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javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months ago

Text

His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!”

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over.

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree.

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place?

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?”

“Both.”

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again.

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.”

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him.

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give.

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-”

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him.

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can.

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face.

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him.

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!”

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself.

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat.

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last.

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money.

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight.

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white.

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?”

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ”

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright.

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second.

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are.

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?”

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter.

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.”

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his.

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.”

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line.

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!”

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give.

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give.

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing.

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock.

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress.

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you.

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body.

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer.

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back.

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.”

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths.

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.”

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke.

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.”

“Love you more, idiot.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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iydiamartinx · 2 months ago

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GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN II

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @omi-resources word count: 2.6k synopsis: Crowned prom queen, she waits for Jason Todd—never knowing he died that night, betrayed by the mother he hoped would love him. a/n: Still angsty but happy-ish ending!

Jason didn’t come here often.

He told himself there was no point. No use in standing over old stones and pretending it meant something. The dead didn’t care for flowers. And he was never very good at pretending.

But sometimes—on quiet, grey evenings when Gotham’s skyline blurred into a jagged scar against the clouds—he found himself here anyway. Standing still. Hands buried in his pockets. Breathing in the damp, earthy petrichor scent of graveyard.

The wind always smelled like rain here, even when the sky held back. Like the world was trying to weep for him, but couldn’t quite bring itself to shed the tears.

It was peaceful, in its own bleak way.

Silent in the way only graveyards could be.

And yet, no matter how long he stood there, staring down at polished stone and his own name carved deep into the granite, he never felt like he belonged on either side of that grave.

Jason Peter Todd.

Beloved son.

Gone too soon.

He scoffed under his breath. The sound was rough. Bitter.

Bullshit.

He was neither beloved nor gone.

What stood here now was just what was left behind of the boy he’d once been. Not alive. Not dead. Just… stuck. Practically, a ghost with blood in his veins.

And yet, here he stood again—staring at the marble that tried to summarize a life in three hollow lines. A stone that meant to mark an end, but never came close to telling the story.

But today… today was different.

There was a bouquet already there.

Fresh. Still wet with morning dew. Peonies, lavender, and black calla lilies—the exact mix he used to see you draw in the margins of your notebooks.

Jason’s breath caught as he knelt down beside them, knees pressing into the wet earth. He reached for the bouquet with a kind of reverence, fingers brushing over the stems before finding the folded note tucked between them.

Still miss you, you pain in the ass.

– Always, Y/N.

And just like that, the air left his lungs.

He didn’t need to see the signature. He knew that handwriting better than his own. The looping curve of your Y. The confident, slanted cross of your T. He’d watched you scrawl it on the back of his hand a hundred times during lectures—hearts when you were happy, flowers when you were feeling soft, and sarcastic jabs when he annoyed you.

You still came.

After everything.

After all this time.

After how he heard how he hurt you.

It hit him harder than the crowbar ever had.

From his place by the grave, half-hidden by shadows and trees, he saw you.

You were walking toward the exit now—coat cinched tight against the late-autumn wind, hair pulled back, shoulders squared the way they always were when you were trying not to feel too much. Your heels clicked lightly on the path, a steady rhythm against the hush of damp leaves and distant city hum.

You looked older. More refined. Sharper around the edges. Like time had carved you into something tougher.

But you were still you.

He could see it in the way you paused before leaving, glancing back at the headstone like it still had the power to hurt you. Like you hadn’t made peace with it—even after all these years.

And in that moment, something inside him began to shift.

You were no longer the girl with the silver crown and crushed corsage.

That girl had died the same night Jason Todd did.

Now you were the woman people called terrifying behind closed doors. The one whose heels echoed through Wayne Tower like a woman on a mission. Bruce Wayne’s right hand, the assistant no one dared to cross. Sharp-eyed. Ice-voiced. Efficient didn’t even begin to cover you. Ruthless might have been closer.

No one handed you crowns anymore. They handed you problems—and you solved them.

“Three board members in the conference room. Two more on video. Coffee’s on the table—black, extra shot, because I know how this morning will start.” You placed the folder in front of Bruce with a flick of your wrist, barely pausing. “Your notes are inside. Don’t ad-lib. Shaw’s already looking for excuses to delay the merger.”

Bruce gave you a long look over the top of his glasses. He didn’t say thank you. He never did. But then, he didn’t need to. You were his best weapon behind the scenes, and you both knew it. There was a reason why the employee called you the Ice Queen, and were more scared of you than they were of Bruce Wayne himself.

You left the room before the door even fully shut behind you.

Later that afternoon, you were back at your desk—one heel slipped loose beneath you, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear—you barely looked up from your screen.

“I’m not moving the board meeting again because Shaw’s having a midlife crisis,” you snapped, scrolling through the projected quarterly. “He’s had three decades to prepare for his hairline receding, and that is not a justifiable excuse to stall the merger—”

A sharp knock on your desk broke your concentration.

Your eye twitched.

You let out a long, irritated sigh. “The final answer is no. Now I need to go.”

You hung up without waiting for a response and finally turned your attention to the source of the interruption, expecting yet another intern who couldn’t read a calendar.

But it wasn’t an intern.

He leaned just slightly on the edge of your desk—not enough to be disrespectful, but enough to suggest he didn’t mind waiting. He wore a leather jacket that had clearly seen better days, paired with worn boots and dark hair tousled by wind and time. A streak of white cut through the strands near his temple—unmistakable, and in need of a trim.

He didn’t look like he belonged in Wayne Tower.

And he sure as hell didn’t look like he was here for a scheduled meeting.

Your eyes narrowed, every instinct flaring to attention. Something about him caught at the edge of your memory—frayed the edge of something you’d tucked away years ago.

He tilted his head, gaze moving over you in a slow, thoughtful sweep. Not lecherous. Not even flirtatious. Just… observant.

Still, your expression didn’t budge. You raised a brow, tone clipped and dry.

“Can I help you?”

He blinked, like shaking off a thought. “Maybe. Not sure yet.”

Your jaw tightened. Cryptic wasn’t a language you spoke anymore. Truth be told, you didn’t have the patience for much these days. Somewhere along the way, you’d adopted Jason’s no-bullshit approach to life—only without the charm and biting humor that had once softened his edges.

“Is there a reason you’re at this desk, or are you just in the mood to get escorted out?”

That almost made him smile. Almost.

“I was just looking around,” he said simply. “Place has changed a lot.”

You didn’t answer, still sizing him up.

He glanced around the room, then back to you. “Didn’t expect the assistant to be running the tower.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, arms crossing. “You’re not the first person to make that mistake. Most of them don’t last long.”

That earned you a small nod. Respectful. Not mocking.

Then his eyes met yours again.

And this time, he looked. Not at the expensive cut of your suit, not at the stack of color-coded schedules or the headset you’d tossed onto the keyboard. And for a second, something in his expression flickered. A flash of something soft. Grieving. Nostalgic.

But it passed.

“You got a name?” you asked, tone even but no longer impersonal.

He hesitated. Just long enough to make you notice.

“Jay,” he finally said.

You nodded once, pushing down the strange knot in your chest. You tried to ignore how that reminded you of another who’s long dead.

“Well, Jay,” you said, gesturing with your pen, “unless you’ve got a meeting or an appointment, you’re done looking around.”

“I figured.” He straightened a little, not pushing back. “Just curious. That’s all.”

He turned, stepping away with a nod.

You watched him go. And long after he was gone, that strange, electric prickle stayed curled at the base of your spine.

You didn’t know it yet.

But the boy you buried four years ago had just walked back into your life.

He left without pushing.

No clever remark. No lingering glance. Just a quiet nod and the soft, fading sound of worn boots tapping over marble tile.

But hours later—long after the last intern had clocked out, after the boardroom lights had dimmed, and the final elevator chimed shut—you were still thinking about him.

Jay.

You didn’t know what unsettled you more—his calm, unassuming presence, or the way his face lingered in your mind like a half-finished memory. Familiar, but off. Like an old photograph left too long in the sun, its edges faded, the details too blurred to fully get a good look.

You tried to forget it.

You had bigger problems to handle than cryptic strangers in weathered leather. Tower politics. Corporate vultures. Logistics. Mergers. Deadlines.

But three days later, he was there again.

In the east corridor outside Bruce’s office, half-shadowed beneath the soft white light of the hanging fixtures. Talking in low tones with Alfred—Alfred, of all people.

You’d only caught the tail end of it as you turned the corner. Alfred’s voice, warm and measured. And Jay’s… quieter than before. Almost cautious.

Your steps slowed. Not by much. Just enough to get another look at him.

Alfred glanced your way first, ever perceptive. He gave you that small, knowing nod he always did—acknowledging everything without needing to say a word.

And Jay only turned away, as if he hadn’t meant to be seen.

But before he gave you his back, your eyes met for the briefest second.

And something in his expression faltered. Hesitation. Maybe even regret.

Then he turned and slipped away.

No words exchanged. No excuses made. No cryptic remarks. But everything about this situation felt off to you, like you were missing an important detail.

You didn’t call after him.

Didn’t confront Alfred.

But the thread tugged.

Subtle. Persistent.

The kind of thread, you didn’t let go of until you unravelled it.

You didn’t mean to go looking.

You told yourself it was just cleaning. Just a lazy Sunday and a little long-overdue organization.

But your fingers hesitated when they brushed the edge of an old box at the back of your closet. One you hadn’t opened in years. Not since you moved into this apartment. Not since before you learned how to build your armor from pressed suits and five a.m. coffee.

The lid creaked.

Inside were fragments of a girl you no longer let yourself remember—

Notes passed under desks.

A half-finished journal.

A dried corsage, fragile and browned at the edges, still curled around a faded ribbon.

And tucked beneath it all… was the photo.

Worn. Creased. The corners soft with time.

Jason Todd. Sixteen. Captured in front of the Gotham Academy library, hoodie unzipped halfway, hair wild from the wind. One hand in his pocket. The other flipping off the camera with that shit-eating grin that had made you laugh even as you rolled your eyes.

Your stomach twisted.

You sat down, slowly, the box on your lap, the apartment suddenly too quiet.

Your eyes stayed on the photo. Then drifted to the memory behind it—the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hand brushing yours as he walked you to class, the way he’d rest his head back and smirk when he caught you staring.

And then…

That face.

That same smirk.

The man in the lobby.

The one with the jacket.

The one who called himself Jay.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

He was dead.

But your chest was tightening, your pulse loud in your ears.

Because it was.

It was him.

Older and harder but still him.

The boy they buried four years ago.

He wasn’t a memory anymore.

Jason.

Your Jason.

You didn’t knock.

You stormed into the East Wing guest suite at Wayne Manor where you figured out he was staying, bypassing Alfred and Bruce and the rest of the kids with a glare that could level buildings. No one stopped you.

Jason opened the door expecting someone else—Tim, maybe. Or Dick. One of the people he was still learning how to be around again. He hadn’t prepared for you.

You slapped him.

Hard.

The sound cracked through the hallway like a gunshot.

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed, eyes already glassed with unshed tears. “You let me think you were dead. For four goddamn years.”

Jason didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t flinch.

“I was dead.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare use that like an excuse when you’re clearly here.”

You shoved him hard, hands balled into fists against his chest. He didn’t move to stop you.

“I buried you,” you choked out, the words scraping past the lump in your throat. “I visited your grave. I cried over you, Jason. I—” your voice cracked, “I loved you. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What it took to keep going after that?”

His expression didn’t shift, but his voice came quieter, rawer.

“I didn’t know how to come back into your life.”

You laughed—sharp and broken. “But you came back for him, didn’t you?” you snapped. “For Bruce. For the rest of the family. You came back for all of them—just not for me.”

His eyes flinched at that.

“I watched you,” he admitted. “At the grave. The first time I saw you again, you looked… different. Stronger. Harder. Like you didn’t need me anymore.” He swallowed, gaze dropping briefly before finding yours again. “And I—I’m not the same. I’m not who I was. I’m broken, and you… you don’t need someone like me in your life.”

You shoved him again. Fiercer this time. “That’s not your call to make,” you hissed. “You think I cared? I didn’t care then, and I sure as hell don’t care now.”

“I know,” he said, softer. “You were always too good for me.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, silent and relentless. Years of grief and fury pouring out in streaks you couldn’t stop.

Jason stepped toward you, slow and careful, like a man afraid that one wrong move might send you running.

“I wanted to come back,” he whispered. “A thousand times. But I was angry. And lost. I thought I lost you the second that bomb went off. I didn’t know who I was when I woke up. I didn’t know what was left of my old life—if there was anything left to come back to.”

You shook your head, tears streaking silently down your cheeks. “You were mine. That’s who you were. Just like I was yours.”

The silence that followed stretched between you, thick with everything unsaid. Years of grief. Of longing. Of questions that never got to be asked—let alone answered.

Then—tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he still had the right—Jason reached for your hand.

You let him.

And when he pulled you into his arms, you didn’t resist.

You just sank into him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “For the crown. For the dance. For everything I never got to give you.”

“I don’t care about that stupid dance,” you whispered. “I just wanted you.”

His arms tightened around you like he was afraid you might slip away. Like he needed the contact to believe this was real.

And for the first time in four long, fractured years, you let yourself breathe.

Not like someone surviving. Not like someone holding their grief together by sheer force of will.

But like someone who had finally, finally reunited with the other half of their soul.

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Tag list: @swagangelllamawolf, @lou-diaries, @salvatt1

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd one shot #jason todd fic #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #jason todd angst #jason todd killed

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a-very-tired-jew · 4 months ago

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The Columbia University Taskforce on Antisemitism 2nd Report is out. And it's a doozy. https://president.columbia.edu/sites/default/files/content/Announcements/Report-2-Task-Force-on-Antisemitism.pdf

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it let me pretty much summarize and paraphrase the Taskforce's position: "Holy shit the antisemitism on campus is so much worse than we thought, and it's repeatedly done by people saying they're 'just anti-Zionists'".

Let's start with the Taskforce's working definition of antisemitism.

Fig. 1. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism definition of antisemitism

This is a pretty good definition as it includes such things as Holocaust Denial, perceived ties to Israel, double standards, and all the usual things. It pretty much encompasses everything we have witnessed and experienced since Oct 7th. However, the Taskforce then follows it up with this bit.

Fig. 2. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism says their definition should not be used outside of training and education.

By saying that their working definition of antisemitism should not be used outside of training and education purposes the Taskforce is pretty much admitting upfront that the antisemitism they are reporting on falls well within their definition and breaks Columbia University code of conduct to the point where the perpetrators would and should receive various punishments ranging from suspensions to expulsions to revocations.

This is an example of the double standards that Jews experience. If this was a taskforce working to find evidence and address any other form of bigotry and racism then there would be recommendations made using the working definition. The irony is that they talk about double standards right in their definition. Now, of course the whole argument comes down to First Amendment Rights. But speech that induces and instigates violence against individuals and/or ethnic/racial groups is not protected. Considering that the Taskforce found calls to violence against Jews then this is not covered. Furthermore, while supporting terrorism is covered by the First Amendment, material support includes distributing terrorist approved and produced materials, of which many students and groups like CUAD are on record doing (even on their own social media) is not.

The report then does what we always, always, always see when it comes to anything with antisemitism. It recommends training on antisemitism AND islamophobia. Now, I am for this personally. A lot of others might be like "Why link the two?! It's always like this!" but I think training on both serves a purpose.

Explicit training and education on what is antisemitism and what is islamophobia. Such things as criticism of the Israeli government's actions, Hamas's actions and rhetoric, the Nakba and the Farhud, the Arab League, and so on being the things that come to mind as examples of not antisemitism or islamophobia. Then getting into the things like stereotypes and conspiracies and how criticism can easily fall into these, how people often seed in "innocuous" conspiracies that are actually the gateway to more serious hateful ones and how to recognize that ploy.

By having courses and training on what is and what isn't either of the two you start to address that leftover guilt since the 9/11 era that has prevented any and all criticism of Islam, Islamic groups, and Islamic regimes for fear of being labeled "Islamophobic". We have seen since Oct 7th the projection of "Jews are weaponizing antisemitism to prevent criticism of Israel" from groups that defend the use of Hadiths that call for the death of Jews under the guise of "you're being Islamophobic" as a means to prevent criticism.

Now, will such education and training actually address these issues? Of course not. They'll likely be opposed and never implemented.

Let's move on, shall we? The report then gets into it's introduction and tells us that they heard from nearly 500 students ranging from undergrads to post-docs about their antisemitic experiences. These testimonies come from Zionists, anti-Zionists, non-Zionists, and those the Taskforce couldn't exactly label. Furthermore, those that did not attend the listening sessions did what we've seen all antisemite do since 10/7; they denied the experience of these students and the Taskforce acknowledges this.

That's huge.

Acknowledging that the greater Columbia University community is denying the antisemitic experiences of these students whom are across the political spectrum and academic experience is signaling to the antisemites that the victims will not be drowned out by the mob with pitchforks.

They then follow it up with this.

Fig. 3. Acknowledgement that the antisemitism students are experiencing does lead to physical violence and has historical precedent.

The Taskforce is admitting and acknowledging that Columbia University has failed in fulfilling part of its mandate in protecting students and addressing acts of bigotry, hate, and violence towards students and students of a particular group. By also acknowledging that antisemitic rhetoric has a historical precedent of leading to physical violence they are also admitting that they know how bad it is and it needs to be addressed.

They then recommend that the university change its policies because of the utter failure to address these incidents. Further elaborating that some of the incidents actually violate state and federal law and that the university is culpable in such cases and the university itself is, once again, adhering to double standards for its Jewish and Israeli students.

The report then goes into the incidents students experienced starting with section 1B. Student Experiences in Day-to-Day Encounters. I will not go over that here in detail, but it contains multiple testimonies and excerpts from testimonies about the antisemitism the Jewish students experienced since 10/7. What is important to note is that the Taskforce acknowledges the "slippage" of anti-Zionism into antisemitism in the majority of these incidents, that the perpetrators don't think they're doing so, but to everyone else it is very clearly happening.

Fig. 4. Taskforce stating that anti-Zionist activities have fallen into classic antisemitic tropes and canards on Columbia's campus(es).

Furthermore, the Taskforce acknowledges that Jewish and Israeli students purposefully had their words misinterpreted to villainize them. Any attempt at facilitating discussion or understanding was dismissed with heavy prejudice.

The Taskforce also talks about how social media has played a role in the harassment of Jewish and Israeli students.

Fig. 5. Student testimony and screenshotting of antisemitism online from Columbia students and orgs.

Moving on to section C. Student Experiences in Clubs, we find one of the most heinous incidents.

Fig. 6. Founder of an LGBTQIA+ group defends their antisemitism then acknowledges it and brags that they got away with it.

This incident highlights one of the issues we have seen since 10/7 where people place Jews as "white oppressors" to validate their antisemitism. They engage in open antisemitic conspiracy and defend it through the use of progressive language that makes it difficult, if not impossible, to address their bigotry. Why? Because a person like this will fall back to being a minority themselves to say that they can't be a bigot. This type of defense is hypocritical and is solely used to silence any attempt to address their hate, to which this student fully acknowledges as she bragged that she got away with it.

This is why Columbia University apologizing to Khymani James after expelling them for their comments about "Zionists don't deserve to live" and that we were "lucky" they weren't out there killing them right now is so abhorrent. Across the internet we saw accusations of white supremacy and silencing BIPOC and queer voices because of Khymani's sexual identity and ethnicity. Is this not the kind of weaponization that antisemites accuse Jews of? This is projection and the testimony above and the Khymani incident highlight this type of behavior. You don't get to be a hateful bigot simply because you're a minority, but the double standard for Jews is a consistent issue.

As the report continues we then find out that the CUAD is not just one group, but actually a coalition that has multiple student clubs and organizations underneath it. CUAD demands that its member clubs and orgs adhere to its mission and rhetoric. According to the report, any student in a club or org that didn't express outright (((anti-Israel))) sentiment was silenced and eventually ousted and/or removed. In almost all incidents, any group signing on or joining the CUAD coalition did not abide by their own rules and excluded any and all Jewish and Israeli students from the process. If they spoke up they were told their opinions did not matter and were removed.

This coalition is further expanded upon in section E (I'm skipping D as it is about curriculum issues and is much shorter). Testimony points out that CUAD is a coalition made of over a hundred student organizations and that they are also bringing in outsiders to the campus. So the claims of "outside agitators" are moot because it was CUAD who brought them there in the first place. The intent was also never to be a peaceful protest or encampment as multiple testimonies talk about the violent language and actions within the encampments and across the campus(es). Specifically the language being used during "vigils" was not about peace or in memorium, but celebrating death and highlighting violence. The issues that the Taskforce learned are, I think, best encapsulated by this paragraph from page 36 in section G.

Fig. 7. Paragraph highlighting how Columbia is now seen as an antisemitic university.

I can attest to Columbia now being seen as the antisemitic university. Its reputation is entirely tarnished by the administrations refusal to act on the very real and violent antisemitism that has been present on its campus since the days after 10/7. I know professors who have turned down jobs, grad students that have withdrawn applications, and donors that have stopped giving.

This report by Columbia University's own personnel provides evidence that contradicts the narrative we have been told by members of the CUAD encampment(s) as well as people across social media; that the antisemitism is fake and made up to prevent criticism of Israel. The Taskforce admits that they were astonished by how bad it actually was and that the university refused to do anything. This should be telling to anyone who has witnessed these claims by people trying to dismiss concerns regarding antisemitism in the pro-Palestine movement. We've seen this across social media and this site where antisemites accuse Jews of being Nazis while they themselves spew antisemitic rhetoric straight out of the Protocols and the Third Reich.

Antisemites will always try and paint Jews as the actual perpetrators of hate, violence, and villainy while they themselves commit those very same acts (that is not to say that no Jew has every committed a crime or any such act themselves, but the projection that we have seen by antisemites is massive). This Taskforce report has multiple testimonies of Jewish students just trying to exist and go about their lives to only be harassed and assaulted for the crime of living while Jewish.

I am going to end this post here as the next section after the testimonies and incidents of antisemitism goes into recommendations for the university and actions to be taken. That is a separate post that will be couched in this one later on.

#jumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #intersectional antisemitism #academic antisemitism #Columbia University #CUAD #CUAD antisemitism #Columbia University Antisemitism Taskforce

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cuzxai · 1 month ago

Text

practice makes perfect - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: spencers having a hard time with a presentation hes supposed to give so you help him practice

Spencer’s pacing again. He’s been circling the coffee table for the past ten minutes, notecards fluttering in his hands like he’s afraid they might attack him. You watch from the bed, legs crossed, chin resting in your palm, your expression somewhere between amused and plotting.

“It’s not like I’m not prepared,” he says, for the third time. “It’s just—how do you summarize the Bureau’s mission statement, our collective efforts, the interdisciplinary dynamics of field and support units and touch on interdepartmental cohesion�� all in six minutes?”

You blink. “Babe. That sentence alone was six minutes.”

He shoots you a look—half exhausted, half grateful you’re here. Always like that with Spencer. Like he’s constantly surprised someone can handle the speed of his mind and the softness of his heart at the same time.

You lean back into the pillows. “Come here.”

“I can’t, I’m—”

You raise an eyebrow. Spencer stops mid-panic and swallows. He knows that look.

“Bed,” you say simply. “Notecards. Bring them— even though you don’t need them. You have an eidetic memory remember?”

He hesitates. Only for a second. Then he’s obeying, knees hitting the mattress a little too fast, hands still trembling with nerves as he shuffles closer to you. You pull him gently between your legs, settle him against your chest, and reach around to take the notecards from his hand. Your other hand? Already sliding up under the hem of his T-shirt. He stiffens. “Wha—what are you doing?”

“Helping,” you say, voice low. “You’re overthinking. We’re gonna make this speech muscle memory.”

He tries to sit up but your hand pushes him gently back against you. The fingers under his shirt are already drawing lazy circles across his abdomen.

“You’re gonna recite it,” you murmur. “And every time you mess up, I’m gonna go a little faster.”

Spencer blinks. “Faster…?”

Your hand slides lower. His breath hitches. “Jerk you off, baby,” you whisper into his ear. “But you don’t come until you finish the whole thing. Clean. No mistakes.”

He makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a panic attack. You press a kiss to his temple.

“Start from the beginning.”

You feel the tension ripple through his body before he even opens his mouth. Spencer’s already flushed, his long fingers twitching nervously in his lap, chest rising and falling too fast. But he obeys. He always does when you use that voice. “The Behavioral Analysis Unit…” he begins, voice a little shaky, “…is a specialized sector of the FBI tasked with…” Your hand slides into his waistband. “…with, um… criminal pro…”

You wrap your hand around him. He’s half-hard already, nerves making everything hypersensitive. He gasps when you stroke once—slow, firm, just enough pressure to make him twitch.“Not what you wrote,” you murmur against his ear. “Try again.”

Spencer groans, head falling back against your shoulder. “Fuck, okay, okay…” He swallows.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit is a specialized sector of the FBI tasked with investigating violent crimes through behavioral profiling and—” He says investigating instead of addressing. You catch it. So does he. “No—shit, I—”

You start stroking. Smooth. Steady. Relentless.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, hips jerking up into your hand without meaning to.

“Start over,” you whisper.

He’s already panting. You can feel the way his body’s fighting it—how he wants to focus but the pleasure is pulling him apart too fast. His voice wavers as he tries again, stumbling halfway through a sentence about interdepartmental cooperation. You pick up the pace.

“N-No, no, please, just give me a second.”

You don’t. You keep stroking—fast, slick, ruthless. His thighs are trembling slightly, his body arching softly as your hand works him. He sounds wrecked already. “Too fast,” he chokes out. “I can’t think—can’t say it right like this—”

“That’s the point,” you say sweetly. “Try again, baby.”

Your hand hasn’t stopped moving for a while. You’ve slowed down a few times, just to keep him dangling but you haven’t let go. He’s panting, flushed all the way down his neck, damp curls sticking to his forehead, fingers clutching the sheets like he’ll fall off the earth without them. And still, you say it, soft and cruel and patient, “Again.”

He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard. “Please…”

You hum. “I said again.”

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit…” He chokes on the first words like they’re smoke. “Is a specialized—ah—specialized sector of the FBI…”

You stroke him harder for a beat and he wants to scream into his own arm. You lean forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Specialized sector of the FBI what?”

“Tasked with—fuck—tasked with addressing violent crimes through—th-through behavioral profiling and investigative analysis—”

His voice cracks. You’re not sure if it’s from the pressure in his throat or the way your hand hasn’t given him a second of relief. His hips are stuttering—he’s trying not to thrust but it’s instinct, helpless like his body’s begging to finish even though his mind hasn’t earned it.

“Keep going,” you whisper. “You’re almost there.”

“I—I’m not—I c-can’t—”

“You can,” you say, tightening your grip just enough to make him sob. “You will. Now come on, pretty. Say it right.”

He starts again. From the top. This time he makes it through the entire first paragraph, stammering a few times but the words come out. He’s breathless by the end of it, tears standing in his lashes, lips parted and red. You slow down for just a second, easing the pressure to keep him teetering on that perfect edge.

“That was good,” you say softly. “Really good. You gonna finish the rest for me now?”

He nods frantically, his voice shaking with it. “Y-Yes. Please. Just—just don’t stop. Don’t stop touching me—”

You smile and kiss the side of his neck. “I can speed up?”

“If you do, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you breathe into his ear, stroking him slow, torturous. “You’re so close. Just say the last part and you can come.” You shift your hand just slightly—just enough that he whines through his teeth and bucks against your palm. His thighs are shaking.

“The BAU’s continued success is due to… due to a collaborative structure that integrates—”

He stumbles. Says interdepartmental instead of interdisciplinary. You know he caught it because he gasps and grabs at your wrist like he’s trying to hold you back—trying to hold himself together. You go faster.

“No—n-no please, please. I’ll do it right this time, I promise—”

“Then do it right, Spencer,” you whisper right against the shell of his ear. “You’re so smart, baby. I know you can get it right. Just finish your speech. You wanna come, don’t you?” He whimpers. He’s almost crying now, you think—just a little. You don’t stop. You want the tears. He’s beautiful like this.

“The BAU’s—oh my God,—continued success is due to a collaborative structure that… that integrates behavioral science, field experience and… and… fuckfuckfuck I know this—”

“You do,” you coo, pumping him faster. “Say it.”

He sobs. It comes out with a shiver and a choke but he says it. “…and administrative strategy across a multidisciplinary framework…” you nod,“…with each unit drawing from shared resources to promote strategic coordination and—”

“Come on, baby. You’re right there—”

“—interagency efficiency,” he gasps.

And that’s it. You let him come. You don’t even have to say it. His whole body locks up in your arms, his hips jerking so hard he almost escapes your grip. He sobs as he spills over your hand, thighs trembling, voice cracking, crying your name like it’s the only thing he’s got left. You hold him the whole time, murmuring praise into his hair, kissing his neck while his body gives out and melts against you. When he finally comes down, he’s ruined—a flushed, sweaty mess curled against your chest, still twitching from aftershocks.

“…Did I say it right?” he whispers, hoarse.

You kiss his cheek, smiling. “You did good, baby.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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thesvnandthemooon · 1 month ago

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

18+ MINORS DNI

or: how natasha proposed

part of the short n’ sweet universe

a/n: finally got this done! i’ve been working on this way too long lmao 😭 but here it is

also i hate writing/reading proposal speeches. can’t stand them because i never seem to get them right. tried my best anyway 🫡

summary: natasha wanting to propose + being an idiot about it

warnings: smut (brief, not too detailed)

word count: 11.8k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Not too long ago, you used to study under the best conditions possible. You'd shut every window, every door. You'd light aroma candles and clean your desk to avoid distractions. Your phone? On silent and hidden. With earplugs in to block even the slightest noise, you'd sit down and get started. If possible, you'd go to the library. At night, even, when it's quiet and empty so nothing can disturb you.

That's changed. You'd love to laugh at your past self for ever thinking that those conditions were necessary to study, but you can't. Unfortunately, your past self was right.

Your apartment isn't small, but it's not big, either. It's the perfect size for a family of three — snug, comfy, but with enough space to store the baby bathtub and stroller. You love that you can see the entire living room and kitchen from your desk, but you don't love that you can hear every single noise.

Niko's crying. He's colicky and teething and cranky. Natasha's on a rubber ball, bouncing him, her voice slowly turning more and more panicked. You've tried everything; nursing, chilled teething rings, a warm bath. But the poor little guy's uncomfortable, and he's letting everyone know.

This has been going on for days now. To make matters worse, he doesn't even sleep through the night. Instead, he wakes up twice (if you're lucky) and screeches until you give him attention. You've been hanging on by a thread. All-nighters, coffee, trail mix. A baby clinging to you, drooling and unhappy, and a midterm exam in molecular biology.

You stare at the laptop in front of you. Way too many slides for a midterm, way too detailed and complicated as well. You pick up your pen to take another note, but a particularly loud wail from Niko startles you.

"Sorry", Natasha says when you turn around. She looks sheepish, even if this isn't her fault. You sigh. "Want me to leave the apartment?"

A sweet offer, but you're not sure you want your girlfriend and your infant son to go outside when it's dark. It's a somewhat safe area, but there's no need to take high risk, low reward chances.

"No", you mumble, turning towards your laptop again. Niko lets out another cry. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine", she says, rubbing his back. He squirms against her and starts gnawing on her shoulder. "Just dramatic."

Apparently, the usage of the word 'dramatic' offends Niko immensely. He pulls back, then launches himself at her shoulder and bites like a baby shark. The noise she makes is anything but dignified, and you snort into your coffee cup.

Natasha gets up, still holding Niko. He starts fussing and thrashing in her arms. She leaves the room, quietly, and you hear a door fall shut. The door to his nursery. She's attempting the impossible, which is to get him to calm down.

You try focusing on your studies again. Protein metabolism — ribozymes, membranes, amino acids. Part of you almost regrets letting Natasha leave with Niko. You'd rather comfort a whining baby than read another word that ends in -ases.

You don't want to fail, though, so you keep researching and reading and summarizing. Things seem to be going well, at that point. It's 9pm, the crying has quieted down, and your brain is soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Silence really does seem to work wonders for your ability to concentrate and retain information.

About an hour later, the door opens quietly. Natasha steps out of the nursery, baby monitor in hand, and rubs her face. She looks beat — she didn't even manage to change out of her jersey after coming home, as you immediately shoved a fussing Niko into her arms. Her hair is in a low bun, which is now clinging on for dear life, and her eyes are half-lidded.

Then, she spots you. You're sprawled out on the couch now, an open textbook next to you and some flashcards in your hands. The exhaustion is gone instantly.

You don't miss the way she perks up and silently, you groan. For some reason, she's able to be more distracting than the baby. Whether it's intentional or not is a question you haven't been able to answer yet, but there have been dozens of instances of her being anything but helpful.

It usually starts as something innocent. Sitting down next to you, touching your thigh. Pulling you into her lap after a moment. A mumbled 'missed you' against your neck. At some point, fingers begin to wander. They slip into waistbands and nudge bras aside.

You know why. Between basketball practice, exams, and the chaos that comes with being new parents, you rarely manage to find time for just the two of you. When it does happen, she tries to make the most of it. You do, too, but you're less keen on admitting that.

You end up naked each time. You're not sure if that's something to be proud of, but Natasha may as well be one of those birds that puff up with pride.

When she plops down next to you on the couch, you immediately know that she's about to try again. Biology exam be damned — the last time you had a few minutes without Niko was a week ago, back at Clint's place. Everyone else had been playing a video game. They were yelling, laughing, so they were distracted enough to not notice the little sighs coming from behind them.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders. Her lips press against your cheek, then your jaw. Her free hand moves under your shirt to cup your stomach. You shift, stubbornly staring at a flashcard.

"How's biology going?", she mumbles, rubbing your arm.

"Fine", you reply, still not looking at her. She leans in and starts kissing your neck. Soft lips move over delicate skin, her tongue pokes out to lick a hot stripe over your pulse point. "Natasha."

"Yes, baby?"

You exhale, the frustration evident. Your midterm exam is in two days. Fucking on the couch like dogs in heat certainly isn't a study method that'll help you pass.

"Unless you're about to quiz me on molecular biology, you better keep your hands to yourself."

Natasha isn't too impressed. She hums, pretending to be deep in thought about this, then cups your breast and brushes her thumb over your nipple. Drops of milk spill, but it doesn't faze her. It's been more than half a year, she's aware that you're breastfeeding.

"We haven't had a minute to ourselves in a week", she murmurs. She massages your boob, and a wet patch forms on your shirt. "The damn kid's always interrupting."

"He's a baby", you say, grabbing her arm. "And I'm about to fail my midterm."

Natasha frowns and looks at you. Head tilted, eyebrows messy, eyes clear and intense. Maybe studying really isn't worth the effort, or at least that's what your hormones are trying to convince you of. She's still in her jersey, too, and she has that post game-smell. Sweaty and full of pheromones.

"You think you'll fail?"

"I've barely studied", you say, deadpan. "This is molecular biology. Understanding it isn't enough, I need to know it by heart."

"Right", she mumbles. She presses a kiss to your shoulder. "So you'll fail. Big deal?"

You huff and almost shove her off you, but she just grins. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You'll fail. So what?" She kisses your cheek, then pecks your lips. "You know what?"

You glare at her. She's treating this like a joke, and you're not having it. Natasha waits for you to say something, but you're getting more pissed off by the second, so she laughs quietly and tugs you into her lap.

"If you fail, I'm proposing. Who needs a degree? No wife of mine should have to work a single day in her life, anyway."

Your heart stutters in your chest, but it's hard to take her seriously. To you, it seems like this is one of her usual dumb jokes. But you never would've thought she'd joke about this. She may call you her wife in front of friends and teammates (despite you telling her to cut it out), but you didn't think marriage would be a laughing matter to her.

"Really romantic", you manage to say. "Truly outdoing yourself, Romanoff."

"Mark my words", she says. She tugs at the hem of your shirt, smirking. "If you fail, I'm proposing to you. Now go study unless you want to see me on one knee."

"I'd pay to see that", you mumble. You reach for your textbook and open it.

For exactly ten minutes, you're able to study. You recall information, quiz yourself, check your notes.

You're still in Natasha's lap, though. She still feels the rounded curve of your ass pressing against her, still feels your warmth and smells your scent. Perfume and something sweet and milky. She doesn't want to distract you — a lie — but she can't exactly control it.

You feel her get hard, pressing against you through the fabric of her shorts. You swore you'd study this time, that you'd keep your clothes on. But her hands grip your waist, her lips press against your nape, and you're actually alone for once. Before you know what you're doing, you're on your back and being pounded into the couch.

. . .

Monday morning, you make your way to campus looking like you're about to go to war.

Niko is strapped to Natasha's chest, feet kicking and smiles less gummy. His tooth came in exactly five hours before the exam, which Natasha deemed hilarious. He kept up the sobbing and crying and fevering long enough to keep you from studying, but managed to get the annoying little molar out as soon as it got too late for you to catch up.

He's the only one who's in a good mood, though. Teething aside, he's still suffering from being a little colicky, so he made sure you stay awake by screaming until his face turned red. It took a while, but he's better now.

"Lucky duck", Natasha mutters. She's surviving off energy drinks at this point. "You can nap all day long. I have a seminar later. Fucking Harrison Harris. I swear, whoever named that guy set him up for bullying."

You hum absently. You're staring at a flashcard, with dark circles under your eyes and a coffee cup in your hand. Your hair isn't even washed — you spent the few hours of silence Niko granted you trying to inhale every bit of knowledge you can. A bad idea, as you now feel like you're about to throw up biology facts.

Natasha glances at her phone. "Ten minutes", she informs you. "Want me to go with you? Help you find your seat?"

"I'm good", you mumble, still staring at a flashcard. Niko squeals, his chubby little hand suddenly grabbing and fisting it. "Oh, honey. I promise, that's less fun than it looks."

"He likes the drawing", Natasha says, leaning in. "Is that a peptide bond?"

"Yeah." You sigh and let go of the flashcard. Niko takes that as permission to put it in his mouth and chew on it. You get up and grab your tote bag. "Where are you two going?"

"Oh", she says, bouncing him and trying to seem casual, "we're meeting Wanda and Daisy for some coffee. They wanted to see Niko."

"Alright." You lean in and kiss the top of your son's head. "Bye, baby."

"I assume you're talking to me?", Natasha jokes.

"Both of you."

Smiling, she gets up to pull you closer. Her lips press against yours, her hands hold your waist. Unimpressed, Niko slaps the damp flashcard against your face, but Natasha quickly blocks him.

You pull away and cup her face. "He's rude."

"Got it from me", she agrees. She pecks your lips. "Go, go. Or you'll be late."

You peek into the study hall where the exam will take place. Sure enough, almost all seats are taken. The hallway has gotten empty has well. You nod and turn around, opting for a quick wave before stepping into the room.

Natasha watches for another second, then Niko tips his head back to look at her. He smiles, his single tooth making him look a little like baby Patrick Star, and she leans in to kiss his forehead.

"Come on, bud", she says, walking down the hallway. "Let's see what Wanda and Daisy know about proposals."

The four (three and a half?) of them end up in the little café right next to campus. Daisy secures a corner spot, Wanda grabs the highchair, and Natasha orders the drinks. Black coffee, iced latte, and a hot chocolate for the girl who claims caffeine makes her anxiety worse.

They're not aware of why they got invited here. Usually, they don't hang out with only Natasha; you're always there, as well. This time, she was the one to text them. She also asked them to not tell you, which — surprise — even Daisy succeeded at.

Niko spent the first five minutes in the highchair which Natasha cleaned with Lysol and baby wipes. It took one unhappy grunt for Wanda to coo and pick him up, though, so he's now in her lap and keeping her necklace in a firm grasp.

"So", Daisy says, stealing some of the whipped cream on Wanda's hot chocolate, "why are we here?"

Natasha side-eyes Wanda, who's offering Niko a cookie to suck on. "Oh, I...I'm sorry, can you take that away from him? Just 'cause he got his first tooth doesn't mean he needs a first cavity as well."

"He likes it", Wanda says, removing the cookie from his hand. He lets out a protesting screech, and she kisses his reddish baby curls.

"It's sugar", Daisy says. "Of course he likes it. Romanoff, answer my question. Did you screw up again?"

"What?" She frowns. "No. No, I didn't. What kind of question is that?"

Both of them give her a pointed look à la 'remember Spring Break?', and she shuts up. She's screwed up before. To be fair, it's been a while since Spring Break happened — almost three years, if she's not mistaken — but she really hurt you. She didn't mean to, but she did, anyway.

"Fine", she relents. "I'm an idiot. Not the point, though."

A waitress walks past them and smiles, straight at Natasha. She's pretty, with her blue eyes and honeyed hair, and both Daisy and Wanda realize what she's doing. Subtly flirting with Natasha. Testing the waters. The basketball team's captain is somewhat of a little celebrity around here, after all.

Everyone is aware that she's taken. You're basically famous around here, especially since you're always walking around with a baby in your arms. Some women don't care about that, apparently.

They have different strategies, but the same goal. Wanda clears her throat and Daisy kicks Natasha's shin. She immediately sits up straight.

"Are you fucking kidding-"

"Eyes on us, idiot", Daisy cuts her off. "Why are we here?"

"Right", she mumbles. "I'll just say it, so, uh...how do I propose?"

First, there's silence. Then, Daisy bursts out laughing, so much so that poor Niko actually flinches. Wanda cradles him to her chest, but she doesn't manage to tell Daisy to stop — she's hung up on the fact that Natasha Romanoff is talking about proposing.

She doesn't want to say it out loud. Even if it's the truth, it'd be rude. But everyone knows that Natasha once claimed she'd never commit. Not fully. Campus is filled with girls who got their hearts broken by her. She's blocked double the amount of numbers she has saved as contacts.

Natasha shoots Daisy an irritated look. "Alright", she mutters, sinking into her seat and picking at the cookie on her saucer, "no need to laugh."

"I'm sorry", she wheezes. "You. You? You want to propose?"

"You're not being nice", Wanda tells her. She gives Natasha an apologetic look. "But I get her point. You're proposing?"

"I told Y/N I would if she fails her midterm", she explains, still disgruntled. "I'm serious about this. I'll do it. No matter if she fails, really."

"That's sweet", Daisy mumbles. "Basing a lifelong commitment on an academic failure."

Niko babbles and reaches out to Natasha. She scoops him out of Wanda's lap and immediately rummages through her diaper bag to find the bottle of milk she packed. In the meantime, he manages to grab the cookie she didn't eat and starts gnawing on it like he's been starving for the past week.

"Please", Natasha says. She steals the cookie back and replaces it with the baby bottle. Having forgotten about the sweet treat, Niko latches on. "That's not what it is at all. Look, guys. I'm serious about this. And about her. So either help me or I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving", Wanda says. She's digging through her backpack already, laying out notebooks and pencils on the table. "What did you have in mind?"

Natasha shrugs. She's been thinking about this for days. Actually, she's been racking her brains. Every second of her days are spent trying to find a good way to go about this. Not once in her life did she consider downloading Pinterest, but now, the red circular icon stands out on her home screen.

"Not sure", she says vaguely. "Maybe go on a date, hide the ring in a-"

"No", both of them interject.

"But you didn't-"

"No."

"Trust us", Wanda adds. "What else?"

Natasha shrugs and glances at Niko. He's still suckling, his feet kicking happily under the table. "Maybe a onesie that says 'marry me'?"

"God", Daisy groans. "That's, like, a surefire way to get dumped."

"Oh come on!"

"It's true", Wanda says. She flinches when Daisy suddenly starts hitting her arm like there's a mosquito on it. "What??"

"Jumbotron, jumbotron!"

This time, it's Natasha's turn to intervene. If there's one thing you'd like less than the onesie-idea, it's to be proposed to at one of her basketball games. A proposal in a gym full of sweaty athletes, fellow students and professors sounds like a nightmare.

"Absolutely not", she says firmly. Niko hiccups and spits up, simultaneously unlatching from the bottle. She quickly wipes his mouth. "No jumbotron, no basketball games."

"Boring", Daisy mumbles.

"I have to agree with Natasha", Wanda says. She taps the table and nods. "Did you write anything down? Maybe locations?"

Natasha shakes her head and fishes her phone out of her shorts. She swipes past the lock screen, which is still a half-naked picture of you, and opens one of the apps. She taps on the board she created and hands the phone to Wanda and her finicky eyes.

Daisy leans over her shoulder to peek at it. They're both quiet for a while, scrolling and silently judging. By the time they look up, Natasha's attention has long wavered. She's focused on Niko, who's babbling and playing with her hand.

"You'll need help", Daisy says. Natasha looks up. "I mean, a picnic?"

She frowns. In her mind, it was cute. Private and quiet, no prying eyes. Maybe on a beach, or in some park. Though, there aren't many pretty beaches nearby. And traveling isn't in the cards for you, especially while you're in college and have a baby.

"What's wrong with a picnic?"

"Bugs", Daisy quickly says. "Sand. Birds. Where do you put the baby? I know you guys don't like to leave him with anybody else."

Natasha shrugs. Niko, still in her arms, is now dozing off. The milk managed to make him sleepy.

"I thought I propose with him there."

"No", Daisy says. She frowns and taps a pen against her lips. "Hey, where'd you guys have your first kiss?"

Natasha pauses, one hand gently holding Niko's pacifier. She remembers it, of course, but sometimes, she wishes she didn't. The circumstances weren't romantic. It wasn't like in the movies. It was in a sweaty basement, filled with the stench of alcohol and weed. Everyone was on the floor, spinning a bottle. You kissed her because it landed on her, not because the moment seemed right.

She'd go back and do it differently, if she could. But it's too late for that.

"How's a party at Pietro's sound?"

"My hopes were too high", Daisy says, subtly rolling her eyes. "Your first time, you know..."

Natasha shakes her head. "Nope. Also at the party."

"Saying 'I love you'?"

Her cheeks flush, and her face goes hot. Another moment she wishes she could change. The night of the stabbed basketball, and the rainy hoodie, and the desperate sex in your dorm room. The fighting, the crying. It was all the result of what happened in Miami.

"No", she just says. No need for details, as she feels like they still haven't forgiven her for what she did at Spring Break. "It was in her dorm. We moved out of there, so..."

"Right, right." Daisy sighs and sinks into the red pleather of the booth's seat. "God, you two are complicated."

"You try proposing", Natasha mutters. She gently shifts Niko until she's able to put him back into the carrier. He stirs, but somehow doesn't wake up. "It's harder than it seems."

"Speaking of proposing..."

"No", Daisy says, shooting a glare at Wanda. Natasha frowns at them, and Daisy flips her off. "Don't."

"Are you-"

"Proposal", Wanda quickly says. "Your proposal. What does Y/N like?"

She gives them another skeptical look. They've been acting odd around each other for months now, but neither of them has had the guts to address it yet. She's not sure what exactly is going on, but truthfully, she's too tired to care.

She doesn't press it. Instead, she tries remembering everything you ever expressed fondness for.

"She likes me", she then says, grinning and rubbing Niko's back. All she gets are blank stares, though. "And him, of course."

"You could try taking this seriously", Daisy says, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously, what does she like?"

Natasha sighs and leans back in her seat. Her eyes drift down to Niko, who's sleeping and drooling all over her hoodie. She brushes her fingers over his red curls and tries to think, which is proven difficult due to her running on two and a half hours of sleep.

"Okay", she says slowly. "She likes black coffee. She likes lipstick, I think she has over a dozen of them. Uhm, I have a playlist full of her favorite songs, maybe we can use that. She doesn't like the dark, but she loves it when there are tiny lights everywhere. You know, fairy lights."

Wanda nods and writes everything down. "Fairy lights, there we go. What else?"

"She likes to dance", Natasha admits.

She's been dragged into a slow dance multiple times by you, and she always grumbles and protests. Getting her to actually try is harder than getting Niko to sleep during his sleep regression phase, but she never says no. Even if she's being an idiot.

"Dancing?" Daisy shoots Wanda a doubtful look when she writes that down as well. "How? When?"

"I don't know, hush. Keep going."

"Food", Natasha adds. Niko grunts in his sleep, one foot twitching, and she takes it into her hand. "Like, chocolate-covered anything. And she likes when I dress up a little, so..."

"Suit", Daisy whispers. She earns a glare. "What? You said it first."

"Suit it is", Wanda hums.

"I don't want a suit", Natasha interjects. Shes worn a suit twice so far — to your cousin's wedding, and at your grandfather's 90th birthday. She felt like an idiot playing dress up both times. "It's better if I wear something that's...natural, you know."

Wanda gives her a deadpan look, then adds 'suit' to her list, anyway. If you'll appreciate it, then she's doing it. No doubt.

They spend a total of two hours in the café. By the time they're done, Niko is awake and screaming for another meal. The bottle of pumped milk Natasha brought is empty, so she gets up and silently calculates when your exam should be done.

"I'll send you a text", Wanda says, packing up her stuff. "With the list and everything. Thursday, at my place? We still need to go over the details."

"And the ring", Daisy adds. She touches Wanda's wrist before wrapping her fingers around it, then she leads her outside. Sunlight blinds both Natasha and Niko as she follows them out the door.

"Right", Natasha mumbles, stressing. Niko lets out an unhappy scream. "Okay, okay, I'm getting you food. By the way, can you guys keep your mouths shut around Y/N? I know I told her, but..."

"Yeah", Wanda says, stopping. She reaches into her backpack and fishes out some applesauce for Niko. "No worries."

Natasha hesitates, then grabs the applesauce pouch. You're not the biggest fan of giving Niko sugary food, even if it's just applesauce, but she'd rather he stops crying. She unscrews it and helps him eat some.

"Aunt Wanda to the rescue", she says, smiling kindly.

"Preach", Natasha mumbles. She wipes his chin with her thumb and looks up. "Anyways. Thursday, 10am. Y/N is at a lecture. She'll probably try to skip but I'll make her go."

"All you have to do now is not spoil the surprise", Daisy reminds her. "Don't be an idiot."

Not spoil the surprise — easy enough, Natasha thinks, absently trying to keep Niko from eating her thumb instead. He squeals and grasps at her hand like it's the most precious thing his seven month old little brain has seen.

Little does she know that a), she will be an idiot, and b), not spoiling a surprise is hard when you're this much of a goner for someone.

. . .

Despite your protests and complaints, Natasha manages to make you go to your lecture. It takes a lot of convincing, energy and sweat, but she succeeds. You're not happy about it — you'd rather stay home with Niko, who's somehow teething again (apparently, none of you are catching a break anytime soon), but she finds enough arguments to convince you to go.

You give her a glare. She's in the doorway, dressed in a hoodie and the baby perched on her hip, helping him chew on a frozen piece of cucumber. Unlike you, she doesn't have to get ready for anything. She's spending the day with Niko, at the park, while you have to sit through an entire lecture. That's what she told you, at least.

"What?", she asks, sheepish.

"It's not fair", you say, turning back around and grabbing your makeup bag with a little more force than necessary. "You get to stay here and I have to listen to Gibson talk about statistics for almost two hours."

"It's important", she says, shifting Niko a bit. He tends to suddenly throw himself backwards — an annoying little habit he's developed over the past couple weeks. "You know, it's the last one before the midterm."

"I don't care", you say. You open a lipstick and apply some. "He sends us a video of the lecture, anyway."

Natasha, being who she is, automatically steps closer. You grab her hand and blot your lips with the side of her thumb. It's a routine by now, one neither of you has to acknowledge anymore.

"It's better if you're there in person", she says. Niko tries grabbing your hair, but she stops him. "So you can ask questions."

You turn around and stare at her. "You know I never ask questions."

Of course, you're right. You don't ask questions, and she knows it. She's accompanied you to lectures a bunch of times, mostly when you were pregnant or right after you gave birth to Niko. But she forgot about that little detail.

"Oh", she says dumbly. "Well, I..."

"Told you", you say, turning around again. You adjust your necklace and get up. Natasha watches you leave the bathroom before quickly following you. "There's literally no point in going, but whatever."

"One lecture", she says. "Then you're done for the semester."

You give a dismissive wave of your hand and start looking through your shoe cabinet. High heels, which you started wearing almost immediately after giving birth. A pair of old sneakers Natasha stuffed into the back. Ballet flats and combat boots, and finally, your favorite pumps.

Natasha lingers by the door, Niko still in her arms. She's watching you, carefully, trying to find out what to say to make the look on your face go away. She's pretty sure you're being dramatic, but the dejected expression you're wearing stings.

"It's for your own good", she adds unhelpfully. Niko screeches and grabs her cheek. "You'll focus better."

"I don't need focus", you say. You slip on your pumps and straighten up, then scoop the baby out of her hands. "I don't want to abandon him again."

"You're not abandoning him, he's with his favorite mom."

What she said does make the look of dejection on your face go away — but it's replaced with one of offense and, for some reason, deep disappointment. You glance at Niko, who's perfectly content in your arms, and it's enough to make your bottom lip stick out in a little pout.

Natasha panics. Instead of reassuring you, she only made the guilt worse.

"No, hey, you know what I-"

You glance at her and grin. She lets out a huff when she realizes you were messing with her.

"Calm down, love", you say, putting Niko on your hip. "We both know he prefers me. Walking milk bar and whatever. Don't forget his bottle if you go out, yes?"

On any other day, she'd act offended by this. But there's a smile on your face, on that says 'gotcha', and she's too relieved that her plan will work out to say anything. Instead, she rolls her eyes and reaches for her diaper bag.

Ten minutes after you leave for your lecture, she sneaks out of the apartment as well. You see her car round the corner right after you step out of a café.

It's enough to make you pause for a moment. You shouldn't be worried. Niko's with her, so she's got her hands full. They're probably going out for groceries or something. But all you can think about is her insisting you leave, which resulted in her being alone.

And now, she's leaving without telling you. She didn't even mention it before you left, which makes it feel like a secret. Your stomach twists at the thought, and you feel the guilt hit almost immediately after.

Natasha's not that person anymore. She hasn't been in a long time. These are your insecurities speaking, possibly even stemming from the dozens of marks pregnancy left all over your body.

Confused and still not fully calm, you stand in front of the café for another long moment. Iced latte in hand, sunglasses perched on top of your head. Lipstick, blotted with her pinky. Someone nearly bumps into you, which finally lets you snap out.

"Hey", the guy starts, a studied little smirk on his face. But you direct a glare at him. You're not in the mood to be hit on. "Hey, no worries. I'll just-"

"I'm not interested", you say, voice biting and about to incinerate him with a single look. "Fuck off."

He raises his eyebrows and steps aside, hands lifted. "Yeah, I got that. Jesus Christ."

"Shave that mustache", you add. At this point, you're just being petty. "You look ridiculous."

No reply. He scoffs, hands in his pockets, and hurries down the street. You stand there for another second, shifting in your pumps, then turn around and walk toward campus. Your thoughts, however, remain occupied by Natasha.

. . .

Before she manages to go through with the proposal, she nearly screws up three times. The first time it happens, she's in a jewelry store.

Rings in endless variations, shimmering in polished glass displays. Necklaces, gracing the pulse-less necks of jewelry mannequin stands. A stroller with a drooling baby, and a woman who has no clue what she's looking for. The ring has to be perfect.

Natasha nearly drops her phone when it starts ringing. For a second, she fumbles with it like it's a hot potato — much to Niko's amusement, who starts giggling like this is the most entertaining thing he's ever seen —, then she manages to swipe her thumb across the screen and answer the call.

Her voice, when she speaks, is hurried. "Hello?"

"Hey", you immediately say. You're in your lecture hall, leaning back in your seat. "Prof is giving us a five minute break, thought I'd check in with you."

It's obvious that she didn't expect you to call, at least not yet. She hums noncommittally, silently racking her brain for something to say. Niko kicks his legs in his stroller and screeches, and next to her, a young woman talks.

You freeze at the sound. A woman's voice, close to Natasha, sounding young and soft. Something crawls up your spine, and you're not even sure why.

You can trust her, after all. She's loving and committed. Hell, she doesn't even breathe wrong near other women. However, she did tell you she'd spend the day at home with the baby. Part of you would've expected her to tell you about any possible change of plans.

The saleswoman steps closer to Natasha and hands her another box. There's a ring inside it. One you obviously can't see. If you could, it'd maybe help you tone down your anxiety.

All you see, though, is the narrow table your laptop is on. The pen next to it, the baby sock you carry like a lucky charm. And all you hear is the female voice, mumbling something again. If she's this loud even while speaking softly, she must be standing close to Natasha.

"Who was that?", you ask warily. You hear stuttering, and then that same voice again, and you swallow. "Natasha."

"Just helping me with something", she says after floundering. You nearly let go of your phone. "I'll pick you up later, right? After your lecture. I'll bring you some takeout too, just tell me what you want."

Around you, people start returning to their seats. A guy jumps over the rows to get to his chair, a girl gingerly follows him and giggles. Someone edges past you, apologizing when they almost spill your drink. You, however, barely notice. Not even the professor is importantly, even though he's switching to a new slide already.

All you can focus on is Natasha. Natasha, who said she didn't have any plans. Natasha, who's now definitely losing her shit on the phone while pretending not to. Worst of all? — Wherever she may be, she brought Niko with her.

"I don't want takeout", you snap, absently starting to pack up your stuff. You slam your laptop shut with a little more force than necessary. "When will you be home?"

"Uh..." Natasha gives the saleswoman, who's still holding two new rings, a quick glance. "Half an hour?"

'Romanoff, I'm killing you' — those are the first words that pop into your head. But even with your hand balling into a fist on the table, you manage to exhale and calm down enough not to threaten her over the phone.

"I'll be at Wanda's", you say slowly. You're pushing through the overcrowded rows to get to the exit. "Half an hour, right? Pick me up."

"Sure", she says, nodding dumbly. "No takeout?"

"No. Just be on time, alright? I have to nurse."

Natasha gives the saleswoman a slightly more irritated look when she shows her another ring. But this time, instead of shaking her head no, she pauses. You're still panicking silently, still trying to get the thought of her with another woman out of your head. Natasha, however, has found the piece of jewelry she'll be proposing with.

After this, you get a week long break. Natasha makes plans whenever she gets the chance to — she opens her notes the second you're asleep (which she can usually notice happen as your voice will drift off mid sentence); she calls Wanda to ask about flowers and fairy lights and all kinds of stuff you may like (it was a firm no on the condoms, though); she secretly glances at your own Pinterest boards to see what you have in mind.

She's getting somewhere, slowly but surely. She's got the ring, which she hid in the very corner of her locker. She's got an outfit picked out, stored at Wanda's place. She's rehearsed her speech dozens of times. There aren't many things left to do.

The day you get your exam results is inching closer like a dark cloud in the sky. You can feel the weight on your shoulders, so much so that you've almost forgotten about Natasha's promise — if you fail, I'm proposing. A joke, surely. Nothing to be taken seriously.

Still, the hope lingers. She manages to shatter it anyway, and the second time that happens, you think you're about to lose her for good.

It was supposed to be a long day. Your professor had made you get into groups for a project, so you met up at one of the girls' apartment to get started on it. It was tiring, and your head is still hurting from the unnecessary amount of candles and potpourri she has everywhere, but you finished early. The only logical thing to do is go home.

Standing in front of your apartment, you rummage through your purse. Your nails are red and chipped, a bandaid around your thumb — Niko's favorite chewing toy. You open the door, step in, and freeze.

Nothing. Silence. All the lights are turned off, the stroller is missing, the apartment feels empty. Natasha and Niko usually nap on the couch in the afternoon, but it's empty now.

You smell perfume, though. It's not yours, and it definitely isn't hers, either. You see the hoodie slung over the back of a chair, and you feel your skin start to crawl. It's pink and definitely not her size, and it doesn't belong to you, either.

Miami pops into your head, unbidden and intrusive. Stepping through that door and catching her with a stranger left its marks. You like to pretend it didn't, but you know it's true. Right now, you know it more than ever.

You turn around a few times, like you're expecting her to magically step out from behind a corner. But you're alone, and the apartment is empty, and Natasha is standing in the middle of a lecture hall.

She has no idea how they managed to sneak in here. It's noon on a Saturday, and it was locked — but she shouldn't underestimate Wanda with a hairpin, apparently. It took some wiggling and huffing, but eventually, the lock had clicked.

"You're sure about this?", Daisy asks, dragging her finger over one of the windowsills. A thick layer of dust is left on her finger. "This place is gross."

"It makes sense", Natasha defends herself. She's standing on the stairs that lead all the way down to where the professor stands. Niko's in his stroller, asleep and quiet for once. "I mean, I told you. She's not going to expect this, that's for sure."

"She is", Wanda mumbles under her breath. She's all the way in the back, trying to figure out of to make this happen. She doesn't understand Natasha's plan, either. But she seems intent on doing this her way, and they have no choice but to trust her. She's the one who's proposing, after all. She hopefully knows you better than they do.

Daisy nods at the ceiling. "Think we could hang up fairy lights?"

"Scatter the tables with roses", Wanda adds.

"Nothing too obvious", Natasha insists, her hands tucked into the pockets of her basketball shorts. "It's a surprise."

"I still can't believe you convinced her", Daisy says. She walks to the blackboard and nudges it a little further up. "Maybe draw something on this. Or write. I don't know."

Natasha has never been the most creative person. Her skills lie in the physical fields — in basketball and cardio, not poetry and art. Staring at the blackboard, which is still full of little specks of chalk, she can't come up with anything. The best she can offer would be a game strategy.

Daisy, on the other hand, is approaching this with a little more confidence. A few practiced hand movements later, Natasha and Wanda are staring at something that looks a lot like a certain genital.

"Can you take this seriously?", Natasha eventually snaps.

"It is serious."

"What's coming out of-...oh."

Behind her, Niko grunts in his sleep. He's still dozing, but she knows she's approaching the end of his nap. If she wants to get this done, she needs to be quick. But she's still clueless, and the baby makes another noise, and her phone buzzing is the final straw.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and curses when she sees your name on the screen. Apparently, you're done early with whatever project you're working on. She'd know what it's about, but she's been a little preoccupied. Not even you could blame her for that.

"Who's that?", Wanda pipes up.

"Wifey", Daisy grins. She adds a condom wrapper and puts the chalk aside. "Look, no more accidental babies."

"Shut up", Natasha hisses. She picks up the call, hands sweating and mouth suddenly dry. Just weeks ago, she was joking about this. Joking about a proposal and marriage, joking about things that are now almost giving her more anxiety than the pregnancy did.

She clears her throat before speaking. You, on the other end of the line, frown.

"Yes?", Natasha says. She clears her throat again, and Niko finally wakes up enough to yawn and stretch. He blinks slowly, arms stretched above his head.

"Where are you? And where's my baby?"

Natasha tugs at the neckline of her shirt, silently trying not to panic. You sound pissed. If there's one thing she's learned, it's that you sounding angry when the apartment is empty is a bad sign. On any other occasion, you'd try and rest a bit. Instead, you're about to chew the hell out of her.

"Uhm", she says dumbly, but you're already on a rant.

"You can't keep doing this, you know! The apartment is empty, you idiot. You're both gone. It smells like perfume. Where the fuck are you? Do you know how worried I am?"

"No, I-"

"Who are you with?", you suddenly demand to know. Her cheeks are red and not by now, her eyes meeting Wanda's. All she gets from your best friend is a shrug.

"Listen", Natasha says. She's trying to explain without giving anything away, which seems impossible in that moment. A few years ago, she would've lied her way out of this without struggling at all. Unfortunately, she's somewhat honest now. "We're just, uh..."

"Okay, 'we'?"

"Wanda and Daisy!", she blurts.

There it is. You go silent on the other end of the line, and all she hears is a slow breath. Relief, probably. Or another wave of anger that's about to drown her.

You huff softly, but it doesn't sound angry anymore. Just tired. "Oh. Right."

"They wanted to see Niko", she continues, glancing at the baby. He's half-awake now, rubbing his eyes and his pacifier close to falling out of his mouth. "I thought, you know...we have the day off anyway."

"Got it", you say, nodding. You're feeling dumb now. Guilty, too. You should know better than to believe she'd do something like that. She's not a cheater. "Just come home soon."

"We're leaving in ten", she promises. You hang up again, and she slips her phone back into her pocket.

It does take them ten more minutes. Wanda gets a list of things to do, Daisy gets a list of things not to do. Natasha doesn't know what she's doing, but she's following her instincts. Hopefully, that'll be enough.

When she gets home, you can't even bring yourself to be mad at her. Red hair, in a low bun. A baby on her hip. A bouquet of roses in her hand, red and fresh. Her green eyes give you a look that's filled with half a dozen different apologies.

You want to cry. You're standing in the doorway, dressed in an oversized shirt and a pair of her boxers, all ready to fight. But she's sweaty and flushed, so all you manage to do is cup her face and kiss her stupid mouth. She doesn't taste different, thank god. Like plain chapstick and toothpaste, nothing else.

Not a hint of perfume on her clothes either, you silently register. Niko squeals and grabs your ear, and that's enough to make you pull away.

"You were worried?", she mumbles, snaking one arm around your waist. The roses press against your lower back. You reach up to brush strands of hair, curling slightly in the heat, from her face.

"Losing my mind, actually." You peck her lips again, your nose brushing against hers. "You brought flowers."

"You deserve them", she says, revealing the bouquet again. You accept it and try to breathe in the scent, but Niko is quicker. His chubby little hand darts forward and grasps one of the flowers. Red petals are squished between his fingers.

You raise your eyebrows at him and take his hand. A ticklish spot on his wrist makes his fingers loosen. Instead of trying to whine and complain, he stretches out his arms so you can pick him up. Natasha, his favorite mom — yeah right.

"He missed you", she adds, following you into the apartment. "I missed you. How was it?"

"The project? Not bad."

Natasha nods and leans against the wall. Her hands are back in the pockets of her shorts, and she's watching you as you change Niko on the couch. It's becoming more and more of a struggle every day. The more he wants to move, the closer he is to rolling off the couch.

"The exam results", she suddenly says. You glance at her, one hand resting on Niko's belly so he doesn't flop over. "Next week. You nervous?"

You grimace slightly. Exam results — two words you don't want to hear right now. You've been pushing those worries aside, as you can't do anything about it anymore either. Part of you is fairly certain you failed, though.

"Don't remind me", you say and reach for the wicker basket on the coffee table. You keep some of Niko's essentials, like diapers and wet wipes, there. "Do you know how much I'll have to work to make up for that? I'll have a nervous breakdown before summer starts, I'm telling you."

Natasha shifts and shrugs, a single red lock coming loose and blocking her left eye. "Not looking forward to it? Can't think of anything good that might happen?"

"Hold still", you mumble. Niko squeals and kicks at your hand, getting some diaper cream on his foot. You give her a quick, doubting look. "Are you on something? What's there to look forward to?"

Asking you this question was her way of gauging your mood. She's been worried about this for a while, because getting proposed to right after receiving a bad grade doesn't sound like the ideal way to get engaged. You might be too disappointed, after all. Or you might end up strangling her.

You're oblivious, though. You're too busy trying to keep your baby from somersaulting off the couch, so you close his diaper and use the heel of your hand to wipe the cream off his toes.

"I mean", Natasha begins. She falters. "I don't know. Like, maybe something nice happens. Come on, you can't be that negative."

The look you shoot at her makes her recoil a little. Eyebrows raised, you turn around to button Niko's onesie back up and scoop him into your arms.

"You're mocking me at this point", you say, irritated, and carry the baby into the bedroom. Natasha follows — she hesitates, but she follows. "You know I've been nervous for weeks, Nat."

"Yes, but-"

You stop in your tracks and whip around, jamming your finger into her chest. Her eyes widen and she comes to a sudden halt. You're in a shirt that's swallowing you whole, diaper cream on your knee and a sleepy baby on your hip. Yet, she's never been more terrified.

Except for once. She's not forgetting about the night in the dorm anytime soon.

"I don't need you to go on and on about this", you say firmly. Niko nuzzles your shoulder with his face and yawns. "I don't keep reminding you of basketball games either when you haven't been practicing enough. So quit it."

She lifts her hands. She's powerless here, and arguing would only make matters worse. If she wants you to say yes, she should probably make sure you don't leave her before she has the chance to ask.

"Alright", she says, furrowing her eyebrows. You sigh and put your hand on Niko's back again. "I'll let it go, babe."

"Good."

Natasha stays in the doorway, watching you sit down and lift your shirt. Six days — that's when you're getting your results back. Six days, and she has to make sure she doesn't screw up. The ring is in her locker already, waiting patiently behind old clothes and a stack of books.

There's not much time to make another mistake. But Natasha's a woman of many talents, and she manages to do it anyway.

. . .

Friday morning. Natasha's been up since 4am, and this time, it isn't Niko's fault. It's her anxiety, the tingling feeling in her stomach, the ring that's now hidden in the back of the closet.

You haven't noticed yet, somehow. You're at the kitchen table, attached to the breastmilk pump and yawning, one hand rocking Niko's bassinet. He's asleep with his hand resting on his tummy. You've been oblivious all morning, but that's about to change.

You watch Natasha as she darts around the kitchen like a restless bird. Pots clatter, the coffee machine grinds, and she curses when she drops a slice of whole grain bread. She bends over to pick it up, then goes back to opening one drawer after the other.

"Nat?", you ask, still rocking the bassinet. She doesn't even look at you. "Hey, babe. How many energy drinks did you have?"

"Huh?" She turns around, eyes sleep-deprived and hair disheveled. "None. Why?"

"You're running around like a headless chicken", you say. "It's making me nervous."

"That's not exactly my issue", she mutters, turning back around. She closes the drawer, but instead of doing it gently, she accidentally slams it back into place. Silverware rattles loudly, and Niko fusses in his bassinet. "Shit, fuck- sorry."

You frown, one hand rubbing the baby's belly. He goes right back to sleep. But what really worries you is Natasha, and her behavior these past couple weeks. She's somewhere else all the time. She's texting people at night, when she thinks you're asleep. You heard her take a call in the bathroom once, her voice a hushed whisper.

Something's going on, and she won't tell you what it is. Not knowing makes it all the more scary.

"Do you want to talk?", you ask and get up. You remove the breast pumps and carry them to the baby bottles by the sink. Natasha immediately leans in, pressing an apologetic kiss to your temple. "You're acting weird."

"Weird?", she mumbles, still nuzzling your temple. Her arms wrap around your shoulders. "Not weird. Hm, you smell nice."

You pull away to give her a confused look, but she doesn't budge. One hand sneaks to the waistband of your sweatpants, but you lightly slap it aside.

"I'm the one who's postpartum", you remind her. "Mood swings are my thing. What's wrong with you?"

Natasha frowns, clearly offended. Still, you see the anxious little flicker in her eyes. The one that hasn't disappeared in weeks. Not fully.

"Wrong?", she asks, putting her hand on your side once more. She hooks her thumb into the waistband. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just appreciating my beautiful girlfriend. You're so hot, you know."

"And you're acting off", you retort. You slip out of her embrace and grab the baby bottles. "We're leaving soon. Are you going to keep staring at my ass or make yourself useful?"

Your question doesn't even register. She's been thinking about the engagement ring in the closet all day, but now that she's able to ogle you, it's not the only thing on her mind. Unfortunately, you have different plans.

Before you leave the house, she manages to sneak into the bedroom one more time. The red velvet feels soft beneath her fingertips, and she slides it into her backpack.

You both have class, so you part for the first two hours of the morning. Much to Natasha's relief — she still needs to meet up with Wanda to make sure everything's ready.

Phone in her hand and hair in a low bun, she stands in front of her open locker. She's typing on her phone, her head almost fully inside the dark space. It smells like deodorant and something old, but at least she's not being bothered by anyone. It's quiet, it's allowing her to be deep in thought. All she can see is the lit up screen in her hands.

Then, someone taps her shoulder. Slamming her phone into the locker screen-down, she whips around. The eyes she meets are way too familiar. She sees them every day, every night. She's seen them in every situation imaginable.

There it is. The third time she almost screws it up.

"Y/N", she stutters, blindly reaching for the door of the locker. Her hand slips from it once before she finally shuts it. "What are you- I thought we're meeting in the library."

"We were", you say, a frown on your face. You didn't miss the way she tossed her phone into the locker. "Were you trying to climb in there?"

"No, just..." She shakes her head, sweating already. She thought she'd have at least another half an hour before she'd soak through her shirt, but maybe she was wrong. "Just looking for my hoodie."

You glance at the locker again, think about her phone that's buried somewhere in the mess inside it. Natasha tries to distract you by scooping Niko from your arms, but it doesn't work. She was texting someone. She was hiding inside her locker, and she panicked when you showed up.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other. Your fingers are twisting your earring nervously, but your voice is quiet and sharp.

"If you have something to tell me", you say, "you better tell me now. Seriously. I'm sick of your lies."

Natasha's eyes flicker up from Niko's face. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She was nervous before already — she barely slept, battled nausea and jitters all morning, tried to keep herself from bolting. After all this time, she isn't perfect. Proposing has turned out to be a bigger challenge than she thought it'd be, no matter how committed she might be.

"No lies", she promises. Niko squawks and slaps her chest. "Promise. You just startled me."

"Natasha", you hiss, stepping closer. "Stop lying. What are you hiding?"

She looks at you, heart beating wildly and face dumbfounded. You're not backing down from this. You're inches away from her face, smelling like perfume and looking like you're about to murder her on the spot.

She's trapped. There's no way out. Either she explains, or you're storming out and causing the plans she has to go up in flames. Neither choice is good, but she knows which one sounds less painful. She has to ruin the surprise, even if it stings.

But then, she looks over your shoulder just in time. Daisy is hurrying down the hallway, waving the phone in her hand. The midterm results are in, which means you'll get distracted. Natasha perks up.

"Hey!", she says. You frown and turn around. "Midterms! Came in five minutes ago!"

You blink, then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Natasha was right: you are distracted. You're still not happy with her, but you're too focused on logging into the course portal. The grade pops up on your screen, but you don't really have to check it. There's a word next to it, all capital letters and red, which tells you what you need to know.

FAILED.

Natasha peeks at the screen right as you turn off your phone. You're not too surprised, but the result is disappointing anyway. Catching up will be hard.

"Oh", she mumbles. She glances at your face. "Sorry, babe."

"No, I..." You exhale and shake your head. "It's fine. It sucks, but it's fine. I'll catch up, right?"

She hums, eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You're sad. I can think of something to change that."

You give her an irritated look. No way is she trying to use this to initiate sex. You're on campus, in the middle of a hallway, and she's trying to take your clothes off again. But she doesn't flinch, doesn't back down.

"You think that's funny?"

"It's not", she says, her voice sincere. She grabs your hand to lift it to her lips and press a kiss against your knuckles. "I know what'll cheer you up. Don't trust me?"

"No", you quickly reply. Natasha huffs. "You're acting weird. Again."

She tugs at your hand, as insistent as ever. She's always been like this. Even back then when you rejected her time after time, she kept trying. She knew it'd be worth it, and she still does. The only difference is that, now, it isn't about sex.

"Please", she says. Her hand squeezes yours, her feet start to move. The soles of her shoes squeak on vinyl flooring, and you're following her without really realizing. Niko's still in her arms, now dozing off. "Just this once."

"You've said that before", you remind her and narrow your eyes.

Natasha cracks a smile and shrugs. You've rounded the corner and are now approaching one of the lecture halls. Not having expected this, you blink a few times when she leads you towards it. She lets go of your hand to open the door.

Inside, it's different than usual. Not all of it is — the tiered seating, the fold-down chairs, are all the same. The smell of old paper and chalk, too, as well as the empty podium and the large blackboard.

But fairy lights hang from the ceiling. There's a thin stack of papers on one of the tables, as well as a pen next to it. Her cologne is woven through the other, less comforting smells.

You look at her, still wary. "What the fuck."

She rolls her eyes and nudges you toward the seats. You sigh and step closer, glancing at the stack of papers. All that's written on the front is your name in big letters. Natasha's handwriting.

"Sit down", she says. Niko lets out a sleepy yawn, but his green eyes are glued to the lights stretching across the ceiling. "Come find me after."

You shake your head, still staring at the papers. By the time her words have registered, she's left. The door has fallen shut and you're alone in the lecture hall.

The epiphany is sudden and unbearable. This is what she's been so secretive about. You've been distrustful and snippy about it, but she spent weeks working on whatever this is anyway. She kept going until the very last second.

Your footsteps are loud in the empty space. You slowly sit down, eyes on the papers, and reach for the pen. You flip the first page over and skim it — multiple choice questions —, then actually read the first question.

1. Where did we meet?

Ⓡ Library

Ⓓ University's main entrance

Ⓨ Parking lot

Ⓛ Behind a bar

It makes you pause. Every muscle in your body seems to go rigid for a moment. It's a pop quiz, a custom one Natasha made. And you're supposed to sit here, and answer questions, and hopefully find out what the hell she's planned.

You have an idea, but you don't dare hold onto that hope. Maybe this is a setup.

You hesitate for a second, then pull the cap off the pen and put a cross over the Ⓓ. If there's one thing you're not forgetting, it's where you met. How you met, really. You could swear you still feel a slight dent in the back of your head.

You look at the second question and purse your lips.

2. Great choice! What did I throw at you? (Sorry about that)

Ⓩ Water bottle

Ⓖ Eraser

Ⓞ Basketball

It's answer Ⓞ, of course. Your hand instinctively feels for the dent at the back of your head, but you can't find it. You probably imagined having one in the first place.

The next questions continue in a similar manner. From the color of her jersey to your favorite lipstick, your first kiss and your anniversary. You hold your breath when you reach the last one.

8. Who should not have to work a day in their life?

Ⓦ Me

Ⓐ Niko

Ⓤ Random guy from the gym

Ⓜ︎ My wife (you?)

You stare at it for a long while. Another thing you remember. The night you tried and miserably failed to study for your midterm. Endless slides of molecular biology knowledge, a colicky baby, a less than helpful but well meaning Natasha. Suddenly, her intentions are clear.

Your hand shakes as you put a cross over the Ⓜ︎. You skim the answers, the letters of the answers to be exact, and write them down one by one.

D - O - R - M R - O - O - M

You shove the pen aside with so much force that it rolls off the table, but you ignore it. Instead, you get up and leave the fairy lights-adorned space that Natasha may have changed forever. If you ever have another lecture here, you won't be able to think about anything else.

You know what she's talking about. Your old dorm — it's where you spent a majority of your relationship. Before Niko, before you even thought about calling this love. Back then, getting to the point you're at now seemed impossible. But things are different.

Your heart is pounding in your ears. Whatever she's about to do — she means it. That alone makes the weeks of fear and uncertainty worth it. Suddenly, the way to the dormitory seems unnecessarily long.

The door creaks when you push it open. Inside the hallway of the dorm, it still smells the exact same as it did about a year ago. Mildew, citrus, beer. There's a cigarette butt and some shards on the floor, but you ignore those. You reach the elevator and repeatedly push the button to make the old device react.

The doors seem to be stuck for a moment, then they finally slide open. You press the button to the desired floor without having to think about it. They slide open again, revealing a hallway that's dark and familiar. You step out and stare at the door across from you.

There were stickers on it once. Tons of them, covering it and giving it a little life. Whoever moved into the dorm room now peeled them off. They're all gone, except for a little part of Strawberry Shortcake's hat.

You hesitate when you see the flicker of light coming from the narrow gap underneath the door. But then you step closer, and the doorknob still feels round and cold in your hand, and a single twist of it reveals your old dorm room. Your heart stumbles when you see it.

A twin bed and a desk. An old closet. More fairy lights, a bunch of candles, and Natasha going down on her knee so fast she almost topples over. For once, she's in a suit. It's even ironed. You didn't think that detail would be the one to make you tear up, but somehow, it is.

The best part is her face, though. You've never seen her this nervous, and the tears in your eyes only worsen the anxiety. Her hands shake when she pulls out a little velvet box and opens it, and the ring inside shimmers.

"Y/N-", she begins, voice just as unsteady. You don't really need to hear the rest, though. You're seeing enough, and you've known your answer to this for a while.

"Yes."

She looks up and blinks. Her eyebrows furrow a little and she tries to shift her weight. "Dude, I have a speech prepared."

You shake your head and rub your eyes. "Sorry, I..." You let out a choked little laugh and gesture at her. "You look ridiculous. Keep going."

Natasha stares for another moment, her heart thrumming. She clears her throat and tries to remember what she wrote down — a full page, which is impressive considering she doesn't like to write much. But the words fail her, and so she needs to improvise.

"I practiced this in front of the mirror", she explains, absently toying with the ring box. "I tried. I got interrupted. This will probably suck, you know, but I make up for it in other ways. Promise."

"Yeah", you mumble, nodding. "You do."

"I try", she adds. "Every day. For you and Niko. I don't want him to remember a day where there wasn't a ring on your finger. He should know how amazing his mom is. Because you are, and I want you to know that. I want to be the one telling you that forever. Every game I win is for you."

At this point, you're barely keeping yourself from dragging her off the floor and into a kiss. Your eyes are burning, your jaw is set stubbornly. But Natasha is still reciting quotes from the poetry book that her mind has turned into, and truthfully, it's too sweet to interrupt.

"I'm sweating through my shirt", she says, shifting again. You've seen her restless before, usually at important events. If she could, she'd wear sweatpants and a hoodie everywhere. "I ironed it myself. I think you can tell."

"I can't", you say. You opt for a faint smile, but your eyes are burning. "I don't know how to iron, either. Sorry about that."

Natasha smiles back, her grip on the ring box getting tighter. The fairy lights around her flicker softly and she looks down at the floor. She swore to herself she wouldn't cry, but she doesn't think she'll be able not to.

"That's fine", she says. "We'll survive wrinkly clothes. We survived everything else, too."

"Dramatic", you whisper. But she's right, anyway. You survived months of living off ramen, you survived the fights and the days where you didn't think it'd get better. Months of pining, which was worse because it was mutual.

There was no communication. All you knew was to get loud.

"No", Natasha says. "Not dramatic. I was the worst version of myself and you still wanted me. That's really fucking impressive, by the way. And...I had a quote prepared, but I think I forgot."

You shake your head. It feels like the room is spinning. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sweating through my suit", she adds, tugging at one lapel. "This was supposed to be longer, but I kinda feel faint. And I can't really ask you if I pass out, so...”

Natasha holds the box a little higher. She tilts her head to the side and smiles, but her voice cracks. "Marry me?"

You've said yes already. A bunch of times, actually — when you walked into the lecture hall and took the fake pop quiz. When you walked to your old dorm. When you saw her on one knee, hair just slightly messy and cheeks as pink as if she'd been practicing basketball for hours. She never needed to finish the speech.

You say it again, anyway.

"Yes."

Natasha stares, heart pounding faster than when they won the championship game last March. She almost drops her ring on her way to you, but remembers its purpose in the last second.

Her hand grips yours, and the piece of jewelry is slid onto your ring finger. Before she can do much else, you've grabbed the front of her suit and pulled her into a kiss that makes her stumble.

She catches herself quickly, though, and her hands land on your waist. She doesn't resist when you walk her backwards. In fact, a very obvious part of her seems to approve of being pushed onto the twin bed.

Natasha paid the girl who lives here now $200 to move her stuff out for the day and let her use the room. She never said anything about using the bed, but that's a problem for later. You're straddling her already, which makes it hard to think anyway.

Your hands fumble with the buttons of her shirt. Your mouth presses against hers again and again, lips slick and noses bumping.

"Where's...the baby?...", you ask in between kisses. You finally slip off her shirt.

"Daisy", she mumbles. She pulls away to start peppering kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. In the middle of sucking a hickey into your skin, she pauses. "Hey, I remember the quote."

"Not the time", you say, pushing her down. Your hands reach for her zipper, opening it and pulling at her slacks. She lifts her hips to help you. "No condom?"

She shakes her head and watches you undress. Her chest is heaving with each breath, and she's fighting hard for every single one. "We risked it once. Turned out fine."

You hum and sink down. You both moan at the same time, and you bury your hands in her hair once you've undone her braid. She leans in to bury her face in your chest.

"Love you", she mumbles. Hands on your hips, she guides every movement. "Thank you for saying yes."

You scoff, but it melts into a moan when she thrusts up into you. "Don't- don't thank me. Ruins it."

"You're right."

Natasha's fingers curl into your skin, her thumbs rubbing circles into it. Little stretch marks look like a map, and she's memorized them a while ago. Her lips press kisses to your chest, her face nuzzling it. You come with her body under yours and her ring on your finger.

Moments later, you're curled up on the bed together. You're playing with strands of her hair. The room smells like candles and the chocolate covered strawberries she forgot on the dresser.

Her hand runs up and down your back, tracing your spine. A kiss is placed on your forehead. You look up, immediately seeing her eyes, and tilt your head at the look in them. She smiles lazily.

"Want to hear the quote?"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #x reader #x yn #wlw #lesbian #marvel #marvel mcu #short n sweet au #short n sweet #fluff #wlw smut #smut #moon’s fics

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orphiclovers · 1 month ago

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I think if I were to summarize the kind of theme I'm interested in fiction it would be "the total disconnect between the internal self and the outer body" or maybe "appearances not matching reality". and that covers about everything under the sun I have ever liked.

Bodyswap stories - literally a wrong appearance not based on your consciousness. Stories about possession - controlling a body that's not yours. going back in time and possessing your past self's body - you still look like yourself but your mind is someone else now, older, changed.

I think the most important part is that you can't TELL from the outside that anything is off.

its about being expected to act a certain way due to your appearance but failing that standard in every way, due to who you ARE in your mind and personality. and you can try but it takes constant effort and you're always anticipating and dreading that moment when someone will find out.

somehow this ISNT even a transgender thing even though it easily could be and thats whats the most confusing part of it all

#my posts #also applies to my ships heavily. the stronger/more powerful one HAS to be the bottom #I don't even consciously decide it it just happens

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dear-ao3 · 6 months ago

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by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

#not a tag #from saph #emails might be scary but they are necessary

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glowettee · 4 months ago

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✧˖° the identity shift: start thinking like an A+ student

post 1

💭 before you even touch your notes, before you highlight a single word, before you drown in exam stress. change how you think about yourself.

most people study with the mindset of “i hope i do well” instead of “i am the kind of person who excels.” and that’s the difference. if you want to start acing your exams, your first step isn’t flashcards or practice tests. it’s shifting your identity. because an A+ student doesn’t just work hard, they think, act, and exist differently.

this is the second post to the final exam survival series. the last post, was focused on how to actually enjoy learning and using that to motivate yourself for school. this post will focus on shifting your identify, which can also work great for manifesting and law of attraction/assumption. i will try to give you the best possible tips to help you shift your mindset to already have the A+ mentality. love you guys <3 - mindy

disclaimer: please don't think i expect you to be perfect, i use 'A+ student' as a way to help you when using loa or manifesting. YOU ARE A HUMAN; DO NOT THINK YOU NEED TO MEET STANDARDS TO BE PERFECT! i love you all and wanted to make sure you know i am NOT setting an unrealistic standard. this post is to help you with manifesting good grades and to inspire you. not for toxic motivation or unrealistic standard setting. - mindy

✧˖° ➼ 01. stop identifying as “bad at studying”

you will never outperform the identity you attach to yourself. if you keep telling yourself: ➝ “i suck at this subject.”➝ “i’ve never been good at exams.”➝ “i’m just not a naturally smart person.”

then you’ll stay stuck. why? because your brain is wired to prove yourself right. but when you shift to: ➝ “i am fully capable of mastering this material.”➝ “i am becoming an A+ student.”➝ “i study in a way that works for me.”

your actions start aligning with that belief. the way you approach studying changes. and suddenly? you’re not “bad at it” anymore.

✧ homework: rewrite every negative academic belief you’ve held about yourself into a new, empowering one. read them before every study session.

✧˖° ➼ 02. start acting like an A+ student right now

not when you feel “ready.” not when you’re already good at the subject. right now.

✨ an A+ student doesn’t: • cram the night before and hope for the best • avoid studying because it feels overwhelming • rely on last-minute motivation to get things done

✨ an A+ student does: • plan their study sessions like an actual strategy • break down material into small, digestible pieces • work consistently, even when they don’t “feel like it”

✧ homework: take one small action today that your A+ student self would take. even if it’s just organizing your study space or making a realistic revision schedule.

✧˖° ➼ 03. use strategic learning, not just memorization

most students study to remember. A+ students study to understand. if you keep forcing yourself to memorize facts with no deeper connection, you’re setting yourself up for forgetting everything under pressure.

🖇 better study strategies:• teach the material → pretend you're tutoring someone who knows nothing about it. if you can explain it simply, you truly understand it. • apply what you learn → don’t just read about a formula, actually use it in practice questions. don’t just memorize historical dates, understand their impact. • switch up your methods → your brain loves novelty. use diagrams, study cards, summarization, and active recall instead of just rereading notes.

✧ homework: find one concept you’ve been struggling with and try teaching it to yourself out loud as if you were giving a TED talk.

✧˖° ➼ 04. start believing you deserve high grades

subconsciously, a lot of people don’t actually believe they’re the kind of person who gets top marks. they might think: ❝ i’ve never been a straight-A student, so why start now? ❞ ❝ my past grades weren’t amazing, i probably won’t do much better. ❞

but what if you let yourself believe otherwise? what if you fully accepted that you deserve to succeed just as much as anyone else? because you do. and the moment you believe that, you start acting in ways that make it true.

✧ homework: visualize yourself receiving your dream grade. feel the confidence of knowing you earned it. then ask yourself: what would my future self tell me to start doing right now?

✧˖° ➼ 05. control your environment like a top student

your surroundings play a huge role in your academic identity. A+ students set themselves up for success by designing an environment that makes focus effortless.

🖇 small shifts that make a huge difference: • keep your study space clean & minimal (no distractions) • use a dedicated study playlist to trigger focus mode • have a go-to beverage (tea, coffee, water) to make studying feel like a ritual • wear comfortable but put-together clothes to signal to your brain that it’s time to work • remove your phone from your workspace entirely (or use app blockers)

✧ homework: make one intentional change to your study environment today. observe how it affects your focus.

✧˖° ➼ 06. stop waiting for motivation

A+ students know that motivation is fleeting. they don’t rely on feeling “in the mood” to study. instead, they: ➝ create systems (set study times, routines) ➝ make studying automatic (habit, not a debate) ➝ use momentum (just start. five minutes can turn into an hour)

✧ homework: set a 10-minute timer and study right now. no overthinking, no debating. just start.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

💌 your identity is everything. if you don’t believe you’re an A+ student yet, start acting like it anyway. your mindset will catch up. 💌 make studying feel aesthetic. wear cute study outfits, light a candle, make it a whole vibe. enjoyable studying = effective studying. 💌 romanticize the glow-up. your academic transformation is a story. imagine looking back and realizing this was the moment everything changed. 💌 you are not behind. you can reinvent yourself as a top student at any time. even now. even today.

xoxo mindy

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donat-senpai · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy (nothing special anymore)

Part one, Part two

The Letter

"New day – new achievements," you thought as you stepped into the pharmacy at the start of the day. Maomao greeted you. Jinshi and Gaoshun were there as well. You flashed a sly smile at everyone present. Today, you were going to do something that would change your friends' lives forever.

The presence of the harem overseer today was nothing unusual. Once again, Maomao was assisting him with an investigation. You didn't bother with the details. Their cases usually involved deaths and had a rather gloomy air about them.

Maomao was silently jotting down notes when Jinshi, who had been watching her, decided to break the silence. "Are you always this serious?" he asked with a faint smirk.

You perked up your ears.

"Unlike some people, I prefer to work rather than waste time on idle chatter," Maomao replied without looking up.

Jinshi chuckled. "Maybe you should finally try taking a break? They say it helps keep you from going insane with your own thoughts," he mused before shifting his attention to you and winking. Your breath hitched. He smugly thought himself charming for managing to fluster you without even trying.

But you weren’t thinking about him at all. You were busy coming up with a name for the kitten they would surely get once they ended up together.

"Better to go mad from thoughts than from stupidity."

You barely hold back a laugh, covering your face with the wide sleeve of your robe. Watching them is better than any romance novel all the harem girls are obsessed with these days.

Maomao notices your strange expression. She’s about to ask if you’re feeling alright but gets distracted by a servant entering the pharmacy. Not the one you had secretly made arrangements with the day before. But in his hands is the letter.

So, everything should be fine… Right?

No.

He hands the letter to you. The letter that was meant for Maomao.

"This is for you," the servant says obligingly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, alarmed, trying to send him a desperate signal with your twitching eye in a Morse code that has yet to be invented.

But the man nods coolly, shoves the letter into your hand, and leaves—abandoning you to the hell of your own making.

"It must be something important," Maomao says, setting her work aside as she approaches you with interest.

"Oh. No. I'm sure it's something silly," you laugh nervously, trying to hide the letter. But Jinshi gently—yet insistently—plucks it from your grasp.

"I shall read it!" he declares grandly and begins reciting the love letter aloud.

You are utterly mortified, wishing you could burn to ashes on the spot.

"…You have captured my heart."

Jinshi finishes with far less enthusiasm than he started.

"An anonymous love confession," Maomao summarizes dryly.

"Who wrote this?!" Jinshi exclaims, unusually agitated.

"Why are you so flustered?" Maomao glares at him from under her lashes, looking as if she's already considering which poison could take him out without raising suspicion. "Were you planning to confess yourself?"

"I just want to know who dared to write this to my— I mean, our… dear acquaintance," Jinshi barely corrects himself, too upset to choose his words carefully.

"It’s probably just a mistake," you blurt out in panic. Because if Maomao decides that this letter was meant for you from Jinshi… your days are numbered.

"This could be a conspiracy," Maomao concludes, finding her own logic perfectly reasonable.

"A conspiracy?!"

"Yes. To lure them into a meeting and rob them. Or interrogate them. She's connected to you, after all."

At this point, Gaoshun decides to step in.

"I still think… it's just a letter."

You're this close to bursting into tears. Here he is—your savior, the most reasonable of men. But, of course, no one except you is paying him any attention.

"We should interrogate that servant."

"We’ll wait for the sender to reveal themselves."

"NO ONE is going to reveal themselves! Because this was obviously not meant for me!" you shout at them in pure desperation.

The two paranoid lunatics finally fall silent. But not for long.

"Fine. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you. For your own safety," Jinshi says, reaching out in an attempt to touch your face.

A loud slap echoes through the pharmacy. Maomao has smacked his hand away. You feel your soul leave your body.

"Watch over them? What are you, some kind of pervert? I will be watching you—to make sure you don’t do anything stupid," she declares, wrapping her arms around you protectively, shielding you from the dangerous man.

"Enough!" Gaoshun’s patience finally snaps.

This time, the sheer authority in his voice forces the pair to pay attention. The room settles into silence.

"I’ll take the letter to confirm whether it was truly delivered to the right place. You all—get back to work. We don’t have all day, Master Jinshi."

Before leaving, Gaoshun casts a disapproving look your way.

You realize—he knows. You don’t have to worry. He’s got your back. But that doesn’t make you feel any less mortified. You should get him a gift to thank him for the trouble. Maybe then, the emperor will take pity on you and have you executed for something.

"Haha… funny how these things happen," you laugh nervously.

Neither Maomao nor Jinshi are willing to let you go just yet. They seat themselves beside you, one on each side, and begrudgingly return to work.

"The letter idea wasn’t so great after all," you admit to yourself in silent defeat.

#yandere x reader #yandere #the apothecary diaries #yandere maomao #maomao x reader #yandere maomao x reader #jinshi x reader #yandere jinshi #yandere jinshi x reader #yandere the apothecary diaries

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tammyu-2 · 3 months ago

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hiiii. can you write hc for the turtles (if you do) for femreader with large breasts, like larger than normal, and has neck, shoulder, back pains, etc. with either rise or 2012 pleaseeee?? feel free to ignore, loves ya<33

Oookey however I won't do Mikey. I hope that's okay with you

2012 TMNT WITH A S/O THAT HAS BIG BOOBS

Some vulgar innuendos, sorta perverted on raphs side, trying to make this kinda pg but not that much, swearing, feminine pronouns

Let's hop right into it!

LEO

When Leonardo first caught had his eye on you he didn't really think much of it. He wasn't really the type to go for those physical attributes and more or less your smile would catch him before your tatas.

I think if he gets to a point where his crush is so bad then he will probably fantasize you with your boobies. Like full on dreaming about holding you as he used your built in pillows while you cuddle watching his favorite action show.

When you two stated dating it's a bit more..noticed. Especially since you often jump around whenever you see him because your excited to see your boyfriend. And since you've grown to ignore your jugs bouncing you barely take note... Leo however prays for forgiveness at even the slightest peak that happens to last longer than 10 minutes.

"Leo my eyes are up here."

Leo calmly looks up at you as if he hadn't felt like he was sinning hard as hell right now

"That is exactly what I'm looking at starlight.."

Whenever you wear boob windowed tops of revealing cleavage outfits it doesn't go unnoticed. He tends to be more clingy with you without trying to. It's just a natural response for him!

However, as much as you were blessed- it also had its flaws. Like the endless amount of back pain, you felt like you were a camel in the dessert carrying a heavy ass man. You tend to complain about it alot and Leo does small things like leaving extra pillows on the couch before you arrive and asking you to lie on your back alot when cuddling him. He makes sure there's heating pads at your disposal and little things like that.

"We all set for movie night?"

"...can I have another pillow-"

Not even waiting for the words to finish falling from your mouth. Leo tucks a fluffy pillow under you.

"Better?"

"Much."

He avoids touching them out of showing respect for you. Even if you say it's fine- this baby boy is NOT doing that. His papa raised a gentleman.

DONNIE

When Donnie first had his eye on you ofcourse he took in everything about you. That includes your girls. I feel like he would be the type to draw overly dramatic anime styled sketches of him saving you with you tatas doubled. When you jump? Honey listen to me.. when you feet touches the ground so does the back of his head...

They jumpscare him. Like he could be not paying attention and you appear out of nowhere and he visibly jumps at the sight of them suddenly entering his peripheral vision.

When you two start dating he is still the way he is. Just toned down. Like he is still overly flustered when they jiggle alot and he is still blushes madly at the mere MENTION of them. But he is controlled a little to a different degree.

If you wear cleavage revealing outfits then you best believe his nose be bleeding every single time. Even if it's the same outfit you wore 3 times in a row. He is GONE. If he ever gets the chance he will sit down and praise then for an hour and a half- summarized.

If you complain about your pain of having constant melons to carry around like a pregnant lady but longer than 9 months. Then our little genius will get to work. He will create gadget and gizmos. He will also leave around body pain medication and heating pads for you. He will also give you snacks thinking that sometimes it might be your menstrual cycle.

"Vuala! I present to you this magnetic gift for you darling!"

"Donnie this is a corset?"

"Not just any corset but the world's first ever comfortable corset. It is embroidered with built in cushioning along with a flat like table to rest your....assests on to. Gently gving you stylish fashion AND giving you comfort that a bra could do but better!"

".... WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU IN THE VICTORIAN ERA-"

Please let him sleep on them... he litrally is on cloud 9- like it's marshmallows but better. He would 100% Hint at it because he's too shy to ask upfront ot he will go full on 2018 Y/N on you.

"C-c-c-c-a-a-"

"Just lie down Donnie.. "

RAPH

We all know where this is going right? It's bright as day. The first that caught him about you were your little friends, thing 1 and thing 2, and he is SHAMELESS. You guys aren't even dating and he is relentless with it.

"I have a secret talent."

"Oh yeah what's that?"

"I can guess any girls bra size all you have to do is just jump"

"I'd rather jump off a bridge."

"Can I record it atleast? We can do it like a topless-"

"RAPH SHUT UP!"

Your taste is questionable. And you two end up dating. Now it gets worse because before it was sorta empty promises. Now there's nothing TO promise cause he knows he can anyway.

He will wrap his arm around you wast and just grab them like stress balls. He will put his face in it after a long day of being a ninja. He will just grab one to feel the warmth of it.

He cat calls you whenever you wear revealing clothing that show of the powerpuffgirls. Like full on construction worker type cat calling. He will get you attention and just stare. Your eyes are up where? No silly they are down here.

Whenever you have pain her doesn't know what to do cause he normally isn't good with being sympathetic. So he asks april bluntly which leaves him with a slap to the face and a scolding on manners. He will get you heating pads and pain meds but that's all. Other than ofcourse-

"Ugh my back is sore.."

"You want me to hold them for you?"

I don't feel comfortable doing Mikey sorry...

Hope you guys enjoyed that I'm going to try post 2 more but here is some food for yall. Once I finish Monkie Kid I will add that onto my masterlist and you guys will now have the option of request cookierun kingdom!

Okay baiiiii

~Tammy<3

Not proofread

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 27 days ago

Text

"The True Face" - Mizi's Love for Another Woman

**This analysis is mainly themed around a pretty frank discussion of heteronormativity and misogyny. Please be mindful of that before reading this!**

Oh boy. What a doozy of a comic. What a radical shift to the way I had been reading this story up until now.

It didn't really change the way I saw Mizi as a character, to be honest. What it changed was my perception of the environment these characters grew up in, lending new context to Mizi's actions and motivations.

To summarize: Mizi being queer is a much bigger deal than I'd thought.

[Long post is long, as usual. Full analysis under the cut.]

The hints were there from the beginning that Mizi wasn't entirely oblivious to the cruel nature of their world.

I'm not going to say that she knew the true deadly end awaiting the losers on Alien Stage, because I really don't think that was the case at all. She didn't know Sua was going to be killed. At the same time, I think it was something of a case of "well, what did I think was going to happen?" after the fact. Mizi simply didn't consider it as a possibility, because she didn't want to see it.

I'll come back to this.

While watching Alien Stage, I always did have a certain thought in my head that intrigued me. Love is one of the central themes of the show, namely, the way the cast try their best to love in the only ways they know how. However, due to the structure of their world, the control they're placed under and how the only way they are allowed to shine is on stage as part of a packaged performance, their only metric for what "love" looks like is idolatry.

It didn't seem like it really mattered that much of our cast was queer. I just shrugged and assumed the aliens didn't really care what their pets got up to, so long as they performed well on stage.

This comic turned that on its head.

The scene with the unnamed Anakt Garden boy establishes something very important.

It does matter, actually, that the love is queer.

Over time, the creators have done a careful job of slowly showing us bit by bit of all the different things they are taught at Anakt - we see the music lessons first (checks out; they're being trained to sing, after all), and their mandatory play for "mental health". They have phys ed type competitions. While there is a disturbing element of all of them being essentially brought up as lambs to the slaughter, compared to the stage and to the horrors some of them faced from their guardians, the garden appears a relative paradise.

But the garden is not free of the aliens' control, far from it. Everything is fashioned to train the pet humans and serve some sort of purpose to satisfy the aliens.

We see experimentation and augmentation. We see a form of religion that emphasizes the great pride one should have in fulfilling the aliens' intended purposes for them. We see cloning.

There is another purpose to training "pets" and selecting ones that have particular desirable traits. After all, if you like a particular breed of dog for their hunting abilities, or a particular beautiful coat pattern, you can breed more like it. Io, Till's mother and a "provider", seems pretty clearly kept for that purpose.

I'm not saying that Anakt was for breeding. It's pretty clearly for the stage itself. But that doesn't change the mindset the aliens have taken to the relative "purposes" of biological females and males, and the way that trickles down into the mentality of the kids we see there.

We've seen a recent comic of the Anakt kids at school together, learning things about biology. I had originally assumed that it was focused on vocal training and anatomy pertaining to singing. Now, I suspect, from this unnamed guy saying "You know what they say", that there's a heavy focus on reproduction as well.

So, now love is corrupted two-fold. "Love" is only acceptable in terms of idolatry, or as a biological imperative to mate.

The Anakt kids are familiar with the concept of crushes. A lot of them were revealed to have crushes and have liked each other, as seen in the notes they left each other after graduation. Some of the names are difficult to discern, gender-wise. But I suspect most of these are male-female.

Till's crush on Mizi is "obvious". But Ivan's crush on Till is never noticed, and people continue to confess to Mizi and Sua despite the two always being together and Mizi directly stating that Sua is her favourite person. The boy in the most recent comic does not think anything of Mizi and Sua hanging out and instead fixates on her and Till. I don't even know if Till fully understands. Mizi tells him her favourite person is Sua, but does it occur to Till that her favouritism is born out of a romantic love for her? Does Till even recognize the possibility that Ivan's "weird" behaviour could be because he has feelings for him? I'm honestly unsure. It's very possible he doesn't know.

Another thing that intrigued me from the start: Mizi and Sua are canonically in love. But, just watching the show without knowledge that the creator, Vivinos, is queer, or without some of the comics' background information, a lot of people watching for the first time mistake them for best friends and nothing more. Even in official in-universe interviews, we see this:

They are best friends, of course! That's not in doubt and that's important too. But it's really interesting that even though the aliens were moved by their connection made obvious in the My Clematis performance, it is not called love.

By contrast, while in-universe the obliviousness is much the same, real-life audiences have no issue picking up on Ivan's feelings for Till. Part of this is gender bias (women are expected to be more affectionate with each other), but part of this is presentation. For awhile, I felt a little uncertain about the canon MiziSua relationship being so... understated compared to IvanTill, who get a full yearning song and an onstage kiss to make it completely unambiguous. It's even strange, because Mizi does nothing but talk about how much she loves Sua. But now, I think that's the point.

The thing is, Mizi has been loud about her love for Sua. It's just that no one understands.

What this comic establishes is that Mizi has near constant feelings of being misunderstood and objectified. She is a pretty woman, who is friendly, with a genuine desire to see people happy. Unfortunately, due to the aliens' emphasis on what a woman's role should be with regards to men, with regards to what is expected of her, her desire for friendship is treated as "leading people on", the way many women are accused of being "temptresses" when in reality it is others who read into her platonic expressions of behaviour. No one bothers to actually get to know her as a person, because hardly anyone cares about her beyond a pretty face. Without other female role models to help her understand that this is not her fault, Mizi internalizes this sudden anger at her as somehow her doing, even though she really doesn't get what she did "wrong".

Unlike Ivan, who at least fashioned his own personality to fit in, Mizi was forced to fill in the cracks on a smiley, cheerful, pretty mask that everyone else had decided on for her - because they could get mad at her if she doesn't.

Even though Mizi is naive in many regards, she actually notices something here that none of the rest of them seem to. Sua and Ivan "steal" these precious moments, resigned to never being able to have or keep them. Till is content to find inspiration from afar. These three have been fighting to physically survive in their awful circumstances, so that they really don't question the existing power structures much at all.

But Mizi, misunderstood and hurt by social factors more than by physical ones at this point, has just enough awareness and just enough innocence to question. She's so close to performing as a woman in the way others expect her to. And yet, there's something about her that is just "wrong" enough in the way that gets people (men) mad at her. And she doesn't get it.

She doesn't return his feelings but she does want to be friends. Why is that not enough?

She's already said she loves Sua. Why is that not enough?

She runs away here, still with a smile on her face to try and appease and placate this boy who got violent with her for a reason she cannot understand, even as she cries, clearly scared. This is a fawn response. And it's this that gets warped into Mizi somehow believing that she has made everyone love her or somehow manipulated them. Yes, it is intended for self-preservation. But not from the aliens.

Mizi runs to Sua, seeking comfort and reassurance. Surely, Sua will understand. And personally, I think Sua probably does to some degree. But in this situation, she had just spent a long time with her alien mother preparing for the stage. What's more, she doesn't trust or like many of the other people at Anakt. Mizi says that the boy wasn't a bad person, while Sua says there was "something off about him".

They had also just come off the tail end of an argument. Mizi is content to just make herself be happy now that Sua is here. But Sua cannot "just be happy", and from her perspective, Mizi's apparent ability to just shrug things off and be carefree is hurtful after the experience she has likely just had. Both girls wanted comfort from each other here and did not find it, but Sua makes the really insensitive move of accidentally echoing the boy's words back at Mizi. I don't think Sua meant this to be mean, really. Her collar is green - if anything, I think Sua is sincere about being glad Mizi doesn't get dragged around the way she does. But all the same, a level of resentment does show through, and it doesn't change the fact that this is the last thing Mizi needed to hear in that moment.

It's not really Sua Mizi wanted to hurt. She's definitely angry with her. But that's the thing: Mizi feels safe enough to get mad at and hit Sua. She did not feel safe enough to do that with the boy.

It makes sense now that Mizi was comfortable enough with Ivan to fall asleep on top of him. He was likely the one boy there she wasn't scared of, with full knowledge that he would never be interested in her that way.

And that's what I think Mizi was truly aware of that she pretended to be ignorant of. Not the full horrors of Alien Stage itself, but the emotions and mindsets of the people around her. She's much more understanding of the way people think and feel than she let on, which allowed her to tailor her reactions so that people hopefully wouldn't get so mad at her. If she's just a ditz, then they can't get too mad, right? People would feel bad for getting mad at someone so oblivious, right? She could keep finding comfort and safety and protection in Sua, right? Right?

She's innocent to many things, but when it comes to human beings, Mizi is almost hyper-aware of the way her perceived womanhood puts her in danger, not just from the aliens but from her peers, and the way her love for Sua is not accepted and would not be understood. And by not understanding that, by not seeing the love that was one of the few things she chose to pursue and cultivate for herself, does anyone really know her at all?

The religion they pray to tells them to be honoured to be selected for Alien Stage, and to carry out the purpose they were created for.

Mizi, armed with knowledge of humanity's god before the aliens, but with a naive and innocent hope in her heart due to being shielded from the horror of physical death, defies this assigned deity and chooses a new god in Sua. Her love for Sua is what she sees as the truest part of her - no matter what anyone tells her about what her's and Sua's "purpose" is, that cannot possibly be wrong. Something that brings them happiness and security like this cannot be wrong. She devotes herself to it because it is the one thing that she refuses to appease others over. She thinks this entitlement to her heart and body is "gross". She states it bluntly, many times. Her favorite person is Sua. Her best friend in the world is Sua. Her god, her universe, is Sua, and she chose her.

This changes the My Clematis performance.

We know that Mizi, unlike the rest, was not forced to participate in Alien Stage; instead, it was a choice she made because she wanted to perform with Sua. What initially seemed like a naive desire to share a special moment with her soulmate becomes something much more motivated by Mizi's own desires to have people see her love for Sua in a way that cannot be denied. She wants people to see them together.

Mizi is oblivious to the Stage's true nature, but she is not oblivious to the emotions of her friends. She knows something is wrong with the way Sua is acting about it. She knows the stage carries tension they can all feel. On some level, she knows the two of them are destined to be torn apart.

But she doesn't want to see it, because much like Sua needed her bubble of innocence to survive, Mizi needed her hope that their love could be enough some day. That they won't be torn apart and forced to fulfill some coldly practical or biological prerogative. It's the first duet in Alien Stage history; a brilliant, almost rebellious demonstration that Mizi has just about deluded herself into thinking might actually work to spare them from their fate she sticks her head in the sand about and refuses to acknowledge.

They are going to wear their most beautiful dresses. They are going to sing the most beautiful song for them, a testament to their love and connection. Look, see, aren't we beautiful?

Mizi: "Still, I want to sing and perform with SUA for as long as possible, so I want to win with her, together! I heard that there’s never been a tie in all of ALIEN STAGE’s history… But if we get that tie, then I bet everyone will call us the most fantastic duo to exist in history, right?!"

After this comic, all I can read in this is: acknowledge us.

But then Sua is shot dead in front of her.

Her blood splashes that same cheek where the boy slapped her. Mizi's final hopes are shattered. Worse yet, because she still can't understand why this happened and why everyone keeps getting violent, because her desire to display their love openly got Sua killed, Mizi internalizes the idea that she is the one with something horribly wrong with her - blaming herself for being too frightened to face reality when the rest of her friends had, and feeling like her desperate attempts to people please and hold onto an ignorant hope forced people into dying to protect her. In actuality though, Mizi is not responsible for the way people try to force her to fit an image, and she did not manipulate people into liking her - she's just friendly, and many of the guys read into it, feeling entitled to her because they're boys and she's a girl, and in the face of that, Mizi's established love for another girl is inconsequential.

This adds another layer to Mizi's violent breakdown in round 5. The boy from this comic bears quite the resemblance to Luka. This comic recontextualizes Luka's interactions with Mizi and Hyuna in a really intriguing way.

Luka is a victim. I want to make that clear off the bat. He's heavily implied to be a clone with the least amount of understanding on love and human connection. Off the stage, he is micromanaged to the point of complete and utter obedience - the perfect idol. But on stage, the performance is his to control, and he does so by asserting dominance over his performing partner and emotionally destabilizing them.

Fascinatingly, while everyone else appears somewhat oblivious to the queer love of many of our main characters, Luka appears stunningly aware of it, and is able to weaponize it. Round 5 looks like a wedding. He grabs Mizi and forces her to participate in a distorted version of a partner dance. It was really the perfect way to break her.

In addition to mocking her over Sua's death, in addition to her anger that Sua lied to her and enabled her ignorance, Mizi looks up at Luka and sees what she always feared: a man replacing her beloved Sua and forcing her into a kind of relationship she doesn't want, because "that is the way things are meant to be".

She no longer has anything to lose, nor fear for her own life, so she finally lets all her anger out on him.

Again, Luka is obedient. He's internalized many things: win at all costs being one of them. Do what you were designed to do. It's not really a surprise that he probably internalized these biological notions of what is "natural" too. Whatever his audience wants to see.

This also lends context to this scene. Hyuna is in distress. We know and she knows that Luka's feelings are genuine, but for as long as he acts out the aliens' methods of control, his "love" will only be a prison for Hyuna. He forces himself on her here, likely because... "it's only natural". That entitlement tainting what were genuine feelings between them would be unbearable for Hyuna, who values her freedom more than anything (and this is before even getting into what happened to Hyunwoo).

For Hyuna to rescue Mizi immediately after she lashed out, and for Mizi to temporarily see a woman who embodies freedom in how and who she loves, who is unabashedly loud and courageous while no less damaged, is a huge deal coming on the tail end of Round 5. It's really such a shame the time they had together was so short.

I, for one, am really hoping that Mizi can find her strength in love again, much like Hyuna did, instead of continuing to punish herself through Sua's memory.

#storyrambles #i could definitely talk more about sua and hyuna through this lens but this is already long enough. and we're talking about mizi so.#anyways i really hope this was clear? it's a bit heavy to write and read... i hope i didn't overlook anything important #alien stage #alnst #alnst mizi #alnst meta #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective #mizisua

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