#time interpreting conference

[indigostudies]

sighs deeply as i fantasise about getting a fellowship to cover a translation studies certification

[lemedstudent2021]

@maruyaaya @notsolonedesert me n yall lol <3

being a humanities major who’s friends with stem majors is so funny because you’ll ask your friends what they’re doing today and they’re like “UGH it’s so stressful i have to stabilize the reactor core for my nuclear power midterm and then i have to build the supercomputer from i have no mouth yet i must scream for my electrical engineering homework :/ what about you” and you’re like “oh well i have to read a fun little book and write an essay about gender.” and they still think you have it worse

[darlingofdots]

at a conference I attended recently, a researcher pointed to the difficulty of finding material in archives because so much depends on the metadata and the terminology used to describe things changes over time. "it would be so helpful," the researcher said, "if I typed 'lesbian' into the library of congress database, it would also show me results that were categorised in the 50s, when the materials were interpreted as 'intimate female friendships'"

which is what tag wrangles at Archive Of Our Own do incredibly effectively: searching for "omegaverse" also leads to "alpha/beta/omega dynamics" and "alternate universe: a/b/o" and so on. but ao3 achieves this frankly incredible categorisation and indexing system by the power of countless volunteers putting in hours and hours of unpaid and unthanked free time, and it's completely understandable that most archives do not have that kind of infrastructure, but also how incredible that a fan-run website has better searchability, classification, and accessibility than the library of congress

[transcriptioncity]

Comprehensive Guide to Conference Support and Transcription Services for Conferences

Comprehensive Guide to Conference Support and Language Services Conferences have evolved significantly since their inception in ancient times. Initially, they were informal gatherings where leaders discussed critical issues. These meetings have grown into structured events, facilitating knowledge exchange and fostering professional development. For example, the Yalta Conference in 1945 shaped…

[ssahotchnerr]

so i just had a tiktok on my fyp of a couple where the guy always instinctively holds out his and behind him whenever he walks/has to walk in front of his fiancée and my mind went instantly to aaron bc let’s be honest he’s a lover boy and he’d 10000% do that 🤭🤭 oh to be loved by him😔😪

intertwined

lover boy aaron loml 🥰 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship, some protective aaron <333, your usual cm case content, fluff

An annoyed huff left Aaron as he pulled up to the front of the precinct. "You're kidding."

News stations, reporters, and interested civilians flocked the entrance, cameras rolling and snapping pictures the second the SUVs came into view.

You frowned, your eyes quickly scanning for an alternate route. "There isn't a back way?"

"Unfortunately not." Cutting the engine, he moved fast, swiftly unbuckling his seatbelt. You instantly followed suit, zipping up your FBI windbreaker. "Let's go."

Reporters were shouting a flurry of questions before you had properly exited the vehicle. Your unsub had been high profile; a local, popular philanthropist. A fraud nonetheless, using his 'compelling' platform to take advantage of those vulnerable. Convincing them he could help, and then using their weaknesses to a deathly advantage. Evidently, word of his arrest spread like wildfire.

Aaron waited for you at the front of the car, lingering until you were promptly at his side before catching up to the others. He quickly oversaw Dave and JJ pry the guy out, acting as a protective barrier from the crowd - before following.

That meant you were on the back end; Dave and JJ leading the way, then Aaron, and then yourself.

Your strategic, collective job was easy; get through the crowd and use the simple words no comment. It was no problem avoiding their questions, a press conference to be done at a later time to compensate. As for right now, the only concern was getting the guy inside.

After a moment, amidst the frenzy, Aaron's hand gingerly moved behind him, his fingers stretching blindly for yours.

Your heart warmed at the gesture, especially since you were feeling the crowd closing in, but hesitated. Aaron's aversion to public displays in the field rarely faltered, set on the intention of keeping it behind closed doors. You knew that, and you respected that, and you didn’t want him to compromise on it unthinkingly.

Your eyes lifted in the interest of meeting his, to confirm the exposed contact, in front of cameras, but he didn't turn his head. His hand hung waiting as he continuously moved forward, unwavering and unyielding until your fingers brushed against his.

You firmly grasped onto his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the surrounding chaos. Aaron's hand squeezed yours once, twice. A silent: Stay close. Don’t let go. He even pulled you toward him, right to his back, ensuring you were securely within his proximity.

It was disorientating. The flashing of lights, strongly illuminated due to the dark of night. Intertwining, hurried voices - you could barely hear Aaron or the others state no comment. Some knew to keep a favorable distance, but one anchor did manage to bump right into you, his microphone hitting your arm. Not too harshly, but enough to be noticeable.

Aaron felt it, the abrupt jolt of your arm. His head snapped back, and the anchor earned himself a hardened glare in return, receiving a sharp, "careful."

He cowered, shrinking back and blending into his fellow over enthusiastic colleagues.

Aaron's gaze met yours, concern hidden behind his unit chief demeanor. Only you could interpret their soft, discrete meaning. You alright, sweetheart?

You offered a small nod, softening your eyes in response. Further proof that you were in fact: Fine.

His hand tightened its hold, only letting up when the team reached the front doors. He stepped aside, using his backside to hold it open. He ushered you in, his hand shifting to the small of your back momentarily and letting the doors close behind him.

As you followed JJ and Dave into holding, Aaron caught up to you rather quickly - close enough that his shoulder was bumping into yours. Hidden between your sides, his gentle fingers intertwined with yours once more.

[roaaoife]

Keys to getting your issue resolved quickly OR How to get a Good Grade in Submitting Tickets

Be Specific

Where did the issue occur? What specifically did you click or enter or do? What page were you on? What field? Give the Time and Date

Be Detailed

What else was going on? What actions did you take prior? What was the expected outcome of those actions that did or didn't occur? Did anything occur prior that may or may not be related? Add as much detail as possible.

Screen shots are worth their bit count in Gold

Include multiple screen shots where possible. At least should have as much of the screen as possible- sometimes there's a filter or other issue that is off to the side that you may not think is important but is actually part of the problem. Describe what the screen shot is supposed to show. If you have an example of how it should look, that's also very helpful, but you can include this is your description.

my god you're fucked: the lady at the help desk just went to ask someone else for help with your issue and everyone's got a confused look on

[reiding-writing]

Can you write something for Spencer and cold reader where they’re on a case and a police officer has been flirting with Spencer heavily the whole time and he’s just been laughing it off and being his typical self but reader is jealous and finally realizes she wants to be more than friends who kiss. Ur cold reader fics r soooo good btw like u ate.

MAKE IT OFFICIAL. /spencer reid/

the limits of your patience are pushed further than usual seeing spencer’s oblivious kindness whilst being flirted with.

s10!cold!reader 1.7k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | thank you girliepop 💅

You’re halfway through a sip of bitter coffee when she laughs again. It’s the same laugh she’s been using all morning—breathy, melodic, and entirely directed at Spencer.

It flutters too long in the small space of the precinct, stretching over the clatter of keyboards and the low murmur of detectives briefing each other. You tilt your head slightly, observing from your spot near the evidence board.

The officer—Mitchell, her name tag says—leans closer to Spencer than necessary. She rests her hand on his forearm, which should be a brief touch but somehow lingers long enough to make your fingers tighten around the paper cup in your hand. Spencer’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at whatever nonsense she’s just said.

You press your thumb against the edge of the cup, hard enough that the cardboard buckles slightly.

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” she purrs, too saccharine, too eager, watching him fill out some report. “All those big words,” She laughs again.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the sharpness of it cut into your skin. The burn is grounding.

Spencer just chuckles softly, light and disarming, probably completely unaware of how deliberately she’s touching him. He barely reacts when she pushes a strand of hair off his forehead, her fingers lingering too long for a casual gesture. His attention is on the paper, and he doesn’t pull away. Of course he doesn’t. He’s Spencer.

You glance at the clock. 3:37 PM. You have been here for hours. You’ve combed through reports, stared at maps, gone over timelines—and still, none of that has been as frustrating as standing here watching her flip her hair over her shoulder every time she speaks to him.

Spencer looks up and catches your eye. His smile brightens automatically, a familiar warmth in his eyes. But you turn away before it has a chance to land. You shove the rest of your coffee into the trash and stride toward the conference room without a word.

—

You hear Spencer before you see him. His voice carries softly into the conference room, spilling through the half-open door.

“Hey,”

You don’t turn. You’re shuffling papers across the table without focus, avoiding looking at him as he steps inside. You hear the faint click of the door closing behind him.

“You okay?” he asks lightly, but there’s that soft edge of concern under the surface.

You nod, once, briskly. “Fine.”

You’re not.

Spencer hesitates for a moment. You know he’s searching your face, trying to interpret the sharpness in your voice. He’s always been annoyingly good at reading you. It doesn’t stop you from keeping your eyes on the case files, scanning words you don’t actually see.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. His tone is teasing. “You stormed out of the room so fast, I thought maybe you remembered you left the car on or something,”

You exhale sharply through your nose. He’s trying to lighten the mood. You know it’s meant to be endearing, but it irritates you instead. You stack the papers into a neat, rigid pile and stare at them.

“Why didn’t you just give her your number?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer blinks. “What?”

You don’t look at him. “The officer. Mitchell. She was all over you. You could’ve saved her the effort.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You finally glance at him, and his expression is one of genuine confusion. His lips are slightly parted, his brows furrowed just enough to create that little crease above his nose. The one you’re too familiar with.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Your voice is flat. Measured.

Spencer’s head tilts slightly, blinking at you in that slow, owlish way he does when he’s processing. “She was just being nice,”

You let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking your head once. You stare down at the case file again. You’re gripping the edge of it so tightly that the paper threatens to crumple.

“She touched you like four different times,” you say, tone clipped. “And you didn’t seem to mind.”

Spencer frowns. “I didn’t even notice,”

Of course he didn’t. Because he was too busy being Spencer—kind and soft-spoken and so oblivious that he doesn’t even register when someone’s blatantly flirting with him. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even realise why you’re angry.

There’s a stretch of silence. His eyes are still on you, searching.

You finally look up at him and hold his gaze. Your voice is steady, cool, and unyielding.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

The words come out without any warning. Blunt and matter-of-fact, like you’re stating a weather report. There’s no emotion in your voice, no softness, no trace of vulnerability.

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. He blinks once. Then twice.

“What?” he says softly, and you can see the confusion flit across his face. Like he thinks he misheard you.

You exhale sharply, irritated by the way your chest tightens. You keep your eyes on him, refusing to look away, even when you feel the weight of your words hanging in the space between you.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.” you repeat evenly.

There’s no flourish to the statement. No tenderness. It’s clinical and cold, like you’re stating a simple fact. Like you’re asking him to pass the salt.

Spencer blinks again. You watch his throat bob slightly as he swallows. His voice is careful when he speaks, slow and measured.

“Why… are you saying it like that?”

You cross your arms loosely, feeling exposed despite your detached tone. “Does it matter how I’m saying it?”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, it kind of does,”

You clench your jaw. You’re suddenly aware of how loud the blood is in your ears.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, Spencer,” you say plainly. “I’m just… telling you what I want.”

His eyes are soft, searching. His brow furrows slightly, and you can tell he’s trying to read between the lines. You hate how easily he can see through you.

“Do you—” He stops himself and exhales slowly. He tries again, quieter this time. “Do you mean that?”

You scoff softly, feigning exasperation, even though your hands have curled into fists at your sides. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He takes a half step closer. The warmth in his eyes softens into something gentler, something achingly familiar.

“Hey,” he says quietly. His voice is so soft it almost makes your throat tighten. “Your tone isn’t really… reassuring,”

You roll your eyes slightly, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected. “I didn’t realise there was a proper tone for this sort of thing.”

But Spencer’s still watching you, gaze steady, almost too steady. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “You sound like you’re scared of it,”

Your stomach tightens sharply, and you hate how exposed you feel. You glance away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m not scared,” you say quietly. It’s almost convincing.

Spencer steps closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s right in front of you. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, close enough that his scent—faintly woodsy, familiar—pulls at you.

“Then say it again,” he murmurs softly. “But… more— genuinely? Vulnerably?”

You let out a sharp breath, heart tightening. You stare at the floor, feeling your pulse in your throat. Your hands are cold and damp, and you want to shove them into your pockets, but you don’t.

You force yourself to look at him, and the moment you meet his eyes, your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper.

“I,” You breathe. “would like you to be my boyfriend,”

It’s softer this time, but the edges of it are still stiff and unfamiliar. You sound uncertain, and you hate it.

Spencer’s lips part slightly, and he exhales slowly, eyes impossibly gentle. He reaches out, carefully, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away. But you don’t. His hand skims over yours, fingers brushing lightly against your knuckles, and his touch is steady, grounding.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Okay?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and his voice is barely above a murmur.

“Yeah,” He nods. “Okay,”

For a moment, you just stare at him, unsure if you’ve even heard him right. But then he’s leaning down, slow and deliberate, and your breath catches when his lips brush softly against yours.

His hands frame your face, tentative at first, as though afraid you might bolt. But when you don’t, his fingers settle more firmly along your jaw, thumbs brushing lightly over your skin.

And when you pull back slightly, breath unsteady, his eyes search yours with a quiet intensity.

“No one’s going to see,” he murmurs softly against your lips. “It’s alright,”

Your chest tightens sharply, and you hate how warm his words make you feel. You pull him down again, into a kiss that makes the papers on the table blur into nothingness.

And this time, you let yourself want it.

[kxsagi]

Hiii, first of all ur writing is AMAZING im giggling and swirling my hair every time I read ur work!!🤭

So I just wanted to request the bllk boy with a gf who's like the walking embodiment of the 20s baddie. Like she's just effortlessly serving cunt!💅

“𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭”

a/n: thank you so much babes!!! i interpreted your request as 1920’s baddie! reader so i hope i did this right! 

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, isagi yoichi, ness alexis

itoshi rin

rin didn’t know he had a thing for women who insult him like he’s beneath them… until you walked into his life with a fur coat, feathered headband, and told him, “you look like you cry when your hair isn’t symmetrical.” 

every time he talks, you tilt your head like you’re listening to the weather forecast. 

he’ll mutter, “shut up,” under his breath and you’ll reply, “aww, is lil’ grumpy baby feeling shy?” 

he swears he hates it. but his ears are red. his soul is trembling. but he’s never been more in love. 

once you strutted onto the field in heels just to hand him water like, “hydrate, doll. you can’t be the best with dry lips and brother issues.” 

karasu was there. rin’s entire bloodline felt that humiliation. and yet, he drank the water. 

you’re the only one who can get away with calling him “pookie.” 

itoshi sae

you? a flapper goddess in a champagne satin dress. him? emotionally constipated, internally combusting. 

you walked past him once in a speakeasy-inspired outfit, and sae forgot his own name. 

he said “hi,” and you just sipped your drink and said, “darling, are you speaking or sighing? i can’t tell.” 

you keep asking him to “be a dear” and fetch things. sae, the football prodigy, literally gets up mid-conference call to bring you a feather boa. 

you flirt with his brother just to watch sae visibly malfunction. “rin and i were just talking about how sharp his jawline is... don’t pout, baby. jealousy is so last season.” 

you put your heel on his thigh once while fixing your anklet and that man forgot how to breathe. 

but he stays silent. because he loves the fear. 

kaiser michael

you two are a match made in diva heaven. he opens his mouth to flirt, and you hit back with, “did you think that sentence was going to make me fall in love or file a restraining order?” 

you two do red carpet struts in your living room like it’s fashion week. mirror selfies? iconic. couple outfits? powerful. paparazzi energy in the way you take pics of each other. 

he calls you “my queen,” you call him “my favorite delulu.” 

you once told him, “i’m not impressed by your goals. i’ve had men score bigger in my DM’s.” 

he immediately challenged them all to a 1v1. even the one who sent you a spotify playlist. 

you gaslight him for fun like: “baby, i never said that. maybe you dreamt it because you’re obsessed with me.” and he giggles like you handed him a diamond. 

shidou ryusei

you told him to “sit” once and he did it like a well-trained dog. 

the amount of times he’s called you “mistress” unironically is concerning. 

you once winked at him from across the club and he barked. 

you flirt like a femme fatale and he flirts like he just got let out of an asylum. but somehow… it works. 

he likes when you threaten him. “touch me again and i’ll throw this martini in your face.” “promise?” he whispers, already leaning in. 

he calls you “mommy” in public. you slap him with your satin glove and he moans. 

he once broke a guy’s nose for catcalling you, even though you were the one catcalling first. 

mikage reo

rich meets rich, but you still act like you fund his lifestyle. 

“reo, darling, i’m not wearing last season’s diamonds. be serious.” 

he loves it. buys you matching fur coats just so you can post “mafia couple aesthetics.” 

your couple photos go viral. you in silk and lipstick, him holding your purse like a good man. 

you act like he’s your driver. “reo, the car. chop chop.” and he unlocks it like, “yes, your highness.” 

you walked into his parents’ mansion once and said, “hmm. charming little place. very... modest.” 

his dad blinked. his mom sipped wine. reo stared at you like you just painted the mona lisa with a martini. 

nagi seishiro

he has no idea what’s going on, but he loves being dragged around like a clueless sugar baby. 

you dress him up. force him into suits. comb his hair. “ugh, we can’t both be the hot one. i have a reputation to uphold.” 

he shrugs and says “kinda annoying…” while letting you powder his nose. 

he once fell asleep mid-date and you whispered, “i’ll kill you in your sleep if you embarrass me again.” 

he nodded off with a smile. said it was the best nap he ever had. 

you once handed him a rose and said “for your loyalty” like you’re a 1920s mafia boss. he’s still pressing it in a book. 

he calls you “princess” and it’s not even sarcastic. you call him “my little white-haired handbag.” 

karasu tabito

he thinks he’s the witty one until you verbally slap him across the face every three seconds. 

he says “yo babe–” and you go, “unless that sentence ends with ‘i bought you a yacht,’ i’m not interested.” 

he can’t keep up with your insults. you roast him in a jazz bar accent. “oh sweetheart, if brains were money, you couldn’t afford my attention.” 

he’s obsessed with your nails. you tap them on his chest when you want something. he immediately folds. 

he once dared you to call him “daddy” and you said, “aww, sweetie. i only call men with power that.” 

he cried into his pillow that night. you tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and said “night night, champ.” 

isagi yoichi

he thought he was the main character until you came along looking like a 1920s femme fatale straight out of a noir film – feathered dress, glossy lips, and a stare that says, “i could destroy your dreams and look gorgeous doing it.” 

he tried to impress you with football stats and you just blinked and said, “sorry, darling, i don’t speak ‘mediocre.’ say that again in trophies.” 

he went home and stared at his blue lock ranking like it personally betrayed him. 

you compliment him with backhanded grace: “you’re cute when you’re not talking.” “i adore your work ethic. shame about your fashion sense though.” 

he’s 50% offended, 50% aroused, and 100% devoted. 

he’ll be practicing on the field and hear your heels click in from the bleachers like: “let’s go, superstar. show them why i let you hold my hand in public.” 

he runs faster. shoots harder. tries to win for you like you’re the world cup and he’s nothing without you. 

one time a girl flirted with him and you stepped in like, “aww, sweetie. he’s taken. but don’t worry, i’m sure you’ll find someone who doesn’t meet my standards.” 

he almost proposed right then and there. 

ness alexis

ness saw you once and immediately started sweating through his designer scarf. you said “hello” and he audibly giggled. 

you? red lipstick, mink stole, and a voice like jazz and emotional damage. him? a blushing violin boy trying to play it cool while internally short-circuiting. 

you asked him to dance at a gala and he said, “m-me? with you???” and you just took his hand like, “i don’t ask twice, sugar.” 

he calls you “love” in a breathy, desperate tone like you’re the last woman on earth who’d ever give him the time of day. 

he’s clingy, but polite about it. “can i carry your purse? can i hold your drink? can i kneel in front of you and beg to be your personal doormat?” 

you flirt with others just to watch him melt. he once got jealous and you leaned down to his ear, stroked his cheek and whispered, “ness, darling… don’t pout. jealousy wrinkles are a poor man’s accessory.” 

he swooned so hard he tripped over his own foot. you pat his head like a good pet. he wears it like a crown. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[talonabraxas]

Ouroboros Ouroboros meaning and origin The ouroboros symbol, often depicted as a snake eating its tail to form a circle, is one of the oldest and most recurring motifs in the mythology and iconography of various cultures around the world. Next, I will tell you about some of the most notable origins and meanings of ouroboros in different cultures: Ancient Egypt: One of the first known records of the ouroboros comes from ancient Egypt, where it was associated with the serpent Uraeus, a protective deity represented as a cobra. Ouroboros was related to the cycle of life, death and renewal, and was often found in amulets and funerary jewelry. It was also linked to the idea of ​​eternity and the unity of time. Ancient Greece: In Greek mythology, the ouroboros is sometimes associated with the serpent Ladon, who guarded the Garden of the Hesperides and is often depicted as a serpent eating its own tail. This symbol is related to the idea of ​​constant regeneration and the infinite cycle of nature. India: In Hindu tradition, the ouroboros is found in the image of the Ouroboros Ananta Shesha, the cosmic serpent that supports the god Vishnu as he floats in the cosmic ocean. This snake represents eternal time and the infinite cycle of creation and destruction in the universe. Alchemy: During the Middle Ages and Renaissance, the ouroboros became an important symbol in alchemy. It represented the union of opposites, such as the masculine principle (the Sun) and the feminine principle (the Moon), and symbolized transmutation and the search for the philosopher's stone, which conferred immortality. Other cultures: The ouroboros also appears in Chinese mythology, where it is known as the "Jade Dragon." Additionally, it is found in Mesoamerican cultures such as the Aztec, where it is associated with the feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl. The general meaning of the ouroboros is the idea of ​​an eternal cycle, renewal, the unity of opposites and eternity. It is also interpreted as a symbol of self-reflection and self-transcendence, where the individual seeks understanding and wisdom by exploring their own limitations and potentials. Overall, the paradox of the ouroboros challenges our conventional understanding of time, renewal, and the relationship between opposites. It invites contemplation and reflection on the interconnectedness of all things and the complex nature of existence. The paradox inherent in the symbol has made it a powerful and enduring motif in various cultures and philosophical traditions. In summary, the ouroboros is an ancient and universal symbol that has evolved throughout human history and culture, representing profound concepts related to the cyclical nature of life and the pursuit of wisdom and transcendence. His legacy endures to this day as a reminder of the richness and depth of human symbolic thought.

[twoplayergaymers]

A Sign of Affection—

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ 5.9k words

❋ A note before reading: Bakugo is being portrayed as little ‘d’ deaf, this is very important. You can learn more about the difference between deaf and Deaf here! This is also ASL cause that’s what I know.

Part 2

Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he was losing his hearing. He had been for a while now, his explosive quirk might save lives but it was doing nothing good for his ears. He doesn’t admit this, not necessarily because he’s ashamed, but because he refuses to let anyone think he’s anything less than the strongest. Only a select few know, and even fewer are allowed close enough to notice his hearing aids.

You’re one of them.

Working as his interpreter wasn’t something you’d planned for when you first joined his agency. At the time, you thought you’d just be handling the occasional public statement, but it became clear quickly that your role was going to become far more personal when his hearing aids were damaged in his most recent mission. They’re malfunctioning, sounds become high pitched whirs in his ear, so he takes them out.

The silence was oppressive, his ears ringing as he stomped back into his agency headquarters after the mission. His team was talking but to him it sounded like they were underwater. His eyes rapidly dart between faces, trying to lip read, though he hasn’t relied solely on that in years. Fuck, everyone’s talking so fast. He clenched his fists, irritation bubbling under his skin, until finally he barked out, “Shut up!” His voice sounded off even to himself, somehow louder and harsher without his aids.

The room immediately falls silent, his team looking back at him with the same wide eyes and panicked expressions as always. He thinks they’d get used to his brashness by now, guess not. There’s a pregnant pause as Bakugo takes a breath, closing his eyes momentarily before uttering “Someone call an interpreter, I can’t understand you assholes-“ he stops for a second, his face falls in thought before he speaks again “get.. get the one from the press conferences”

“Which one?” Someone from the team utters, slowly this time. “You know which one. The one who actually knows what the hell she’s doing. The… uh…” He faltered for a moment, his scowl deepening. “The one with the— the pretty one. Dammit just call her!”

He doesn’t elaborate further because the truth is, he knows exactly who you are. He’s seen you at every press conference and public statement for the agency, standing slightly to the side of where everyone gathered, interpreting for the news. He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself but he’d find himself distracted by you often. He was captivated by your hands and facial expression. He could tell you were passionate about your work, hell he might even respect you a little.

His team doesn’t question his words. They just nod in understanding and someone leaves to do just that. He huffs, hoping you get there quickly so he might actually know what’s going on.

“He… what?!” Your voice raises as the voice over the phone relays the message. Dynamight requested you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d even need an interpreter, but you’re not turning down the opportunity. The cup of tea you were drinking abandoned on the counter as you rush into your bedroom to change into your interpreting ‘uniform.’

Fuck. You needed to do laundry. Your clothes are piled in the corner of the room. In your defense, you weren’t supposed to work again until next week. You dig through your closet and dresser drawers hoping to find something suitable for interpreting. Your eyes fall on a black long sleeve, it’s a few years old and you’ve definitely gained a little weight since the last time you’d worn it. It’ll have to do. You throw it on along with some slacks. it shows more shoulder than anything. it’s a little tighter than you’d like it to be, clinging to your body in a way you’d rather it not. At least not for your place of work.

You smooth your hands over your clothes a few times looking in the mirror, sucking your teeth before grabbing your bag and keys and heading out the door. Like you said, it’d have to do. The agency is only 15 minutes from your apartment, which is why you’d so enthusiastically taken the job. That and the fact that it’s his agency. You’d admired dynamight for a long time but honestly the thought of working so closely with him was terrifying.

You arrive and the nice receptionist tells you exactly which room to go to. you give her a warm smile. She returns it, her manicured nails moving rapidly over the keyboard as you shuffle away to the conference room.

You lightly rap on the door twice before pushing it open. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m the—” The words catch in your throat as the room falls silent, all eyes turning to you. You’re used to this. You’re used to people watching you—it comes with the job of being an interpreter. But you’re not used to him. Your gaze collides with his, and your breath stumbles. “…interpreter,” you finish, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

His eyes are striking, sharp and burning, there’s nothing warm about the way he looks at you. It’s intense, unflinching, and terrifying.

You can’t tell if your heart is racing because his gaze is so intimidating or because you realize, that it’s beautiful, too. Damn it. Focus. You break the staring contest you were apparently having to briefly look at the floor. His gaze felt critical and now you’re second guessing every choice you made before you walked into the office. You shake your head and look up again. “I’m the interpreter” you say, more confident this time.

“About time” he barks out, his tone as critical as his gaze. Your eyes lock with his for the second time. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and do your damn job?” You let in a sharp breath as you instinctively straighten your spine. “Right.. right sorry” you murmur. Only, what is your job? You still have no idea why you’re even here. Whatever it doesn’t matter.

You step more into the room, positioning yourself where you can see everyone and nod, beginning to interpret. His eyes are still on you, you don’t think they ever left but instead you focus on the various voices around you. Brows furrowed, you shake your head. “Excuse me.” You mutter. The voices continue, loud, scattered, interrupting each other. “Excuse me!” You say louder this time, stopping the conversation as their heads turn to acknowledge you. “Please speak one at a time! A meeting this big should really have more than one interpreter..” you mumble the last part but the others in the room nod in understanding and do as you ask. The conversation resumes, slower and more uniform.

Bakugo doesn’t look away, even as the others start speaking again. You catch snippets of conversation, words like recovery, damaged hearing aids, and villain tactics, but your focus keeps dragging back to him. It’s not just the intensity of his presence—it’s the way he watches you like he’s dissecting every move you make.

Bakugo watches you intensely, his gaze devouring you whole. The way the loose strands of hair are framing your face, how your brows lift with expression, the gloss on your lips, your bare shoulders. Your skin looks so soft and— damnit. He’s not even paying attention.

He barely even knows sign anyway. He’d taught himself to finger spell and after watching you for so long picked up on some of the more common signs. Having you here was more productive. It was less time consuming then writing back and forth and maybe he’d learn something and maybe he’d get to know you. He blinks a few times, snapping himself from the thought. The incoherent voices around him halt and there’s several gazes on him. Someone probably asked a question.

Someone asked a question and he was too busy looking at your stupid fucking shoulders. Who even wears something like that to work anyway? He’s never seen you wear anything like that before and-

“Sir?” A member of his team utters. They’re awaiting his response. He locks eyes with you again, raising his hands to his body.

SLOW. MY SIGN BAD.

He signs to you. S-P-E-L-L.

You feel your eyes instantly widen, you force your face to fall neutral again. You’re interpreting for him? His aids got damaged?

You bend your index finger into a hook shape and tap it twice on your ear. The sign for hearing aid. You spell it out for him, before spelling out fix.

YES, NO, WHICH?

He scoffs, looking back at his team. “I’ve got too much shit to do to sit around and wait for ‘em to get fixed. Why do you think she’s even here?” He says, clearly annoyed at the question. He’s got that scowl on is face and it gives you chills.

The meeting continues, much to your dismay. You’re struggling, trying to take out the key points of what you’re overhearing and interpret to someone who barely knows sign. He’s not helping at all, staring at you with the same critical eyes and blank expression. Is he even understanding you? You try not to let the frustration show on your face.

The meeting is finally over to your relief. Your hands feel tired from so much fingerspelling. People start filtering out of the room. you roam over to where you left your bag, pulling out your water bottle and taking a few large sips trying to shake off the tension.

“Didn’t think signing was that exhausting,” a gruff voice says behind you.

You pause mid-sip, the familiar tone making you freeze. Slowly, you lower the bottle and turn, finding Bakugo standing a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

You huff, honestly not having the patience for this right now. “It’s hard to interpret when you barely know sign language, sir. I can’t tell if you understand anything I’m saying.” You say, your tone stern but still trying to remain respectful.

He stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable, before he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, his voice low. “I understand more than you think. Just… just not all of it.”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed yet relieved that at least he can give you a little clarity. “Were you going to say anything? Or just let me waste my time and look stupid?” Your hand move rapidly, in frustration, in anger

“You don’t look stupid.” He states in a flat tone. “You’re good at it.” This shocks you a bit, dynamight isn’t known for giving compliments and somehow you feel like his gaze is even more intense than before.

“..was that a compliment?” You blink, caught off guard. “What’re you the deaf one now?” he smirks slightly before letting his rough demeanor take over once more “don’t get used to it” he fires back quickly.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly. “Thanks, I guess. But it doesn’t matter how good I am if you don’t understand” your eyes meet his once more. You sense something in them, if you didn’t know better you’d think it was almost something…apologetic?

His fist clench at his sides, not unnoticed by you and your demeanor softens despite your words. You’re not trying to make him feel bad, it’s probably more frustrating for him.

“I need you to communicate, sir. At least let me know when you understand or not, or I’m gonna keep making myself look like an idiot up there.” You smile slightly, trying to cut the tension you’d accidentally created.

He sucks his teeth “whatever, fine. I’ll tell you.” You give him a small smile in return, starting to gather your things. “Before you leave..” he breaks the silence, you look up at him curiously. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You can’t tell anyone about my hearing. Got it?”

You feel your brows furrow. There’s a lot you could say back, but you value your job. “Excuse me sir.. but there’s nothing wrong with-“ “I said, you can’t tell anyone. No one else needs to know.” He cuts you off, his words are cold.

The finality in his voice makes it clear the subject isn’t up for debate. You purse your lips, biting back the response you want to give. Instead, you settle for a curt nod. “Understood.” Grabbing your bag and walking towards the door. “Have a good night sir.” Without waiting for a response, you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the conference room.

Bakugo watches you leave, his hands tightening in his pockets. He’s not sure what it is about you, but something tells him this arrangement is going to be more complicated than he expected.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet, but your mind isn’t. You replay the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of it. There was something about the way he spoke—about the way he looked at you—that stuck with you. Dynamight was hard to read, but his insistence on secrecy had been laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You shake your head. Not your problem, you tell yourself firmly. You’re just here to do your job, not to figure out Dynamight.

As the elevator doors slide open, you step inside, your thoughts still lingering on him. This isn’t going to be easy, is it? You reach the lobby, saying goodnight to the same kind receptionist from earlier and heading back home.

You’re lying in bed when your phone pings, it’s an email of your new interpreting schedule. With a heavy sigh, you turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Meeting your heroes wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You’d admired Dynamight from a distance, inspired by his drive, his unshakable determination, and his ability to save lives no matter the cost. But up close? He was…

You hesitate, feeling guilty for even thinking it. He wasn’t cruel, exactly. Just difficult. Closed off. And it wasn’t like he had asked for this to happen to him.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. It’s just work, you tell yourself. Do your job, keep your head down, and move on.

But as you drift off, a small thought lingers in the back of your mind. That brief flicker of something in his eyes during the meeting—something you hadn’t expected from a man so famously brash and unyielding.

Vulnerability?

You shove the thought away, but it lingers, a tiny thread pulling at the edges of your frustration. Maybe there was more to him than you realized.

For now, though, you had to focus on making it through tomorrow. One day at a time.

A week passes. The days become easier. You’ve become very friendly with the receptionist in the lobby. Her name was Talia. Your brief interaction turned into smaller friendly conversation. You looked forward to seeing her everyday.

Working with Dynamight is no walk in the park. He’s intense, stubborn, and unapologetically brash. But beneath the rough exterior, you’ve come to know a man who takes his job as a hero seriously, even if he pushes himself too hard to compensate for what you assume he perceives as a weakness.

He’s a little kinder now, at least in the way that Dynamight can be kind. He’s working with you, communicating the way you asked. The dynamic is fine. It works. You do your job, you talk to Talia for a little while and you leave.

Lunch with Talia quickly becomes your favorite part of the day. What started as quick chats at the receptionist desk has turned into full-blown lunch breaks in the small cafe near the agency. She’s easy to talk to—funny, warm, and refreshingly honest.

Today, as you sit across from her, picking at your sandwich, the conversation drifts to Dynamight.

“Is he still a pain?” Talia asks, smirking as she sips her iced coffee. You laugh softly. “I mean, yeah. But he’s… better. Not great, but better.” “‘Better’ for Dynamight is probably miraculous,” she quips, earning another laugh from you.

The smile quickly falls from your face as you stare down at your food, a more serious expression taking over. “God” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “I just don’t understand him. Like at all” “you’re not getting paid to understand Dynamight. If any of us were we’d all be broke.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I know but it’s just like.. if you’re so ashamed to be..deaf…” you whisper the last part so no one may overhear “..that you don’t want anyone to know why the fuck would you ask for an interpreter? Do you know how hard it is to discreetly interpret in public? We have to make someone else stand next to him so it looks like I’m interpreting for them instead!”

“He’s not ashamed.” She says curtly, ignoring your other frustrations. “What?” Your head lifts from your hands to look at her, both shock and curiosity etched into your face. “I don’t understand” you shake your head.

“It’s not because he’s ashamed or anything. It’s… well, think about it. If the wrong people found out, villains would use it against him. They’d find ways to exploit it. That’s the last thing he wants.”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about it like that. You almost feel a little guilty for making him out to be such an ass in your mind. Almost, cause at the same time, he’s still cold and abrasive.

Your face must show how you’re feeling. Somehow it always does, It’s a curse in moments like this, but it’s also what makes you such a great interpreter. Talia’s hand fall on top of yours reassuringly.

“Hey..” she says gently. “..You’re great at what you do, y/n. Maybe you were wrong about that but it doesn’t change the fact that he is 100% making your job harder” You can’t help the small, weary laugh that escapes you. “You’re not wrong. He’s exhausting. Sometimes, I still don’t even know if he’s listening.”

Talia smirks, squeezing your hand. “Oh, he’s listening. He’s just a stubborn ass who doesn’t know how to show it. I mean, come on. Think about who we’re talking about.” Her words draw a reluctant smile from you. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You mutter back

“You’ll get through to him,” she says confidently, letting go of your hand. “Trust me. If anyone can, it’s you. You’re here for a reason.” There’s a beat of silence before Talia leans in slightly, her tone dropping to something a little quieter, more serious. “You know, he doesn’t let anyone help him. Not really. He’s always been like that, even when I started here.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. It makes sense in a way. Although her words are reassuring,it still feels frustrating. You look at her, a flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes. But her faith in you feels steady, unwavering. It’s comforting, even if you’re not sure you fully believe it yet.

“Thanks, Talia,” you say softly, and for the first time in what feels like days, you hold yourself a little higher.

The sharp sizzle of oil fills the air as Bakugo tosses another handful of vegetables into the pan. it’s a rhythm he knows well. But tonight, his focus is off. He scowls at the counter, eyeing the ridiculous amount of food piling up. Again. Every time lately, it’s the same thing. He swears he’s not doing it on purpose.

His mind drifts to you. To the way your hands move when you sign, fluidly.. beautifully. Your frustration barely hidden behind a polite smile. You’ve been busting your ass trying to keep up with him, and he’s done nothing but make your job harder.

Bakugo grips the edge of the counter, jaw tight. He knows you didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to deal with his stubborn ass.

Before can even realize what he’s doing, he’s grabbing a spare container and loading it with the extra food, snapping the lid on tight. He tells himself he’s being practical. He’s not one to waste food.

When he hands it to you the next day, he barely looks you in the eye. “Made too much,” he says gruffly, shoving the container into your hands before walking away without waiting for a response.

He walks away so fast he almost, just almost misses the small smile that plays onto your lips. The smile that fills his mind for the rest of the day.

And that’s how it starts. The next day he’s shoving another container in your hands, claiming the same thing. Rushing away in the same way. You blink after him, utterly bewildered but secretly delighted. Because honestly? That food was incredible. Like, best you’ve ever had incredible.

By the third day, you’re half-expecting it, your hands reaching automatically as he shoves yet another container into them. It’s becoming a strange routine, one you don’t entirely understand but definitely don’t mind.

At lunch, you decide you can’t just keep taking these meals without saying anything. You owe him a thank you. So, with the container in hand, you find yourself heading up to his office.

You stand outside the office door, taking a shaky breath and light knocking. “Come in” his voice with its usual roughness grumbles from the opposite side of the door. You open it and shuffle in, giving an awkward smile.

“What?” He asked brashly, sounding more annoyed than usual. You feel his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You hold up the container. “I uhm.. I just” you clear your throat. “I just wanted to say thank you for the food lately, it’s so delicious, honestly I really appreciate it.” Your hands move as you speak.

FOOD, THANK YOU, DELICIOUS

You let your eyes wander while he speaks, you’ve never really been in his office. It’s a standard room, barely decorated and of course, tidy. His desk was positioned on the same wall as the door. So that’s how he knew you were knocking..“Uhm. I was wondering.. do you.. wanna eat together?”

LUNCH, EAT, TOGETHER?

You ask, trying to keep your voice steady

He stares at you blankly and just when you think he’s about to tell you to get lost, he shrugs. “Whatever, don’t make it weird” he nods his head in the direction of an extra chair on the other side of the room. You smile and drag the chair over to his desk.

That’s how it starts.

The next day, you’d ask to eat together again. Over the next few days, it becomes routine. Around lunch, you’d head up to his office with your container, and the two of you would sit and eat together. The conversation, at first seems sparse but becomes easier and easier, soon flowing naturally.

He asks about interpreting, your day, your annoying habit of over-explaining things when you’re nervous. And you learn things about him too. Like how he experiments with different recipes because cooking is one of the few things that lets him focus. Or how he prefers silence over small talk, but somehow doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you filling the quiet.

One day, mid-bite, he suddenly says, “Stop calling me Dynamight.” You blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?” Your hand forms a fist, rubbing it against your chest with raised brows, signing as you speak.

He glares at you, though it lacks its usual edge. “You’re not on the damn clock when we’re eating. Just call me Bakugo.” You hesitate, then nod, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Alright, Bakugo.”

Talia, however, notices this change almost immediately. Somehow when lunch time rolls around you’re nowhere to be found. She misses your time together.

“Girl, where the hell have you been?” She asks one evening as you pass her desk to go home. “What happened to our lunches? You cheating on me?” She smirks

You flush, “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicating” you facepalm. “I’ve been having lunch with Bakugo these past few days, to thank him for the meals and everything”

“Ohhh so it’s Bakugo now?” She tease, leaning forward on her desk. “Sooo when’s the wedding?” You groan, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Talia!” “What? I need to know when I’m supposed to object, can’t have dynamight taking my girl” she giggles.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile.

“It’s nothing, really. We’re coworkers having lunch.” You’re not lying, that’s exactly what it was. Even if deep down you maybe wanted it to be more. Talia smirks knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m serious! And I’m really sorry for ditching you. I promise—lunch together at the end of the week. Deal?”

She crosses her arms, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I guess I can forgive you. But only if you bring the juicy details.” “Talia!” you groan again, but she just laughs as you wave goodbye, her teasing words echoing behind you.

You sit across from Talia in the same cafe as usual. Catching up for the first time in what seems like forever. You really do feel bad about ditching her, she’s the one great thing that’s come from taking this job.

“So,” she begins, resting her chin on her hand. “How’s lunch with Dynamight been? Does he chew with his mouth open or something?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “He’s not bad, actually. Quiet. Focuses more on the food than talking, which honestly, I appreciate. Less pressure to fill the silence. But I do it anyway.. it’s like the words keep coming out… I can’t stop talking”

She gasps, throwing her hand on her chest mockingly “THE Dynamight? Quiet? I fear a may faint!”

You chuckle and playfully push hit her arm that’s still resting on the table. “Well, to be fair,” you say, grinning, “he mostly spends it making sure I’m eating, sooo.”

“Ohhh,” she drawls, raising her eyebrows. “So he’s looking out for you now, huh? Bet he’s making sure you’re eating all your vegetables too.” “I think he wants to make sure I’m enjoying it. He likes cooking and I know if I could cook well I’d probably do the same thing” you respond matter of factly.

“Sure,” Talia says, drawing the word out with an exaggerated smirk. “And you don’t think it’s because he has a little crush?” You roll your eyes again, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “He’s just being a decent coworker. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced. “Let me know when the wedding invites go out. I’m definitely objecting. Even if I’m the maid of honor”

You snort, tossing a napkin at her. “Can we eat now, or are you just going to keep embarrassing me?”

Talia raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you eat in peace…for now.”

Just as you’re about to dig into your food, your phone buzzes on the table. Without thinking, you pick it up, glancing at the unsaved number. The message reads:

“Where are you? It’s lunch. You’re not here.”

You blink, confused. “What the—” Talia hums in curiosity. “I just got a text but I don’t have this number saved” you turn your phone screen so she can see too. She narrows her eyes as she leans closer to read the message, then they widen. “Oh my god. That’s him. That’s Dynamight. Bakugo.”

Your stomach drop. “What? How would he even get my number?” Talia gives you a look. “Girl, I know you’re not that slow. He’s one of the top heroes in the country. If he wanted your number, he could definitely find it.”

“Well?” She nudges you. “Are you gonna text back or not?” “I.. what.. what do I even say??” You respond, growing more flustered. “How about, ‘Sorry, I ditched you for my real soulmate, Talia’?” she says with a smirk.

You try to just roll your eyes, but can’t help but let out a chuckle and type out a quick response.

“Sorry, I’m at lunch with a friend today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“You could’ve told me.”

Your stomach drops again, and Talia laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Oooooo he’s mad. You’re in troubleeee” her grin only growing wider. “He probably misses his lunch buddy,” she adds with a mock pout. “So tragic.” you give her a glare.

Your groan, plopping down your phone and caging your head in your arms on the table. “Why is he even texting me? And why do I feel bad about this?”

Talia smirks, sipping her drink. “Because you’re catching feelings, babe. Don’t fight it.” You glare at her again over the rim of your hands, but she just laughs harder. You flip your phone over, trying to refocus on your lunch. However, you don’t really feel hungry anymore.

The next day feels…off. You can’t put your finger on it at first, but the energy in the room is different. When you arrive, Bakugo barely glances at you. There’s no gruff greeting, no container of food shoved into your hands with a muttered excuse about “making too much.”

By lunch, the tension feels suffocating. You glance at him a few times, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t even look in your direction. He eats alone in his office while you sit in the break room, absently picking at a salad you don’t even want.

You replay yesterday in your mind, Was it because I skipped lunch? Is he that mad about it?

But that doesn’t make sense. He’s Dynamight, not some clingy guy who cares about a missed meal. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve messed something up.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t offer you food.

It’s petty, and he knows it. But he’s pissed—mostly at himself. Yesterday, he let his guard down, let you get under his skin. He shouldn’t have cared where you were or who you were with, but he did. And that pissed him off even more.

So today, he shuts it down. Keeps things professional. Cold.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Keeps you at arm’s length, avoids the growing distraction you’ve become. You’re his interpreter, not his friend. Not someone he should care about. By the time the day ends, he’s still mad. Mad at you for skipping lunch yesterday, mad at himself for caring, and mad that he can’t stop thinking about the way your face fell when he brushed you off.

The next day feels longer , the tension in the air weighing heavier with each passing hour. Bakugo barely acknowledges you, responding only when necessary and only about work. No snide remarks, no shared looks during meetings, and definitely no container of food shoved into your hands.

You try to brush it off, but the absence of his usual gruffness is almost worse than when he was barking at you. By the time lunch approaches you’ve convinced yourself you should just let it go. But as you gather your things, you glance toward his office door, slightly ajar. Before you can stop yourself, you’re knocking.

“Come in,” his voice calls, low and gruff as always.

You push the door open. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, his eyes darting around them rapidly, his attention fixed anywhere but on you.

“Sir,” you start, trying to keep your tone neutral, “is everything… okay? You’ve been—”

OK, YOU?

“Busy,” he cuts you off without looking up. He’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying.

You narrow your eyes and bang your hand on his desk twice to get his attention. His head snaps up at that. “Busy enough to ignore me?” His crimson eyes narrow. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Wow! Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, knowing he can’t hear it. Bakugo has read lips long enough to pick that up, even if you’re not signing. For a long moment, there’s silence. You expected him snap, have some witty remarks like usual. Instead his face falls.

“didn’t think you’d care,” he says finally, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Your eyes widen.“Care? I thought I did something wrong.. I-“ your hands stammer. “you didn’t.” He cuts you off again. “Didn’t wanna bother you. Figured you’d rather spend time with your friend or whatever”

His admission hits you hard, this…this is almost vulnerable? you’d never seen him like this. You knew this wasn’t easy for him to say.

“S-sir..” you stop. “Bakugo.. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you say softly. “You’re not a bother.”

He mutters, incoherently, shifting in his seat a bit. You can tell he’s don’t talking and you take that as your cue to leave. You shake your hand in the air to get his attention again. “By the way,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I had lunch with my friend that day because I’d been ditching her for you. So… take what you will from that.”

You pause for a beat, your hands coming to a halt, your eyes meeting his, then turn on your heel and slip out the door without another word.

Later that evening, you linger longer than usual, pretending to be caught up in some last-minute paperwork. In reality, you’re waiting for the office to quiet down, for everyone else to leave. When you finally approach his door again, it’s shut, but you can hear faint movement inside.

You push it open a crack, peeking through, and your breath catches.

He’s standing in front of the mirror on the far wall, hands moving clumsily through a set of signs. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tight, frustration radiating off him in waves. He’s got that same notebook he was hunched over propped open on the desk beside him, glancing between the pages and his reflection.

“Fuck.” He mutters, shaking out his hands and trying again. You watch for a moment, something warm blooming in your chest. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you almost feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

You shake you hand in the air to get his attention.

“You’re improving,” you say softly, your hands moving as you speak.

YOU, BETTER!

His eyes widen, caught completely off guard. For a split second, he looks ready to bark at you, but then his expression softens, just barely.

“Should’ve locked the damn door,” he grumbles, closing the notebook with a snap. You smile, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

His eyes meet yours, something lingering there and for once, there’s no anger, no irritation. Just honesty. “Yeah, I did.”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you settle for a small nod, the weight of the moment saying more than words ever could.

“Thanks,” you whisper after a beat, your palm faces you, fingers touching your chin before bringing your hand away from your face.

THANK YOU.

and this time, he doesn’t look away as a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he trusted you. And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to let you in.

This is soooo so long omg I’m sorry!! Also the sign is super basic bc he wouldn’t know.. I feel like I needed to say that lmaoo I hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!

Dedicating this to my luver @mimzyu and also @poemeater since Leigh encouraged me to start writing not too long ago <3

[cece693]

He's Cute

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: you're Loki's brother, but actually nice and come in peace, bucky finds you adorable, humor, asking out a prince from another planet is hard, just ask bucky, part 2 can be done

Tony tapped his fingers on the conference table, wearing his best ‘well, here we go again’ scowl. In front of him, the Avengers were assembled, all shooting wary glances at Thor. “So,” Tony drawled, making sure to emphasize his skepticism, “we’re hosting another Asgardian prince. Is your father just collecting them at this point?”

Thor, doing his best not to look offended, cleared his throat. “I know you hold distrust after what Loki did, but (Y/N) is our younger brother. He’s quite the opposite from Loki.”

Clint quirked a brow, exchanging a glance with Sam. “‘Opposite’ how? Less shape-shifting and more interpretive dance, or…?”

Sam snorted. “I’d pay to see that, actually.”

Thor, for his part, stood straight-backed, looking earnest—and maybe just a little bit offended. “I assure you, (Y/N) is not here to conquer anything,” he reiterated. “My brother is gentle. He's nothing like our brother Loki."

Tony drummed his fingers on the table one more time. “Yeah, we’ll see. Might I suggest we have a ‘No Asgardian Shenanigans’ sign at the front door? We can hang it right under the ‘No Solicitors’ sign.”

“That might be a tad welcoming, don’t you think?” Clint drawled, lips curling in a wry grin.

Sam chuckled. “No illusions allowed, no staff-wielding illusions, no illusions about illusions.”

Bucky glanced around. They were all bantering, but he could sense the undercurrent of nervous energy. Finally, Steve caught his eye and nodded, inviting him to speak up if he wanted. But Bucky just gave a small shrug—he didn’t really have an opinion yet, beyond thinking that maybe it would be nice to have another level-headed god around. He’d heard Loki was a piece of work, but Thor—despite his bombast—had proven a decent ally.

“Well, guess we’ll know soon enough,” Nat said, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. She tapped her phone, checking the time. “Thor? When’s your supposed to show up?”

Thor’s chest swelled with pride, as though merely announcing your name was akin to proclaiming victory over the Nine Realms. “He will arrive today—shortly, in fact. Heimdall has secured him safe passage. I ask for your patience, my friends. He is not…accustomed to Earth.”

“Oh, this ought to be fun,” Tony said, pushing back from the table. “Alright. Everyone, let’s roll out the welcome mat. And by ‘welcome mat,’ I obviously mean ‘a healthy dose of skepticism laced with potential backup plans A through Z.’ Clint, let’s find a vantage point—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted, sounding exasperated. “He’s Thor’s brother, not a Hydra spy.”

Tony shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Or have we collectively forgotten the Chitauri fiasco?”

Thor let out a deep, put-upon sigh, and Bucky caught the flicker of guilt in the god’s eyes. Clearly, Thor was sensitive about all that had happened with Loki. Which in turn made Bucky feel a little guilty for automatically being wary.

About an hour later, the Avengers had dispersed, though most lingered in the main atrium of the Compound. Bucky hung back near a wall, arms folded, scanning his surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. He had no idea what to expect. A second Loki? Another six-foot-something, muscle-bound, hammer-wielding Asgardian?

The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, a swirl of rainbow light appeared at the center of the room—a mini Bifrost. Out of it stepped you.

Your entrance was about as dramatic as one could expect from a swirling cosmic rainbow, but you looked anything but menacing. Clad in simple Asgardian attire (far less extravagant than Thor’s usual gear), you blinked, adjusting to the Earthly surroundings and then you bowed—actually bowed—deeply and respectfully.

“Good day,” you greeted softly, your voice gentler than any of them expected. “I am (Y/N) of Asgard. It's an honor to meet the team that has accepted my brother Thor with open arms. I know you might be wary of me with all that has transpired with Loki, but know that I deeply apologize for any problems he...” You paused, searching for a polite way to phrase it, eventually settling with, “…might have caused.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “‘Might have caused?’ Yeah, that’s one way to put an alien invasion.” He exchanged a look with Clint, who shrugged.

“(Y/N) is different,” Thor explained, laying a large hand on your shoulder with a brotherly sort of pride. “He will not attempt subterfuge or illusions.”

Bucky, observing quietly from his corner, noticed how you half-cringed at the mention of illusions, as if even the word brought you guilt by association. You glanced around at the assembled heroes: Tony with his pointed skepticism, Nat’s arms folded in careful assessment, Steve’s polite-but-guarded kindness. Even Sam gave you a sidelong look that said he wasn’t entirely sure he believed in second Asgardian princes yet. Only Thor, unwavering in his faith, and Bruce, gently curious, seemed at ease.

Clearing your throat, you continued, “I truly want to learn of your customs and help in any way I can.” Your voice quieted further. “I understand if my presence here makes you uncomfortable. You have already faced so much.”

Natasha eyed you, the corners of her mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. “Well, you’re certainly more polite than your brothers,” she said, glancing at Thor pointedly.

“That’s not difficult,” Clint muttered, earning a huff from Thor.

Bucky only half-listened to the exchange; he was more focused on the shy curve of your posture—how you carried yourself with a subtle humility that was so unlike Thor’s boisterous confidence or Loki’s cunning. He realized then he was staring, so he forced himself to look away, crossing his arms over his chest to maintain some semblance of aloofness.

Steve, ever the one to break awkward silences, stepped forward to shake your hand. “We appreciate your honesty, (Y/N). I’m Steve Rogers. I promise no one here means you harm,” he said in a reassuring tone.

You took his hand carefully, as if unaccustomed to the formality. “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face as you felt the firmness of his handshake. “Your grip could rival Thor’s,” you murmured, almost impressed. Thor puffed up, beaming that you’d complimented one of his comrades.

Sam spoke up next, his voice colored with curiosity. “So, no illusions, no plans of world domination…I’m guessing you’re the ‘normal’ one in the family?”

You seemed flustered, but your lips quirked in an embarrassed smile. “I—I wouldn’t quite say that. But I have always strived for peace.”

Tony waved a hand. “Alright, Peace Prince, welcome aboard. We’ll see how it goes. Just don’t conjure up any giant space whales or open any more cosmic portals in the middle of Manhattan, deal?”

Thor looked positively mortified that Tony would even imply such a thing, but you only nodded politely. “Yes, sir. No space whales. I can assure you of that.”

At the “sir,” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I like you. Please continue to address me as ‘sir’ in front of the others.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

Thor cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to calmer waters. “(Y/N) will be staying with us for a time—learning Earth’s ways. Please, treat him as you would me.”

“So we haze him with endless pop culture references and toss him in the deep end?” Sam joked.

Bucky saw you swallow hard, and something about your shy, uncertain expression tugged at his chest. Without meaning to, he spoke up for the first time in the meeting. “I’ll help,” he said bluntly.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise etched on their faces—especially Steve, who arched an eyebrow as if to say, Didn’t know you were volunteering, pal. You brightened, relief shining in your eyes. “That is very kind of you. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Just…Bucky,” he mumbled, cheeks warming the tiniest bit.

Natasha’s keen eyes flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Great,” she said lightly. “Now that we’re all introduced, who wants lunch?”

Over the next few days, you integrated yourself into Avengers life with unexpected ease. You asked Tony endless questions about Earth technology, took great care to help Bruce reorganize his lab (after you discovered you had a knack for meticulously alphabetizing everything from chemicals to coffee mugs), and politely sparred with Natasha, who grudgingly admitted you were surprisingly tough yet considerate.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly observed you. He watched you cheerfully fix up the lounge furniture after Thor accidentally broke a coffee table. He saw you carefully water the potted plants in the hallway, eager to ensure none of Earth’s “fragile vegetation” withered on your watch. Little by little, Bucky found himself drawn to your presence—drawn to your soft laughter, your bright curiosity.

But one thing stood out above all else: you never once bragged about your title. You never boasted about your Asgardian heritage or demanded special treatment. You even seemed embarrassed whenever anyone called you ‘Prince (Y/N).’ Instead, you were humble—sometimes painfully so. And that humility, combined with that sweet, open-minded wonder, made Bucky’s heart do somersaults he hadn’t felt in years.

Bucky sat in the compound’s lounge one afternoon, pretending to read a newspaper while sneaking glances your way. You were studying a half-eaten bag of potato chips like they were the eighth wonder of the world.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, beckoning his friend closer.

Steve, doing his best to hide an amused smile, leaned in. “What’s up?”

Bucky tilted the newspaper so Steve could see you turning the potato-chip bag upside down, letting crumbs tumble out onto your hand. “He’s cute,” Bucky muttered under his breath, so quietly it nearly dissolved into air.

“…Should I act surprised? It was obvious from the moment you volunteered to show him around the tower,” Steve finished, his voice just as low. He flicked his gaze from Bucky to you and back again, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the hint of pink that dusted his cheeks. “I’m trying to be subtle, all right?”

Steve snorted. “That’s rich coming from the guy who’s sneaking glances every ten seconds.”

Bucky’s gaze drifted again to you—now tapping the bottom of the potato chip bag in an effort to extract the last crumb. The entire display was so earnestly adorable that Bucky had to bite back a smile. “Look,” Bucky sighed, voice dropping lower, “he’s Thor’s brother. A prince. And I’m—well—” He gestured vaguely at himself, as if that summed up a lifetime’s worth of complications. “You really think he’d be interested?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I do.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest—he’s just curious about Earth, he’s friendly to everyone, it doesn’t mean anything—but then, as if on cue, you turned around in your seat. The instant your eyes met Bucky’s, your face lit with delight. You waved at him so earnestly that you almost spilled the bag of chips.

Bucky swallowed. “Fine,” he muttered, giving Steve a pointed look. “Maybe there’s a small chance.”

Steve suppressed a laugh, nudging Bucky forward. “Then go talk to him. Ask about chips, or Earth cuisine, or literally anything. Just say something.”

Bucky tried to summon that stoic confidence that sometimes worked for him. Instead, he felt like a high school kid with a crush. “Right,” he mumbled. “Be casual. Real casual.”

He stood up, discreetly adjusting his jacket, and made his way over to you. You greeted him with a bright smile—still holding that bag of chips as if you’d discovered gold. “Hello, Bucky!” you said. “I didn’t realize such simple food could taste so addictive.”

Bucky felt his heart do a little flip at the sound of his name on your lips. “Yeah, uh…chips,” he replied brilliantly, jamming his hand in his pocket in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant. “They’re a big deal around here. We’ve got, uh…like, 70 flavors, I think.”

Your eyes widened. “Seventy?!”

“Maybe more,” Bucky corrected himself. He cleared his throat. “So, you like them?”

“Very much. I fear I might become dependent,” you admitted, glancing a little sheepishly at the half-empty bag. “But enough about me—how’s your day? I noticed you’ve been reading that newspaper for a while.”

Bucky cringed internally. Busted. “Oh, yeah—lots of…uh…interesting articles,” he fibbed, holding up the folded paper. He glanced at the front page, realized it was yesterday’s news, and hastily lowered it again. “Anyway, I was thinking, maybe we could…you know, get out for a while? Go, uh…check out a café nearby.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion creeping across your features. “But the Compound has a coffee machine. It’s in the kitchen, right? I can fetch you coffee, if you like.”

“No, no,” Bucky corrected, trying to keep his composure. “I mean, we could go out. Just you and me. Kind of an…outing.” He struggled with the word date, but it hovered there, unsaid.

Your eyes went wide, as though another revelation had dawned upon you. “Oh! You need supplies? Are we on a mission?”

“No, not a mission,” Bucky explained, scratching the back of his neck. “Just hanging out. Relaxing. Maybe having a nice conversation—away from everyone else.”

You nodded, albeit slowly. “A private conversation…in a place that also serves coffee?”

“Right,” Bucky confirmed, trying not to seem too relieved. “It’s…well, on Earth, we call that a ‘date.’”

He finally said it—date. His palms were sweaty, but he held your gaze, waiting.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, brows shooting up. “I’ve read about dates in one of the Midgardian relationship guidebooks. Something about courting rituals and paying for each other’s drinks to demonstrate affection?”

Bucky’s cheeks felt warmer by the second. “Yeah, that’s…that’s the general idea. You interested?”

“Yes!” you said, then paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your features. “But do we need to bring my father into this? Thor mentioned father-gifts or is that just for official betrothals? I don’t want to be rude.”

Off to the side, half-hidden in the hallway, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle a laugh. Bucky shot him a quick glare—thanks for the backup, pal. Chuckling nervously, Bucky shook his head. “No father-gifts required. On Earth, it’s usually just between, well…the two people going on the date.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed. “Ah, excellent. That simplifies things. I wouldn’t know what to buy your father anyway—does he prefer golden chalices or—?”

“No, no,” Bucky interjected quickly, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing. “Seriously, no father involvement. We just go, maybe sit down, order coffee, talk.”

You seemed to take a moment to let that sink in. Then, you grinned wide. “That sounds delightful. When do we depart for this coffee date?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Around ten?” Bucky offered.

You placed a hand over your heart, nodding firmly. “Ten in the morning. I will be ready. Should I wear armor, or is that too formal?”

Bucky glanced at Steve again, who was now silently cracking up. He smothered a grin, turning back to you. “Casual clothes are fine. Maybe just…I dunno…a shirt and jeans, if you have them?”

“Ah, yes! The mortal garb. I’ll do my best not to clash patterns.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Though everything on Earth seems to clash with my Asgardian boots.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, feeling tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding in slip away. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Moments later, you excused yourself to research casual Earth attire, leaving Bucky standing in the lounge with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. That’s when Steve sauntered in, arms folded, his smile practically ear-to-ear. “You see?” Steve teased. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite hide his grin. “I almost had to explain father-gifts, so maybe a little complicated.”

Steve chuckled. “Looked like you handled it just fine. And if you need a quick escape route tomorrow, you know I’ve got your back.”

Bucky gave him a playful shove. “Thanks, punk.”

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “Anytime, jerk.”

[northopalshore]

hiii Gaia <33

I have my asteroid union in my 5th house in pisces, what does that mean??

Hello!

I want to elaborate on this ask & just give the scenarios of meeting your future spouse through asteroid union (1585 ) in the natal chart. Where the 7th house ruler is in your chart will also tell you how you meet. You can still apply the contents of this post to that.

Asteroid Union in the Natal Chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Union (1585) is an asteroid used to interpret how you'll meet your future spouse. In this post, I'll be focused on how union will manifest in your meeting in the natal chart. Masterlist

୨୧ Please do not repost without consent ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔฅ🔉

In the houses

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 1st house

Something about it could be rather personal & by that, I mean you'll be interacting one on one quite often (or during) the time you meet them. You could just be doing something on a whim as well. Somewhere where the main point is you (can manifest in a multitude of ways).

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚2nd house

You could be purchasing something when you meet them. You could also be at the comfort of your own home or anywhere with some sort of purchasable service i.e mall, shopping websites, etc. Money or some sort of transaction is likely involved. Could also be on dating sites (if aspected w libra or leo) or on the internet, somewhere with their faces voice or even writing.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚3rd house

Online, talking, learning. Your mind is being active, your mouth is also playing a part lmao. Could be related to short trips or unexpected travels as well. Bookstores, libraries, internet & school (early education). You could just be a few months/days/hours into a language learning app for example and meet them on the app. Meeting at a conference, through siblings.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚4th house

You could be at the comfort of your own home. Your home town, something related to your mother or family members. Though, you could also meet during childhood or at a time where you're rather immature/young.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚5th house

You could be around children, at school or somewhere related to entertainment. You could be the one entertaining, or seeking entertainment in general i.e movies, carnivals, theatres, YouTube, TikTok, Instagram and whatnot. Meeting at concerts or celebrity related events even.

Ex: Ariana Grande has Union in Gemini (°22 Capricorn) in her natal 5th house. She met most of her partners through her career, or while they were working (including Dalton Gomez, he was working as her real estate agent), & usually also involves the arts (because she works w art & performances).

Looking at her 7th house ruler, it's in the 9th house in Libra w a Virgo degree. So everything tracks as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚6th house

Meeting at work, in your comfort zone. You could be going along with your regularly scheduled routine when you first meet them. You could start a casual relationship at first perhaps related to work or just someone you'll see quite often here & there. While receiving/providing health care.

Ex: Michael Jackson met Lisa Marie Presley at work & started off as friends. He met Debbie while visiting his regular doctor for his vitiligo.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚7th house

Meeting at work, on dating sites, while you're dating someone else, or even when signing into a new company. You could meet them during weddings as well. Providing a service, working with them. There is some sort of give & take here. You could be in a setting where you're one on one with them as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚8th house

You could be offering some sort of service. Since it's the opposite of the 2nd house (buying). It could also be related to something rather taboo or for something meant to be kept as a secret (surprises too). There is always something rather "controversial" around you & your spouse. Could be different religions for example.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚9th house

Teaching something. You could be teaching something or expanding your knowledge. It could be related to foreign things i.e religion, languages, geography or even philosophical knowledge/theory. Literally at university, or while pursuing higher studies/qualifications. Taking chances to broaden your horizons/reach.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚10th house

Meeting at work, when you're doing something big like a project that you're managing or getting a promotion. You could have been working in the same industry for a while before you met. You could meet in very public settings as well; dating shows

Ex: Zendaya has this placement. She met Tom Holland on set while they were working together. It just so happens that the characters they played as were love interests.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚11th house

You could meet them through mutual friends, or through online; communities, or fandoms or even just websites. Somewhere with electronics & technology; repair shops, car dealers, electronic dealers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚12th house

Meeting from a distance, blind dates, online, through church or religious communities. On a getaway, around supernatural phenomena or just spiritual related things. While getting medication or some sort of treatment .

Note:

If union is in retrograde, you may have been thinking of doing something for a while or may have an inkling towards that person before you actually interact. Either that, or you may not notice that they are the one at first.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

In the signs & degrees

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Aries (°1,°13,°25)

Doing something for yourself, focused on yourselves; doing what you want. Something about it may be quick, you may be acting towards it or initiating the interactions. You're likely the one to make the first move, whether intentionally or not. It may feel rather sudden as well, like you have to act now, or everything is pushing you together quickly. Attraction at first sight.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Taurus (°2,°14,°26)

Similar to the 2nd house, usually money or a certain service is involved. Could be related to your work, or your voice or your words i.e writing. There's something to be gained through your interaction here. There could be a friendly vibe when you first meet. You may keep a rather professional act at first.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Gemini (°3,°15,°27)

Language, communication, directions, fast movement. When you meet, it could be in a busy setting where people are on the go or talking to each other. Could be online, in a classroom, at a public service office. You're immediately comfortable around each other. Being able to talk about anything & everything.

Ex: I have a friend who has Union (°17 leo) in Gemini 1st house rising at °12 pisces. She met her boyfriend (soon to be financé) online while she was bored. She started doing lives & entertaining people (but mostly herself) on Tiktok & met him through there lol. He lives in a different state from her.

Looking at her 7th house ruler (Sagittarius) Jupiter in the 3rd house (Leo) in a Leo degree. Again, she was entertaining herself, having fun talking to a few people on her lives.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Cancer (°4,°16,°28)

Your partners may be the first to approach you. There may be an immediate connection as well. Meeting while you're young, you could choose to get together quite quickly as well. You could meet somewhere comfortable, where you're used to. They could be from the same place you come from or even where you work. A restaurant, house listings, estate sales, etc.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Leo (°5,°17,°29)

Meeting while entertaining people, or when seeking entertainment. Related to excitement, or literally on dating apps. Tiktok, Instagram, games, Tumblr etc. Where people come to connect and have fun. Nothing really serious is going on.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Virgo (°6,°18 )

This is also a sign of working with them, so you could either work in the same industry or just happen to work where they frequent or have business with. At a clinic, a hospital, the gym, anywhere related to your physical wellbeing. Somewhere you frequent.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Libra (°7,°19)

Working with them, or working for them. Similar to the 2nd & 7th house; there is something to be gained from both parties. Could be related to art, beauty, aesthetics, law, a concept, some sort of service that you provide. Just offering something.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Scorpio (°8,°20)

Meeting alone or privately. There's a chance that you're also looking for something or investigating something. Could be related to anything occult or secretive as well. You could be alone when you meet or at least have some time to be with each other one on one to some degree.

Ex: Cristiano Ronaldo has Union in Scorpio (°7 libra) in his 10th house. He met Georgina (his wife & longtime partner) while he was in a Gucci store, & she was working there then lmao. Their meeting is quite infamous too. Everyone was posting articles about it at the time.

Looking at his 7th house ruler (Cancer), it's in his 8th house (leo) at °10 Capricorn. They kept their relationship private for the most part, their dates & conversations were kept on the low. Again, he met her at a "professional" setting; she was working, he was a customer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Sagittarius (°9,°21)

Similar to the 9th House; through school, university or even religious cites. While travelling or at a place that's related to travel. Somewhere cultural even like museums or galleries. In a foreign country or a different state. While expanding something in your life like your knowledge, your possessions even.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Capricorn (°10,°22)

Meeting due to work, a public meeting. People knowing that you've met or people being nosey about the both of you when you meet. You could meet at a public setting as well. You could have a rather 'professional' front when you meet. They could be coming to you for advice or guidance as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Aquarius (°11,°23)

Meeting unexpectedly. While searching for something online, or while researching even. You could be curious about something, exploring something, doing something you've never really done before. There's immediately a mental connection, you feel that they match your interest.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Pisces (°12,°24)

Meeting online, unexpected meetings. Meeting through someone else, a third party. Meeting at foreign places, or doing something related to health or healing, hospitals, resorts, the ocean/any body of water. Through therapy. Somewhere with music or scenery or art. Concerts & music festivals are also possible.

Note: Remember. These are the circumstances of meeting your spouse/future partner. So there has to be an exchange of some sort i.e names, glances, conversations. It's not related to seeing them in dreams. It's MEETING them face to face whether virtually or physically.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧. ₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊

*** entertainment purposes only; reader discretion is advised***. /)/) (\(\

Thank you for reading ♡. ( . .) (. . )

@northopalshore

@northopalshore union asteroid 2024 all rights reserved. Disclaimer

[imnotditzy]

Captain Marvel doesn’t know what a normal death is

(TW: mentions of death, brief mentions of murder gang violence)

No but really if you ask a street rat, literal living lighting, a bunch of ancient immortal people and a really wise king from a bajillion years ago, why would a reasonable answer be an option?

Like Billy thinks that if you’re 60 one of your feet are in the grave. Why? Because that was the life expectancy in the 50s. He's also homeless so he’s already more exposed to crime anyway, I wouldn’t doubt he thinks death by “minding someone else’s business” is common enough to be recorded as such in its own category and not murder. Also, he literally fights supervillains who try to kill him everyday? His view is skewed so much, that the damage might be irreversible. 😭

Moving on, Marvel is literally sentient magic. They can’t die, and if they can it’s not a thing that’s very easy to come by. The amount of work it takes to even do the equivalent of a paper cut is excessive, the concept of them dying would take a lot to set in. And they are a lost cause when it comes to knowing what a normal death is. The only “normal” deaths they’ve really paid attention to are the deaths of the Champions…and none of them had anything close to a normal death. (One of them literally gets hacked in two 💀)

The acronym; do I even have to explain? All of them besides Solomon, Heracles and Achilles literally haven’t died. And literally no hero in Greek mythology dies normally. Solomon is the only one who’s died of natural and normal causes, but he was alive in the BCE. That is a long time ago.

Now, Combine all of them together and what do you get? Captain Marvel: someone who does not have a correct interpretation of typical death!

This would probably concern others around them. Especially the JL, because I feel like Captain would mention this randomly.

—

(Green Lantern [Hal] and Captain Marvel were sent to investigate a crime scene together and they stumble upon the body.)

Captain Marvel: Aw…seems like their time came. (Captain’s got a sympathetic but large smile.)

Green Lantern (looking down at the stabbed body): Um, Cap?

Captain: It’s a shame. But I guess nothing could be done…

Lantern: Captain, they were stabbed???

Captain: Oh, I know. Happens to the best of people, right?

Lantern: Uh —No? Captain this is…worrying??

Captain: They’re in a better place now. Maybe.. ☺️

—

(They’re now back at the watchtower for a debrief, but it somehow turned into Batman questioning Captain Marvel.)

Batman: Captain can you explain why the body was not concerning to you?

(Batman’s staring at Captain intensely.)

Captain (confused smiling): …because there was nothing to worry about?

Batman (raising an eyebrow): Why?

Captain (hesitant): Because there’s probably not a serial killer or whatever running around? They killed an insider, it was gang violence.

Batman: How were you sure?

(Captain looks up to the side like their remembering before shrugging)

Captain: …Oh, I’ve seen similar bodies like that before.

—

(This occurrence is reason #5738 on why Captain Marvel cannot interact with civilians. But in Captain’s defense, how was Billy supposed to know lifespans updated?)

Captain Marvel (pointing at an “old” lady): Oh, she’s 62?

Citizen: Yeah?

Captain (sympathetic): Oh. It’s good she’s still on her feet though.

Citizen: What?

Captain: She’s thriving for her age, right?

Citizen: C—Captain Marvel, she’s 60 not 99. She just retired.

Captain (confused): Really? Why would they have her working so long if she’s nearing the end? (The lady turns around with this expression on her face: 😟)

Citizen: Because she wanted to?? Captain are you ageist?

Captain (never heard that word a day in his life): Uh, I don’t think so? What does that even mean??

(The media later somehow gets ahold of the footage and it becomes such a scandal it reaches the JL; Captain Marvel is then forced to have a public statement. At the giant press conference, Mary and Freddy are there standing next to him and laughing.)

Captain Marvel (whispering): Shut up, it’s not like you thought any different.

Miss Marvel (also whispering): Yeah but we’re not stupid enough to say it to their face, Captain.

Captain Marvel (still whispering): It’s not like you guys would have any less scandals than I do if you were in the media as much as I am.

Reporter (impatiently): Ahem. Marvels?

(Both siblings look like deer in headlights while Freddy laughs at them. They both apologize in unison.)

(Captain then clears their throat, they look like they’re dreading this.)

Captain Marvel: I am terribly sorry for what I said about [62yo citizen]. I hadn’t intended to be rude, but I seemed as such because I had a gap in my…

Solomon (telling him what to say): …Knowledge. I was under the assumption that the average lifespan wasn’t much longer than a person’s 60s…

Captain (repeating what Solomon’s saying): I now know that, while once true, that information is outdated.

(Billy went on for three more minutes, only stopping because the DTC got too bored and people were starting to give him funny looks.)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could I ask what headcanons you have for some of the characters, if you haven't already answered? Like just some small, fun ideas or interpretations you have on their backstories, etc.

I've talked about some of my personal headcanons before. Here's a compilation of them:

Aromantic!Idia

RSA

Censoring Silver

Idol!AU

Worldbuilding

Leona if he falls in love

Crack/silly stuff

Malleus, Lilia, Riddle, Idia (falling from the dream corridor)

Zigvolt family

Aaand here are some headcanons I have regarding the OB boys’ family members or backgrounds:

Mrs. Rosehearts perpetuates generational trauma; she is hard on Riddle, her mother was hard on her, and so was her mother’s mother, and so was her mother’s mother’s mother…

Mrs. Rosehearts is 100% aware that her marriage is in the toilet, but she does not even consider a divorce, as it would be the same to her as admitting that she is wrong (/chose the wrong man).

Mr. Rosehearts is a very timid man who cannot speak up for himself or for Riddle. He purposefully takes long shifts at the hospital/clinic or overseas work conferences in order to avoid confrontation.

Leona considers Kifaji (annoying as he is) to be the closest thing he has to a real parent or guardian, as his own father was often busy with royal duties or bedridden to spend time with him. He would never EVER say this to Kifaji’s face though, he has too much pride on the line for that.

Kifaji would scold the other servants for speaking ill of “just a child”, but he’s only one man and cannot control an entire palace (or country’s) worth of rumors. He’d also try to comfort Leona in his own ways, like taking the time to play chess with him when no one else would or trying to offer advice and praise.

Leona and Falena used to be close (Falena was first in line to hold his newborn baby brother), but as they grew up, they gradually became estranged. Falena desperately wishes to reconnect, but Leona has zero interest in it.

Mrs. Ashengrotto fake cries and pouts when Azul turns down the smorgasbord of dishes she prepares for him whenever he comes home.

A lot of people believe that Mrs. Ashengrotto got together with her divorce lawyer, but it’s never actually explicitly stated or implied that this is the case. She just MET her now husband while she was going through the divorce—but hey, nothing is stopping me from headcanoning that her new husband was her divorce attorney because that’s too silly for me not to.

Najma used to have a crush on Kalim when they were kids and this absolutely mortified Jamil. (“This isn’t a fairy tale! You can’t just marry the first rich guy you see and live happily ever after!”) Thankfully, she’s out of that phase now but occasionally Najma WILL intentionally say something sus (like mentioning that his visiting classmates are cute) while Jamil is around just to annoy him.

As a kid, Jamil used to try warming eggs with his hands in hopes it would hatch into a baby parrot. Then he actually SAW an image of a baby parrot and called it pathetic (and wanted one more than ever).

Vil has actually bumped into his biological mother once, but since he does not know her identity, he did not recognize her as his mother and continued walking by. Missed connections 💀

When Vil still lived in Jack’s neighborhood, they’d play together, since Jack was one of the few kids who didn’t see him as the villains he played on TV.

Mrs. Shroud was the one that romantically pursued Mr. Shroud. He was apprehensive about dating (due to worrying that his curse would only burden her and any future children they have), but Mrs. Shroud took it surprisingly well and remained loyal to him. To this very day, he wonders what did he do to deserve a woman like her.

Idia used to want a dog, until one of the S.T.Y.X. employees brought in three of theirs to work and they all rushed at Idia, tackled him, and slobbered all over his face. Since then, he’s been more of a cat person.

Malleus often finds himself wondering or daydreaming about what kinds of people his parents were. This happens a lot when he’s wandering ruins; he imagines the buildings in their glory days and the types of people that lived and did business there.

He sometimes tells the gargoyles about his parents as if he actually knew them at all. It’s strangely therapeutic for him, though Malleus couldn’t articulate why that is if you asked him to.

[transcriptioncity]

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[qqueenofhades]

I really really REALLY need to see more people makimg the connection between trump and his russian handlers tbh.......like i know we've somehow gone through the looking glass of putin apologia but that piece abt the NYT you just posted, the bots, the interference: in the bag for trump? Yes. But i dont believe its due to his or even republican power or popularity or forcefulness.......this is a man with so much debt and kompromat thats only getting worse!! Not to sound kwazy BUT WE ARE BEING FULLY INFLITRATED and at the risk of conspiracizing i think the russians are ALSO behind the Times's demise along with so many other information centers etc. Like i KNOW these leftists love him but like. Wouldnt they care a LITTLE abt being manipulated like this???

Trump is 100% an active, willing, and eager Russian agent. That's not even paranoid conspiracy theory, that's just the only reasonable interpretation of the facts:

NOT TO MENTION that in the next two years after the Helsinki conference where Trump kowtowed to Putin in every way, the CIA admitted to losing huge and unusually high numbers of classified informants around the world (not CIA agents, but people secretly working for the American government in often-hostile countries):

Once again, this all happened when Trump was in office, when he was actively handing over CIA intel to the Kremlin against the wishes of the entire national security establishment, and which other experts have suggested was directly as a result of Trump handing over the identities of American informants to Russia, including those stationed in Russia itself:

Now, I could go on, but you get the point. Not to mention that Trump just lost a major UK-based lawsuit against Christopher Steele, the former MI6 agent who was the first to provide documents linking Trump to Russia in the controversial "Steele dossier":

And now: Trump is deeply in hock for hundreds of millions in legal fees and punitive judgments that are only increasing by the day, he somehow just came up with $90 million to appeal the judgment against E. Jean Carroll (nobody knows where he got this money either), and Russian state TV spends all their time openly salivating for Trump's return to the presidency (so he can hand over Ukraine and the rest of NATO and, as he literally said, "let Russia do whatever the hell they want.") I know we're largely numb to all the awful treasonous shit that Trump does, but like. This isn't a conspiracy theory, this is just what's going on in plain sight, and while the Online Leftists have recently become so stupid that I honestly can't tell if it's just terminal brainworms or active Russian psyops, it's strongly indicated that it is in fact a mix of both:

So, like. Just some food for thought.