You continued, relentless, “Instead of being on my own, you saw me sitting with another man. A damn good looking one at that.” You cooed the word at hi, dropping your tone to a seductive, needy one.

You wouldn’t have heard the soft growl if you hadn’t been this close, and it only spurred you on. “You saw us laughing, talking. And you didn’t like it.” You tilted your head a little, “You saw us and thought… how well do they know each other?” You lifted your hand, placing your fingertips on his chest, “Maybe we knew each other as friends. Or… maybe we knew each other more than that. Maybe we’d spent nights together...” You began to tap your fingers down the Mandalorian’s chest plate, as you lowered your voice to a seductive purr, “What if we couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get to the bed and he threw me against the wall, tearing the buttons off my trousers in his haste.” 

Mando was breathing harder now, his hands curled up tight. You knew you were pushing his buttons, edging him to possible fury but something in you ached to do this, to feel something like that night before. You wanted a reaction out of him, something more than just protectiveness and care. You wanted him to lose his cool, break free of his restraint and just… do something. 

“Maybe I tore off his clothes too, both of us kissing so fiercely we couldn’t breathe, our tongues dancing around each other as we grabbed at each other, pulling away the layers of clothes until…” 

You rose up on tiptoe, your hands resting against his belly for support, and you knew the helmet would pick up your whispers, “Until he sunk into me, pushing me against the wall and fucking me, so hard and so loud that everyone in that building heard, that everyone knew what was happening. They knew his name, they knew my name, and they knew that we did not stop going. That we had sex on every available surface in that room. That I threw him on the bed and rode him until he was clawing at my hips. Do you want to see? Do you want to see the bruises that you think are on my hips?” 

You turned your head, so your lips brushed the edge of his helmet and fire burned through you as he turned his head into your words and his hands twitched, “Do you wish it was you, Lori? Do you wish it was you that was making me scream? That you were the one leaving marks on my body? That you were the one buried so deep within me I could feel you in my belly?” You pushed your body into him, effectively pinning him to the wall with your own body, “Did you think about me whilst I was gone? Alone, in the middle of the night with only your hand to keep you company?”

Your fingers trailed to his clenched fist, curling your hand around it to bring it to your waist. 

Only for him to let out a choked growl that set your bones ablaze. He spun quicker than you’d ever seen him move, switching the position and holding your hand against the wall, his other next your head, effectively creating a cage with his body, “Shut up.” 

You grinned, hearing the rasping tone of his voice, “I knew it, I knew you were jealous. You did think I fucked him, didn’t y-“

Suddenly, his hand had left yours and was over your mouth, “For a girl who acts like a princess, you have a fucking vulgar mouth.” He tilted his head down to yours, his voice rumbly and sparking all sorts of images in your mind. “Maybe I was a little jealous. I’ll admit it.”

Your eyes flared with triumph, even if the hand on your mouth was coiling heat in your belly, making heat flood through your body – and between your legs. 

The Mandalorian leant in closer, surrounding you with his scent again, smokey leather, metal and that distinct woodsy smell. “You asked me if I think about you… but what about you, cyar'ika? Do you think about me when you’re alone?”

By the stars, the way his voice dropped and rolled along your spine like a caress. It opened up the corner of your mind that you tried to ignore, the corner that spilled out every night, into your dreams. 

“Do you think about that night on the Crest? What might have happened if we weren’t interrupted? Would my hands have gone lower? Touched where you wish it was me? Sunk into you and stroked you until your legs shook?” He chuckled lowly, a sound that would have brought you to your knees if he wasn’t caging you to the wall. He was so close you could no longer see your reflection in his visor. His head titled a little and you felt his body push into yours gently, all hard, cold armour, but beneath that… beneath his hips, he pressed into you. 

You could feel the hard length of him, feel that he was turned on by this just as much as you, maybe he wanted this as much as you did. 

Wanted the images searing through your mind, of his hands tearing around your clothes, dropping to your thighs and lifting them around his waist, gripping them so hard he left bruises as he pushed into you..  

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

Electricity crashed through your veins and your darkened eyes rolled back a little, thighs clenching. You couldn’t help it, your lips parted and a soft moan slipped from them, muffled against the leather of his hand and without thinking, you bit down on his fingers, tasting the leather. 

His hand tensed over your mouth, his body jerking into yours a little as his breath left him in a soft huff. “Fuck, you d-“

“Uh, guys?”

Cara’s voice filtered through the haze of lust that clouded your brain, and immediately, the Mandalorian jumped backward, the two of you parting like you’d been shocked. 

Heat flooded your cheeks and neck, not from embarrassment so much as a response to his words. 

The man made you furious, made you see red but… you couldn’t deny the fire between you. The way you were dancing around each other since you met. You were seemingly in a constant stay of being polite, flirting with each other or being at each other’s throats – either through anger or pure lust. 

“What is it, Cara?” Mando turned to her, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended due to the roughness of his voice, betraying the reactions of his body. 

Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and you just knew she saw it all from the way she was holding back a smirk as she looked at you. “That guy from the cantina asked me to give you this.” She held something out to you. 

You cleared your throat, pushing away from the wall and walking past Mando carefully, like the faintest touch between you both would ignite something. “Thanks, Cara” You took the object she held out and it was a thin metal card with a code embossed onto it. You frowned, flipping it over but all that lay on the other side was a symbol. A two headed snake coiled around a sword that looked a lot like the one that had been sheathed on his back. 

The Mandalorian answered instead, thankfully staying where he was, “It’s a comms code. If you input it, it’ll connect you to him.” His voice was tight, “If he thinks-“

You held up a hand, not looking at him, “Don’t even finish that sentence.” You pocketed the card, letting out a breath, “I’m going to go and sort my things out. I… I’ll meet you all in a bit.” You allowed yourself a glance back at the Mandalorian, skin heating when you found his visor already trained on you. 

You swallowed thickly, your blood simmering again but you made yourself turn around, avoiding Cara’s smirk, “C’mon, Duru.” 

You headed back to your little apartment, relieved when you heard no trailing footsteps behind you. You needed the time alone for a minute, to process what the hell just happened between you both. 

And maybe to cool down. 

He would be the death of you. 

Previous| Next

[queercomichoarder]

A Guide to Portraying Damian Wayne in Fanfics/art

As told by me, someone who is half Arab and half Korean. (Obviously, I don’t speak for all biracial Arab people out there and there will be some differences.) I’m doing this because I’m really tired of seeing discourse on his portrayal in fan shit.

Illustrating Facial Features (Also keep in mind that Bruce is white, and Damian most likely inherited some of his traits too.):

1. Nose: My nose is a mix of my parents. It’s not exactly hooked, but it’s also not flat.

2. Eyelashes: They’re really long. When I was 4 some lady asked my mom if they were real (I think she thought they were extensions??)

3. Eyebrows; Arab people have really thick eyebrows, and that shit grows back quickly. To put things into perspective, I had to start plucking in the 4th grade. Unless Damian takes his hair hygiene very seriously, he’s probably going to have a bit of a unibrow growing in.

4. Facial hair: Depending how old you consider Damian to be (I know DC updated it recently), he’s probably going to have a bit of facial hair. I had a lot of peach fuzz in middle school and I can only imagine how much worse it is for him, because he had testosterone and can’t wax his lip.

5. Skin tone: Because I am half Korean, I have a lighter complexion than my Arab family members. Damian is half-white, so he’s probably pretty light-skinned. (Note: I have half-white, half-Arab, cousins. One looks super pale and the other has brown skin. It’s a spectrum.)

6. Hair: My hair is wavy, but most of the curls are gone after I use a brush. Damian has spikey hair in the comics, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it looked a little curlier before he gets ready for the day.

Food

I’ve read a few headcanons that Alfred tries to incorporate food from Damian’s heritage into his cooking and I love it. I can’t speak on Chinese cuisine, but here’s a list of food that I’ve been introduced to by people on my Arab side.

1. Baklava: God tier. You have not lived until you’ve tried it. It’s a flaky pastry with pistachios and honey. Usually cut up into little squares. I live in a part of the US with a low Arab population, so it’s almost impossible to find a store that sells it (And since Damian is living in Gotham...). It’s also incredibly difficult to make from scratch, but it’s the best dessert ever so we suffer through anyway. One time I shared some with my white friends and they devoured the entire pan (which... same).

2. Chicken Biryani: Technically an Indian dish, but it’s served a lot in my family so I’m including it. It’s chicken and rice, but like with a lot of spices, which is great until you bite into a cardamom pod.

3. Naan: It’s flatbread and a staple food. IT IS NOT THE SAME THING AS PITA. In my not-so-humble opinion, it’s the best flatbread ever and I will fight people on it.

4. Lentil soup: Exactly what it sounds like. It’s a comfort food.

5. Falafel, Hummus, Kabab, & Shwarma: More well known than some of the other stuff. In basically any Mediterranean restaurant. Falafel is a pain in the ass to make and anyone who says that it’s easy isn’t human.

Language

I can only speak English, so I can’t really talk much about the dialect Damian would use. That being said, there are A LOT of Arabic dialects. If you’re like me and don’t speak Arabic, please do research before you write it. Also don’t use google translate. It’s not good.

If you’re writing Damian as being fluent in multiple Arabic dialects, keep in mind that there is no formula to when he speaks which dialect. My grandparents speak multiple languages fluently and will sometimes change what language they’re talking in mid-sentence. Like from English, to Farsi, to Hindi, to Arabic, back to English. They don’t do on purpose. They don’t do it when they’re feeling specific emotions. It’s just how they think. Also, whoever they’re talking to is left with like 5% of what they were trying to say.

Relationship with his Ethnic Background

One bad part about being biracial is feeling like you’re not good enough for either side of your family. Damian is white, Arab, and Chinese, which probably wasn’t an issue for him in the League of Shadows. When he left, however, he would have definitely taken notice to the way different people treat him. There’s probably a lot of buried feelings about how he feels alien in comparison with his dad. Not to mention the way Gotham’s news outlets would choose to portray him (after all, he is a Wayne).

Anyway, I hope this helps some people out. Don’t forget to be kind to one another. It’s tricky to write/draw things you aren’t familiar with.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Seven-Part One)

Summary: A day before Tony Stark’s charity ball, (Y/N) is assigned her very-first mission as an Avenger and needless to say, she finds herself under extreme pressure not to fail.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: The Spanish in this chapter was translated with Google Translate, so I’m sorry if there’s a mistake in it.

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seven (Part I) July 10th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“Hurry up, (Y/L/N), your Quinjet’s gonna be leaving soon and we still have to see if your suit’s working okay!”

As Bruce scolded Tony for being too pushy, (Y/N) finished fastening her sword to her belt with quaking fingers. After three months of extensive daily training, she was finally going on her first field mission as an Avenger; according to Director Fury and Steve, she had excelled in both magical and physical training and was finally ready to put her skills to good use. (Y/N) was excited, of course, but she was also a complete nervous wreck. What if I make a mistake and put the others in danger, she asked herself for the tenth time that day. She knew how much her teammates would be counting on her on this mission, and she was terrified of such high expectations resting squarely on her shoulders.

To distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach, she looked into the floor-length mirror and examined her brand-new uniform. It reminded her of Natasha’s full-body leather suit, but there were several distinct differences; (Y/N)’s bodysuit was made of black and purple leather, it included pieces of black leather armor and matching fingerless gloves and she wore knee-high leather wedge boots, silver arm circlets and gauntlets on her forearms. A long purple cloak hung from her shoulders by silver-toned clasps, and her sheathed sword hung from her waist. She couldn’t help but smile at her reflection, her new suit making her feel just as empowered as the tower’s two resident Asgardians. Smoothing down her hair one last time, she took a deep breath and drew back the curtain separating her from the rest of the lab, causing both men to turn and gape.

Tony’s eyebrows raised and his mouth hung open almost comically. “Damn, (Y/L/N), you look…”

“Fantastic!” Bruce smiled widely.

“I was gonna say ‘badass’ but ‘fantastic’ works too.” The billionaire gestured for her to stand on a short stool before continuing. “We designed the leather of the suit to be breathable and flexible, the armor’s bullet-proof and it can even withstand extreme heat and cold to a certain degree.” Tony pointed to her silver gauntlets as he paced around her. “FYI, these were partly inspired by our little bonding incident a few weeks back, (Y/L/N), remember? They’re not vibranium like Capsicle’s shield but they’re still bullet-proof in case any get through your magic.”

(Y/N) twisted her forearms to examine the gauntlets better. “That’s amazing, Tony!” The billionaire smiled proudly at her compliment. “But, what about my glasses? I can’t wear them on missions and you guys know my eyes don’t react well to contact lenses…”

Bruce’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “That problem had us stumped for a while, but last week we finally managed invent a solution that didn’t involve cutting into your corneas with a laser.” He handed her a pair of metal-framed glasses and held her regular pair for her. “Put these on and press the button on the right side of the frame, please.”

“Oh, my goodness…” (Y/N)’s mouth fell open as she followed his instructions and examined her reflection in the mirror Bruce held up. The glasses had flickered once before turning completely invisible, making it look as if she didn’t wear glasses at all. “How did you two geniuses manage this?”

Both scientists looked pleased with her reaction. “Well, we just adapted the same cloaking technology that S.H.I.E.L.D. used on their helicarrier and improved upon it; anyone attacking you won’t realize you’re wearing glasses unless they sock you in the eye, which is something I’m pretty sure you’d stop from happening.”

“The lenses are bullet-proof, scratch and glare-resistant, they’re fitted so they won’t fall off and we made several pairs just in case something happens to these ones.” Bruce set down the mirror and picked up his clipboard to jot down some notes. “Now, does everything feel all right? Nothing’s too tight or too loose?”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) moved her arms and legs to be sure. “Everything feels perfect.” The moment Bruce finished writing down his notes, she jumped down from her stool and gave him a tight hug, smiling when she felt him slowly return it. “Thank you, Bruce.” She pulled away from him and gave Tony a hug, which he was much quicker to return. “And thank you too, Tony. The suit is wonderful and I feel much safer now that I have it!”

“No problem, (Y/N), we just want to make sure you’re protected when you go out there.”

“Yeah, Stevie Nicks, you should always use protection.” Tony smirked playfully as (Y/N) blushed and Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose in mild exasperation at his suggestive comment.

Just then, Natasha walked in, dressed in her standard black leather bodysuit with her hair braided over her shoulder. “Nice suit, (Y/N)! Cap wanted me to tell you that the Quinjet’s leaving in five, so you’d better hurry up.”

“Thank you, Nat, I’ll be there in a minute,” She turned back to the two men as Natasha left and grinned. “Well, wish me luck!”

Bruce gave her a smile. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

Tony’s smirk widened. “Yeah, not that you need it, though; you’re gonna kick so much ass out there in that getup.”

Chuckling lightly, (Y/N) gave them one last glance before leaving the lab; on the way to the elevator, she heard someone call her name and turned to see Loki hurrying to catch up with her. Her heart beat even faster in her chest when she noticed that he was wearing her favorite outfit: fitted black slacks and an emerald-green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his long black hair hanging loose around his shoulders. She mentally chastised herself before saying, “Hi Loki, what are you up to?”

“I couldn’t very well let my best friend leave on her first mission without wishing her luck now, could I?” Loki flashed her a grin, but she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. “You look positively fearsome in that armor, by the way. How are you feeling?”

“Thanks, and I guess I feel a little nervous,” She said truthfully as they stepped into the elevator, knowing better than to lie to him. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for any of the others getting hurt.”

Loki gently took her hand and held it between his own as the elevator rose, making her faintly blush at the contact. “Lady (Y/N), I can assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Our teammates can take care of themselves, and as long as you remember all the training you’ve excelled at over these past few months, you’ll be able to protect them and yourself if the need arises. Remember, everyone in this tower believes in you, but none more so than I.”

Looking into his sincere green eyes, she could feel her nervousness slowly begin to melt away and she smiled up at him. “Thank you, Loki, that really helped.”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” He grinned before letting go of her hand. “And please try to hurry back, I don’t think I could handle going to Stark’s charity ball tomorrow evening and watch everyone make fools of themselves by myself.”

Stark Industries hosted over a hundred charity events for dozens of different causes and organizations every year, but one of the only ones held personally by the billionaire included an annual charity ball to raise money for children’s hospitals across the country. Since the Avengers had begun using the tower as their base three years ago, the ball had become increasingly popular as more and more people were willing to donate to attend and meet the heroes. (Y/N) was excited to go and promote such a worthy cause, but she was also excited for an entirely different reason: two weeks ago, Loki had asked her to accompany him as his date. She could vividly remember the moment he’d asked her…

“Loki? Loki, are you in there?” (Y/N) knocked on his door before sighing. “Listen, Steve told me that you haven’t been having a good day so I brought you some snacks. We can watch a movie, if you want? Trust me, nothing will cheer you up more than chocolate chip cookies and A Knight’s Tale! It’s about a squire who poses as a knight and competes in jousting tourna-”

“What’s jousting?”

(Y/N) shrieked and spun around to face a laughing Loki, pressing her free hand to her chest and smiling despite herself. “Loki, that wasn’t funny! I almost had a heart attack!”

Loki continued to snicker. “Apologies, my lady, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“So, I take it that you’re having a better day now?” She followed him into his room and sat in her usual place on his couch, handing him his cookies with a raised brow.

He nodded, a cheerful look on his face. “Significantly better, actually. I suddenly remembered that Stark’s charity ball is in two weeks and that I’ll be able to enjoy it with you. That is, if you wish to accompany me…”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Loki, who else would I go with?” (Y/N) mirrored his bright smile before gesturing to the television across from them. “So, snacks and a movie?” As they watched A Knight’s Tale, (Y/N) concluded that Loki was only asking her to accompany him as a friend; she was a little disappointed, of course, but she wasn’t going to allow her emotions to ruin a fun night for her and her best friend.

(Y/N) chuckled to herself as the memory faded; they stepped out of the elevator and walked to the floor’s glass doors. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in no time.” Before he could reply, they stepped out into the tower’s small hangar where a Quinjet was being prepared for departure on the protruding helipad.

“There you are, (Y/N), we’re almost ready to leave!” Steve called from the Quinjet’s ramp as he slung his shield onto his back and adjusted his helmet’s jaw strap.

Loki gave her a reassuring smile. “Good luck on your first mission, Lady (Y/N).” He leaned down to give her a hug but to her surprise, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her up off her feet; she giggled in surprise and he laughed, gently swaying her from side-to-side as she wrapped her arms around his neck and experienced the now-familiar fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “And please, stay safe.”

“I will, Loki, I have an important engagement tomorrow night that I can’t miss, remember?” She joked, feeling a swell of pride when he chuckled lightly. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

He set her gently on her feet and she reluctantly pulled away from his arms, giving him one last smile before following Steve into the Quinjet. The ramp closed behind them and (Y/N) quickly strapped herself into the seat next to a familiar face as the plane lifted into the air.

“Hi Scott, I haven’t seen you in a while!” (Y/N) had met Scott Lang during her first month as an Avenger; he was in awe that she was half-Light Elf and had nearly fainted from excitement when she gave him a small demonstration of her powers, and she was equally amazed with his suit’s ability to change sizes and the way he was able to communicate with ants. He wasn’t in the tower often but whenever he was, they got along very well. “How are you? How’s Cassie doing?”

Scott smiled, a gleam in his eyes that he got whenever anyone mentioned his five-year-old daughter. “Ah, I’m good, my buddies and I just opened up our security company – we call it X-CON, get it? – and Cassie’s doing great; I helped her read through a picture-book version of Charlotte’s Web and she’s been reading it all by herself for the past week!”

(Y/N) grinned, the pride in his voice filling her with happiness. “That’s wonderful, tell her I said ‘congratulations’! And congratulations to you for your company; I take it they let you come up with the name yourself?”

As the Quinjet continued to fly, (Y/N) continued talking to the energetic man, thankful that he was there to keep her mind off the nervousness surrounding her swiftly-approaching first mission.

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

Two hours later, they had reached their destination: the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola. Their mission was simple, to destroy a large weapons compound that was operated by a terrorist organization with known ties to Hydra. Scott would go in first and disable the nearly-impenetrable security system before splitting off with Natasha while (Y/N) and Steve stayed together; each group would then plant a batch of explosives around the vast compound. The explosives were rigged to a detonator Natasha held, but it was still imperative they get out as quickly as possible in case of any complications. Please let everything turn out all right, (Y/N) silently prayed as they trekked closer to the compound and took cover twenty yards away behind a fallen tree. The moment Steve gave him the signal, Scott pressed a button on the glove of his suit and instantly shrunk, and a moment later, the tiny outline of an ant could be seen in the fading moonlight, flying quickly towards the compound’s concrete wall.

“Don’t tell Tony, but I think your suit’s way cooler than his, Lang.” Natasha’s lips curled into a smile but her eyes continued to scan the area for any threats.

(Y/N) heard Scott’s soft chuckle through her comm link. “Black Widow likes my suit more than Iron Man’s? Awesome.”

“All right, you both remember the plan, right?” Steve looked up from his explosives-filled satchel and glanced at the two of them.

“We’ve been over the plan twenty times, Cap, we’re fine.” Natasha rolled her eyes but grew serious when she caught sight of (Y/N)’s face. “We’re fine, right (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) nodded once, trying to mask her nervousness with a smile. “Yeah, of course, Nat.”

“Hey super-dudes, I just disabled the security system so come on in whenever you’re ready! But, you might wanna hurry ‘cause I have to turn it back on after one minute so they won’t get suspicious…which you already know ‘cause we went over the plan on the Quinjet. My bad. And I just realized, (Y/N), you’re the only one of us who doesn’t have a cool superhero name and that’s just not acceptable, so I’m gonna make one up for you, okay?”

She couldn’t help but smile at Scott’s unique way of calming her jittery nerves. “Okay Scott, go ahead and make up a cool superhero name for me.”

“Time to go.” Steve pulled his shield onto his arm and gave her an encouraging smile. “We’ll be fine, (Y/N), don’t worry.” The two of them crept silently towards the compound and Steve motioned for her to get behind him before swiftly pulling the unlocked front door open. He immediately threw his shield, hitting the three surprised guards in the heads and catching it as they crumpled to the ground. Silently marveling at Steve’s impressive throwing skills, (Y/N) followed him as they continued down the vast hall.

“Cap, (Y/N), you’ve got two armed guards heading straight towards you on your left, and a couple of others coming up from behind.” Natasha said, revealing that she had already reached the compound’s control room.

Steve glanced at (Y/N) and gestured for her to take the lead before turning to prepare for the attack, and she immediately knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath and concentrating all her energy into her hands, she summoned two balls of purple magic in her palms; the moment the two men turned the corner in front of them, she thrust her hands and magic outwards, engulfing the men in swirls of purple magic and causing them to slam into each other and then into the concrete wall behind them. They hit the wall with a sickening crunch and fell to the ground, unconscious. Behind her, Steve threw his shield and took out the other two guards.

Natasha chuckled through the earpiece. “Nicely done, Bad-Ass; Scott and I are onto Phase Two, so you two are on your own. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point when we’re done.”

The two Avengers continued down the halls of the compound, occasionally coming across the remnants of Natasha and Scott’s handiwork but strangely no more armed men. In no time, they reached the compound’s warehouse, which was filled with hundreds of wooden crates. Weapons, (Y/N) thought as she frowned in disgust. This particular terrorist organization was responsible for half a dozen attacks around the world in recent years that had resulted in countless civilian casualties, so she had no problem with working to take them down along with Hydra.

They quickly began planting the explosives all around the vast room but just as they finished, at least two dozen armed guards burst in. Steve immediately ran into battle, but (Y/N) froze in fear, her legs unwilling to move. Time seemed to slow around her as a familiar feminine voice spoke in her head: “Kiddo, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent…”

You’ve spent three months training for this exact moment, (Y/N) thought to herself, now it’s time to show the world its newest Avenger. She unsheathed her sword and charged at the men; she sliced through their guns like butter before they could pull the triggers and deflected their knife attacks with ease, twirling and ducking around them and using their slowness to her advantage as she slashed at them. She was vaguely aware of Steve fighting nearby but she was entirely focused on her task of incapacitating her attackers. Her luck left her, however, when she kicked an attacker to the ground; the last man standing took her by surprise then with a hard punch to the stomach and wrenched her arm behind her back, causing her to gasp in pain and drop her sword.

“No eres tan dura ahora, ¿verdad, puta?” The man growled into her ear as he pointed a knife to her chest, its tip puncturing the exposed skin along her collarbone.

“Todavía no has visto nada.” She replied, elbowing him hard in the stomach and ducking under his arm as he doubled over in pain. Rolling out of the way, she picked up her fallen sword and raised it just in time to block his knife attack; she countered it by twisting the knife out of his hands and slamming the hilt of her sword against his head. Her attacker fell to the ground like a stone, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, (Y/N) looked around for Steve and saw that he was locked in combat with a larger man. She was about to hurry to his aid when she caught sight of a sniper crouching atop a tower of crates and pointing a rifle at Steve’s unaware back. Without a moment of thought, she sheathed her sword and ran into the line of fire just as the sniper pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow down and she could practically see the bullet flying through the air; raising both her hands and summoning her magic, she was rewarded with the sight of the bullet ricocheting away and a millisecond later, the sight of the sniper being engulfed in a swirling purple cloud and thrown roughly against the wall before falling to the ground.

She turned to see Steve standing over his defeated attacker, a stunned expression on his face. (Y/N) only breathed a sigh of relief, her pride and relief overtaking her earlier nervousness.

“Wait, you speak Spanish?”

Scott’s legitimately confused tone causing her to stifle a smile. “Yes, Scott, I speak some Spanish. A little French, as well.”

“As much as I’d love to learn more about Trilingual (Y/N), we’ve got a mission to finish. Scott and I are already at the rendezvous-”

Just then, the unmistakable sounds of thundering footsteps echoed from the hall; it sounded as if nearly fifty heavily-armed men were approaching, all heading right for them. When they turned to look through the small window of the door, they could clearly make out the bazookas the first several men held in their arms as they approached. They plan on sacrificing their weapons and their lives just to kill us, she thought with a horrified gasp.

(Y/N) quickly used her magic to keep the door barred and whirled around to face Steve, an undoubtedly insane plan coming to mind. “Nat, you have the detonator. Press the button when I tell you to.”

“But you and Steve are still in there!”

“Nat, if we don’t blow this place to hell right now, then they’ll be the ones to do it! Besides,” Steve’s confident blue eyes never left hers as he gave her an encouraging nod. “(Y/N) has a plan.”

Natasha remained silent for several moments. “All right, tell me when.”

“I really hope your crazy idea works, (Y/N), or else you two are gonna be toast.”

Hurrying to the center of the warehouse, (Y/N) knelt, pulling Steve down with her, and held her arms up above their heads; she was grateful that the super soldier wrapped an arm around her waist and raised his shield as a precaution, as things were about to become much shakier. Summoning every ounce of strength and power she could without passing out, she created a swirling bubble of purple magic to fully surround them. I love you, Loki, she thought just before shouting out, “Now!”

Explosions went off around them and caused the earth to quake, enormous balls of fire to expand across the room and the warehouse to begin crumbling away around them. To her great relief, her magical force-field held, deflecting the fire and debris and keeping the air inside fresh, but her arms began to shake with effort. All of a sudden, it felt as if she was lifting an immeasurable weight but she continued to hold her magic in place despite the pain. I have to protect Steve, I have to protect Steve, she repeated in her head, gritting her teeth and concentrating all her remaining energy on her magic. That last bit of effort did the trick; yelling in pain, magic pulsed outwards from the force field, vaporizing everything within fifty feet of them and extinguishing the blazing fires. She collapsed against Steve and struggled to remain conscious, the force field surrounding them finally fading away; they both immediately began coughing as their lungs filled with smoky air.

“C’mon (Y/N), stay with me,” Wasting no time, Steve stood and pulled her into his arms, quickly carrying her through the thick smoke and towards the distant tree line. “I’ve got you, can you stay awake for me? Stay awake, (Y/N), we’re almost there, just keep your eyes open…”

She opened her mouth to respond but could only violently cough; after blacking out for what only felt like a moment, she blinked her eyes open and realized that they were back on the Quinjet and already in the air. Her head was resting in Steve’s lap, and Natasha and Scott were leaning over her; all three of them had equally concerned expressions on their faces. “(Y/N)! Thank God you’re okay!”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked up at all three beaming Avengers. “Did…did we finish the mission? Who’s flying the Quinjet?”

“Don’t worry, I put it on autopilot and yeah,” Natasha nodded, a proud smile stretching across her face. “Yeah, we finished the mission all thanks to you, Bad-Ass. Seriously, what you did was fucking amazing, (Y/N).”

Steve grinned; he had taken off his helmet while she was unconscious, and the parts of his face that hadn’t been covered were streaked with soot. “Not too shabby for your first mission, doll.”

“And while you were off being awesome, I came up with the perfect superhero name for you,” Scott grinned triumphantly before continuing. “How about ‘The Cosmic Sorceress?’ ‘Cause based off what Captain America here told us and what we saw ourselves, you showed a lot of bad guys that you’re a scary-ass force to be reckoned with, and bad-assery like that deserves a name to match.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment, a smile slowly stretching across her face as she looked up at her fellow Avengers. “You know what? I love it, Scott.”

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

Spanish Translations: No eres tan dura ahora, ¿verdad, puta?-You're not so tough now, are you bitch? Todavía no has visto nada-You haven't seen anything yet.

A/N: (Y/N) finally has a ‘made-up name’ like the others! Sorry to leave you in suspense, but Loki and (Y/N)’s ‘date’ will be the next chapter so stay tuned! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Seven-Part Two

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part One: Blindsided

Summary: Sebastian’s close friend stands by his side as he and his family say a sad goodbye and face new obstacles in the days and weeks to come.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo.  A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading! 

Dismal notes sounded together in morbid harmony throughout the church as funeral attendees greeted each other in the lobby. The people filed together toward the sanctuary, offering condolences to the family as they passed. Sebastian did his best to be cordial, but between his grief and looking out for the one other person he needed to be there, he feared he wasn’t doing so well interacting with the guests. 

“Calma, Sebastian,” his mother soothed, rubbing a hand over his back before she went to accept the outstretched hand of another guest. “Y/N will be here. She said she will be here, she will be here.”

Sebastian nodded and gave the next person in line a tight, sad smile. He knew that Y/N would be there; she always was when he asked for her support. The unexpected circumstances of his life, however, made him anxious for her presence. 

In the last few days, Sebastian had thought often of a song released sometime around his senior year of high school. The real troubles in life, the spoken-word song warned, are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at four P.M. on some idle Tuesday. The hour was earlier than four in the afternoon, but it was a Tuesday when he received the call telling him that his sister Irina had been involved in a fatal car accident on her way to work that morning. The doctors had been optimistic taking her into surgery, but her injuries were more extensive than the hospital staff had been able to read on x-rays and CT scans. While on the operating table, Irina’s heart stopped. The surgeon had been unable to restart the organ. 

A pleasantly feminine, floral scent invaded his nostrils as soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to his side to see Y/N Y/L/N next to him. Her eyes met his, and she squeezed his hand. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Seb. LaGuardia was a disaster.”

He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Don’t apologize. Thank you for coming. I’m not sure I could have done this without you.”

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t have let you,” she returned. 

Finally, the last of the guests had filed into the sanctuary, and the family could take their places at the front. Sebastian’s mother stepped out of line to hug Y/N and thank her also for being there. Y/N replied in Romanian, something she had learned after becoming friends with Sebastian all those years ago. She wasn’t fluent, but she could comfortably hold a conversation. 

“Trebuia să fiu aici.” She had to be there, not from a sense of obligation, but because she wanted to support Sebastian and his family in whatever way she could. 

When they were all seated, Sebastian between his mother and Y/N, and his stepfather on the other side of his mother, the priest began the service. Sebastian hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since she had intertwined their fingers when she arrived. Occasionally, he would squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back every time. If he needed the reminder that she was there, then she would give it. 

After the eulogy and the singing and the praying had all wrapped up, Sebastian stepped out of the pew with the other pallbearers to carry his sister’s casket to the church parking lot where the hearse was waiting to take her to the cemetery. He clenched his jaw in an effort to hold back the tears glazing over his eyes. 

Y/N walked behind his mother and stepfather in the processional out of the sanctuary but hung back with the crowd when the walked to the car at the front of the line of cars. Georgeta turned and motioned for her to join. 

“We know what you mean to my Sebastian,” the older woman assured. “Irina would want you with us as much as possible today.”

Y/N gave her a tight smile and followed the family into the black limousine. Sebastian joined them a couple of minutes later, sliding onto the seat beside her. He took her hand again. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her quietly as the driver pulled out of the church lot. 

She nodded once. “Your mother said Irina would want it this way. I was going to ride with someone else, or take a cab.”

“No, you should be here with us. Mom’s right, Irina would want it this way. But I mean here. For the whole thing.”

She squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “Seb. There’s no way I wasn’t going to be here. I’m around as long as you need me to be, okay?”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and kissed her forehead. Besides his mother and his sister, no woman was close to him like Y/N. They had become friends when they both had bit parts in the same movie, extremely early on in their careers. The friendship had clicked so easy, they kept in touch and grew closer as the years went on. The media had speculated for years that they were more than friends, but romance had never been a part of their relationship. 

After the burial, the day was only partially over. Sebastian was ready to go home and rest, but there was a whole wake to get through yet. He hoped the gathering would pass quickly and maybe he wouldn’t be required to interact with too many people. 

Guests were busy eating the well-catered food, which gave him the opportunity to visit more with his mother and stepfather. Y/N had gone to the bathroom to freshen up, giving his mother the opportunity to bring up an issue that she hadn’t wanted to stress her son over until they got through the burial. 

“Irina and I talked once about what to do if something like this happened,” Georgeta began. “It was not long after the baby was born. She was supposed to get it in writing, make it all legal. But she was going to school, raising her daughter. She didn’t get it done. And now …”

Sebastian licked his lips and picked up his water glass. “Now it’s too late.”

Georgeta nodded. “She wanted you to take Milena.”

Some mechanism in the swallowing process malfunctioned when his mother made the announcement. He coughed and attempted to clear his throat without causing too much of a scene. He had all but recovered when Y/N returned to the table. 

“Everything all right?” she asked, patting him a couple of times on the back. Nobody said anything. She raised her brow, waiting for Sebastian to come clean. 

Before he could answer, the sound of little feet running in their direction put a halt to the conversation. A little girl in a black dress with curly pigtails was rushing towards them, her arms outstretched. 

“Uncle Seb!” 

“Milena!” Sebastian exclaimed, stepping out of his chair and swooping the toddler up into his arms. Her chubby little hands squeezed his face so that his lips puckered like a fish. Sebastian laughed and switched his hold to balance her on his hip. “I’m so glad you’re here, munchkin. I missed you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Miss you.”

Georgeta and Anthony greeted the little girl, but she refused to be held by anyone except Sebastian. Once her grandmother and grandfather were distracted in conversation by the woman who had brought Milena to the reception, the girl pointed to Y/N. 

“Uncle Seb, who that is?” 

Sebastian smiled and sat with Milena so that she could be closer to eye level with Y/N. “This is my very good friend, Y/N. You met her before, but you were a tiny baby, so you probably don’t remember.”

Y/N smiled kindly at the little girl. “Hello, Milena. Your Uncle Seb told me you were pretty. I like your dress — you look just like a princess.”

That was all it took to win the little girl over. She settled comfortably on Seb’s lap while they adults spoke, smiling often at Y/N and asking a couple questions here and there. Y/N was making faces in an effort to make Milena laugh, and distract her from the somewhat heated conversation that seemed to be erupting between the woman who had brought Milena, Sebastian, and his parents. When the voices really got loud, Y/N reached out to take Milena. 

“Are you hungry, princess? We can see what snacks are left at the food table.”

Milena went willingly, walking hand in hand with Y/N, who winked at Sebastian over her shoulder as they walked away. He gave her a grateful smile and turned back to his parents and Milena’s paternal grandmother, Alice. 

“I know that Connor didn’t want to part of Milena’s life,” Alice was saying, “but that doesn’t mean Tim and I don’t want to be. My son’s choices are his own. I think we should explore the option of joint custody.”

Anthony sighed. “We don’t want to keep Milena from you, certainly, but Irina’s wishes were for her to be with her uncle. My daughter was very clear on the matter. Since Connor signed his rights away when the baby was born, I think it best that we honor what her mother wanted for her.”

“I can give her a very good life,” Sebastian interjected, “and you can see her whenever you like. I live right here in the city.”

Alice pursed her lips. “And when you’re working? I know you can afford to give her a good life, but there’s more to raising a child than the financial component.”

Sebastian bit his tongue. He had a lot to say, but none of it was kind or productive. None of it was going to help his case. He leaned back in his chair, letting his parents take over from there. As he glanced around the room, he saw Y/N and Milena standing by the food table. Both of them were smiling, and Milena was pointing to all the different things she wanted to try. Y/N held the plate with two hands as she crouched down so that Milena could pick up a grape in one hand and a cube of cheese in the other. Milena took a bite of the cheese then grinned up at Y/N, wrinkling her little nose. 

The scene comforted him in a way he didn’t think was possible up to that moment. As he continued to watch his best friend and his niece interact, the seed of an idea was planted in Sebastian’s mind. He immediately told himself he was being ridiculous, but the thought tugged at his heartstrings and pulled on one end of his mouth, almost evoking a smile. 

Y/N locked eyes with him as she followed Milena back to the table, a silent warning that any arguments needed to come to a stop. As the conversation between Alice and his parents didn’t seem to be slowing down, Sebastian pushed out of his chair and approached them. 

“How about I take my two favorite girls to the park across the street? I know a little girl who loves to swing,” Sebastian smiled. 

Milena clapped her sticky hands and reached for Sebastian to pick her up. He obliged, and once she had set Milena’s plate of snacks on the table, Y/N followed them out to the park. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​

[omoi-no-hoka]

I read your post on how you got started in the translation industry and I was wondering if it is possible to get an entry/basic level translation gigs in Japan with N3-level proficiency or if even those want at least N2 proficiency. Also since you've been living and working in Japan for a long time, what advice would you give those wanting to work in Japan in regards to avoiding black companies?

Finding Translation Work in Japan

Hi there! Thank you for your ask. 

To be honest, “translation” is so very broad that I can’t give you a simple “yes” or “no” as an answer. My answer is “Maybe” with the following caveats. For the sake of this post, I’m going to assume that your native language is English, or that you have native-level proficiency, and you plan to do English↔Japanese translation in a Japanese workplace.

Field of Translation

This is perhaps the biggest factor. I understand that in order to translate legal or medical things, there is a particular certification that you must obtain. This requires N1/native level proficiency in both languages. I have thought of attempting to obtain the medical one, but I’m not ready for it. I would need to study a LOT of terminology in both English and Japanese.

As for other fields, I think it really depends on the company and how much they are willing to teach you on the job. Also, depending on the field, many field-specific terminology may be katakana words derived from English, meaning that while they will be new Japanese words for you, they will not be entirely new words.

But if I were to work in, say, the banking industry doing translation, I would certainly have a hard time learning all the words, especially if I didn’t already have some sort of background in banking in English.

For example, I specifically work as a translator for a company that provides services to other very big companies that you have heard of. Technically, I work for an anti-malware software company and the technical support aspect of it. When a product is updated, I will translate internal manuals and things like that. I also translate the Big Wig conversations, which are done in English since the client and our company’s HQs are in America, so that our local guys know what’s going on. I also create/translate/edit/take minutes for presentations given to Big Wigs. I also handle all IT issues in our project, because our IT ticketing system is 100% in English. ANYTHING English-related is funneled to me.

Contractually-speaking, I do not work for any other clients. But since I’m the only translator in our company in Hokkaido capable of interpretation as well, I am often asked to assist under the table. (Translation and interpretation are two entirely different beasts, btw.) 

While I don’t have a background in IT or computers or anything like that, since most of the terminology is in katakana and I’m not absolutely clueless about computers, my learning curve wasn’t too sharp. I struggled more with bullshit corporate acronyms and the formalities of Business Japanese (sonkeigo and kenjougo). 

A person holding an N2 is considered capable of Business Japanese. Even if you have extensive knowledge in the field of translation, you will have a VERY difficult time adjusting to the Japanese-language workplace if you are not good with Business Japanese. From that standpoint, I cannot recommend someone at N3 to enter a Japanese company to do translation. It will be grueling. I was N1 when I joined the company, and I still had difficulty composing emails and other workplace-related words I hadn’t come across. 

Start with Freelance Translation/Proofreading

There was a year or so where I had N1 but was still teaching English. I found freelance English-Japanese translation jobs online. Lots of them were one-shot things, like “translate this brochure about our little tiny town” or “I am a researcher who has written a paper on Persian-French relations during the 16th century, and I need someone to proofread my English.” Lol that one was pretty specific and paid very handsomely. By doing well on a job, I established a relationship with that client and I would get more work either from them or someone they knew. Prices are fixed before translation. 

The average price for translation is 3-7 yen per character (if the original text is in Japanese) or per word (if the original text is in English). The price increases depending on the complexity of the material. The brochure about the little town was 4 yen per character, but the research paper was 9 yen word (despite the fact I was only proofreading instead of translating because it was incredibly complex). 

Proofreading goes alongside translation. I didn’t really do much of that, but you can see a price range of 1-5 yen per character/word. If you are N3, proofreading is great way to get your feet wet!

NOTE: Do not take on proofreading or translation jobs for a language that is not your native language. No matter how good you think your Japanese is, it will not be good enough to proofread. Even if you have an N1, you will miss things. Even I, as a translator with almost 3 years experience in my field, always have a Japanese coworker proofread everything I translate into Japanese, and 9 times out of 10 they fix at least one thing. 

How to Avoid Black Companies

In Japan, some companies are labeled ブラック企業 “black kigyou,” which means that they violate labor laws in some heinous fashion. Denying pay, benefits, or leave, forcing employees to do grueling amounts of overtime that can lead to 過労死 karoushi (death by overwork), etc. These companies will rob you of your sanity at best and your life at worst, and are to be avoided at all costs. 

When I was searching for a position teaching English, I googled reviews of each big Eikaiwa school, like AEON or whatever else there is. Many previous teachers air their grievances on places like glassdoor.com. It was easy to learn which schools I should avoid.

Also, I applied online to many different big Eikaiwas. Three of them (sorry, I can’t remember which) immediately emailed me back and said I was hired, without an interview or anything. That should be a HUGE red flag to you right there. Why are they so desperate to hire that they’ll take you without even giving you an interview? And even if they do later say, “Your hiring is dependent upon an interview,” that means that their initial contact email was fraudulent. 

Research the company as best you can. See if you can find someone who has worked for them. Beware of smaller, private companies. They tend to fly under the radar and are prone to be even shittier. Then again, there was a woman who died of death by over work a few years ago and she worked for the biggest advertising firm in Japan.

Here’s an article from Business Insider about karoushi and black companies.

A 2016 report examining karoshi cases and their cause of death found that more than 20% of people in a survey of 10,000 Japanese workers said they worked at least 80 hours of overtime a month.

The Health, Labor and Welfare Ministry defines the threshold for karoushi as greater than 80 hours of overtime a month. Since this article was posted in 2018, a new law regarding overtime has been implemented by the Japanese government. Now there is a legal cap on overtime of 100 hours per month (and 720/year) for busier months, with the general upper limit set at 45 hours per month (360 hours/year). 

Even if a company isn’t black, be prepared for overtime. My company makes sure that every employee adheres to the 45 hours per month limit...as best they can. If you follow this blog you know that I have done 60 and 70 hours of overtime in certain months, because I am our only translator and when shit hits the fan I’m the only one who can handle it. 

However, my company is very good about making sure that I receive all of my overtime pay. Every single minute of overtime I do is properly reimbursed. Sometimes this means that if I work 60 hours one month, I will only report 45 that month, and then report 15 extra hours the next month. Or I will take a couple days off but claim that I worked (with my bosses’ approval, of course). 

I can’t speak for other companies for sure, but I fear that when this law was introduced in 2019, many companies did not change their business models and instead forbid employees from reporting overtime that exceeded legal limits, meaning they would be going without compensation. 

So be aware that if you are going to work in a Japanese company, you are likely to have overtime. Some people don’t, and congratulations to them! But it is an extremely real possibility. Make sure that you can handle it physically and mentally, and that you are being properly compensated. After my first month of Big Overtime, my boss told me, “I’m surprised that you managed to do all that. I thought that Americans had a poor work ethic compared to Japanese people, but now I see that’s not true.”

kinda racist, but thx

If you have an interview and it goes well and you receive a contract, ask to take the contract and have time to think about it. Then, have a Japanese person you trust read the contract and make sure there is nothing shady hidden in there. Contracts and legalese are difficult enough in my own native language--I don’t trust myself to catch something in Japanese. 

If your friend thinks that the contract is fair as well, and if you feel like the company has a good atmosphere, take the job. That is what I did, and I am glad I did.

Translation and Interpretation

A lot of people don’t know the difference between “translation” and “interpretation” and use them interchangeably, but they are actually entirely different tasks that require different skills. 

Translation: the conversion of written text from one language to another.

Interpretation: the conversion of spoken word from one language to another.

You will most likely be hired as a translator, because translation is much cheaper than interpretation. However, if your company is like mine, you will have interpretation work to do as well. You may be asked to take part in meetings and facilitate communication between the English-speaking and Japanese-speaking people, or act as a guide to a client from American headquarters, for example.

With translation, you usually have the blessing of time. You can look up a word you don’t know, you can think about the grammar, you can think about tone. 

But with interpretation, you need to be:

Listening to Speaker A’s English and mentally summarizing their words

Starting to say Speaker A’s words in Japanese while holding on to the bits that will come later because English and Japanese word order is so different

Continuing to listen to added speech from Speaker A as you concurrently are relaying their previous speech in to Japanese and retaining the parts that you can’t say yet because of word order.

Then do it all for again for Speaker B’s reply, and repeat. 

Basically, your mind has to be doing three things at once. Does your head hurt? Mine does. If I have to do simultaneous interpretation like that for more than a couple hours I literally develop a headache. 

I will NEVER recommend an N3 person attempt interpretation in a business setting. Nor N2 for that matter. It is hard and you do not have the benefit of time to think and double-check things.

Also, many people don’t understand exactly how difficult it is to do interpretation. I have to sometimes just say “Sorry, pause” to the speaker because my head can’t retain any more, especially if figures and data and dates are referred to. Thankfully my coworkers have come to understand my method and are just happy that I can facilitate communication for them. 

If you have any other questions regarding job hunting, please let me know and I’d be more than happy to offer what advice I have! 💖

[iristial]

Continuation of this post about episode 40 and feelings galore

Zero Two vs. Ark Zero - a representation of the heart, and the importance of responsibility

Heart

As a perfected A.I. who can look into all probabilities, the Ark thought no one could surpass it. But you can’t predict the heart so easily, like how you can’t define a dream through a Google Search. What a callback to episode 1 :D

Feelings! Overcome! Technology! The latter can achieve great things, but it’s the former that achieves miracles. These words were first used by humans dominated by chips in their brains, to assert they’re still their own person (Fuwa) and to ignore the path of cold logic they’ve taken their whole lives (Yua). Now it’s Izu’s turn to show a Humagear once limited by programming, once seen as a product, can love someone to the point of achieving godhood. The sheer opposite of the Ark, who never cared for anyone but its own ambitions (and yes, it was denied the opportunity to make connections, but it’s not exactly the most sympathetic being)

It’s rather interesting that Izu required somewhat negative emotions to make Zero Two. Up until now, ‘good’ Singularities have been defined by positive emotions - specifically pride in a job. Then again, Subaru in episode 15 expressed distress upon reaching Singularity, and he’s someone who dearly loves his brother. Also, grief is a sign that the heart exists, that one isn’t as cold or as merciless as you may think. By caring for someone, they might as well be an extension of you - so when you lose them, it’s like a wound that can’t heal. And how you handle the grief is just as important - we see that in Aruto and in Horobi, after all (Azu’s manipulations are also responsible, but that’s another topic)

I said somewhere during this rewatch that Zero One is about rising and falling and changing yourself. With the “it’s never over” line from Zero Two’s henshin jingle, I can add that it’s never too late to change because the heart changes all the time. You aren’t the same person you were a year ago - maybe even a day ago

Responsibility

The Ark highlights the importance of guiding the crystal clear A.I., as Aruto noted in episode 16. At the time it seemed like an obvious statement, because of course one’s perceptions are dependent on their experiences/learning. But at the same time, Humagears aren’t born with the emotions and autonomy humans take pride in - and arc one was a period when Humagears were seen more as angelic products than people in need of guidance. The Ark started out “pure” and ready to learn. But it was fed negative data, and with its “parent”/role model (Gai) refusing to take on responsibility (even after his redemption btw) and without people to teach it otherwise, it reached the extreme conclusions it did. Unlike Izu, who despite her ups and downs was treated as an equal; had her questions answered; was cared for by someone who always took responsibility (and was ironically taught by the person who averts his share of it)

This is the extended version of the OP

The rubble around Aruto was Hiden Manufacturing, not Hiden Intelligence

Him stumbling and falling before Izu reached out to him is symbolism for how he would’ve died, if not for ZEA responding to her heart, therefore allowing her to perform simulations

The single tear Izu sheds is the emotion she never experienced before - or rather, all of her feelings for Aruto rising to the surface and translating into grief and fear

The show of the different generations. Aruto quotes his father and grandfather of leaping towards a dream, thus displaying he’s the maturation of Korenosuke’s idea + stepping away from his family legacy to be his own person

Lately Fuwa’s been saying variations of “that doesn’t sound bad”. So when he said “a human and a Humagear sharing a dream” and Yua adds “that doesn’t sound bad”, that means they were finishing a sentence together. Bonus points for how he pauses and looks at her, like he was waiting for her to chip in. The two of them aren't as standoffish and guarded as they were in episode 1, that's for sure ^^

The smiles Jin made - it was like seeing Jin of the first arc again. He hasn’t smiled like that in a longggg time

Bonus points because his smile fulfills the Hiden family’s aim to create technology that brings smiles to humans and Humagears :)

I find it sweet that in a billion simulations, Jin moves to protect Aruto (who can’t transform) from the Ark. I know it’s because he’s pinned the last of his hope in Aruto aka he’s doing it for pragmatic reasons, but I also like to think Jin warms up to people quicker than he’d like

Every time I watch Izu cry and see Aruto die, my reactions get worse. Neither of those scenes were easy to watch ><

In his second fight with the Ark, Aruto vowed that even if he was scared, he refused to run away. And he carried that promise to the end in a billion simulations aka possible futures. Darn it, you didn’t have to be good on your word for once

What’s even sadder is that Izu literally can’t see a world without Aruto, for her interactions have been limited to him. Of course, I’m sure with time and effort she can forge connections with others. But it’s likely going to be five times harder, since her feelings are also built on her programming to act as his secretary (also keeping in mind that in earlier episodes, when she made a slight error, her first resort was to dismantle herself as compensation)

You look me in the eye and say Yua wasn’t feeling responsible for Aruto’s death, because she was barely holding herself together for the whole scene where we were privy to Aruto’s corpse. Sure, she didn’t know him personally - but she knows he didn’t deserve this fate, and she did attribute to some of his troubles + couldn’t make it right before he died

Fuwa being unable to accept Aruto’s death is one thing. Him turning his head to the wall after snapping at Gai in simulation one, and staying that way until the Ark started attacking the city? He couldn’t bear looking at Aruto’s body, I cannot

I noticed Izu’s memory stick serves as the basis of the Zero Two Key; meaning that technically, it’s a backup of her data. And as far as I know of, it wasn’t destroyed, so Aruto can still revive her. Not that bringing her back would’ve been the best way to resolve the conflict in episodes 42~45. It’s just that - well, Izu 2.0 (who’s already filled with implications) conflicts with Aruto’s words of a Humagear’s demise being the same as death to him (i.e. episode 29, begging Gai not to kill the Humagears; episode 30; clarifying to Jin he doesn’t see Humagears as tools)

[rootcut3]

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[maximuswolf]

A little bit of the history of U.S imperialism after the fall of the U.S.S.R via /r/communism

A little bit of the history of U.S imperialism after the fall of the U.S.S.R

The post seeks to explain the postmodern developments of American imperialism. It was originally made in Portuguese, transcribed to English quickly with Google Translate and I tried to fix all grammatical errors I could find. Many people come to this subreddit asking about Russia, Syria, Yemen and other specific countries. As such, I believe this post to be useful.

The major contradiction that surrounds the globe is that of American imperialism and the most diverse manifestations of anti-imperialism and counter-imperialism. The death of the USSR over a convulsion of multinational neoliberalism created the conditions for US neoliberal momentum and the submission of the globe to its will.

In Yugoslavia, the last bastion of European socialism (Portugal's '' socialists '' make us laugh at their austerity) was consumed by German-funded nationalist barbarism (with an interest in Croatia, Slovenia and its possibilities for projection into Eastern Europe) and American. The IMF's loans to Yugoslavia, as always, demanded neoliberal reforms which, to the dissatisfaction of such organizations, Tito and Milosevic only submitted to. A false image of the Serbs as mass rapists is created, sparing Croatian crimes; of Bosnia and Kosovars of media attention. Eventually, Yugoslavia is dismantled in a sinister threat to Russia. A puppet state for American interests is created in Kosovo, the extraction of mineral resources included on that program. Montenegro and Serbia gradually leave Russia's orbit (the former more than the latter) creating a tense geopolitical scenario.

The oil crisis in the 20th century proved to be the Bush administration's biggest concern, it planning invasions against Saddam Hussein and the Taliban even before 9/11. Saudi Arabia had become too big, too ambitious to be controlled by the United States. It financed Islamist terrorism and Wahhabi institutions around the world in a rejection of Westernist principles. The importance of Saudi Arabia for the free movement of oil, as well as its collaboration on many issues of international politics and the purchase of American weapons, prevented any possibility of extensive publication of these findings, even when the financing of Al Qaeda by the Al-Saud and assistance with its state intelligence culminated in 9/11. However, the ignorance of the American public could be exploited from the trauma of Al-Qaeda to "" fight terrorism and the nations that shelter it "" in a relatively disconnected way with 9/11.

In Iraq, Dick Cheney and other neocons were exhausted from Saddam Hussein's use of oil as a bargaining chip. By turning on and off the taps of black gold to erratically, crude oil prices threatened to rise, against the interests of refineries across the globe and possibly creating a global energy crisis (Iraq's oil importance cannot be underestimated, it is considered by some analysts greater than Saudi Arabia). The invasion of Iraq was not exactly aimed at the extraction of these oil resources by the imperial powers, although this was an important bonus that motivated the participation of the United Kingdom, but simply to put that oil in motion. China and Russia would soon take some of the pie with their state-owned companies, something not ideal but acceptable in the context of American interests.

In Afghanistan, a progressive socialist revolution with feminist characteristics was stifled in the Cold War with a blackest reaction supported by the USA. It did not interest the pastoralists and the old elites in Afghanistan the programs of the Sardur revolution and the United States gave moral support; financial and military support to their counter-revolution efforts. Afghanistan was not a Soviet republic, but it was part of its sphere of influence, hence the importance of fighting Afghanistan together with the vassals of Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, interested in Sunni uprisings. China has also financed opposition groups in its sad but understandable policy to combat Kruschevian revisionism. Eventually, Afghanistan was dominated by the Taliban and their female genital mutilation; destruction of Western icons (including a Greek heritage in Afghanistan until then) and a ban on music. The Taliban was only fought at the moment that it no longer collaborated with the US in the construction by USATCO of an oil pipeline starting in Uzbekistan and passing through Afghanistan, requiring intervention. Officially, the Taliban was hunted for cooperation with al Qaeda, which was real.

In Somalia, a war was declared on one of Somalia's first stable governments in the 21st century: the ICU, for its Islamist features. Thanks to its wealth of resources such as uranium and oil as well as its connection to the Gulf of Aden where much of the world's oil came from, Somalia has always been imperialized by the IMF and NATO. The local fishing industry has been destroyed both by radioactive waste dumped by European companies in the water and by the massive technological scale extraction of fish by foreign companies within Somalia's territorial waters.

Not all war is war properly said. Professor Gene Sharp's manuals created a guide on how to use civilian demonstrations, strikes and boycotts in the service of the CIA. The best example was the US incentive to the Cedar Revolution, a series of protests in Lebanon that put an end to the Syrian occupation, resulting from civil wars between religious and ethnic groups. Both Syria and Iraq were pan-Arabists, that is, they aimed at uniting all Arab nations in a single country, countries cut in half by the state of Israel. Secular and socialist pan-Arabism posed an obvious threat to the strategic interests of the United States and its allies Israel and Saudi Arabia, hence the opposition to Syria that would later become war. Note that there is no proletarian dictatorship in Syria and '' socialism '' means in practice a greater social democracy in intensity than in the West.

The Bush wars have claimed many lives, innocent or 'combatants', destroying the infrastructure of these countries and creating political instability. NATO's imperialist policy not only achieves its strategic objectives, it also destroys recipient countries. This is partly intentional, like negligent homicide. The destruction of Iraq and Afghanistan and, as we shall see, in Libya made possible both an initial expansion of the military-industrial complex that influences policy in the USA and reconstruction contracts that created inflationary cycles (that is, monetary expansion) that were taken advantage of by USA. They destroy and then rebuild, both phases of the capitalist process of avoiding contraction cycles by expanding the outside world.

One of the reasons that American imperialism went into crisis was that it went too far. The destruction of Yugoslavia, the creation of new oil routes in Afghanistan that deviated from Russia (on which the first world countries were highly dependent), oil penetration in Central Asia, the financing of anti-Russian politicians in Georgia and Ukraine...again and again the US has abused the world's second largest military power at its weakest moment. This context explains how Vladimir Putin came to power, a right-wing ultranationalist ready to recover Russia's strength not as a stronghold of socialism but as an imperialist force that falls short of the USA, at the taste of the domestic bourgeoisie. As a message, he invaded Georgia who planned to become a NATO member. Russia's recovery would have great implications for all of Eurasia, as we all know from the screams of the media and the heightening of tensions in Ukraine, always in the same West vs. East paradigm.

Belarus recently entered the Russia-US dispute. With a largely state-owned economy that never underwent neoliberal shock therapies (despite the lack of retirement among other capitalist aspects) and in Russia's sphere of influence, the relationship between the two degenerated by Lukansheko's resistance to Putin's attempts at absorption in a Union State, looking for new energy sources in Norway. This new vulnerability in Belarus was exploited by the imperialists through the traditional method of "promoting democracy" and Russian paramilitaries are known to be watching the situation.

Although the United States is not very directly involved, one cannot speak of Russia's geopolitics without mentioning the war between Armenia and Azerbaijan, which ended today (?) and lasted 45 days. But frankly, this issue is too complex for me. I will leave a link that I found useful: https://geohistory.today/nagorno-karabakh/#:~:text=The%20Republic%20of%20Nagorno%2DKarabakh,Azerbaijan%20that%20lasted%20until%201994.

Another country the United States has abused the patience of is China. The protests in Tiannamen Square were largely promoted by private charities associated with the West, and were harshly repressed by Deng Xiaoping. Thereafter, the terrorist-buying state of Turkey provided support to separatist Islamist terrorists in Xinjiang, a region of traditionally Turkish and Islamic China. The United States had previously provided assistance to the Tibetan insurgency under Mao, and continued to provide moral and religious support through its institutions. The US strategy with China was to dismember its diverse ethnicities into separate and enemy territories so that it will not be able to project itself geographically across Eurasia, unifying Tibetan separatisms; Mongolians; Uighurs and Hong Kong. Most recently, the US is attemping to force a color revolution in Thailand. Admitting this is no defense of the Thai monarchy but an understanding of its commercial relationship with the U.S and how installing a regime favourable to the West would be a strike against China. The U.S has also pitied Vietnam and China against each other whenever possible.

Like Russia, China has not been shaken by these attempts and has extended its economic and military dominance across the globe. The strong Chinese state-owned industry challenged the neoliberal models of growth and, through a policy based on non-interference in domestic affairs that contrasted with US imperialism, China attracted dozens of peripheral countries to its attention. Thus, we must understand the preference for China as a conscious rejection of the USA. The unified front between China and Russia represents the greatest challenge to the USA in modernity.

The endless wars of the USA could not be sustained indefinitely, requiring endless loans from the most diverse countries. Eventually, the irrationalism of bankers typical of neoliberalism created the crisis of 2008, with a deficit that required more loans and, consequently, more debt and more deficit. Income inequality has exploded. It was under these conditions that Barack Obama was elected, promising to resolve the insoluble contradictions of American imperialism on a progressive paradigm.

Obama did not comply with any of these proposals and in fact expanded the scope of the war beyond Bush, killing more people with drones. It is important to note that the war in Afghanistan was not over yet and Osama was not captured. It was in this context that Obama decided to replace soldiers with automatic drones that were supposed to promise fewer civilian deaths, and expanded the war to Pakistan to fight another Taliban front.

But the drones were more useful for saving the lives of American soldiers (which was probably the intention) than for Pakistanis and Afghans. Death from heaven created trauma for the local population, who avoided going to weddings because of the constant errors in recognition of drones. As stated, the US wars may not literally target the killing of civilians, but they are negligent in causing them.

Expanding the war in Afghanistan would not be enough and Obama declared three completely new wars: that of Libya, Yemen and Syria.

Libya had long been a stumbling block in the US. Allied to the USSR while it existed, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi had an anti-imperialist and socialist program of a similar nature to the one I described from Syria, that is, more of an intense social democracy than a dictatorship of the proletariat. Gaddafi also sought to overcome the tribalisms that divided Libya and harmful traditions such as the prohibition of divorce, by greatly expanding women's rights. Gaddafi criticized the democratic models of the West and proposed a controversial new model of direct democracy, Jamarihya. Regardless of the reservations that the reader has with this method, he was certainly more democratic than the Sunni Islamic terrorism that the United States financed in order to destroy this bastion of resistance to the Empire, consuming Libya in a civil war horrible enough for Obama to admit it as '' error '' in an abstract way. As always, European powers emerged from the air to protect oil. Gaddafi went through a phase of surrender and collaboration, dismantling his nuclear program, but he was still killed. This would serve to motivate North Korea not to abandon its nuclear program.

Practically the same thing is happening in Syria, both regarding the United States methods and in the nature of Bashar al Assad. The difference, however, lies in the support of Syria from the unified China-Russia front as well as from the regional power of iran. Only in this way has Bashar managed to stay in power. Iran is a non-secular Shiite nation that was imperialized by the United States under the Shah regime, being overthrown in Ayatollah Komeini's Islamic but anti-imperialist revolution. It is a regional power with large oil reserves and a respectable army, accused of financing the anti-Israeli group Hezbollah.

The situation in Yemen is substantially different. The Zaidi, a very significant Shiite minority in the north of the country who have a history of sovereign states in the region, threatened to expand a Shi'ite revolt over the Gulf states like Bahrain; UAE and Saudi Arabia, all marginalized economically and politically. Saudi Arabia installed a president favorable to its exploration interests, creating a spontaneous zaidi revolt that would be suppressed by the US-Arab junta. To justify the intervention, the US used the decontextualized motto of the zaidi groups of "Death to the USA, death to Israel" as a demonstration of religious extremism. Which is partially understood, but must also be understood as anti-imperialist reaction.

And that's it, folks. Does history end at Yemen? Obviously no. Yet my systematic knowledge ends here.

Submitted November 10, 2020 at 07:55AM by Ckaaiqoos via reddit https://ift.tt/35j2hzo

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realized

Part Nine: A Little Overwhelmed

Summary: The day after the wedding, Y/N has lunch with Kennedy; Sebastian and Milena have a surprise for her. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1910 (excluding translations) Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Sex talk between friends (nothing detailed), feels. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo​. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Series Masterlist

“So, did you get laid last night?”

Y/N laughed at Kennedy’s wiggling eyebrows. “It’s not that kind of marriage, Ken, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just figured maybe the wedding would have given you two some reason to celebrate or something. I know it’s been a while for you —”

“Hey!”

“And I don’t know about Sebastian but the guy’s been through a lot, he could stand to blow off some steam.” She took a bite of her salad. “Anyway, I really appreciate that you took time to meet me for lunch before I’m back to the West Coast. We don’t see each other nearly enough as it is, and with you in New York indefinitely …”

Y/N sighed and sipped at her iced tea. “You’ll just have to come visit when you can. I’ll do the same. Seb and I can bring Milena out —”

When she realized what she was saying, she stopped and cleared her throat. She couldn’t think of anything to cover for what she had just said, so she shoved a too-big bite of club sandwich in her mouth instead. Kennedy raised her brow and shook her head. 

“Why won’t you even admit it to me, Y/N/N? Even a little bit? You can have feelings for Seb without being full-on in love with him, you know.” 

She only shook your head. “No, it isn’t — see, honestly, I have never thought about him like that. Ever. He’s one of my best friends and I can be myself around him and count on him, and that was enough. More than enough. But then all of this started happening and he asked me to marry him and … and …”

If Kennedy’s brow went any higher, her eyebrows and her hair were going to get tangled together. “And what?”

“And last night, in the hotel room, we — it was just kissing, okay? He was just out of the shower, I needed help with my zipper. And he stopped it because he didn’t want me to think he was trying to get anything more out of this than what we’ve already established.” You drew in a slow, shaky breath. “So, if we’re just friends, why did I want it so bad? Why did I want him so bad? I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with how long it’s been, before you say anything about that.”

Kennedy giggled. “I know this has nothing to do with that. Me trying to get you to open up about what you’re feeling towards Sebastian is not some sappy romance thing because the two of you got married and are going to parent this little girl together. I want you to really understand what you’re getting into — a short-term marriage that’s going to end in an agreed-upon divorce with someone who means more to you than only being one of your best friends.”

“But it’s never been like this before.”

“Sometimes … sometimes we need a push to help us see where we’re meant to be,” Kennedy shrugged. “Is that as close to admission I’m gonna get you?”

“This trip, anyway,” Y/N smirked. “I’m still trying to process all of this, I think.”

Kennedy finished off her salad then, giving her a few minutes to think. When the waiter came, she took care of the bill. 

“Shittiest wedding present ever,” she joked, “but I also flew out here last minutes so, that counts, right?”

Y/N nodded and laughed. “Absolutely. Thank you, Kennedy. For being here and for — for everything.”

She smiled. “Anytime, friend.” 

When Y/N returned to the apartment, Milena came running towards the door, blocking Y/N from going any further than the front door. 

“Finally!” Milena screeched. 

Y/N lifted the little girl into her arms. “Finally? Have you been waiting so long for me to come home?”

Milena nodded her head and grinned. “A surprise!”

“Hey, hey, don’t be giving away our secrets,” Sebastian laughed, coming into the room. He put a hand on Milena’s back and leaned over to kiss Y/N’s forehead. “I know you just got back, but if you’re up for a little drive, we’ll leave early before we meet everyone at my parents’ house for supper.”

Y/N shrugged. “Sure, I’m okay with that. Let me touch up my face and I’ll be ready to go.”

Milena wiggled down from her hold to go and retrieve her shoes when Sebastian instructed; Y/N headed to the bathroom to touch up her makeup. She was putting more lip gloss on when Milena wandered in, shoes on her feet and a jacket added to her outfit. 

“Uncle Seb said ’s cold.”

Y/N nodded. “It’s kinda chilly — I’m going to put a jacket on, too.”

“Can I have some of that?” Milena’s finger pointed to the gloss Y/N was re-capping. 

She crouched down to Milena’s level and put the tiniest amount on the toddler’s lips. Milena sat very still while the gloss was applied and pointed to the mirror when Y/N was done. 

“Look at those pretty girls,” Sebastian smiled, leaning into the bathroom. “You ready to go?”

“I think so. How about you, princess, you ready?”

Milena nodded, then wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck in as strong an embrace as she could manage. “Iubes.” [Te iubesc = I love you]

It wasn’t one-hundred percent correct Romanian, but the adults knew what she meant. Y/N snuggled against the toddler, meeting Sebastian’s eyes. She couldn’t read the emotions there, so she closed her eyes and answered Milena honestly. 

“Te iubesc mai malt.” [I love you more.]

The drive to their destination was mostly silent, except for a Disney soundtrack playing and Milena quietly singing along when she thought she knew the words. Y/N wanted to reach for Sebastian’s hand and hold tight, for comfort. Before, she would have done that without question. Now, after what had happened in the hotel room, she was too worried about Sebastian thinking she saw something in their relationship that wasn’t there. Instead, she kept her hands in her jacket pockets and stared out the window for most of the ride. 

“I thought we had somewhere else to go before your parents’ house?” she asked, realizing they were in the same neighborhood where Anthony and Georgeta lived. 

“We do,” Sebastian confirmed. 

He didn’t offer any more information, so she kept her further questions to herself. A couple of minutes later, they pulled into the drive of a pretty house — one Y/N didn’t recognize. Sebastian got Milena out of her seat while Y/N stepped out of the car and took a good look at the house. 

“What is this?”

Sebastian only took her hand and smiled, balancing Milena on his other hip. He walked them up to the front porch, took a key from his pocket, and let them in the front door. 

The place was large and blocked off from street view by a line of trees; the land was extensive. The construction and decor was all contemporary and well cared-for. The bedrooms were large, each had its own walk-in closet. The master bath boasted a tub she already couldn’t wait to sink into. At the back of the house, the shaded patio led to a swimming pool, and a koi pond even, beyond that. Despite the size of the house and its amenities, the place felt very homey — cozy, even. She wandered back through the slider, meeting Sebastian and Milena at the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I thought maybe it would be good to be close to my parents,” Sebastian began, after Y/N had a chance to see the whole house. “The schools in the area are rated well, and it’s a quiet neighborhood. We can look at something different, if you’d like. Maybe I’ll have this house longer than …” He glanced at Milena, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I put a bid in so we wouldn’t miss out, but I wanted your input, too.”

Perhaps this wasn’t so different than when he was demanding they decide together about what custody of Milena to ask for in the court filing, but for Y/N, it did wonders for him to so simply state that he wanted her opinion on such a big decision. She took a deep breath; she could picture Milena growing older here. She could picture them having family movie nights here. She could picture Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s. Though she knew it wouldn’t ever happen, she could picture late night slow dances with Sebastian in the kitchen and changing one of the extra rooms to a nursery for a baby that would be a perfect mix of both of their features. 

Sebastian put a hand at her elbow, pulling her from her reverie. “Hey, if this is too much …”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just,” she fanned herself and chuckled lightly, “I think it’s a little warm in here, yeah?”

His concerned frown didn’t soften. “Bright Eyes?”

How did that, a nickname she had heard a million times, make her feel even more warm? “I’m okay, Seb, promise. I love the house, I really do. So much. And if you love it, since you’re the one keeping it, you should leave the bid. How’d you get the key without being the owner, by the way?”

His frown morphed into a mischievous smirk. “I have my ways. C’mon, girls — let’s get over to Bunica’s before they start to wonder where we are.”

He held Milena’s hand on one side and Y/N’s on the other. At the car, he opened Y/N’s door first, then got Milena settled back into her seat. Y/N watched the house as they drove away, indulging herself on daydreams that were likely to never come true. 

She was silent again on the way to his parents’ house, thanks to the daydreams, and was out of the car quick enough to get Milena from the backseat ahead of Sebastian. The girls headed to the porch ahead of him, but he caught up before they got too far. 

“You all right? You’ve been flushed since before we left my apartment, you’ve hardly said a word in the car …”

“I’m fine. Probably just tired from the last couple of days.”

She made to move forward with Milena again, but Sebastian caught her by the hand. Georgeta opened the front door with a smile, immediately recognized the tension between the newlyweds, and so she beckoned Milena to the house. When it was only the two of them, Sebastian raised his brow, but Y/N shook her head. 

“Hey, c’mon, talk to me,” he pleaded. “Since when do we keep things from each other?”

Y/N sighed and met his eyes again. “I’m not — I don’t want to keep things from you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, you know? What Milena said before we left, and the house, the wedding. It’s all wonderful, but I think maybe — maybe I’m overwhelmed. I’m okay though, really.”

Sebastian pursed his lips. “If last night —”

“No, don’t even say it,” she interrupted. “I’m not going to let either of us dwell on that and make things awkward. We’ll have a good time with family this evening, I’ll get a good night’s sleep, tomorrow everything will be back to normal. I’m sure of it.”

He held up both of his little fingers. “Double pinky swear?”

She loosened up and laughed, hooking her pinkies with his. “Double pinky swear.”

“Good,” he grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her into the house. 

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