#their kid selves…..its weird

[happyfunf3tti]

i finally finished the last film for rebuild and ooooh boy it's a lot to take in. also new stuff came in too. perfect timing

[freakcliff]

horrible autism experience of someone going wow I love how unabashedly yourself you are! I love how you're not afraid to be different! and you're like uh thanks this is actually a pretty carefully crafted persona where I'm normal enough that everyone likes me while still letting out enough weird that I don't combust from the strain of masking

[rendevok]

OUGH i need to draw little nrmts more.. the babies are so precious to me 🫶

[emmatriarchya]

I've been taking somewhat of a mental health break. I'm personally okay but people dear to me are not, and I needed all my spoons to help them.

I do intend to return to writing! Thank you all for your patience :)

Also hi new followers! Welcome to this dumpster fire of a blog :p

[conceptofjoy]

alpha kids about their alt guardian selves

Jane- She's a really wise lady, lived through a lot of stuff! Is it weird to wish I had a grandmother like her around? Although, sometimes she gives me this... Look. It makes sense that she sees so much of herself in me, but it's a little awkward when I can feel this sort of melancholic pity radiating off her. Roxy- shes cool like having an older twin that knows a lot of stuff and is really smart! tbh its weird seeing your own habits reflected in someone else. i kinda just wanna shake her and be like GIRL I KNOW UR FAKING THE ENDLESS CHEERFULNESS ITS JUST US but then idk. sometimes it feels like being around her causes her physical pain. maybe its just her way of dealing with it Jake: I dont know what to make of him to be honest! Hes... Made a lot of achievements during his lifetime. One of the biggest cogs in this whole operation right? Theres just something uncanny about him though. Like theres something large he internalized when he was younger and grew around like a misshapen tree. Bah weird analogy never mind. Between you and me i hope i never turn out like him. Dirk: Fuck that guy. (when asked to elaborate he goes on an multi paragraph rant that I do not care to type out)

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH40

Laios is apparently only good at drawing monsters.

You guys have no faith in him! Come onnnn

To that point, if the shapeshifters that are left are the most similar to the real selves, doesn't that prove that Laios actually knows them best? The other, easily-discounted shapeshifters were easily singled out as fakes because they were so caricature like.

The remaining fakes are just minutely different from the real selves. Chilchuk has slightly larger eyes, Marcille's hair is thinner, and Senshi has sharper features. What that says to me is that Laios is actually the BEST at reconstructing them in his mind.

Unfortunately, that. Kinda makes it harder.

Welll.......yeah. No, that makes sense.

This is a problem you all created 😂

This is legitimately making me question everything. Because like... Marcille A is acting pretty sus. But they've been through a lot, so maybe she's just depressed?

Oooooooh someone minmaxed into gayness. That's certainly a dependable strategy.

FAKE!!!!! He's the fake! Senshi would never deplete an ecosystem completely like that!!!!

ah yes, all sorts of nutrition. White rice is known for its nutrition like...... (looks at smeared writing on hand) carbohydrates and scant amounts of folates. Yep.

HE IS HANDSOME, BUT NOT "B"!! "A" IS ALSO HANDSOME!! THEY'RE BOTH HANDSOME!

.......guys. GUYYS.

Laios, you're such an absolute loser and I love you but please. Please turn on the autism. Just this once, please turn on the autism beam and point it at your friends. Please

"all of them! Everyone is fake! Including me!"

Wouldn't that be a plot twist.

why are both the chillchucks upset at this suggestion? shouldn't the real ones be relieved?

Illusions with physical traits, though? Is that not obvious once you start roughing it up with it? If something can be physical enough to fight, why not just use that thing to overpower the adventurer, then?

....so it's a vampire created illusion?

Okay, so because I saw someone else post this page to my dash about a week ago I'm actually fully aware of what comes next, and I can say with certainty that it does not ruin it. At all.

I gotta say, as a weird little kid that practiced barking like a dog and mimicking dog howls, this is making me feel SO SEEN. He's just like me fr.

And the fact that they're all supporting his talent........friendship is magic.

I'm so intrigued by this man and how his mind works.

Love is not letting your dumbass furry friend climb into the wolf enclosure at the zoo and try to fight the alpha of the pack.

This is. So real. I've never seen a manga commit SO MUCH to the weird little man trope, and I love Kui-san so much for this. This is true representation.

Dumbass recognizes dumbass. This is why they're friends.

I WAS WONDERING ABOUT THAT. I also didn't remember it!

Oh, hmm.....

I'm relatively certain the hand that Marcille grasped in the last chapter WAS the cat's hand. That means the cat followed them - but because no one knew she was there, the shapeshifter didn't create any illusions of her. That means she was just hiding out, observing everything.

Is she just sleeping in there curled up on the rice?

Ahhh, so it was a distraction.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

RaCat polycule can be achieved by Tate and Shifty trying to Parent Trap Ford and Emma with science dates and Fiddleford and Stan with their shared interest of gambling.

What is a science date, you may ask? It's when Tate and Shifty claim they've seen a weird creature in the forest with possibly cool dna and Emma-May and Ford head out to find it. Sometimes they find something, but oftentimes, they don't since the critter is made up. First few times, they end up snipping at each other before they eventually realise their children are up to something.

The kids confess their desire for all their parents to be their parents at all times and that means that racoon Emma-May needs to marry Ford so she's Shifty's mom in both forms, and human Stan needs to marry Fiddleford so he's Shifty and Tate's dad in both forms. Instead of saying that Emma-May and Stan can be their parents in both forms and how you feel doesn't have to match the law, Emma-May and Ford agree to have a human-raccoon wedding.

Stan and Fiddleford do not get this explanation from the kids, but all works to their plans anyway. They are successfully lured to Vegas by an advertisement the kids left about a hog racing gambling event with a huge cash prize. They make enemies with their fellow attendees and hosts of the event because they are betting on the winner every time. Stan and Fiddleford make it out of there after committing many acts of violence, get stupid drunk afterward, and then proceed to get married in Vegas. Once they wake up, Stan and Fiddleford are both baffled and irritated by their drunk selves' decision to wed.

They come home to the sight of Ford in his father's tux, giving raccoon Emma-May a kiss on her veiled forehead as the children cheer and the officiant is crying tears of joy.

Fiddleford: What in tarnation is going on here?!

This is perfect. 10/10 you've knocked it out of the park. I love the kids using puppy eyes and the sadness of wanting all their parents to be married to convince Ford and Emma-May, then turn around and don't even try anything more than a single Vegas flier with Stan and Fiddleford. They heard Stan tell a story once about getting drunk and married there, and that its 'just a thing that happens in Vegas' and went 'If we can get them both there, then they'll get married! Its just a thing that happens!'

And it works.

Now Fiddleford is married to both Pines twins indirectly through his wife, and Stan very directly through drunken shenanigans. Even funnier if he married Cat!Stan, so all thats left is for him to get married to Ford, and for one of the kids to realize Carla's still single, for the cycle of shenanigans to be complete.

[missmeinyourbones]

IN LITTLE WAYS, WHEN EVERYTHING STAYS

a/n: rei got the kids the fuck out of that house au, maybe a little prequel to my where love lives au? reader referred to as she & girlfriend a few times, sibling tendencies amongst the rokis

In the streaky reflection of his bedroom vanity, Touya's mind circulates the same thought over and over again.

His shirt looks stupid.

And he doesn't even know what it is exactly that's making him look so fucking weird right now, but he's annoyingly hyperaware of how stiff he looks.

It's just a shirt, a nice one, at that; it's been washed and ironed and its buttons all correlate with one another so why does it look so awkward on him right now?

Just as he's debating between loosening up the collar again or ripping it to pieces, the situation somehow gets at least ten times worse within a matter of mere seconds.

"Are you hanging out with your girlfriend again?"

Like muscle memory, Touya's eyes close in annoyance at the sound of his youngest brother's nasally voice. Not botching to spare him a glance, he chooses to tug at the stuffy shirt collar.

"She's not my girlfriend," is mumbled with what Shouto knows to be both embarrassment and agitation.

"Then why are you wearing that stupid shirt?"

Touya tries, he truly does, to just bite his tongue and be the adult in the situation. Technically (and legally), he is the adult in the situation, but something about the know-it-all ten-year-old always brings out the immaturity in him.

"I think you're lying," Shouto continues, matter-of-factly. Gaming console in hand as his attention darts between what's on the screen and what's reflected in his brother's mirror, "I don't even think she's real."

Touya looks to put out the match before it can even catch fire. In a few strides, he's trudging towards his door and swinging it into motion.

"She's more real than the tooth fairy, I can tell you that--"

Just before he can get the satisfaction of slamming the door in Shouto's dopey little face, a thick wrap of fingers catches the wood before it shuts on its hinges.

Natsuo pushes the door back open with ease, the look on his face clearly amused with the bickering he's heard. When he sees Touya's appearance, he can't help but squint his eyes and lowly whistle.

"Slick. You seein' the girlfriend tonight?"

Nearly seething now at the second intrusion, Touya growls, turning his back on the two idiots in his doorway and returning his attention to the mirror.

"Not my girlfriend," he flatly recites.

The taller brother leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and a smirk that reads no good.

"Is she not your girlfriend because you haven't asked her yet or because she knows she's out of your league?" Natuso's tongue prods at the inside of his cheek in entertainment.

With it now being two against one, Shouto sees his window of opportunity and snottily chimes in, "Probably both."

After a brief glance at his phone and realizing it's nearly time for him to pick you up, Touya doesn't even spare them a glance. He quickly shifts his focus on undoing the highest buttons of his dress shirt.

"Eat shit."

Silence naturally settles amongst the three of them. Natsuo and Shouto make no move to leave their post at the door anytime soon, attention still quietly following Touya as he huffs and puffs around his room, messing up his hair and pulling at his way too rigid selves.

Natsuo, brave as he always has been, is unsurprisingly the first one to break the silence.

"Where are you takin' her that you need to wear that stupid shirt?

Touya knows it's a harmless question, but it bothers him all the same.

"Dinner."

"Where?"

"New place downtown."

Natuso nods in approval, "Are you paying for her?"

"Am I being interrogated?"

"You're paying for her?" Shouto crinkles his nose, "With what money?"

Touya's head doesn't miss a beat as it whips around with a slight smirk, "The money I took from beneath your fuckin' mattress."

"That's not even funny because I don't keep it there anymore--"

The three of them internally wince when the familiar squeak of Fuyumi's bedroom door flings open. On cue, she's tiredly sighing and stomping her way over to the commotion.

Touya doesn't need to see the scowl on her face when he can hear her from down the hallway, "Can you all please shut up before mom--"

She cuts herself off, appearing in the reflection of Touya's mirror with a face that reads a mixture of disgust and confusion.

She looks him up and down, and with the grace that only a sister could carry, delivers the final blow to her eldest brother's ego.

"Ew, why do you look like that?"

That last drop of charity in Touya's tiny heart shrivels up and runs dry when he snaps. "For fuck's sake--like what?"

The three of them watch as their sister gives Touya another once over before meeting his stare directly and scowling.

"Your shirt looks stupid."

In the creaky and muggy second floor of the Todoroki household, the air weighs heavy with sibling stress. Fuyumi glares, Natsuo chokes on a giggle, and Shouto's jaw is on the floor when Touya pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Get the fuck out of my room or I'm setting the house on fire," he exhales rather calmly, given the nature of his alarming (yet common) threat.

Unimpressed, Fuyumi is the first to leave, immediately followed by Shouto who quietly asks her about his own dinner. Natsuo hangs back for a second, continuing to watch his brother rub his calloused hands over his tension-filled face.

Giving up, Touya reaches across his bed and tosses on his old and ratty denim jacket over his nice, stupid shirt. When he catches Natsuo's eye in the mirror, he approvingly nods and shoots his older brother an encouraging thumbs up before, he too, leaves.

It's not two minutes later before Touya's lanky legs are carrying him down the wooden staircase of the house. He's throwing his scuffed boots on, yelling out to Rei about being home before the sun comes up, and taking a final look at himself in the reflection of the porch window before reaching for the door knob.

"Touya," a gentle voice calls as he makes a beeline to leave. To no one's surprise, it's Fuyumi.

He sighs but stops in his tracks anyway, allowing her to quickly scurry over to him. Her nimble fingers rise to fix the cuffed collar of his jacket before she smoothens out his shoulders and pulls taut on his zipper.

When she's deemed he looks acceptable enough, her voice comes as a knowing whisper. "Just ask her already," she prompts.

Touya knows she's right, but he can't help the bite that crawls from his throat when he says, "And what do you know?"

Fuyumi merely smiles and takes a step aside, giving him her stamp of approval and letting him open the front door.

"She seems good for you," she says. Taking one final look at him before turning her back and returning to the kitchen, her voice is warm and proud, "You've started brushing your hair again."

[sealofarchives]

Could you create a headcanon for ‘Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ about what kind of fathers Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey would be? I find this idea fun. :3

Headcanon: Rise!Turtles being dads and sweetest husband to the reader (Separate) (Requested prompt)

A/N: I'm still uncomfortable with the idea of aging up the guys towards "mature content."

However, this idea was really cute. It only made sense for this prompt where the guys are aged up with some reference to their bad end!future selves. I went with around early 30's when the turtle of your choice and the reader are in a committed relationship and currently raising a kid at the moment.

So please have common sense and think before typing some snarky response with 'oh aged up content is bad lol' (Because I will put those ideas on the 'do not write list' if people get too weird about it...)

Raph

You know how he has the habit of that one baby voice with Mayhem. (and a bit of the hey buddy tone towards Mikey or Donnie)

- His kid is never gonna escape from it. (even by the time the kid is a grown up)

He definitely panicked for a bit when his kid (during the energetic toddler phase) enjoyed climbing over a big guy like him.

- So he had to ask Donnie to make a battle shell specifically as a soft cushion. So the spiky shell doesn't accidentally scratch the kid.

Part of him is worried anytime he has to scold his kid. And only when you're around is when he feels okay to do so.

- He definitely does the "Did you ask (Y/N) if you could have another cookie?" sort of question. (Sometimes willing to go along with what his kid wants or following (Y/N) if he got caught spoiling the kid)

You're getting at least one peck on the cheek by the end of the day.

- Or earlier in the day if he accidentally woke you up.

Compared to his younger self who slightly whined about chores, he grew to enjoy it when both of you worked on it together.

- Laundry being one example where you're usually folding clothing fresh from the dryer. And he stacks a pile back into the clean basket/hamper.

His eyesight in the right eye has gotten a bit worse. (not as bad as his bad end counterpart where he needs an eyepatch) But, you often act as his extra set of eyes and call out to any surprise attacks.

- Which earned the title of you two with a tag team couple and he still blushes thinking about it.

Leo

Every few hours before a night patrol, he always checks in to see what his kid is up to and often gives a hug before leaving.

Often gives bedtime stories through retellings of Lou Jitsu's movies or Jupiter Jim's comics.

- Even acting out of some of the scenes before a yawn decides its time to sleep.

Gave one of his spare bandana scarves to his kid.

- Had the biggest grin on his face when the kid realized "Oh hey! We're matching!!!"

Almost similar to the night patrol part, but if you can't make it because of work or some other boring life detour.

- Its a portal away for a light hang out sesh. For both of you to take a breather away from the grown up life.

Late night conversations are just a regular thing between the two of you.

- Especially when he couldn't sleep. By the time he almost dozes off to sleep in your arms, he still playfully teases you that your voice is soothing to him.

When light conversations about the bad end future was brought up during a casual match of video games, he was never used to the idea that he had a prosthetic arm.

- You instantly hugged his right arm, jokingly reassuring him.

"As long as you can crack a joke in the most serious moment. I'll still know that its you Leo."

"Even in a timeline where, me and the guys were raised by Draxum?"

You gave the red slider turtle a 'really?' pout before he hugged you into his lap.

"Nah I'm just kidding, but for real though. Draxum's former henchmen are still goofballs that know their way around the city. I'm pretty sure that Leo could get a couple of one liners and maybe from you as well."

Donnie

Almost went into a frenzy trying to child-proof the lair. (Especially the month before the kid's arrival changed the atmosphere) But eventually settled down.

- Realizing it would have stressed his kid out by any sudden new changes (and a bit of his family and your help explaining the reasoning as well)

Leo's showboating energy transferred to him but, in a way that, the softshell turtle is very grateful. That he has you as a spouse and both of you raising a kid along side his sentient inventions. And will try to bring it up in any conversation.

- The whole wallet photo gag of him showing family pictures. You love this silly turtle but, usually lightly pinch his face if its the wrong time for that.

He lights up whenever his kid goes to him for any sort of question.

- He slightly restrains himself to avoid going overboard with the answer. But, his kid is smart enough to know that and sometimes tells you that he's not being himself again.

Cannot force himself to sleep unless you're beside him. (or if you have to drag him to bed yourself)

- The few times where he woke up while you were still sleeping. He always gives you a light hug and a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed.

He subtly took interest in one of your hobbies. (Either an ongoing or a new one) Just so he can step away from a tedious project that was going nowhere and not bother you with the boring details about it.

- Sometimes mentioning a fun fact to impress you.

You gave into his idea of letting your kid have a similar weapon like Casey Jr's.

- Only when they reached their 13th birthday and learning the basics of: constructing it and fixing parts along side their dad. How to use it defensively, offensively, and etc.

Mikey

Considering how his future self had some hair on his head, he kept it long so he can do a few matching embarrassing baby photos to his kid.

- Like giving the kid a tiny ponytail and etc. He definitely cried a bit while having his signature grin when the kid pulled too hard on his hair, laughing at one of his jokes. And you had to step in to help him.

He knows how to work around some of his kid's picky eating habits. Usually making sure his kid is having fun or decorating the plate in an artistic manner.

- However, there are times when the kid can hide the veggie or fruit out of plain sight. Or his kid asks his uncles for help when Mikey's focused on some other thing.

Absolutely does that peek-a-boo trick with hiding his face or whole body into his shell.

- He was nervous at first, if the trick might have scared his kid but, no the kid was giggling. Curiously crawling towards him in awe of it.

Will sometimes make meals ahead of time. (often being, if you returned from work, too exhausted to greet him)

- Either leaving a note on a plastic container in the fridge of: [(Y/N)'s breakfast: DO NOT EAT unless you want an surprise session with Dr Delicate Touch </3] (this also applies to lunch as well)

On very rare occasions, he will temporary wear a cloaking brooch. If you're at an area isn't very friendly towards mutants and/or yokai.

- The one time that happened, is when you forgot to bring your lunch at a job that barely lasted a week. (Stuff that was out of your control but, he was relieved that you got out of that place before your coworkers decided to physically fight back at the manager)

Spends at least one day in the week with you to do some light meditative exercises.

- On the really bad days, he doesn't mind letting you hold his hand as a stress ball or just have a quiet moment to relax while his brothers babysit your kid.

[ackerlikesmen]

"They're brothers!!!"

Whenever I'm in Ninjago fandom spaces and ships are mentioned, people say Cole and Kai can't be a thing because they're like siblings. So it would be weird. This is primarily an argument against lavashipping because of its popularity. Of course, other reasons mentioned are that Kai is straight and has a girlfriend, and Cole doesn't need to be with anyone; it would "ruin" their characters and make things awkward. I try not to use this word often, but it fits here. There is homophobia in the Ninjago fandom. It's not just "oh but they're like brothers!"-- They truly believe two boys shouldn't date. I've had a few debates, and almost every time lava is mentioned, they say "They're brothers! That's weird!", "They're two guys! That's weird! Keep that stuff out of kids' TV.", and "Kailor's canon! Cope and seethe." It reminds me of EVA fandom, and that's really sad to see.

Before I address this silly argument, I'll start with this one. How would Kai being bisexual and Lava becoming canon ruin their character or story? Hell, Cole and Kai are close even as friends, so it wouldn't make a vast difference if they dated. They'll still pick on each other, banter, argue, and be their regular selves. Just kissing, flirting, and cuddling will be added. Yes, Kai has mostly shown attraction to girls. Guess what? Kai being in the closet and figuring things out can be plausible. It can also add a little more depth to his character. Kai knows he likes girls, but somewhere down the line, he likes Cole. Internally, it's a lot to process, but he eventually accepts himself and his feelings toward Cole. Do they have to be a thing? No, but I would love it! Kai can still be with Skylar, and Cole is just his bi-awakening. Cole has a crush on Kai but moves on to Geo. ...Orrrrr if you're like me, lava can be a thing but slow burn??? Kailor breaks up but ends up as friends. Geode, though I like them too, can be friends or exes and--- okay okay you get my point.

Anyway, this CAN WORK. You just have to try.

Alright, to the main argument.

"They're brothers, so they can't date. They only see each other as brothers."

I'm sick of hearing this. Let's get in to it.

First, the ninjas are NOT brothers. Never have, never were, never will be. They have their own parents.

Kai and Nya have parents whom we later meet.

Cole has parents. His father is still alive, and we met him.

Jay has parents we met in season one.

Zane has a father whom we also meet.

Lloyd has parents, one of whom is a recurring antagonist.

Master Wu did not adopt them. He never took custody of them and never claimed them to be his kids. They're his STUDENTS.

Yes, Master Wu wants the ninjas to treat each other as brothers, and the ninjas do that. 'Brothers sharpen iron." He's not being literal, and neither are the other ninjas. He wants them to be close like a 'close family'. Families do almost everything together, including fighting. Take Kai and Nya, for example. Before being ninjas, they do everything together and stuck by each other's side. When one is down, the other steps in. When one needs help, the other provides. That's what Wu wants for the others. To have a solid, reliable relationship like a family.

This term isn't new. The military uses this language all the time. You've heard of "brother in arms." I believe even sports teams do this. It's similar to the ninja. They're brothers-in-arms.

My point is that the ninjas aren't brothers. It's a figure of speech expressing their closeness. They treat each other like family but still consider each other friends.

But what I find annoying is that they say this with ninja pairings, but are silent with Jaya.

Now, I LOVE JAYA. I have nothing against them. This is not to shit or criticize them at all. You will see.

Nya has been a part of the team since season one. Yes, Nya wasn't a ninja, but she was still part of the team and contributed A LOT. If it wasn't for her, the ninjas would be toast. Lmao. As much as they say she's not, Nya was part of the team. The ninjas, except Jay, saw her as a sister and a friend. Should Jay and Nya break up? Because that 'brother-code' extends to her too. Of course, they said no.

I agree. That's ridiculous, and the same goes for lava. Kai and Cole can still date if the story wants them to (I'm praying it'll happen). It's not 'incestuous' or weird. They're not siblings and never were.

YOU see them that way, that's fine. It's okay that some people see lava or any ninja pairing as family. It's okay if you don't see the romantic appeal.

But it's not a fact, and people spreading that opinion need to stop treating it as one. Stop calling lavashippers "incestuous" and weird for shipping Lava. Leave us alone and let us ship in peace.

Alright. That's it. I have a few more topics I want to touch on, but this is long enough. See you later!

[drdemonprince]

this will sound like one of those "let men be masculine" level niche internet community brained posts, but i honestly really was embarrassed of how much i like drag for a while. in the circles that i run in, liking drag too much is seen as pretty cringey and for wealthy cis gays. like everybody knows a few cool avante garde local performers that they fuck with who run queer dance parties that are inclusive and the like, but very few people that i know will just go to a drag show at an entertainment or social engagement for their own sake. it's almost seen as a tourist thing, a normie gay thing.

but its one of the few spaces where i can actually recognize a lot of feminine men and nonbinary man-thing-girly-freaks like of the particular type that i am. leather bars are so masc and buff and im often invisible. bear bars are really nice and i do feel welcome there! but people are only feminine in their mannerisms, not presentation very often. the more explicitly gender inclusive trans/queer spaces cater to more of a wlw and adjacent crowd whose relationships to masculinity and femininity are different from mine. circuit gay bars are obviously terrible.

drag is nice. there's guys with weird little haircuts and long earrings who aren't buff and are swishy and dress interestingly but are a little uncomfortable as their regular selves and have to don alternate personas in order to be outgoing. and i even like that it's okay to be bitchy and insulting sometimes in drag world, like sometimes that is just your genuine feedback on the work someone has done and it's not the end of the world. there's lot of open conflict in the drag world that actually works out pretty alright.

it's a local nightlife scene like all the rest, its got its theater kid bullshit and egos and superficiality out the ass and so many people are trying to be famous or make money, but even to this day i forget that i can just be a really weird feminine guy until i'm around some of them and watching them prance about. i worry about how i look or am being read and then even just watching a fucking drag race episode i'll see like 9 different guys who are so fucking androgynous with their weird assymetrical self cut haircuts that they pass less than i do and they're cis men. they have bodies or faces like i do. and in the local scene it's obviously even better because you're looking at real life people. maybe i should be over it by now but im not, i need to see weird little awkward feminine guys with funny outfits playing dress up and crying and fighting with one another because they never got over their last picked in gym class baggage. its meeee i relateee. i even like that its a little toxic! we've got some issues out here, let's joke with them and make a character of them instead of pretending to be nice!!

i tend to be pretty skeptical of "representation matters!" type shit but part of that is probably because i never really feel represented. i know, boo hoo, thin white man doesnt feel depicted on screen, sounds very silly. but then i see kade gottmik on drag race and i swell with emotion and suddenly feel like who i am is POSSIBLE in this world and i realize that even with all my privileges i am starved for representation and that it does benefit you to have it. theres trans guys on screen but thats not close enough to ping that ooh!!! ahh!!! i can love myself!! radar for me. it has to be a very particular kinda person. matt bernstein makes me feel similarly

[appleflavoredkitkats]

i kinda hate when people hate their younger selves for being in a "cringey" fandom (unless they have like. traumatic experiences in online spaces ofc) because. idk a lot of the opposition towards fandom comes from cishet dudebros who like to feel better that they aren't like "obsessive" and "weird" fans that they find in fandoms.

and well, news flash, a lot of those "weird" traits the mainstream labels as cringe has always been just. something neurodivergent. something queer. something non-white. and this especially applies to younger folks who are exploring these topics for the first time, either exploring cultural identities outside of their own experiences or exploring their own identity. of course there is cringe discourse in every fandom, but we tend to make discourse more of a spectacle than it really is, because, you know, video essayists and dudebros can't rlly make a clickable video showing fandom at its normal state

and well. another factor— a big one— is that fandom is composed of people having fun. fandom tends to be an escape, for older people and youngin's alike. these are usually marginalized people going thru the most depressive of bullshit coping via the communities they find online.

so yeah. i think we should just kill all "god i was so cringey in the ___ fandom back then" or "wow this person is so cringe for being in ___ fandom" takes. you were not "cringey". you were a kid having fun with your friends, exploring your sexuality through falling in love with diff blorbos from diff media. or maybe you were an adult finding ways to be happy in the midst of the pandemic. or maybe you were bullied all school life for being neurodivergent and you found an online group who understands you. no fandom is cringey. we are all having fun with the little people on your phone. you were lost and you found company. your younger self would cry to hear you hate on the thing that brought them out of a depressive slump.

[inamagicalhallucination]

its not rlly an au as much as an idea but here

at some point kunikida and dazai get hit by a time travelling ability - which is strange and weird since why did it effect dazai

they end up several years in the past, pondering their situation

they inititally debate talking to someone - their past selves, fukuzawa, mori, or hell trying to find natsume - but eventually they decide that they dont know what interacting with the past will change and its not a risk they can take - especially since they dont know enough about the ability and why it effected dazai

they decide that their first step is to plan and assess away from yokohama so they dont run into anyone thy know

the one thing they know and can agree on is that they cannot change the past

they're wandering around when they see the orphanage

they cannot change the past, they both know this

but the orphanage...

but the odd quietness of a building filled with kids

but the memories of atsushi's distant eyes

well...

anyway flash forward to them discussing how they can't change the past, holding an asleep mini atsushi

the thing is they have two choices now - send atsushi to someone - mini them, fukuzawa, etc

or keep him...

and well they're having a hard time figuring out how tf to go back anyway... and since theyre already here...

[cometcrystal]

having villains in DLV seems weird at first until you learn what the lore is behind the valley. in canon, the entire game is a make-believe world you created as a kid where you were able to escape to and be friends with disney characters that you like. i can't remember why, but you suddenly return to this place as an adult. it's like alice finding out wonderland wasn't just her imagination in the live action AIW if you feel me

so having the villains kinda makes sense, because they're not exactly their og canon selves. they're specific versions you imagined to be your friend and live in your little make believe town. they tolerate you and warm up to you and treat you special because its a lil self insert thing where you're EVERYONE'S friend

that being said. why the FUCK is mother gothel here?

who the fuck wants to be friends with mother gothel? she's arguably the most detestable disney villain of all time. and even in the game's lore, she doesn't get any cute humanizing moments with your character. she just belittles you and acts like a cunt. who asked for this

[galact1c-ambition]

I need to just ramble about how much Another Crab's Treasure means to me. I'm not entirely open about my mental health issues publicly, but sometimes it's nice to be vulnerable. Content warning for mentions of suicidal and dark thoughts and religious trauma.

For the past year I was in college, my mental health was at its absolute lowest. There were a lot of days I considered ending it as I driving home. I was failing the classes for my major. I had my heart set on being a biology major. I couldn't accept anything else, because all of my life, I've been so passively suicidal I haven't been able to see my own future. It's a mix of depression forming at a very young age, and religious trauma and anxiety of the rapture and God "taking me home when it's my time." I was just living every day with no consideration, and I couldn't let myself get out of something even if it hurt me, because I had no backup plan.

I've also always been a lonely kid. I got seen as the weird kid in school and I didn't really have many friends, despite how social and extroverted I was. Middle school I started closing myself off because of bullying. Nowadays I have a super close friend group and my two beloved girlfriends, but when I'm not with them, I really didn't like being around other people.

Despite everything, I've believed that there's so much love and beauty and hope in the world. I'm terrified of change, but I know it's natural. I really do believe even with all the chaos and hate and fear, love will absolutely triumph and make living worth it.

Then I started up Another Crab's Treasure and heard the phrase "What word comes to mind when you think of the earth?" A phrase that INSTANTLY stuck with me. I saw so much of myself in Kril instantly. His naivety, his immediate confusion of the unfair world he didn't know about, and his anxiety without the comfort of his shell. Then I realized the gunk is a metaphor for depression and nihilism, and I knew this game would hit me deep.

The Unfathom was my favorite part of the entire game. Seeing Kril go from anxious to actively suicidal was so jarring. Then Nemma spoke her words. "Living ain't always fun. Maybe not even half the time. But livin's what we do. It's all we can do. We pick our sad lil' selves up, we put on our war face, and we shucking survive. Cause our stories ain't ready to end just yet." This game was actively telling me not only to keep living, but told me to DO SOMETHING to make myself want to live.

Seeing Kril at the end loving life, never wanting to be alone again, and wanting no longer to be complacent in the suffering of himself and everyone else...it gave me courage. As stupid as it may sound, I dropped out of college. I never needed it for a job I'm happy with. Working professionally in science would kill my love for it anyways. I've been so happy this past month, and I have so much less pressure on me for needing to keep my grades up to make my family happy or get scholarships. I know life isn't going to be easy. I know there's always going to be hate and cruelty. But I'm not giving up, and I won't let others suffer when I can help them.

This isn't even mentioning my selfship with Firth. Midas is an outlet to project my religious trauma and passive suicidalness onto, and Firth is someone who can't entirely relate but can absolutely support and love him unconditionally. Loving that cryptobro crustacean made me love myself again.

What word comes to mind when you think of the earth? Anything you want.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Imaginary violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and doesn't like recon jobs. Expensive alcohol. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I'm back from vacation and I caught covid. I wrote this whole chapter while I was stuck in quarantine so I apologize if anything doesn't make sense. Thank you again for the endless love you have shown this series. It's really fun to write and I'm glad you guys enjoy reading it.

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @beholdagaywriter

Chapter Four: Between Fact And Fiction, Which One Of Us Changed?

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The bark was rough against your hands as your foot found purchase against a sturdy gnarl. You reached for the thick branch above and dug your fingers into the familiar wood. It took hardly a minute to pull yourself up onto the branch. Your movement was fluid. Practiced. You have climbed this tree more times than you can count. You settled onto the thick branch, and it held your weight with ease. The branch you sat on was nearly as high as the roof of your house. It afforded you the best view of your small neighborhood. 

You looked down and found Nat confidently scaling up the tree. The moment she was close enough, you leaned down and offered your hand. Her hand wrapped around yours and you helped pull her up onto the branch with you. Your legs swung lazily as she sat down next to you. The sun had already begun its descent towards the treeline, and you felt nothing but raw excitement for the approaching weekend. Your father was wrapped up in communications with his past self and had made it clear that he was not to be bothered. Which left a whole weekend free to do whatever you wanted. No hunting trips. No extracurricular activities. Just two whole days of sweet freedom. 

Nat swung her backpack around, pulled out something, and then leaned her bag against the trunk of the tree. She held out something in a long, thin shiny packaging towards you. Your eyes widened, and your smile grew at what was unmistakably a delicious fruit roll-up. You took it and immediately tore open the wrapper. You ripped off a bite with your teeth and chewed on the sweet snack happily. 

“Your parents are way cooler than my father,” you said before you ripped off another bite with your teeth. 

Nat smiled and shook her head as she opened up the wrapper. “My mom says this stuff will rot your teeth. Ashley had a bunch of these with her at school today. I traded a yoo-hoo for these.”

You didn’t know who Ashley was. Her face in your mind was a blend of every other face you passed in the hallways. 

“You said your Dad had company?” Nat asked as she ripped off a piece of her fruit roll-up. 

You followed her gaze to your driveway that was largely empty except for your father’s station wagon. “He does. It’s one of his past selves. He doesn’t know when. They keep changing their story.” As you took another bite, the front door of your house opened and your brother and sister walked out. Your brother was dressed in one of his nicer black suits while your sister wore a black slip dress over a brown and black striped T-shirt. As they made their way down the driveway, another car turned onto the street and pulled up in front of your house. You didn’t recognize any of the other teens in the car, but they all looked to be either around your brother’s age or older. 

You chewed on your snack as you watched your siblings climb into the car and drive off. You had no idea if your brother ever worked up the courage to ask Sadie to the dance. Ever since you met Nat, most of your free time has been spent hanging out with your friend. Not that your siblings seemed to mind. In fact, they both seemed to like Nat when they crossed paths with you two the other day. 

“My Dad wants to pull out our grill one last time for the season,” Nat said as she ripped off another piece of her fruit roll-up. “You should come by tomorrow. My parents want to meet you.” 

You looked over at Nat. You knew exactly what your father would say if you asked him if you could go. He wouldn’t just say no. He’d find a way to make sure that such an opportunity would never come your way again. He tolerated your newfound friendship with Nat because it made you look normal. It kept up appearances. But going any deeper than that could turn a stroke of luck into a potential problem. 

You knew all of this, yet you didn’t feel fear as you settled on your answer. Your father would find out. It was pointless to hide anything from him. But whatever punishment he would dish out felt shallow. Your thoughts were anchored on Nat, and how nice it felt to be around her. She offered no judgment whenever you mentioned your family. She could have left you once the other kids told her how weird you were. But she stayed by your side. 

So you said, “Okay.” And all you could think about was spending your free weekend with your friend.

Stockholm – 2010

As the car pulls to a stop, your father hands you a folded piece of pale, yellow scrap paper. 

“Call your brother,” he says as you unfold the piece of paper. Scratched in quick strokes of black ink is a phone number. “He wants to talk to you.” 

You fold the piece of scrap paper in half and look over at your father. He is dressed in a black tuxedo suit with matching polished black shoes. His black hair is combed back from his face and in the dim light of the car, it is nearly impossible to see the faint white streaks peppered throughout. The smell of his cologne hangs heavy between you two. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“He did not wish to discuss his reasoning with me,” your father replies. “He insisted on talking with you.”

You shrug and sit back in the cushioned leather seat. “Then I’ll call him later.”

“No,” your father’s reply is calculated and sharp. You imagine him standing above you and barking orders in that same tone of voice. Go. Fight. Run. Kill. “You will call him now. This is a very important night. We cannot afford another mistake like Amsterdam.”

You roll your eyes. “When will you stop with that? I did the job.” 

“I will stop when you stop distracting yourself with that spy,” your father snaps. 

You shift around in your seat so you can face your father fully. “First, you have no proof that she was ever a Russian spy.”

“I have mountains of evidence, Y/N,” your father is quick to argue. “You just won’t listen.”

“Second,” you continue as if your father didn’t say anything, “she is not a distraction. Every job you have given me since Amsterdam I have completed. Even the ones that draw her out.”

Your father shifts around in his seat to face you fully as well. He points his finger at you. “That is it. Right there. You have just admitted it. You are drawing her out.” 

“I am not.”

“She is a distraction,” your father presses. “What do you think will happen once she has you right where she wants you?”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. “It’s not like that. We are just talking.” 

“She is your enemy, Y/N.” 

You shift back into your seat and stare ahead at the tinted window partition that separates the front of the car from the back. You fold your arms in front of your chest as you bite back the same old retort. It has been a little over a month since Amsterdam, and just about three weeks since London. You’ve done three more jobs since, and she hasn’t shown up at a single one. The disappointment you’ve been carrying around is crushing. You thought she was starting to get close. You thought she had finally picked up your trail. But you were wrong, and you hated the growing silence between the two of you. 

You hear your father shift back into his seat next to you. You don’t know how else to explain to your father that your conversations with her are not distractions. You have argued your point so many times, but he doesn’t listen. But if the past three jobs were anything to go by, he won’t have to worry about her for much longer. If she lost your trail, then only luck would put her back in front of you. You can feel your frustration beginning to resurface. There was still so much left unsaid. You were hoping for at least one more conversation. 

“Call your brother so we can carry on with our night,” your father says. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. You step out onto a quiet sidewalk lit by the white glow of the streetlamp. The black Lexus you and your father have been riding in idles as you shut the door behind you. You make your way over to the payphone and dial the number written on the piece of scrap paper. As you wait for an answer, your hand dips into the pocket of your navy blue suit jacket. Your father had instructed you to dress up for tonight, so you had selected one of your favorite suits. Your suit jacket remains unbuttoned and reveals the white satin blouse beneath that scoops down towards your breasts. Your matching navy blue trousers run down the lengths of your legs and end at your black oxford shoes. 

“Hello?” your brother’s voice speaks through the receiver. 

You turn your back to the idling Lexus. “Hi.” You can hear your brother’s sigh.

“Y/N,” he says. “It’s good to hear from you. How have you been?” 

You shrug despite the fact that your brother cannot see it. You look down and kick a small pebble further down the sidewalk. “Fine. Work keeps me busy. You?” 

“Same,” your brother replies. “Long hours. Little sleep. Living off the vending machines whenever I’m not home.” 

“That sounds terrible,” you say. 

“It’s better than working for Dad,” your brother says.

You look over your shoulder towards the black Lexus for a moment. “Yeah…well…you do what you’re good at, and I do what I’m good at.” 

“Y/N–”

“Why did you want to talk?” you cut in. 

Your brother lets out another sigh. “I had a visitor last night.”

You look back down towards the sidewalk and spot another tiny pebble. You kick that one further down the sidewalk. 

“Your friend from Ohio.”

Your gaze snaps up and lands on the phone. Your grip on the receiver tightens as your heart starts to beat faster. 

“I’m pretty sure you know who I’m talking about since she mentioned running into you earlier,” your brother says. 

“She found you?” It’s the only question you can think of. Your mind is racing so fast. 

“I’m not that hard to find,” your brother replies. “It’s you she’s trying to find.”

Your free hand comes up and you press the palm of your hand against your forehead. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips. She’s trying to find you. And she’s closer now. It won’t be just luck that drops her back into your life. Just a matter of time. You can hardly wait.��

“She knows about your work,” your brother says. 

Your smile grows as you close your eyes. “What did she say?”

“That you’re really good,” he answers. 

You wonder how much she knows. Does she only know about your jobs in Amsterdam and London? “High praise from the dearly departed.” 

“Yeah, I…I’m sorry,” he replies. “I was just as confused about what happened. I just saw Dad twisting it into another one of his crazy theories and I…” 

Suddenly you’re back in Ohio standing in your front yard. The house across the street that once radiated an irresistible warmth stands cold and empty. Trapped in your small body, you feel numb. You don’t understand. 

“...I didn’t want him to hurt you more,” your brother’s words lead you back to the payphone. You open your eyes. “So I told you what I thought would give you the most closure.”

You run your fingers down the length of the phone cord. There’s something you want to say to your brother that has nothing to do with friends coming back from an assumed death. But you don’t know how to say it. So you stand there in silence.  

“We need to meet. All three of us.”

You blink and your brow furrows. “Why?”

“Because whatever Dad has you doing is more than just contract work,” he replies. “Your friend seems to think that your past jobs are all connected to something bigger. And knowing Dad, she wouldn’t be wrong.” 

You glance back at the black Lexus. “What else did she say?” 

“That she’s going to find you.” 

You wonder what she was wearing when she spoke with your brother. 

“Y/N, this is serious.”

You shake your head. “Fine. I’ll call you when I’m back at my place.” You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You tuck your brother’s phone number into your pocket and return to the car. The moment you settle back into your seat and shut the door, the car starts moving. 

The drive to your destination is not long. In less than an hour the car rolls up the driveway of a large luxurious mansion. The night air is cool when you step out of the car. The mansion’s large glass windows shine from the lights within. The quiet of the surrounding trees and gardens scattered throughout the estate reminds you of the peaceful quiet of your little cabin tucked far away. 

Your father’s orders are simple and straightforward. You are attending a party hosted by your father’s very important clients. Dine. Drink. Have fun. Don’t do anything else unless he tells you. You don’t argue. While you don’t care about these clients, you don’t mind entertaining yourself on their dime. 

The mansion is warm and bright when you enter. The sound of jazz music mixes with the lively hum of voices as you take in the sight of so many people all dressed in their finest suits and gowns. You don’t recognize any of them. Perhaps you should. These are all important people. People with some sliver of power. Certainly these people are probably CEOs or politicians or other important leaders. You wonder, as you casually walk further into the mansion, whether or not you’ve killed for these people before. 

The thought amuses you so much that you decide to make up stories for each stranger you pass. You had long left your father to mingle with his clients as you passed by two happy couples laughing at some joke. Your own lips lift into a smile despite not knowing what exactly they were laughing about. You just imagine shoving their old lovers, flames of passion long since burned out, off the roof of a mansion. Both couples looked like they owned mansions like this one. You imagine standing on the roof’s edge and looking down. You struggle to decide how strangely their bodies would break upon landing. It’s a hole in your imagination, but you are certain about the ring of blood that would surround the bodies. 

You swipe a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. You take a sip as you enter a much larger room. Off in the corner, a live jazz band is playing while more rich strangers mingle amongst each other. You spot a group of six gentlemen standing underneath a large abstract painting. As they talk, you imagine crushing the head of their rival beneath the sole of your boot. The rival’s scream would be terribly short lived and replaced with the crunch of breaking bone. You finish off your champagne and exchange your empty glass for another when another waiter passes. You also snatch up a fancy looking appetizer that tastes of a lovely blend of cheeses. 

You sip on your second glass of champagne as you wander around the crowded room. Your fantasies about these strangers fuels you. Barely an hour passes and you have imagined killing so many people. You can’t decide which fantasy is your favorite. You are torn between running over a sheriff with a tank or smothering an ex-lover in their bed. Both fantasies have an alluring thrill to them. You are starting to lean more towards the tank when one of the waiters stops next to you with a silver tray full of more drinks.   

“Would you like a new drink?” 

You abandon your fantasies the moment her voice reaches your ear. You look to your right. Standing next to you is Nat. She is dressed like all the other waiters roaming the busy rooms. Her white collared, button up shirt is nicely pressed and barren of a single blemish. The black vest she wears over her shirt is also without a single wrinkle. Black trousers cover the legs you remember straddling you back in Amsterdam. Her red hair is pulled back into another intricate braid that you are starting to adore. 

You look down at the empty champagne glass in your hand. The light chattering of all the other guests does not falter. The band continues to play. You feel the same rush from London warming every inch of you. Your earlier worries suddenly seem so humorous. You thought you had run too far ahead. You thought you knew what to do after hanging up the phone with your brother. Slow down. Give her time to catch up. 

But she has already caught up to you. 

And you can hardly contain your happiness. 

Your smile returns when your gaze lifts to meet her stare. “I’d love one.” You set your empty champagne glass onto the silver tray she is holding, and grab a fresh one. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asks. 

You take a sip of your third glass of champagne. “I am now that I have better company.” You gesture to the full glasses on the tray. “You should have some. It’s not very good, but it tastes expensive.” 

She turns slightly. “I’m working.” 

That’s hardly a surprise. If it’s not you working then it’s her. If she’s not working then you never see her. “When do you get off?” 

She doesn’t answer you, and you think you see a hint of a smile on her face, but another guest snatches away her attention before you can know for sure. You watch as she leaves and approaches the guest who called her over. The guest grabs two glasses of champagne before she walks off. You don’t follow. You stand there, sipping on your champagne, and watch. Every thought in your head is screaming for you to go after her. You still have so many questions. You still crave that blissful high you feel when it is just the two of you. You watch as she makes her way through the mingling guests. You finish your champagne the moment you see her disappear into another room. She shuts the door behind her and you can feel your palms start to sweat again. You know what this is. The invitation is blatantly clear. 

Your gaze sweeps around the gathered guests. You don’t see your father anywhere. Probably off talking to even more important clients. Perfect. You dump your glass onto the tray of another passing waiter as you cut through the crowd. Nobody else goes near the door as you get close. You turn and take one more look around at the busy party. Still no sign of your father. Just more strangers. You turn the doorknob, push open the door, and step into the room. 

This room is much smaller and not as brightly lit as the others. It looks to be some kind of entertaining room that only old wealth would have. In the middle of the room is a large wooden round table with eight dark brown leather armchairs surrounding it. Sitting on top of the table was the silver tray still full of drinks. Off on the right hand side of the room is an empty fireplace. To the left is a small bar where you find Nat. 

The door clicks shut behind you and muffles the noise of the party. You make your way to the table and settle into the armchair closest to the silver tray. “Are there any more of those fancy pigs in a blanket back there?” You grab a new glass off the tray and look over towards Nat. 

She turns around to face you. In her hands is a bottle of whiskey and two tumbler glasses. “No, but I think I found something better.” 

You smile as Nat sets the bottle and glasses down on the table. As she sits down in the armchair next to you, you reach forward and grab the bottle of whiskey. You examine the fancy label. “These people are always the same. They feed everyone the bad stuff and keep the good stuff for themselves.” You lift your champagne glass to your lips, tilt your head back, and finish the champagne in one greedy drink. You set the empty glass aside and reach for the two tumbler glasses. “I thought you were working.” 

“I am,” she replies. “I’m on break.” 

You open the bottle of whiskey. “Fun job?” 

She shrugs. “Recon.” 

You pour the whiskey into the two tumbler glasses. “I was never much of a fan of those jobs. Made the days feel long. I prefer keeping busy.” You set the whiskey bottle down before pushing one of the glasses towards Nat. She is watching you, and you love it. “But at least you have entertainment and good company. I spent my last recon job in a bunker.” Your smile drops a little at the memory. 

Her head tilts a little to the side. “The Idaho job?” 

You are about to pick up your glass, but stop. Your gaze had dropped to the fancy amber liquid. You try to remember when you had taken that job. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it couldn’t have been that long after your eighteenth birthday. That’s when you found your ‘groove’. When you had finally beat out the last bit of you that flinched every time you pulled the trigger. Your smile returns when you meet her olive green eyes again. How far back did she dig? Your fingers curl around the glass. “Two weeks spent in a place that smelled like piss and sweat. It’s hard to maintain your cover when you want to gag every time one of them goes near you.” 

“But you did,” she says as you lift the glass to your lips and take a drink of the whiskey. The smooth nutty taste washes over your tongue. “I doubt Hickman would have kept his back to you if he didn’t trust you.” 

The whiskey burns pleasantly as it goes down your throat. “Someone has done their research.” The memories of the Idaho job are still fuzzy, but you remember the weight of the shotgun in your hands. You remember the satisfaction you felt seeing Hickman’s body jerk forward from the deafening blast. The smell of gunpowder. The pieces of his head sticking to his desk. You lean forward and rest your arms on the table as you take another sip of your whiskey. “What do you think?” 

She doesn’t answer right away. Your heart is beating against your chest as you wait. You don’t exactly know what you want to hear from her. You just hope that it isn’t disgust. You have tasted bitter disappointment so often these past few weeks. You can’t take much more of it. 

“I think you’re really good,” she says. 

As your heart soars, you see a kind of sadness in her eyes that you don’t understand. 

“You have a very specific skill set.” 

Your smile grows as you lean back into the armchair. You hold your glass of whiskey in your hand. Her gaze never wanders from yours, and you don’t see any telltale signs of fear. It’s so common among all the people you meet when they realize what you are. But she’s not afraid. She doesn’t even look angry. It fills you with so much hope. It’s almost perfect. You just don’t understand why she looks sad. 

“Thanks for the compliment, Nat,” you say before you finish your whiskey. “I’m so glad you’re not dead. I missed having someone normal to talk to.” You see a flash of a smile cross her face. “We still need to catch up when we’re not doing all of…” you raised your arm and gestured with your hand towards the door. “...this. When are you free next?” 

“If you come with me, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up tonight,” she replies. 

“Tempting,” you say. “But I have a prior commitment I can’t miss. A family thing.” You stand up and set your empty glass down on the table. “But I’ll reach out after.” You turn and start towards the door. When you reach the door, you reach for the doorknob but stop. You turn and find Nat still sitting at the table. “Next time let’s do coffee.”

Her smile returns. It’s small, but it fills you with so much warmth. “That would be nice.”

Your hand falls upon the doorknob and when the door cracks open, the noise of the party spills into the room. You step out and back into the mingling crowd of guests. You allow your feet to carry you across the room as your mind begins laying the foundation of your next meeting with Nat. You end up so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice your father until he is walking up to you with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. 

His hand settles heavily on your shoulder. “We’re almost there, Y/N.”