rpanons | I thought it was a chocolate chip

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She took a pen and a small notebook out of her purse and scribbled something down, covering it with her hand. Natasha didn’t even try to look. Natasha was buzzing with too much excitement. Because. What if?

Pepper smiled down on the piece of paper, looking very proud of herself, and slid it across the table.

Natasha looked down at it, heart beating fast now. Natasha wanted them so badly. What if Pepper was wrong, though? Natasha was afraid. Natasha didn’t like that at all.

The words were strange to Natasha. They were actual words instead of a simple jumble of letters like the others always looked. Blinking a few times, Natasha realized they looked like spider. These were spider pronouns.

“There’s been a real push for themed pronouns online,” Pepper supplied. “Trying to make people more comfortable, you know? In case the others don’t fit.”

Natasha blinked. No, spide blinked. Spide smiled. Spide had it. Spide finally had it.

Boris had long been suspicious of where Natasha was headed at night.
Was she out with Rocky, Bullwinkle, that dastardly dope Snidely Whiplash? Oh well, he sighed. At least he had Dudley. Good old reliable royal Canadian Mountie Dogooder.

“Oh, er,” Newt begins, “humans are a little bit weird, Hwi. Like, we give each other presents and tell each other we are aesthetically appealing and then take off our clothes and press different parts of ourselves pretty close together for extended intervals and the way that that’s done says whole swaths of things about how we feel about someone, or, in an ideal world it does. It’s an alternative to words, a non-verbal designation congruent with the actuality of things. Humans are always trying to smash together their subjective perceptions of the world to form these little miniature alliances of selfhood that can stand for a while against the stochastic cruelty of life. How tight those alliances are and how long they last depends on a lot of stuff, Hwi, like the personalities involved, the external environment, and the modes and frequency of communication that the allied parties might employ.”

“So it is like driving an intelligent car,” Hwi says, “without your clothes.”

Newt laughs, and it’s quiet and controlled—just an amused exhale really, but it feels like his laugh and not like something that will end in hysterical weeping so yeah. Magnificence.

“Yup,” Newt says. “Pretty much, presuming the car and the driver are equal participants in your analogy.”

“So you and Dr. Gottlieb do not exchange presents or take off your clothes.”

“Oh god, Hwi, um, just say ‘romance’ okay? Romantic activities?”

“So you and Dr. Gottlieb do not engage in romantic activities? But he has represented to his colleagues that you do?” Hwi asks.

“Well, in some ways, we totally do. I mean, we exchange presents and, according to my definition of human relationships, meaning the mash-up of subjective worldviews, we have pretty much the tightest alignment that humans can have. We do not do the part where we take off our clothes, at least, we haven’t so far, and society would tell you that’s what really defines a romantic relationship. The disrobing part.”

I thought it was a chocolate chip

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