#but like. you all speak in english and don't even try learning a handful useful phrases. We Know What You Are.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[anqueerism]

I think it's about time that we put away the "chewsday" and "bo'ol o' wa'ah" jokes.

It's frankly quite an overused and tired joke, but not only that, it's incredibly classist.

In the UK, accents are and always have been very heavily entwined with the country's class system. There is an extremely long and storied history of certain accents (such as the popularly-mocked cockney) being brutally ridiculed, suppressed in the public sector, and even banned from media and broadcasting while others like RP were promoted and even required.

This has lessened over time, but it still holds pretty true: Your accent is one of the main indicators of your class and your breeding, and will directly impact the way that people treat you.

These are historically marginalised and oppressed accents in the UK, so when you mock them— especially as someone who does not live in the UK— you are, in fact, directly mocking those people to whom the accent belongs.

Personally, I have a very sensitive history surrounding my accent. I was born into a working-class family, but my father was a social climber and intensely embarrassed about his own status. Because of this, he had an intense fixation with ensuring that I fit every classist mould of an upper-class child. I was heavily abused by my teachers as a child into speaking in a Received Pronunciation accent (which they regarded as the "proper" way to speak), and was physically beaten into learning to write in an "educated style."

It took me until I was about sixteen or seventeen to even begin feeling comfortable to speak in my natural accent in the comfort of my own home. When in groups or in front of crowds, I still revert to a softer RP accent. I still have chronic pain in my hands from the beatings I received, and I still refuse to write on paper because it causes PTSD flashbacks.

All this to say: As an American, or generally anyone from outside of the UK, you do not have the right to mock historically marginalised British accents. It is not funny. You are pressing on a bruise that is not yours to press on, and then mocking people when they tell you that you pressing on that bruise hurts.

If you want to mock an English accent, mock RP. Traditional, Broadcasting, Aristocratic, or Modern. Those are historically upper-class accents, which (for most people) have no heavy history attached to them. I would say it's fair game.

But when you mock the accents of the poor working class who have been unequivocally brutalised in this country for centuries and then go on to mock us when we try to tell you why we don't like you doing it, you just sound like a complete and utter asshole.

[envyi5envious]

RESEARCH.. JUST RESEARCH.

࿐ — 𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂 : YANDERE (Red Robin) Tim Drake x GN Reader. 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : He was scribbling in a notebook, and you wondered what he was writing. 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 : 1.7k. 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 : Dark. Obsessive tendencies and stalking. 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎 : English isn’t my first language. I don't know why this took so long. Enjoy ♡

Class had just begun, and the familiar sound of shuffling papers and low murmurs filled the air. You had recently been transferred to AP Computer Science by your mother’s request. The teacher was discussing data analysis. They turned to the whiteboard, where they had written several bullet points. “First, we need to understand data collection.”

“This is where we gather information from various sources. It’s essential to choose reliable methods. Can anyone provide an example?” A young man raised his hand, mainly focused on the notebook on his desk.

“Yes, Drake.” The teacher replied as they leaned their backside against their desk. “We could use sensors or databases.”, “Correct. Well done.” After a few minutes, you tuned out the sound of their voice. Mainly focused on taking down the notes written on the board. Your ears perked up at the mention of an assignment. The teacher’s gaze swept across the room, lingering on a few students. “Next week, you’ll begin to work on a project analyzing a dataset of your choice. You will be required to pick your own partners this week so you have the weekend to prepare.”

The students responded with a few quiet hums and the teacher ended the class like that. The room was mainly silent besides the few people speaking to ask other students to be their partners. Assuming since you were new you wouldn’t get picked, you stood up to talk to one of your random classmates only to be met by a chest slamming into your nose.

“Shit-”

You heard a familiar voice say, their hands reaching out to secure you before you fell. “Are you alright?” They asked. Once your vision cleared, you realized why it was familiar. It was the same guy that answered the teacher. “Drake?” Your mutter came out before you could stop it, he let out a dry chuckle. “Tim, actually. Drake’s my family name.” He corrected. “Sorry about that. I was just coming to ask you if you wanted to be partners since I noticed you were new.” What a coincidence, you were about to do the same thing. “Oh, well I’m lucky then. We can meet at the Gotham library later, like 5PM-ish?” You weren’t sure if he’d be okay with giving his number off to a complete stranger.

He hummed for a second, thinking if he was busy around that time. Then he nodded his head as confirmation. “It’s a date. Talk to you later, (L/N).” He said before leaving the class, phone in his hands as he typed away like crazy. You could literally hear the sound of his thumbs touching the screen from that far away. Sighing, you sat back into your desk. You decide to try finishing your homework early today so you could focus on planning for the project. You even texted your mom not to pick you up since you would be meeting with Tim later. When you were done, you stood up to go for a walk to the cafeteria. Maybe you could get some coffee to stay awake. All AP classes were no joke, you were a little annoyed at your mom for forcing you to go to them so suddenly. While you were smart, you weren’t exactly a fan of school. You just did what you had to do to pass and that’s all. So when you found out you would have to be learning more because of your ‘potential’ you got rightfully pissed. It didn’t matter though. Once you were in AP, you can’t get out of it unless your parents signed for it (which your mother clearly isn’t budging on) or you flunk. And you weren’t about to fail Senior year just to get out of harder classes. Once you reached it, the room was mainly empty as most people went home. But the worker was still there until school closing time. There were groups still there, most likely waiting for their rides. You decided to order a croissant with ice coffee, making your way to an empty table to eat. You pulled out one of your notebooks to get to planning ideas.

—

The Sun had already set in Gotham due to the amount of buildings surrounding the city causing the car Tim was in to be fully dark, the only source of light was that of the laptop on his lap. The image broadcasted was that of the cafeteria’s cameras directed at you. You were writing notes with one hand and eating a pastry with the other. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He had one of his notebooks beside him, taking notes when he noticed any quirks of yours. Like how you would subconsciously bite your nails or pick at your skin when you were stressed and the food you ordered. Then he took a look at what you were writing. At first he thought you were still working on ideas for the project. But as he kept reading, he realized that it seemed to be more of a fantasy novel. “Hm.. If I can just.. There we go.” He mutters to himself as he managed to zoom close enough to the book’s cover to see that it was a novel. ‘The Whispers of the Assassin.’ Quite the title. He searches the book online to have it delivered to the manor as soon as possible. “The Whispers of the Assassin follows Elara, a skilled assassin haunted by her past. Tasked with eliminating a crime lord responsible for her family's down.. Okay, I’ll read it later.” Tim thought to himself that he could suggest using this novel as a dataset, might help you be more interested to work with him on the project.

He’ll decide once he reads the book himself, for now, it’s best not to bring it up. When he realized the time was close to 5PM, Tim moved to the driver’s seat of his car to reach the library before you did. He would be a cover story that he was there the whole time.

—

When you finally reached the library, you found Tim scribbling notes in the same notebook he was using during class.When he heard your footsteps, he closed the book before you could get too close. Placing it back into his bag, he pulled out a tablet. “Hey.” He gave you a small smile. “Hey back.” You sat on the other side of the table, pulling out your own notes. “I wrote a few ideas on what we could use as a dataset and the methods. You can tell me which ones you find interesting.” You slid the papers to him, letting him read everything. “Hmm.. Good. The ideas, I mean. Here, we could use a novel. What novels do you like?”

“Well, I was reading a novel recently about a book called ‘The Whispers of the Assassin.’ It’s really good, you should read it. But I thought maybe we could use that.” Great minds think alike. You saw him typing away at his comically large tablet, he skimmed through the summary. He didn’t answer right away, almost like he was absorbed in the story.

But eventually he directed his face back to you. “Interesting. I’ll buy it later.” He tapped his index finger, eyes slightly unfocused. Before he stopped abruptly. “Since we’re basically done planning, there’s not much to do here.” He chuckles, turning to face his attention to one of the windows. “What do you like about the book?” His gaze wasn’t on you but he was still talking to you. “Well.. I like the main character, Elara. She’s a total badass. Her family died because of this mob boss and she goes after him to avenge her family. She honestly reminds me of Batman.” You could see him try to stop himself from cracking a smile from that. “Yeah, now I have to read it. I’ve had an obsession with Batman since I was a kid.” That explains the huge bat logo on his shirt. “Oh, so you’re a superhero nerd?” He nodded his head, smiling.

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot to tell you my name. It’s (Y/N).” You instinctively reached your hand out for him to shake and he surprisingly shook it as soon as you held it out. “That’s a pretty name.” He mused on it for a second before freeing your hand from his grip. “What else do you like to do?” The single sentence led to a conversation for a few hours before you left for your respective homes.

—

“Young master Tim, a delivery has arrived in your name.” Alfred’s voice could be heard through the door as he insisted on repeatedly knocking till Tim answered. “Thank you, Alfred.” He was about to close the door but the older man blocked the way with the tip of his foot. “I’m sorry to be a bother but Master Bruce has been concerned with your amount of screen time.”

Tim sighed slightly, he couldn’t help but be annoyed at the fact that they were taking time out of his busy schedule just to worry over nothing. “I can guarantee you both that I am fine. Just been busy with projects. AP classes are kind of kicking my ass right now. Thanks again.” He took the package from him without another word, pushing the man’s foot with his own. He quickly closed the door before he could be berated with even more of their concerns.

His room was clean but definitely not organized. Wires and computers were everywhere, books filled to the brim with the most minute of details about you. He made his way back to his bed, closing his laptop and pulling out his phone and earphones. He put the small buds in his ears, playing ‘8 HOURS OF BROWN NOISE’ as he began reading the novel. Four hours later, he had already finished it. Though, he had trained his mind to be able to handle large amounts of information in short periods. While the book most definitely had its flaws, it wasn’t bad. Now, just to finish the project so he can spend more time with you.

☆ 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩. ©◞✶ envyi5envious

[luveline]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel can’t control himself when you get hurt in the field —a ficlet featuring an irritated (lovesick) miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested he re, fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. fighting, injury, blood

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel watches the screen in front of him unhappily. 

"Spider-Girl," he says. Two people answer him. He sighs. "Y/N," he amends, "you're being reckless." 

The little droid camera that follows you around circles your head as you swing from one place to another. "I'm being good," you deny. 

Miguel would never tell you this, but he loves how you speak. Sure, almost every word you say annoys him, but the cadence of your voice is melodic and addictive at once. And Miguel knows you're nice to everyone, but it's him alone that has you speaking so softly. 

You do it to torture him, he's sure. 

"You're doing well, but you'd be better if you didn't free fall for so long. Mechanical failure can happen at any minute," Miguel says. 

"Then one of the others will catch me." 

"And if there's no team member close by? I'm supposed to come and scrape you off of the sidewalk?" 

"Miguel," you say gently. He can tell what mood you're in today. "They have people for that." 

"Could you just do as I asked you to?" 

"Ah, but you haven't asked me anything." 

"Please," he says, "focus on the task at hand, and use your webs cautiously." 

You make a chirping sound that feels more laughter than affirmation, but you do as he requests, reducing the length of time between each web shot. You're in New York, Earth-1844, attempting to send home an unhappy Doc Ock variant whose mechanical arms are immensely technologically advanced, even when compared to Nueva York's futurism.

Miguel had sent you along with a rather large team, one. because a big team was necessary for the task, two. because you'd asked and he has trouble saying no to you, and three. because if you'd spent another hour in his office today he actually might have given into temptation, which wouldn't be good for anybody.

Miguel is used to doing what needs to be done rather than what he'd like, these days. So while he wants to indulge you and your fanciful suggestions —I'm not heavy, handsome, please, you won't even notice I'm in your lap, your thighs are so wide— he can't. He has things to do. Things that cannot endure distraction. 

"Woo!" you cheer through laughter, letting your shoes skim the floor in an especially dangerous manoeuvre. The adrenaline turns you giddy. "Holy crap." 

Oh, right, that's why he resists temptation —he hates you. (He doesn't hate you.) He hates you and your disregard for your own safety, he hates your rejection of his authority, and he hates the stupid sweet sound you make when you're excited. 

"Do you listen to me and then forget what I've said, or do you not understand the English language?" he asks. 

You land on a rooftop overlooking the centre of Future Doc Ock's destruction. "Well, I've been learning Spanish. We could always try that," you suggest. 

"Why have you been learning Spanish?" he asks. 

"Coquetear contigo," you say, your pronunciation all over the place. To flirt with you. 

"Qué maravilla," he mutters. 

"I don't know that one, handsome, so I'm going to assume it was a love confession or something similar." You sound so overly fond he has to tense his jaw. "Gwen, where are you?" 

"I'm over here?" 

Gwen is wrapped up tightly in a metal tentacle. It shakes her around fanatically. Miguel swears and zooms in on her location, watching in apprehension as she attempts to free herself while the arm creaks, tightening, tightening. 

"Woah," you say, taking a running jump off of the rooftop. "Can you believe it? I'm not the first one who needs rescuing." 

Hobie Brown reaches Gwen before you can, and he makes an impressive rescue. You divert your path, shooting a web at the glass dome covering Future Doc Ock's head. Miguel crosses his arms across his chest. Wannabe Mysterio loser, he thinks, and then, when you've smashed a hole into the dome with a generously momentous kick, Nice. 

He doesn't suppose Doc Ock was expecting a kick to the jaw today. 

You hiss as you propel yourself away from him, another web shot at a nearby lamppost. It does something funny to his chest when he hears you whine in pain, but he's too distracted to ask what's wrong —he scours your droid's view for an answer, finds it red and saturating the fabric of your suit. 

"Why are you bleeding, Spider-Girl?" he asks, gaze drawn to the main screen where Dock Ock shouts belligerent threats at an approaching Spider-Man. 

"No biggie," you say, hissing again, "I think I cut my leg on the glass. I need a better suit." 

"Can you walk?" 

"I'm fine," you say with a sniffle. From the amount of blood, the cut is deep. "Is it me, or is it dusty in here?" 

It definitely hurts if it's making you cry, though maybe you're unprepared. This was a bad idea, you aren't as seasoned as the others, and he knows you don't know what you're doing yet. You need more time, more practice. You've hurt yourself in the field on your very first mission, and you don't have the pain threshold or the super-healing necessary to cope.

It's his fault for letting you go. 

"Prepare for extraction," he says.

"No! No way, are you kidding? I'm fine, I– I can do this."

"Y/N," he warns. 

You fling yourself from the lamppost with impressive grace considering your injury and join the fight once again. Miguel can't keep an eye on you like he wants to, as the alarm that indicates an anomaly begins to sound. He's forced to rush together a second team while the elite strike force are preoccupied, yanking members of Spider-Society from their goings abouts, Lyla in his ear recommending effective combinations and fighting styles. From that point on, he has to supervise two different missions, his head pounding with effort. 

His hands itch. He should be out there. Miguel is the cream of the crop and he isn't shy to admit that. He's a good fighter, but he can't be everywhere at once, and most of the anomalies they face require multiple sets of hands to fix. So he forces himself to stay put and guide the teams through each fight, sick to his stomach with every bloody footprint you leave behind. 

He's following Hobie Brown and offering rejected instruction when he sees you go down. He toggles your voice channel and catches the end of a high-pitched, "Oof," the air-knocked from your lungs forcibly as you hit the ground. The tentacle that propelled you veers up for a finishing blow, and three different webs catch it and pull it backward. 

It's a blur. One minute Miguel's in the control room at Spider-Society headquarters, the next he's breathing in the smoggy air of New York, Earth-1844, concrete and asphalt torn up under his hands. Lyla speaks in his ear and he's deaf to her, his focus pointed with only one thing in mind. 

The restraint it takes not to wipe Doc Ock from the face of the dimension is incalculable. Miguel can't quite believe his own moderation as he orchestrates the return of the anomaly, your body on the ground in the corner of his eye. 

The second the situation is under control, he runs to you. His gloves hit the ground with a thud by your hip, as do his knees. Spider-Man, a Peter Parker from Earth-751263, has already set nanobots over your prone figure, tiny spider-like creatures that leave webbing bandages in their wake, closing the sluggish wound on your calf. But nanotech won't fix a broken spine, not in the field. Miguel needs a stretcher. He needs to get you home. 

"Miguel," you say, drawing his gaze from your slow-rising chest, "I can't breathe.

He slides his thumb as gently as he can into the seam of your mask and eases it off. "You're winded." 

You cough. The sound is disturbingly wet, but your lips remain unsullied. Miguel can't look at you in this much pain, and he won't: he stands, and he takes control. 

—

You're not in nearly as much pain as you should be, because Doctor Spider-Man gave you the good stuff. "Your healing isn't nearly as expedited as most of us," he'd said. 

"Is this medical discrimination?" you'd asked, faking a serious concern. "Do I need to talk to Spider-Lawyer?" 

You found it funny. He maybe didn't, but he gave you an extra dose and told you to rest up before leaving. Resting at the Society medbay isn't easy because Spider People are constantly filtering in and out of the ward for check-ups, medication, and corrections. 

It's also not easy because most Spider People are incredibly lonely in their home dimensions, and incredibly friendly here. When Miguel finally comes to visit you, you have a Spider-Girl from a few dimensions over who has the same biological mother as you but a different father sitting to your left —she's trippy and adorable, if you do say so yourself— two Peter Parkers to your right, and a melting pot of currency lost in the white linen sheets over your legs.  

They get one good look at Miguel and put down their playing cards. 

The Peter Parkers slink off together promising to come and see you again sometime, and your variant stops just shy of Miguel's position to look him up and down affectionately. 

"Go away," he says. 

She beams at him. "Okay." 

"You can't help it, can you?" he asks after she's gone, picking a rogue playing card up from the end of your bed. He twiddles it between his index and middle finger, the card shushing with each turn.

You sit up in bed and try to straighten out the sheets, hoping to entice him. You don't bother answering his question. It barely sounded like one. 

"I'm hurt, you know?" you ask. 

"I know. I told you to retreat." 

"No, I'm hurt it took you so long to visit me," you say. You're putting on airs. Truthfully, you genuinely are a little hurt, but your voice is soft and dreamy as always. "I thought we were friends." 

"Ah, because you need more of those." 

You sink down into your pillows, your knees hiked. "I really can't help it if people like me. And you'd know." 

Miguel surprises you by sitting down. He faces away from you, his thigh just shy of your feet below the sheets, and it's only then you realise he's tense. He's in civvies for a change, a t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and chest and regular black sweatpants. He's wearing converse. 

You look at him through a squint. "Did you hit your head, too?" 

"I'm off-duty."

"I just never pictured you in sneakers." 

"How do you picture me?" he asks, neck craned to look at you, his chin touching his shoulder. He has dark circles under his eyes and his brows are ruffled on one side. 

You let your knees fall to one side and pull your legs to your chest, hoping to entice him closer. "You're not sleeping well?" 

Miguel doesn't answer your inquiry. In fact, he falls silent. His eyes are on your hands where they're bunched at your chest, his dark flush of lashes twitching as his gaze tracks along the column of your throat, your jaw, and finally, your face. 

"If you were anyone else," he says eventually, "you'd be benched." 

"I'm not benched?" you ask. 

"You disobeyed a direct order," he says, "and your actions affected the people around you. Someone else could've been hurt protecting you. You have to listen to what I'm telling you to do, or this is never going to work." 

You look at the hospital bed railing rather than face his disappointment. 

"But it's my fault." 

"What?" you ask, startled. 

"It's my fault you got hurt. I knew you couldn't handle it, and I let you go anyway. I'm… I'm weak." 

"What are you talking about?" you ask. "Weak? You're the strongest person here, with or without Rapture." 

He flinches at the drug's name.

You lay there, paralysed by your own mistake, your big mouth ruining everything for the thousandth time. If there's one thing you know about Miguel, it's that you never mention his weaknesses. His drug. His last attempt at a full life. You might be light-hearted, a free spirit, but you're far from stupid usually. Your emotional intelligence must've got lost somewhere on Earth-1844. 

"Sorry," you murmur, looking at him from under your lashes. "I didn't mean…" 

Slowly, so slowly, he puts his hand on your leg. It doesn't hurt, you've been medicated and stitched and his touch is far from cruel, but you're so startled that your breath gets caught in your throat. Miguel doesn't touch you unless he's giving you a vague reprimand, moving your hand from a button you shouldn't touch or a door you're not allowed to open. 

"I let you go on that mission, knowing you weren't ready, because you asked me to let you. I put selfish motivations over your safety. It won't happen again." 

You're not as brave as you think you are. You try to hold his hand but it looks so big, and you've never had him this close to you of his own accord. You're a moment away from nervous goosebumps. 

He looks up at your touch, your pinky finger wrapped over his, smaller and shorter but with the same pattern of calluses, skin abraded by tight gloves and rough surfaces. 

"Selfish motivations," you repeat in a murmur. 

"I don't– like saying no. To you." He couldn't sound more unhappy to admit it. 

"You say no to me all the time," you say. You don't mean to, but suddenly you're folding your fingers over his, forcing him to hold your hand. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't let go. "Like, ten times a day." 

"It's difficult." Your complaint is a blessing for him —the atmosphere around you shifts to something less vulnerable, and his permanently chagrined personality rears its head once again. He raises his eyebrows. "You make my life extremely difficult," he says flatly. 

"You make my life difficult, too," you say. 

You can't help but give him your fondest smile, your lashes kissing in the corners of your eyes.  

He visibly softens. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, just once. 

"Fantastic," he says, looking firmly away from you. "Great." 

"Isn't it?" you ask happily. 

He squeezes your fingers gently. It's almost imperceptible. "Yeah, it is," he says. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! also, im sorry if you already speak spanish i realised after that that detail was subjective to the reader, sorry!

[ahqkas]

BELLA ITALIA ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! in the moment of darkness, he was your light (or when theodore nott noticed a pretty girl struggling to communicate in english and decided to step up) (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, reader is from italy, italian theodore, translation of foreign language

WORD COUNT! 1.7k

NOTES! i’m trying to learn italian on my own and when i hear this man speaking italian i am WHIPPED 😿😿

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER CAN BE AN INCREDIBLY CHALLENGING EXPERIENCE.

The first problem is often the language barrier. Suddenly finding yourself in a place where you don't speak the native language can be isolating and overwhelming. Simple tasks like ordering food or asking for directions become daunting challenges, and the fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed can make even basic interactions fraught with anxiety.

The weather can also play a big role in the adjustment process. Going from a sunny, warm climate to a cold, rainy one (or vice versa) can have a profound impact on one's mood and well-being. It's not just a matter of dressing appropriately — it's about learning to cope with the changes in daylight, temperature, and overall atmosphere. You left the sunny shores filled with ocean breeze and moved to rainy afternoons that seemed rather sad than anything else.

And then, of course, there's the school. Being the new kid in class is never easy, but when you're in a completely foreign environment, it can feel like you're on an entirely different world. Everything from the way classes were conducted to the social dynamics among students was be vastly different from what you were used to, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water. 

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of moving to a new country was the sense of displacement, of not quite belonging anywhere. You longed for the familiarity of home while simultaneously yearning to embrace your new surroundings. You missed the way the sun kissed your skin and the way the sea felt against your movements as you swam in the water with your friends.

And you wanted someone to understand you.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you clutch your time table tightly, eyes darting from one corridor to another in search of the potion dungeons. The castle's vastness is overwhelming, its endless staircases and hidden passages a far cry from the sunny, open streets of your hometown in Italy. You knew your first day here would be hell.

The weather outside matched your mood: overcast and drizzly, the persistent rain casting a melancholic atmosphere over the stone walls. You miss the warmth of the Italian sun, the vibrant colors of your old school. Here, everything feels cold and foreign, a constant reminder of how far you are from home. Everything was gray and dark, the opposite of the vibrant colors you were used to.

You spot a group of students huddled together, chatting animatedly as they stood by a stone wall. Gathering your courage, you approached them, hoping they can point you in the right direction. "Scusa," you begin, your Italian accent heavy, each word carefully pronounced. "Where . . . potion class . . . dungeons?" (Excuse me.)

The students exchange puzzled glances, clearly struggling to understand your accented English because despite your try, it still came out quite wobbly. One of them, a tall boy with a shock of red hair, furrowed his brow and shakes his head slowly. "What?" he says, not unkindly, but with a hint of frustration at this situation.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You try again, your voice wavering slightly. "Potion dungeons," you repeat, gesturing with your hands as if that might bridge the gap between your language and theirs. "Next class . . . I need find."

The red-haired boy shrugs, casting a sideways glance of help at his two friends who stood next to him. They all look at you with the same guilty expression, as if they would really like to help but there was no way. The girl with bushy hair smiled at you with an expression of 'Sorry', and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. They don't understand, and you're too flustered to find the right words.

"Sorry," the ginger boy said finally, shaking his head again. "I don't know what you're saying."

Disheartened, you nodded and mumbled a quick "grazie" before retreating. You wandered through the corridors, frustration mounting with each wrong turn. The stone walls seemed to close in around you, the ancient tapestries and suits of armor blurring together in your anxious haze. You felt lost, not just in the physical sense but emotionally, adrift in this unfamiliar place where even asking for directions was like a challenge for you.

Your mind was still reeling from the embarrassing encounter as you hurried down the corridor, your thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and self-doubt. How could something as simple as asking for directions feel so impossible? The sting of the students' puzzled looks and guilty smiles lingers, making your cheeks burn with residual embarrassment. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a solid figure. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, and your books spilled across the floor. You gasped at the sight, your heart leaping into your throat. Could you embarrass yourself any more today?

"Scusa, scusa!" you blurted out in Italian, crouching down to gather your scattered belongings. The words tumbled from your lips in a rapid, nervous stream. You didn't even think the person wouldn't understand your sentences. "Non stavo guardando dove andavo. Mi dispiace tanto!" (Excuse me, excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry!)

As you frantically picked up your books, you glanced up to see who you've bumped into. Your eyes widened in surprise and relief when you recognized Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin who always seemed to glide through the halls with an air of calm detachment and mysterious aura. You braced yourself for confusion, expecting him to look as puzzled as the others had.

But instead, Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile and a warm glint appeared in his usually cool eyes. "Non ti preoccupare," he replied in perfect Italian, his voice soothing and accent deafening. "È tutto a posto. Lascia che ti aiuti." (Don't worry. It's all right. Let me help you.)

The shock of hearing your native language from his lips momentarily left you speechless. You watched in amazement as he got down on his knees, helping you gather your books with nothing but ease. The knot of anxiety in your chest began to loosen, replaced by a flutter of gratitude and something else — an unexpected connection.

"Grazie," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "Non sapevo che parlassi italiano." (Thank you. I didn't know you spoke Italian.)

Theodore's smile widened just a fraction, a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Mia madre è italiana," he explained, handing you the last of your textbooks from the floor. "L'ho imparato da lei." (My mother is Italian. I learned it from her.)

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Here is someone who understands — not just your words, but the feeling of being caught between two worlds.

"Grazie mille," you repeated, your smile genuine this time. "Mi sentivo così persa." (Thank you very much. I felt so lost.)

Theodore nodded, his expression softening. "Capisco. Hogwarts può essere un posto molto grande e confuso. Vieni, ti mostro io dov'è la classe di pozioni." (I understand. Hogwarts can be a very big and confusing place. Come, I'll show you where the potions class is.)

As you walked beside Theodore through the corridors of Hogwarts, the oppressive weight of the castle's vastness seemed to lift slightly. His calm demeanor and fluent Italian became a comforting anchor in this world full of unfamiliarity.

"Da quanto tempo sei qui?" you asked the boy next to you, trying to make conversation. (How long have you been here?)

"Questa è la mia sesta anno," he replied. "Conosco il castello come le mie tasche ormai." (This is my sixth year. I know the castle like the back of my hand by now.)

"Sei fortunato," you sighed, your hold on your bag tightening. "Mi sento come se fossi in un labirinto." (You're lucky. I feel like I'm in a maze.)

Theo chuckled and the sound was low and warm. He was nice. "Capisco. Anch'io mi sentivo così i primi giorni. Ma vedrai, presto ti abituerai." (I understand. I felt the same way in my first days. But you'll see, you'll get used to it soon.)

As you continued to walk, the conversation flowed more naturally, easing your nerves. "Cosa ti piace di più di Hogwarts?" you asked him, genuinely curious. (What do you like most about Hogwarts?)

"Direi la biblioteca," Theo said after a moment of thought. "È enorme, con così tanti libri rari. E i corridoi segreti. Sono divertenti da esplorare." (I would say the library. It's enormous, with so many rare books. And the secret corridors. They're fun to explore.)

"Sembra affascinante. Mi piacerebbe esplorare di più, ma ho paura di perdermi." (It sounds fascinating. I'd love to explore more, but I'm afraid of getting lost.)

He gave you a reassuring look. "Se vuoi, posso mostrarti alcuni dei posti migliori. Così non ti perderai." (If you want, I can show you some of the best places. That way you won't get lost.)

Theo was the kindest person you've met here in the entire time since the beginning of the school term and your heart warmed at his kindness. "Mi piacerebbe molto, grazie." (I'd love that, thank you.)

Finally, you reached the entrance to the dungeons. "Eccoci," Theo exclaimed, stopping before the heavy wooden door. "La classe di Pozioni è proprio qui dentro." (Here we are. The Potions class is right inside here.)

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Grazie, Theo. Sei stato davvero gentile." (Thank you, Theo. You've been really kind.)

He offered you a nod, his smile reassuring. "Prego. Se hai bisogno di altro aiuto, basta chiedere. Buona fortuna con la tua lezione." (You're welcome. If you need any more help, just ask. Good luck with your class.)

With one last grateful look, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit classroom. As you took your seat, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with friends like Theo, Hogwarts might start to feel a little more like home.

[frostkissedheart]

— You Make Sense to Me; Loki × autistic!reader headcanons.

Just deluluing, don't take this too seriously, I'm not a writer and I don't really speak english, yadayada

— masterlist.

Loki didn’t understand at first; not because he didn’t want to, but because Asgard has no word for autism. No diagnosis. No language to describe sensory overload, masking, or stimming.

When you told him, carefully explaining how your brain worked differently and how the world often felt too loud, too fast, too much, he was quiet. Not in a judging way. Just... listening. For once, someone was actually listening.

Loki saw it as familiar. That deep, aching feeling of being out of step with everyone around you. The way you had to learn scripts to get through social situations? He’d kinda done the same his whole life, aways the outcast.

On hard days, he creates magical quiet spaces for you: dim light, soft cushions, no sound at all. Just calm. Just peace.

“You are not broken,” he tells you, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You are not less. You are... uniquely attuned to a world that rarely deserves your trust.”

Loki quickly learns your “non-verbal days.” He doesn’t force you to speak. In fact, he gets so good at reading your body language, he often answers questions you never say out loud.

He doesn't touch you without permission during your bad times. The first time you reach for him, even just a fingertip on his hand, he freezes in place. Like you gave him a gift.

He picks up on your special interests and becomes intensely invested. You like marine biology? Suddenly he's summoning illusions of glowing jellyfish across your ceiling. “I thought you’d like to see one up close.”

In your first meltdown around him, you try to hold it together, because you're so used to masking. You're afraid of scaring him off. But Loki’s not fooled. He’s been watching you carefully, gently, learning your patterns.

Loki doesn’t panic. Not for a second.

He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t crowd you. He just kneels a short distance away and says, calmly, “I’m here. You are safe. You are allowed to feel everything you feel.”

He will stay by your side, trying to magically soothe you until you finally come back to yourself. Exhausted and raw, you whisper an apology.

He frowns. “Apologize? For surviving the weight of the world with a mortal’s heart?” He gently offers his hand. “You owe no one that.”

Later, he creates a safe wordless signal just for you, so next time, even before it gets that bad, you can let him know you need to leave or pause. No questions asked.

From then on, he doesn’t just protect your body; he protects your peace.

[luvst4rc0r3]

OMG I LOVE UR FANFICS!!

PLZ WRITE MORE SERIES!!

Can you write (if you want) a jinx x f!reader were reader’s first language is not English but another language. And she has a son whose first language is English and he always complains about taking classes. So jinx pulls them out of classes and that makes reader very mad. (basically Gloria from modern family)

It can be any language just ofc not English

TYY IF YOU DO IT

OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

I did it in my native language. English is my first but Tagalog (Filipino)is kinda my second asides from Spanish. I can kinda of speak Tagalog just not fluently.

“Lost in translation”

Jinx x F!Reader

WC: 1427

NOTE: established relationship. I did have to use google translate for some words so it might not be grammatically correct.

THIS ALSO MIGHT BE MY LAST FANFIC FOR A COUPLE DAYS BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

“Jinx, what the hell were you thinking?”

You stood in the center of the small apartment, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Jinx leaned against the counter, her casual stance a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you.

“I was thinking the kid hates it,” she shot back with a shrug, twirling a wrench in her hand. “Why make him sit through something that makes him miserable?”

Your heart clenched. “He needs to learn it. He needs to—” You hesitated, stumbling over your words as your thoughts tripped over each other, fighting to come out in English. “It’s important for him to know… to understand—”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t need a million things crammed into his head. He’s fine just the way he is.”

“Fine?” you echoed, your voice trembling. “Jinx, it’s not just about school. It’s about him knowing who he is. Who I am. You think it’s easy for me, being stuck in the middle of two languages all the time?”

She frowned, her smirk faltering for the first time. “I didn’t say it was easy—”

“You didn’t even ask me!” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You just pulled him out without even thinking about what it means!”

Jinx tilted her head, her electric blue eyes narrowing. “He’s my kid too, y’know. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and suddenly, the English words you’d been clutching at fell away, leaving nothing but raw emotion. Your chest heaved, and before you knew it, tears blurred your vision.

Jinx’s face shifted, the confidence draining from her expression. “Hey, whoa, babe, don’t cry—”

But you couldn’t stop. The frustration and exhaustion, the endless translating in your head, the constant feeling of being misunderstood—it all came pouring out in a language she didn’t understand.

“Ang hirap na hirap na ako, Jinx. Hindi mo naiintindihan. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kasakit na hindi ko masabi nang maayos ang nararamdaman ko.” (I'm in such a difficult situation, Jinx. You don't understand. You don't know how much it hurts that I can't express my feelings properly.)

You covered your face with your hands, your body shaking with sobs. “I just want him to know me,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking. “I want him to understand me without me having to fight for every word.”

Jinx froze, the wrench clattering to the floor. She stepped closer, unsure and unsteady, like she was walking on glass.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and raw with something you didn’t hear from her often—guilt.

You didn’t respond, your tears falling harder. Jinx reached out, her gloved hand hesitating before resting on your knee.

“I thought I was making things better for him. I didn’t think about how it would hurt you.”

You sniffled, shaking your head but still unable to look at her. “It does not just hurt, Jinx,” you whispered, the words coming out shakily. “It’s… I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting with my own head, trying to make everything make sense in English just so I can talk to you, or him, or anyone.”

Jinx’s hand tightened slightly, grounding you, as if to say she was listening.

“I just… I feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Not here. Not at home. And now, our son… he doesn’t even want to learn the one thing that connects him to where I come from. To me. And you just let him quit. You made the decision like it didn’t matter.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Jinx’s usual chaotic energy had vanished; she looked like someone had ripped the ground out from under her.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady. “Of course you didn’t. You never think of anyone except yourself” with that you slammed the door to your shared room with her.

—

You stood in the doorway, your bag slung over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you clutched the strap, the heaviness in your chest unbearable. Jinx stood across the room, her wild hair and mismatched clothes somehow looking smaller, like she didn’t know what to do with herself

“Wait,” she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re leaving?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill again. “I just… I need space, Jinx. I need time to think.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but no words came. For once, Jinx didn’t fight. She just stood there, the chaos in her usually vibrant eyes dimmed by something deeper.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking, “but I can’t keep doing this if you don’t try to understand. It’s too much.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and when you finally stepped out and closed the door behind you, it felt like your heart was breaking in two.

The days passed slowly. You stayed at a friend’s place, letting the quiet moments give you the space to breathe. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Jinx and your son kept creeping in. The weight of the fight lingered in your chest, heavy and unresolved.

You told yourself you just needed a little more time. That maybe Jinx would realize how important this was—not just to you, but to your family.

And then, three days after you left, you came home.

The apartment was quiet when you walked in, and for a moment, you wondered if she was even there. But then you heard it.

“Kamusta.”(Hello)

You froze, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you turned toward the sound. Jinx stood in the middle of the living room, her hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. “Kamusta,” she said again, the word clumsy but recognizable. “That means… uh, hello? Right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Y-yeah.”

Her lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “I’ve been trying,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I… I looked up some stuff. It’s… hard, but I wanna learn. I wanna…”

She trailed off, her electric blue eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. “Ayaw ko… um…” She fumbled for a moment, clearly struggling to remember the phrase. “Ayaw kong… mag-translate ka… araw-araw.” (I don’t…I don’t want you to have to translate everyday)

Your heart clenched at the effort in her voice, the way she fought through every syllable. “I don’t… I don’t want you to have to translate every day. I love you,” she added in English, her voice shaking slightly.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer. “Jinx…” you smile widely, “now you’re the one who looks like an idiot!”

She chuckles softly but soon returns to her straight face. “I’m serious, okay? I… I’m not good at this, but I’m gonna try. I’ll keep learning. And he’s gonna learn, too. I already talked to him. Told him he’s sticking with it. I don’t care how much he complains—I’ll sit with him if I have to. We’ll both learn.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now, your hand flying to your mouth as you let out a shaky breath.

“I didn’t get it before,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “But I do now. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone. Or like we don’t see you—really see you. You shouldn’t have to fight for that.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “I’ll learn Tagalog for you. For us. Because I love you. And I don’t wanna lose you.”

A sob broke free from your chest as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms tightening around you, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Salamat,” you whispered through your tears. (Thank you)

Jinx chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Walang anuman. That’s how you say ‘you’re welcome,’ right?”

You laughed, your heart aching in the best way. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her grin widened, a little of her usual spark returning. “Told ya. I’m a fast learner.”

And in that moment, as the weight in your chest began to lift, you believed her. Together, you’d figure it out.

for once, her chaos felt like home.

TYY whoever requested that!! That was such and interesting requests to write!!

I want food

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt. 3

For all the patient waiting people (like @valewosomtb) and my Bubs (I'm proud of you and always will be ❤️)

And please remember - this is pure fiction... so it doesn't need to make sense 🤣

You wandered the streets of Barcelona gotten lost a long time ago but not caring to open google maps.

“Seriously Luce.... kicking me out so you can... probably get some” you mumble to yourself rounding the next corner.

The next thing you knew was that you were sitting on your Ass with a beautiful girl across from you, looking just as baffled before starting to talk to you in spanish. You made the international known sign for “I don't understand” by shrugging your shoulders as you try to push yourself up again.

“Ehrm... damn... what was the spanish Word for English...” you mumbled to yourself before looking at the woman “Inglés?” you ask embarrassed

“Of course” the woman said laughing as she stood up herself offering you a hand “I said I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going”

“Oh god no, I wasn't looking... I... kinda got lost and am too lazy to open maps” you say before you wince as you push yourself up from the pavement

“Are you okay? You look like you hurt something” the woman asked concerned

“Yeah I'm good” you wave off, knowing fully well you weren't good. You definitely sprained your wrist – if not worse. Ugh – your sister will kill you. Such an inconvenience.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked you again this time with a little insistence

“Yeah, I'm sure – you speak very clear english for a spanish person” you said and tried to change the topic

“Oh I'm not Spanish – I'm in fact German... we learn english in school” she winked

“Oh German... now that's interesting” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips

“And why's that?” the woman asked

“I... don't know... I thought it would be nice to say that” you rubbed the back of your neck smiling embarrassed.

The woman laughed loudly “At least you didn't make any bad jokes about us not being funny... that's a plus” she winked before looking at you “Where are you from?”

“Born in Aberdeen, raised in Berwick-upon-Tweed... generally speaking – I'm from England” you grin

“What brought you to the most beautiful city in Europe then?” the Woman asked smiling softly

“Visiting family... Y/N by the way... I thought I should introduce myself before you declare me as unpolite” you continue to grin as you offer your left hand for her to shake

“Left Hand? You english People really are something else” she smiled before taking you're offered Hand “Caroline... friends call me Caro”

“I may or may not have sprained my wrist – that's the reason for the left hand... but yes, we're also something else... so tell me... Caro... what brought you to Barcelona” you tested the waters by using the Womans short name

She smiled “Feeling bold, are you? Assuming we're friends and using my Nickname without even asking”

Again you were thrown off guard by her forwardness “Ehrm... I thought if you tell me something like this, I... could just... you know – use the information”

This time the Blonde laughed freely “Don't sweat it... it's okay... Can I... maybe interest you in drinking a coffee with me?”

“Like a date?” you said confused

“More like a “I'm sorry I ran into you and put you on your ass” coffee” the blonde smirked

“In that case... I'll pay for yours, you pay for mine... I also put you on your ass” this time you smirked

“Deal” the blue eyed girl said smiling “I know a small coffee place not far from here if you're interested”

“Sure... lead the way” you said, your sprained wrist momentarily forgotten. That's until you wanted to put your hand into your pocket. Suddenly you got painfully reminded of your small incidence as you winced for a second.

“You are very gullible, you know... I could be a serial killer” the blonde said smirking

“It's statistically highly unlikely that two serial killer run into each other and then go out for a coffee” you shrug nonchalantly while the blonde laughed out loudly.

You arrived at the small coffee shop, which was a cute one. A little hidden away from the bigger streets, it immediately got calmer and quieter – for the first time since you touched spanish ground, you allowed yourself to breath. Caro took you through an Archway into a beautiful courtyard where she pointed to a little – tiny even – shop with three or four tables. You stopped in the middle of the courtyard and slowly spun around taking in the beauty of this place. The sandstone Walls looked like they could tell endless stories about colourful festive evenings, calm mornings and lovers.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” the blonde German asked quietly

“I couldn't find the right words to describe this beauty even if I tried” you whispered back still looking around in awe.

“Let's get this coffee and you can stare some more” Caro teased but her voice still soft before she walked towards the little shop, greeting the Owners like they were family.

You sat down at one of the tables while still staring around, waiting for your new found friend to return. There was wild Ivy growing up the walls at some places making it even more mysterious and beautiful. Your companion joined you at your table smiling brightly.

“I gather you're a regular?” you grinned at her nodding towards the Shop

“What gave it away?” Caro laughed “The greeting or that I know there's a Coffee Shop so well hidden that not even many Barcaloneans know of its existences?”

“The Greeting and the fact that I didn't order anything...” you mused smiling “... and yet there are two cups of coffee being prepared”

“Good observation skills, I'm impressed” the German smiled “The owners are former Neighbours of mine... they helped me a great deal when I first came to Barca a few years ago and I still come around every time I'm in the area to say hi”

“That's nice... that you still come here to say hi” you say softly “... friendships like this are important... now... what am I getting?”

“I assumed you're a “Cortado” girl...” the blonde winked

“Huh... come again?” you asked confused

“Cortado... the best you could compare it to is a Latte Macchiato... It's an Espresso with milk... “ the German explained “Just... never call it Latte Macchiato... it's a Cortado”

“Got it... Cortado” you say serious, trying to pronunciation right as you repeat the spanish word

“Sounds good” Caro grinned as your coffee gets served by an elderly Woman “Gracias Nana” the blonde grinned graciously

The two of you drank your coffee in silence before starting to talk about nothing and everything at the same time. You really enjoyed the time with the blonde, who was very easy to get along with. She was funny, witty and light-hearted. You shared a few good laughs while she also taught you some real spanish (unlike Mapí did) so you would at least be able to order your coffee the next time on your own. In her company you absolutely forgot the time – which resulted in also forgetting your “engagement” with Keira.. and Alexia... and Lucy... and Mapí. As the sun started to set you realised that you might talked longer with the German as you planned – and that your Phone was dead.

“”Ehrm... I really have a good time... I REALLY do... but... what time is it?” you asked embarrassed after you checked your – very VERY – dead phone.

“Just before 6pm” your new friend answered with a glance at her watch

“Uh oh” was the only thought on your mind which also made it out of you verbally “How far is that football place from here?”

“Camp Nou? About 30 Minutes, why?” Caro looked at you confused as you try frantically to restart your Phone.

“I'm dead... I'm so SO dead.. my Sister is going to kill me” you said panicking “I was meant to meet her at Camp... Nope at 3”

“Yeah.. you might be a little late for that” the blonde said awkward “Come on... I can either get you an Uber or I deliver you – and take the blame... or should you rather go home?”

“Ehrm... I don't really remember where “home” is” you confessed embarrassed, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Camp Nuo it is then... come on” your new found friend said smiling already standing up.

You follow suite standing up rummaging in your pocket pulling out the 20 Euros that Lucy gave you putting it down on the table

“Leave it... it's covered already” Caro said grinning pushing the 20 back into your hands.

“But..” you said dumbfolded looking at the bill in your hand

“Mauro and Valeria are family... it's on the house” the blonde winked and started to walking away after yelling a goodbye towards the elderly couple.

You stumbled after her trying to keep up “But we had a deal”

“Next time” the german waved off already a few steps in front of you her mobile in her hand ordering an Uber.

You just needed to wait around five minutes for a car to pull up and Caro opened the back door

“Your chariot awaits, my lady” the german grinned waiting for you to climb into the backseat

She gave the driver the destination and you were on the way towards Camp Nuo. As the Uber pulled up you immediately spotted a small group of people.

“I'm so dead” you mumbled as you saw one of them roaming in front of the group a mobile phone in her hand before it makes the way to her ear to just be brought back down seconds later

“Let me guess.. the one trying to call you is your sister?” the blonde german smirked at your frozen like state pushing you out off the car following closely behind

“Can we just drive off a...” you started but got interrupted by loud angry yelling

“Y/N BRONZE!!!! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS???!!!”

“Bronze??” Caro asked confused “As in Lucy Bronze?”

“My sister” you mumbled quietly as you took cover behind the blonde

“Oh my god” the blonde whispered shocked

“Is she coming over??” you asked from behind her not daring to look

“She tries... other people holding her back... is that Alexia Putellas?” your new friend mumbles back standing frozen in place

“Probably” you whispered “You seem to know players... is Keira Walsh in that huddle somewhere?”

“I think so... I mean I'm not sure” the german answered lowly

“I call out for her and you have to tell me if someone reacts, okay?? KEIRA????” you yelled from behind Caro hoping that Keira was still around

“Yep... someone just looked over” your german friend said as Keira looked over

“Good.... can you bring me over to her without Lucy noticing?” you questioned

“Ehrm... this is Lucy Bronze we're talking about.... I don't think there's anything that goes unnoticed by her” Caro mumbled back

“You give her too much credit” you rolled your eyes behind the taller woman “Okay... maybe you could distract her and I run over to saftey – namely Keira”

“How should I distract a world class defender? Have you seen the stuff she pulled off at the Worldcup??”

“Ask her for a Autograph or something... go fangirling” you said pushing your friend forward.

“Absolutely not” Caro said shaking her head “Ooooooh... they're coming over”

“Okay...” you said panicking “You go left, I go right”

“You do realize that they have zero intrest in me, right?” she asked you raising an eyebrow

“Damnit” you swore quietly

“Cariño” you suddenly hear behind your human shield “would you mind stepping around this nice woman”

“No” you mumbled now grabbing Caros shirt

“Cariño” Alexia said but you heard her warning tone “I promise Lucia won't hurt you”

You peeked around your human shield to see Lucy a few feet away flanked by Ingrid and Ona and her face showed pure fury. Alexia stood right in front of Caro and you acting like a mediator.

“It wasn't my fault, I swear” you rushed out but stayed behind the german

“I didn't say it was but we were very worried” the spaniard said calm “now please step around that poor woman who you roped into this”

“Her name is Caro and she's german” you said still not moving from behind her

“Hola” Alexia said to your friend not sparing her a second glance “Do not make me get you out from behind her”

You reluctantly step around Caro standing now next to her your head hung low

“Thank you” the blonde spaniard said before she grabbed your wrist pulling you away a bit

“Alexia please” you digged your feet into the ground trying to stop the unievitable “She'll kill me and it was really an accident”

“She won't kill you stop being so.. dramático” Alexia said calmly as she pulled you over to where the others were standing.

You looked back over your shoulder towards your new friend who had a sorrowful look on her face waving slightly before turning around ready to leave

“Wait” you called out to her “I still owe you this coffee... Alexia please... One minute, okay”

Alexia stopped and let go of your wrist turning around to you

“You can't out run me... even if you try...” she warned you

“I just want to make sure there's a chance I can pay back my depth” you rolled your eyes

You quickly walked back to the german pulling out that 20 Euro bill scribbling your number down pushing it into Caros hand

“Call me... when I charged my phone again” you smiled then turning around walking back to the waiting Barcelona captain

“Wise choice not trying to run” Alexia said smiling slightly

“It's not like I would come very far” you shrugged nodding towards the bunch of football players standing a few feet behind Alexia

“True... now come one – you have to explain quite a bit” the blonde smiled encouraging at you pulling you along towards the small crowd

“Do you actually know what I just went through???” Lucy yelled the second you were close enough “I thought you.... I don't know... got killed or laying dead in a ditch or something!!”

You stepped behind Alexia hiding behind her. You knew your sister loved you to death so her yelling at you was bad

“Lucia” Alexia warned noticing how it effected you “We said no yelling... explain what happened Cariño”

You shook your head taking a step back just to feel someone cutting off your escape route. When you looked around it was Keira who had a blank look on her face

“It was really an accident Kei... I swear... Lucy gave me money and said I should go to the next Starbucks... I didn't want google the route, so I got lost and just wandered around... I met Caro because I ran into her and put her to her ass so I wanted to apologise by buying her a coffee and she said she knew a nice place and so I went with her... it was a really cute place and I forgot about time and when the sun set I checked my phone to see it died” you said talking one mile an hour trying to convince her that you didn't want to cause trouble on purpose.

Keira took a deep breath listening closely to your rant before holding up a hand

“Bitsy do you realize how much you had us worried... I mean I'm used to you wandering off but you don't know this city – as beautiful as Barcelona is, it can be dangerous... you don't know where to go and where to stay away from... hell Bitsy you don't even speak the language” she said and you saw that Keira held herself back

“I really didn't mean too” you answered sadly looking down

“I know... but that doesn't make it any less scary for us” the englishwoman said quietly before engulfing you in a bear hug.

“Will she kill me?” you mumbled into Keiras shoulder as you hugged her back

“No” the englishwoman chuckled “she probably handcuff you to herself... or bring back the dino-harness”

“Ugh... please don't let her” you groaned being remembered of one of the most embarrassing things Lucy ever done to you

You were about 10 when Keira took you to Lucy who was playing in Lyon at the time. They decided it would be a good idea to go with you to the park so you can power yourself out. Needless to say that you indeed used the whole park – much to the dismay of Lucy who had her first ever panic attack because she lost you. After that incident she immediately bought one of these kiddi-leashes to keep you in check. And not only did she make you wear it when you three were out in privat – oh no... she'd made you wear it when she went to training. So the first time you met worldclass players like Wendie Renard, Amandine Henry or Dzsenifer Marozsán you were strapped in a kids harness which had a dinosaur design – to be exact a dino whose biting his own tail - with a leash attached to its back. Looking back now it was probably the saftest – but also the most embarressing - option for you since you would have definitely wandered off exploring Stade Gérard Houllier and probably have gotten into trouble somehow. So you spent a whole training being tied to post next to the pitch solmley to the fact that Keira had something else to do and couldn't take you with her.

Now as Keira hugged you tightly and brought back those memories which resulted in you pressing your face into her shoulder. Just as you got comfortable against Keira you got ripped away from her embrance and found yourself at the receiving end of another tight hug.

“Never EVER do that again, Bubs” your sister mumbled into your hair “You can't just disappear like that... I was so SO scared”

“I'm sorry, Luce” you mumbled back thankful that she got over her initial angryness

“Are you okay? Nobody hurt you, right? Who was that woman?” Lucy fired question after question as she pushed you backwards to take a look at you

“I'm good Luce... really” you said hiding your slightly swollen wrist “That woman was Caro... I ran into her and she helped me getting here”

“You can't just go with strangers, Bubs... I thought I drilled that into your head back in Lyon” your sister said and looked at you somehow helplessly

“It wasn't like I knew where I was or something” you rolled your eyes “She seemed nice and she really helped me”

“Cariño” you suddenly heared behind you again and it made you jump a little

“Hm?” you hummed carefully turning around facing Alexia

“Are you really okay?” she stared down at you and you knew that she knew.

“Yes... yes I am” you tried to sound convincing but your voice betrayed you at the end

“Oh my god, you aren't” your sister exclaimed “Tell me.. you did get hurt, didn't you?! Is it bad? Do you need an ambulance? No wait... I drive you... Ona... get the car – we need to go to the hospital and you need to translate”

“Lucy!” you yelled “I'm fine... no ambulance, no hospital... calm your tits”

“You know you were never good at lying, Bitsy” Keira grinned “And if even Lucy picks up on it, then it's a really bad attempt”

“I'm not lying” you pressed still hiding your injured wrist

“Are we stretching the truth again then?” Keira asked knowingly

“Maybe” you said, looking down starting to kick the pavement embarrassed

“Show me immediately” Lucy demanded and already started to inspect your face moving her hands down to check your shoulders

“Keira” you whined trying to get away from your sisters prying hands

“Lucy stop it... it's her left wrist” the englishwoman rolled her eyes

“How did you... outch Luce” you started as your sister grabbed your wrist making you hiss out in pain

“You're not as sneaky as you think Bitsy” Keira grinned

“But I... Ow Lucy... that hurts man” you said bewildered before your sister put a little pressure on your wrist which hurts a LOT

“You tried to hide it very well – yes you did” Keira chooed and pinched your cheek “But not well enough for me or Alexia”

“Why would you hide something like this, Cariño?” the barca captain wanted to know

“You saw how she reacted and she didn't even know I was injured... OW!” you said nodding towards your sister while Lucy was prodding your wrist

Alexia delicatly took your hand out of Lucys hands and inspected it closely turned and stretched it carefully. You hissed at some of the movements even trying to pull away at one turn but one stern look from the blonde spainard made clear that you wouldn't get away

“It hurts” you mumbled as you tried to pull away again

“I bet” Alexia said quietly still inspecting your wrist “Looks like a sprain but to be sure you need some... radiografía”

“I need WHAT?” you squeaked shocked and scared at the same time

“Ona... what is radiografá” the spainard asked her teammate

“X-Ray.. you need some x-rays” the young catalonian said

“HA” Lucy exclaimed in a “I told you so”-tone

“Nooooo” you whined and JUST stopped yourself from stomping your foot

“Come on Bubs...” your sister said lovingly as she laid her arm around your shoulder and pulled you towards her Cupra “... I heard the spanish hospitals are quite an experience”

“Keira” you whined begging looking at her with big puppy eyes

“I'll meet you there okay?” the englishwoman said reassuring

“Excuse me... I'm there with you, you don't need to whine for Kei” Lucy said accusing

“But Keira knows everything about me... you're like a piece of swiss cheese sometimes” you said embarrassed

“I know EVERYTHING about you” your sister exclaimed outraged

“What's my blood type?” you raised an eyebrow

“Red” your sister shrugged as she opened the back door of her car for you

“Nope... uh-hu... I won't let you take any responsebility or make any medical decision when your answer is “Red” as a blood type” you shook your head fast

“Bet Keira doesn't know either” Lucy rolled her eyes looking over towards her fellow england teammate

“AB positive” the blonde said before entering her own car

“Seriously??” Lucy exclaimed throwing her arms up in annoyance

“I'm driving with Keira” you said quickly trying to get into her car

“You're not” your sister grabbed your shirt pulling you back “Stop being a child and get in the car”

“Then I want to ride shotgun” you said stubborn

“Ona is riding shotgun” Lucy said calm

“Ona is what?” the short woman asked confused pointing at herself

“You front” Lucy pointed at her girlfriend “You back” she pointed at you

“Why?” you whined again

“My Cupra has a lot of buttons – you will push all of them and probably break it” your sister explained

You huffed offended but climbed into the back of the sleek black car.

“Fucking finally” Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes after she closed the car door

“Be nice... she's upset” Ona said over the roof opening the passenger side door climbing in

“I'm upset too” your sister mumbled getting into the driver seat and started the car to drive you to the hospital.

The drive only took 15 minutes but for you it became nearly unbearable. You hated hospitals – with a passion. You had to spend some time in hospital when you were about six years old due to a burst appendix and since that time it was a mission to get you to put a foot in said buildings. It took Keira a lot of bribing to get you to visit Lucy when she had her knee surgery. That's how bad it was – you wouldn't even enter a hospital for visiting others.

“Come on, Bubs... let's get this wrist checked out” Lucy said softly as she leaned in the open car door. You didn't even noticed the car came to a halt before being deep in thoughts what could go wrong with a simple check-up. They could discover something worse and will keep you in there and probably maybe surgery and something goes wrong and you're going to die on that table. You decided right there and then you won't enter the hospital – there was a high risk of dying and your life just begun.

“Bubs?” your sister tried again seeing you spiraling, your forehead showing wrinkles you keep biting your lip your eyes staring into nothing

“Let me... you know how she gets about hospitals” Keira said softly arriving just in time to see you in distress “Get her checked in, I'll get her in there okay?”

“Kay... thanks Kei...” Lucy sighed then looking at Ona sheepishly “you need to help me... these forms are probably in spanish”

The short catalonian grinned “Aren't you around long enough to know basic spanish by now?”

“Speaking it... not reading it” Lucy mocked her girlfriend

As the two Barca players entered the hospital to get you checked in for your wrist Keira slipped into the backseat of Lucys car right next to you.

“Hey Bitsy” she said quietly trying to get your attention laying her hand carefully on your knee

“I don't want to go in there, Kei... I'm going to die” you said in a monotone but slightly panicked voice

“You're not going to die” the blonde chuckled “They'll do the same as Alexia did, test your ability to move in different directions then decide to take some.... how did you always refer to x-rays when you were younger?”

“Bone pictures” you mumbled

“They will take some bone pictures see that nothing is broken, then either put a simple bandage or a splint on it and we're out again – if you're good, I tell Ona to tell them to give you the good painkillers” Keira tried to walk you through whats most likely to happen.

“But if they discover something wrong with my wrist and they want to do surgery and something goes horribly wrong and I die on the table?” you looked at your comfort person horrified

“Not going to happen, Bitsy... It's just a simple check... and you have too much movability for it to be broken... it's just a sprain, okay?” the blonde englishwoman smiled reassuring

“You promise?” you mumble leaning into Keira

“I promise... now come on... your sister already came out the entrance looking for us three times now” Keira smiled at you

“She should calm her tits...” you rolled your eyes annoyed

“She was so worried, Bitsy... her session today was shit because she felt one guilty for kicking you out and two she was scared that something happened to you... I know you're a big girl now and you definitely can look after yourself but this is still a unknown city to you and honestly Bitsy – if you take a wrong turn you could end up in a very bad area and get killed”

“I really didn't mean to worry you...” you mumbled ashamed

“I know... but cut her some slack... she loves you to bits... she would do everything for you – always have and always will do” the englishwoman smiled while opening her side of the car taking your right hand into hers pulling slightly for you to follow her

“Took you long enough” Lucy whispered so only Keira could hear her

“We're here, aren't we?” the fellow english fired back a little annoyed

“Ona is talking to the nurses if there's anything they could do to get us through faster... I know every minute spend in here she's more likely to bolt” Lucy talked quietly always having an eye on you as you clutched Keiras hand hard.

“She's scared... she's convinced they'll take her in for surgery and she's going to die” the blonde explained as she let you squeeze her hand to the point where it became numb.

“Is there anything I can do?” your sister asks her ex-girlfriend getting a little concerned herself

“Hold her? Tell her you won't leave” Keira said simply and the second she finished Lucy was out of her seat, crouching in front of you

“Come here Bubs... just like old times” she smiled at you before prying your hand off Keiras and pulled you forward so you had to stand up. She then sat down in your place and now pulled you down into her lap holding you tightly

“I've got you Bubs... you know I won't leave and everything will be over quickly” your sister mumbled into your hairline as you laid your head on her shoulder getting tired after your long, eventful day. You were just about to close your eye for a long needed nap as a nice looking young woman with light blue scrubs and a white lab coat called out your name

“y/n?” the doctor called out and Lucy nudged you slightly as Ona made the doctor aware that you were infact there

You slipped of Lucys lap but didn't move until your sister pushed you forward always having her hand on your back.

“I think Ona should come too... I don't speak spanish and yours is probably shit...” you mumble tiredly

“I'll let you know that I speak excellent spanish, devils spawn” your sister growled back but you heared that it held no bite

“You're probably not even able to order a coffee” you spoke quietly as you followed the doctor

“I can even order an apple pie on the side” Lucy smirked at you – knowing it would ease your nerves a bit since this is the only thing you always find the most important to learn first.. how to order food - as she pushed you through the door of the trauma room closing the door behind you so your exit was blocked and you couldn't run off.

It went just as Keira promised you and nothing bad happened. The woman palpated your wrist in several different places moved it around a bit and decided to take some x-rays to be sure. After three failed attempts to take some pictures of your wrist without Lucy in the room the nurses begrudgingly allowed your sister back in the room. The moment Lucy stepped in your line of sight you relaxed and held still for the few minutes it took the nurses to take the x-rays. It wasn't really your fault that you panicked when they told you – in spanish of course – what they wanted you to do and you got “slightly” irretated when they just grabbed your arm. At least you didn't bite anyone this time. Now you were seated in the trauma room again waiting for the doctor to come back to review your pictures and tell Lucy what her treatment plan was who then would tell you. The woman looked at the pictures closely before speaking to your sister.

“You have a really bad strain.. nothing broken, just really really badly sprained wrist... you'll get a splint for now and as soon as we're home we'll ice it” your sister told you softly holding your good hand.

“Okay” you said carefully not trusting the process

“You're going to be okay Bubs” Lucy soothed you “just a splint and we're on our way home, okay”

“Do they have cool colors?” you asked quietly

Lucy turned towards the doctor repeating in spanish what you just asked

“Which color do you want?” your sister asked you

“What are the colors of Real Madrid? White and Gold if I'm right, right?” you grinned wide at Lucy who looked betrayed

“Hell to the no” Lucy exclaimed outraged “In no way you enter my home in these colors... what a disgrace”

“White and gold?” you asked the doctor directly but she just looked at you bluntly so you decided to take a different approach

You stood up – slowly so your sister wouldn't think you're trying to bolt – going to the door, opening it and yell from the top of the lungs for Ona. The small Player came sprinting down the hallway coming to a skittering halt in front of you

“Yes?” she said a little panicked

“What's white in spanish?”

“Blanco, why?” the blonde spainard looked at you confused

“And gold?” you smiled at her

“Oro” she looked even more confused than before and it didn't help that Lucy groaned behind you

“Blanco and Oro, sí?” you turned around looking at the doctor grinning from ear to ear

“Sí” the doctor grinned leaving the room

“I can't believe you” Lucy exclaimed throwing her arms up in defeat “using my girlfriend for your pettiness”

“What just happened?” Ona asked getting more confused by the second

“She wants a splint in the colors white and gold...” Lucy groaned

“That are Reals colors” Ona exclaimed shocked

You just sat on the bed grinning widely as the two women in front of you started a discussion in spanish. Soon the doctor came back with a white splint with gold around the edges showing it to you

“Tanto?” she looked at you

“Ehrm... sí?” you answered unsure looking at Ona for help

“Sí muchas gracias” the spainard smiled politely

You got your split fitted to your wrist and with a description for some – apparently very good pain meds courtesy of Ona – you leave the hospital with your entourage of three world class football players.

“See Bitsy... nothing bad happened... I’m proud of you for not bolting” Keira smiled warmly as you crossed the car park.

“Yeah Bubs... I’m actually REALLY proud of you... I know it’s somehow a big deal for you but you took it like a champ” Lucy also smiled widely as she kept her arms around your shoulders keeping you close to her side

“Real colors, I can’t believe it” Ona mumbled next to Lucy “and I helped... what’s next? Sitting in the Real section at the El classíco?”

You laughed at Onas antics “Get used to it, Batlle... you’ll get used and abused from me until there’s nothing left to squeeze out of you” you laugh

“Welcome to the Family”

Now it was Lucy who burst out laughing with Keira following suite also laughing heartwarming. Onas face showed pure horror as you four reached the cars.

[thoughtsonkm]

Goodbye, for now

BABY? HONEY? BOYFRIEND SHOT? Jikook you're too much!

This episode was truly the best way to end the show, maybe even the best episode of the series. (Neck in neck with episode 2 of course) The way they enjoyed it so much but were also so sad it was over. The hot tension all around, the soft boyfriends mood who can't stop flirting and name calling each other with the most low-key couple-like sweet names. They could not stop laughing, they could not stop touching and they couldn't stop being hilarious without even trying.

~

SK Spotify daily chart end of November 2023 :

Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jimin

~

It would be such a full circle moment if Jimin posted the boyfriend photo (which won't happen). Would almost be like a soft launch of some sort.

Not the underwear too?? Gosh I love my little gay freaks!! (didn't understand why Jimin would quote their 'yet another inner joke meme' right at that moment but I've learned to not question their inner workings)

~

Sorry but i have to be pretty one last time and say that I kinda had enough of seeing so much from the crew around or even in Jikook's shots and angles. It breaks the fourth wall a little too much and ruins the whole bubble idea. Ok I'm done lol

~

Returning to the issue at hand, the "seeing the beds for the first time" scene keeps getting funnier and funnier. As if they don't already have designated sides of the bed 😏

~

Ah the never ending bickering gives me life. Peep the half korean half english talk when they playfully get on each others nerves 👀😂

I better not speak on the scuzzi jacuzzi shenanigans cause otherwise.. Let's just say the photo speaks for itself..

NO YOU KNOW WHAT IMMA SPEAK. We all know that jacuzzi time is always intimate, relaxing and personal for people that's why I wish Jikook had enjoyed it fully without cameras. Yes I'm pissed on their behalf, that they had to film the whole thing with 382929 different angles. lol

His face is literally saying "oh so you're really gonna make me do it huh? if I was in your place I would've folded immediately and would've never let you go through with it!!" 😂

~

No one ever:

Jikook every 2sec : HONEY OH HONEY

(I was actually listening to the song while writing this and idk why it's so funny to me even tho it's a sad love ballad)

~

They must've loved getting the chance to at least see one episode of the show, plus the idea of watching it together..

Jungkook being so entertained by it meanwhile Jimin being mortified about half of the things that happened. HILARIOUS

HAHAHHAHAHA all parties were concerned if they'd be able to pull it off, I can't

BEST BELIEVE they're always gonna find a way to touch. Consciously or unconsciously.

~

This show made me realize that my favourite thing ever is Jk making food for Jimin, then making him hysterically laugh and therefore getting to hear Jimin's adorable giggles.

~

"Hello it is I the one and only, the only one who can touch Jimin's head ble ble ble ble" - JK

Jk was like: How can you imagine Jimin without me in your dream? Are you crazy? What is this delusional dream world you live in Jin hyung??

~

Tbh it's so meaningful and a huge thing saying that these trips were literally the best trips of your life. I think the statement almost went over people's heads.

I can't get enough of Jimin looking pretty and cuddly and Jungkook's immediate thought being: I HAVE TO FILM YOU

Them saying they can do a reboot when they come back gave me some hope that maybe just maybe this is not the end of AYS 😭

The ending bonus clip left me fulfilled but also sad and with goosebumps all over.

Thank you Jimin & Jungkook for letting us peek into this trip and getting to witness some of your precious moments.

Signing off, J&J 🥹

Ps. So I'm guessing the 52 minute video that comes with the photobook is probably the 3 bts videos combined that they've been reviewing for 48392 months right?

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟓

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, language

Word Count: 6025

A/N: English is not my first language.

Soldier Boy promised to help you remember him, so you and him took your time in the room for some time more, and you thought twice about what to do next. The most powerful Supe would never lie to you about you having a relationship with him in the past; it would be absurd. He had no reason for lying to an ordinary person. Still, you were afraid he might use you to track Butcher and the others. Even so, you had to proceed with caution. 

You politely interrupted him to not ruin the mood by saying, “Don't get mad, but I still need to talk to Butcher first and ask him about... us and learn why he wouldn't tell me about you.”

His hands immediately left your face after you had said Butcher a hundred times, and you carried on speaking until he said something offensive: “I know you hate them, and it's them who betrayed you. At least that's what you're telling me, but I must listen to him as well. You have to realize that I'm confused and frightened, and he's the only person I can remember.”

He looked around the room, irritated that you remembered Butcher but not him, despite the fact that you shared a lot with him. You placed your hands on the hard, cold material on his chest, on the star symbol, to show him that you weren't too distant or that you weren't pushing him away from you straight away. You waited patiently for his response. Without a doubt, Ben was more significant and unique than Butcher and everyone else to him, and he tried not to get angry. 

With a cold voice and an irritated expression on his face, Soldier Boy remarked, “I can't believe you actually remember that pussy, but not me. I don't like how your brain works at that point.”

“I'm trying so hard to remember you, or at least a little something about you, but I'm just not successful. It's not that I forgot everything on purpose,” you whispered, feeling a little guilty about the idea that you might, your old self, actually love him if what he said was true. 

On the other hand, you had no feelings of love or affection for Soldier Boy. In reality, though, you were scared because he appeared to be unpredictable and cruel. Even if you lost all memory of him, wouldn't you still love him? When you were having memory loss, you had no idea how the brain functions, but that's what you felt at the time. 

Rapidly, “I know, I know,” Soldier Boy replied. “I'm not angry with you or putting blame on you. However, that son of a bitch needs to pay for what he did to you, including throwing your body against the table, hitting your head, and not telling you about me. He crossed the line.”

You added, “He must have a reason, and I really need to talk to him. I just need to hear it from him too,” feeling concerned at the way Soldier Boy discussed the past as though Butcher was the evil guy. Still, you didn't find anything you said to be slightly reasonable. Instead of keeping what happened to you a secret from you, he could have told you that both you and Soldier Boy had a past and given you the explanation you deserved. 

“Don't you trust me?” He was annoyed that you would continue to stand up for Butcher in the face of him. 

“To be honest, I don't trust you, but please don't get upset with me.” You whispered, “You know I have no memory about you, and I need you to understand me,” and he gave you a hurt look. You tried to smile at him and said, “But I think you'd already killed me the moment you found me in this room if I was a total stranger to you,” as guilt filled your heart. “That must mean something, right?”

With a surprised low laugh and a nod, Soldier Boy said, “You're a smartass, aren't you?”

Uncontrollably, his smile made you feel a little more at ease, and you exhaled a sigh of relief that he wasn't being aggressive anymore. 

“So, talking about trust issues,” he added, arching an eyebrow. “I guess you don't want to go back to them since there is a high possibility that I would follow you and find your precious pussy friends, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, not wanting to risk the lives of others or anything because Soldier Boy was too determined to kill them. “In this case, I think I better call Butcher and talk to him through the phone.”

He nodded, “Very well,” relieved that you were no longer so keen to return to the traitors. It was certainly because he had threatened to murder them, but which reason wasn't important at the time. When you were so confused and bewildered, he would never allow you to return to them. You were obviously brainwashed by Butcher. 

You looked around and said, “Okay, I'll call him, but you can get me out of here first?”  as he waited patiently for you to call them. “You know, there are other politicians and supes.”

“Yeah, it's better we get the fuck out of here now,” he said with irritation. “I hate discussing politics anyway. Personal matters should come first, right?” Soldier Boy said, giving you a wink and picking up the gun off the table and putting on his suit again.

You nodded to him and adjusted your jeans. You flushed under his focused gaze, remembering how he had torn off your panties simply to spill himself on moments before. It was as though his gaze were stripping you. As he found out about your memory loss and that you didn't require intimacy, you hoped he wouldn't try to touch you again. After all, you had given him what he desired from you—that is, protection from harm. Nothing more. 

As he observed you adjusting your t-shirt and hair while blushing, Soldier Boy added in a hard, serious voice, “By the way, we'll talk about your that hand job later.”

You simply looked at him with a flushed face, not answering him. 

“Let's just leave without paying any attention to this house. Stay cool.” He heard your heart race and raised an eyebrow as if to warn you, saying, “I'll be following you.”

One of the politicians commented, “Ah, he's finally back,” as he sipped his drink and waived his hand to Soldier Boy as you walked by his side during your exit from the room. 

“It's unfortunate that I have to leave now, gentleman. There is so much to do,” said Soldier Boy, putting a slight grin on his face and placing a small hand on your back. “Homelander will be available shortly, and he'll be the one to talk to you about details.”

You exhaled a relieved sigh, and politicians didn't even look at you as if you didn't exist. You would have assumed that they were already enjoying themselves without Soldier Boy because they were eating anything the waiters brought. 

“Homelander just told me that we would be talking to you too,” one of them remarked. “The public is still worried about you returning given what you did in New York. Things are difficult to restore, especially when it comes to trust.”

“Trust is overrated; it's simply built on perfect lies. Also, who the hell cares about the public? I thought you were more experienced and smarter than this. Through the media and a well-written dumb speech, it's simple to dominate their thoughts.” Soldier Boy spoke harshly, “You already know that they are unable to view the bigger picture properly in their own narrow worlds. What's important is to find who's responsible for planning assassination against the vice president, find those terrorists Butcher and his useless team, and prove that the CIA is behind all of the shit.”

“And,” Soldier Boy said in an authoritative tone as one of the politicians opened his mouth to speak. “It will be exposed that the CIA was responsible for my forty years of fucking torture in Russia. The public will discover the truth in this way, and they will once more support their one true supe. That's how we rescue our nation from the trash that's been dumped on it. Are we clear about this?”

After a brief glance around, you noticed that The Deep and Black Noir were eating and conversing as though they were starving. You thought about if it would be simple to shoot Noir without drawing notice, and you still had your gun with you. Well, you have to do this anyhow. It was likely that by keeping Soldier Boy a secret from you, Butcher had actually betrayed you. But it wasn't like you were prepared to abandon them and simply join Homelander and Soldier Boy on their own wicked team. Not fucking way.

You have to use the virus on a strong person quickly enough to start developing it. But first, you had to take care of your own issue. 

One of them said, “But..”

“No buts, no deals, no mercy,” Soldier Boy interrupted him right away. “Homelander will handle the majority of the problem on his own. With the exception of the CIA and their pawns, of course, neither Vought nor I want to see bloodshed, but it's best to bring things under control as soon as possible. Remember that President, Vought, and Homelander are trusted by the public. It's best if you give it your all. Consider this a recommendation or warning—I don't give a damn. However, be aware that the president will always back us. I mean, I'll be giving my best for my beloved nation, isn't that right?” Soldier Boy patted the politician's shoulder as he spoke, who was trying to get free of Soldier Boy's cruel and tight hold on him while clearing his throat nerveously.

“Yes, without a doubt, we are going to help you fix your public image. It is quite unfortunate that you are one of the victims of the CIA. It's simple to mislead the public about your intentions by the media,” remarked the other politician, who was casually sipping his whiskey and acting as though Soldier Boy hadn't just threatened them. “We are all in the same ship.”

Soldier Boy grinned broadly and added, “Vey good,” patting the politician's shoulder once more before he stepped back, clearly indicating he wasn't willing to spend time talking for hours. “I guess we are done here.”

Calling out to Black Noir and The Deep, Soldier Boy surveyed his surroundings. You stepped back and briefly locked eyes with Soldier Boy. When he saw that you were becoming anxious, his gaze softened, but he remained silent and did not move.

Squeezing Black Noir's shoulder firmly, Soldier Boy remarked, “The Deep and Black Noir, my old loyal friend from the Seven, will be discussing details.”

You were startled and alarmed when The Deep briefly locked eyes with you, but you ignored him and walked carefully toward the door, knowing that Soldier Boy was almost done with them. You were relieved that no one paid you any attention or questioned you. All of them showed interest in chatting with Soldier Boy.

“Are you okay?” whispered Soldier Boy as you waited for him outside, and you shivered when you felt his hand on your back.

You lied, “Yeah, sure,” and he instantly withdrew his hands.

It irritated him that you had become such a liar. “You must know that my Supe hearing can detect when you are lying to me,” he stated. You used to be different from this, and you always told him the truth about everything. particularly in regards to your current state of mind.

Even though you were the same person, it was difficult to accept that you had changed somewhat. But something has changed about you, and that's when Ben started to get upset. He had best to do anything needed to make you remember everything.

He shot you a cold look, and you said, “What will you do if I say, 'No, I'm not feeling good'?”

“At least I'd know you are being honest.”

With a quick smile, you said, “Well, remember that I don't even know you,” as if it didn't matter what you might have shared in the past.

Soldier Boy gave you a grumpy and unhappy look before gently pushing you to the car. After you left the supe-filled house, there was silence between you in the car.

Thinking about how he talked to the politicians, you felt uneasy and disturbed. You couldn't stop thinking about what kind of person you were and loved Soldier Boy if he was right about you being something months ago.

“What's happening in your head right now?” Soldier Boy finally asked you after giving you a look while you were driving. as if he were whispering.

This time, you said honestly, saying, “I was thinking about the way you talked to the politicians,” unwilling to ignore it and feeling a little more brave around him because he didn't appear to be a threat to you.

“And?”

You shifted in your seat, and you managed to ask, “Is it true that you are going to really team up with Homelander?” after giving it some thought.

Since he had a personal issue with Butcher and the others and was now filled with a desire for vengeance, you could try to understand him about them. However, it didn't seem proper to team up with the worst Supe alive and carry on doing out vile acts for evil people on behalf of evil people in positions of power. All it was was modern-day slavery.

“Are you having a problem with that?”

You shook in your seat at that moment, unable to speak for a long time due to the extreme coldness of his voice.

“Of course!” you replied, raising your voice slightly as if his question were the most ridiculous thing ever. Your former self could not possibly approve of the way he handled the Vought and Homelander crises. “What makes you even want to work with him? Even though he is biologically your son, he is still cruel and vile, just another Vought toy.”

“What do you expect me to do?” He raised his voice a bit as well, unhappy about how your voice sounded critical and icy toward him.

“Well, you don't have to allow people to take advantage of your strength simply because you hate Butcher and the others. If Butcher truly betrayed you like you told me, anyone could do so at any time; Homelander, politicians, and Vought included especially.”

“Even you?” he asked quietly, seemingly interested in finding out what you thought of him.

You were about to say yes, but you kept your mouth quiet out of fear for his reaction. Ben sighed, disturbed by your overly cautious and controlled acts next to him, as he realized that. It was as though you had truly vanished, as though he was speaking to someone else. He sensed then that even though you were with him at that same moment, by his side, he was still missing you. You were just with him physically. He realized then that he had to find you again and help you remember what you had. It nearly disturbed him to have that cautious, angry woman without memory by his side. He felt guilt filling his heart when he gave you an odd look. He had to be more understanding and soft toward you and not let his hatred for Butcher take over.

Soldier Boy simply said, “Things changed. You must choose a side no matter what time. Despite knowing that Homelander was actually my son, I had Butcher swear to murder Homelander. I was prepared to murder him until Butcher attacked me.”

You firmly stated, “He would never stop anyone from killing Homelander,” knowing full well that Butcher despised Homelander.

“It appears that you either don't recall everything about him or don't know everything about him. Do you even recall that Homelander's wife had a son?”

You exclaimed, “What?” in shock, thinking he was going to lie to you.

“Go ahead, give him a call, and ask about Ryan, his wife's son,” Soldier Boy added, flashing you a cunning smile.

“It seems like he didn't tell you.” Not surprised that Butcher was taking rather too long to tell you the truth about what actually took place, Soldier Boy asked with a slight smile. “And you still trust him, but not me.”

You kept calling Butcher every single time, and you said, “He's not answering my calls,” in a hurt voice. You had the option to call the others as well, but at that moment, all you wanted and needed was to talk to Butcher, and his lack of response was leading you to believe that Soldier Boy had been telling you the whole truth.

With a heavy heart, you placed your phone in your pocket and showed him how weak you were by holding yourself back from crying suddenly with your hands by your sides. When you were with Soldier Boy, you had no idea what kind of person he was, but you didn't want him to see you were that vulnerable, at least.

Butcher's betrayal was not quite as heavy as Kimiko's. When she knew you weren't even a Supe, why would she even leave you with Soldier Boy? If he had believed that you had deceived him as well, he might have hurt you. You believed that you had become friends with her. She must have known you for a very long period as well. The realization that she had been lying to you hit you even harder.

Confidently,  “Of course he won't answer,” remarked Soldier Boy. “He must be planning what to say to you and how to tell fresh lies to deceive you, leaving you even more confused.”

“He doesn't need to take any action in this case.” You said in a sour voice, “I don't think you're a good person at all after hearing you there and listening to the way you talked to those people.” You could not possibly just accept him collaborating with Homelander.

He gave you a tender glance and stated, “You love me,” without even trying to understand what you were trying to convey. “You, Butcher, and everyone else are aware of that. When you remember about us, we can have a proper conversation, alright?”

Ben was just bothered by the weight on his chest, which gave him the impression that you were a shapeshifter even if you weren't. Even though he was in love with you, he couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that was eating him alive. It felt like he was trying reaching out to the real you that was hidden inside your body when he tried to speak with you. It was hard with your aloof,

nervous, and icy gaze. It was always easy to persuade him because of your understanding and kind tone, even when you two had previously had some disagreements. But now everything was different.

Saying with a sigh, “I don't know what kind of person I was before my memory loss, but I'm positive that I don't, and I can't be with you. I don't know if I'll be able to retrieve my memory, but if not, my feelings for you won't change. You are cruel.”

You were about to add something, but, “That's not what you really think of me,” he cut you off. “Let's simply spend the night somewhere tonight and talk to the greatest doctors who can help you tomorrow in the morning. We both need some rest. We'll get through this,” Soldier Boy assured you, quickly putting your hand in your lap and giving it a gentle squeeze to demonstrate his patience and sympathy.

With a strange expression on your face, you questioned, “What if I don't?” as your thumb lightly brushed across the surface of his hand. “What if I never remember anything about myself, you, or us despite all effort, even if the doctors and I do our best?”

“I gave you my promise,” he murmured, trying to show confidence and self-assurance as if there was no other option. “All you need is the best medical and psychological care possible. I'm everything you need. Not with Butcher's lies, nor any other person's. Me alone.”

You wanted to believe him at that vulnerable time, even though you could never be certain of the kind of person he genuinely was with you in the past. You wanted to think that he loved you more than anyone else. Looking at his powerful hands, which might have killed you in an instant, you held back your smile, seeing those hands were holding yours gently. You couldn't stop thinking about giving it a shot, but you didn't want to be too close or too far away from him. Given how simple it was for him to swap sides, he was obviously a cruel Supe, similar to Homelander, but perhaps you could change things.

“Since you were unfamiliar with me an hour earlier,” he added, changing the topic. “Why were you alone yourself on the third floor? You were there because Butcher assigned you another foolish and risky mission? Sending you there as if you were some prey?”

You lowered your gaze to the point where your hands touched and said, “You already know the answer,” as he looked at you.

“He's too fucking brilliant or too stupid to send you to me. I have to admit you had me distracted. If he had another plan in his stupid head by sending you to distract me, he is most likely successful.”

You said, “Butcher actually had no idea you were going to be there.”

“So you're saying I was lucky to find you, huh?” Soldier Boy winked at you and continued driving, barely checking at the road. You were afraid of him because of how careless he drove. He wouldn't die in a car crash, but you most certainly would. “I must confess that I was able to recognize your voice from the one noise you made up there. I suppose my supersensitive hearing was overly sensitive to you these days.”

He asked again, curious, when you failed to respond, “Why were you there? What would you do with that adorable little gun of yours that's still attached to your adorable pants?”

You instantly replied, straightening your t-shirt and widening your eyes. “Nothing!”

“Don't get excited; you can keep that useless gun with you, baby, if it will make you feel better,” he remarked simply, becoming annoyed when you immediately withdrew your hands from him.

“It's just a gun, nothing more.”

You attempted to sound calm and collected, but you were sweating and your heart was racing, so he could know you were lying to him again. Surprisingly, though, he remained silent and didn't make you tell him the details—for which you were grateful.

“Okay, keep that tiny, adorable toy if it makes you feel more secure. For the record, I can defend you more effectively than anyone, but I must warn you that hiring a Supe to keep you safe from criminals is incredibly pricey.”

This time, when he smirked and spoke to you in a lighthearted way, you couldn't stop giggling.

You laughed in response to his amusement, saying, “I need to think about this.”

“By the way, why in the world did you give me a hand job there while you really didn't even know who I was?”

Attempting to act cool, you crossed your arms over your chest when Soldier Boy brought up the intimate subject between you, drawing your hands to yourself and making a flushed face. This time, his tone was a little more stern and cold instead of playful.

“You made an attempt to take me there. It appeared to be an escape route.” You defended yourself. You were certain that your face blushed crimson.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed in annoyance. “Of course I wouldn't force myself on you if you simply said 'no' and explained your situation to me.”

“How on earth could I be knowledgeable about that? I was frightened when a supe tried to take me on a table since you seemed so determined to take anything you wanted there.” You raised your voice to try to win him over. You weren't even brave enough to act reasonably there.

“What if someone else was attempting to... and it wasn't me? Fuck. I'd rather not even think about it. Now that you are sitting in your seat without your underwear, look what happened. I must admit, though, that I really enjoyed your little handiwork.”

Soldier Boy must have seen your heart racing uncontrollably again, because he said these things to either make you feel shy or excited.

You asked abruptly, hoping to annoy him with a hint of harshness mixed with curiosity, “And how on earth you couldn't tell I was lying if your supe hearing is too sensitive when I said I missed you too, because I was definitely lying?”

He added in a sour voice, “I was too fucking horny to focus if your heart beat was racing because of excitement or lying, sweetheart,” dismissing the fact that you had lied to him about missing him and ignoring the burise on his pride. “Who knows? Maybe both.”

You felt guilty as you noticed the lighthearted tone in his voice fade into a sort of sorrowful glimpse. He was aware that you were going through memory loss and that you weren't truly missing him or anything. It wasn't your fault, of course, but since he was your former personality's boyfriend and not your own, you wanted to cheer him up right now even if you didn't know how. It was hard to believe that you were the same real person as before, but you had the impression that your memories of him were more important to him than you were.

You whispered to him, observing his expression. “But if I were the same person as I was months before, I'm certain I would miss you. Of course, that is, if we were a real thing.”

When Soldier Boy saw that you were trying your hardest to cheer him up, he lit up with you a tiny smile to let you know he appreciated it. Your genuine behavior, sensitivity, and compassion were still present, at least.

He said, “It's okay,” with such firmness that you remained silent until you got there. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

You were unaware that he had been holding your hand the entire time.

When you realized that they had decided to stay in the house that Butcher had brought you to a few days prior, you asked in a hushed voice, “Why?” in shock. It was the home you most likely spent several months living in.

You knew that Butcher had told you to leave when he found out Soldier Boy was free since Soldier Boy had also must have lived in this house for a while.

“I promised to help you to recover.” He whispered, “We have to start somewhere,” and quietly closed the door while urging you inside. “This seems like a good place to start. It is too full with memories for us.”

You said, “Butcher told us to leave this home as soon as he knew you were free,” obviously not wanting to reveal too much.

“I thought so,” Soldier Boy agreed, unable to stop thinking about Butcher's cunning ways and how he did everything in his power to keep you away from him, and he angrily remarked, “He balls are not big enough to confront me.” You could never be taken from him. No fucking way.

You inquired, “Do we have good memories in here?” not knowing if he would be completely honest with you.

“Both good and bad. It took us a while to really start a relationship,” Ben said, remembering the unpleasant moments when he was being mean to you, and you found it simple to tell him how you felt, but he wasn't as ready as you were to do so. “Good memories were also there, though. In the last three or two months, we managed to work it out. It wasn't like we were toxic or something. Mostly.”

You only mumbled, “Hmm,” as you tried to imagine your relationship in your thoughts.

You followed upstairs without saying anything more, feeling the need to return to the room where you were assured it wasn't important. You wondered if your feelings would change if you spent time with Soldier Boy this time.

With a sigh of relief, Ben followed you there and watched you go to the room where he had spent months. He experienced discomfort and agony at the same time since you could remember the room where he stayed even though you were completely unaware of it.

Even if you forgot about him and everything you had, a piece of your love was still there, clinging to him and refusing to let go. Your body had its own thoughts about him.

“What did you choose this room?” As you closed the door behind you, Soldier Boy asked softly, hoping you would recall one small detail about him.

The emptiness and silence in the room created the same heavy sensation that was tearing at your spirit and couldn't even be named. It was a heavy feeling that filled your heart with aching thoughts. You knew it was important even if you weren't sure if it was the nothingness or the silence that affected you that hard.

“I found myself in this room when Butcher brought me from the hospital to this house.” You mumbled, “I don't even know why,” unable to contain your own sadness.

“And?” Soldier Boy asked, forcing himself to suppress a proud smile at your remarks.

“I'm not sure why, but I had a very depressing, possibly saddened feeling that I can't quite describe. All I can recall is that that evening, I cried all as I fell to sleep.”

Ben kept coming toward you, hugging you tightly from behind and kissing the back of your head firmly, all with a heavy heart. Your hands brushed his rough ones on your lower abdomen, but you avoided pushing him since you believed that being near to him would help your brain function. Nothing compared to how close and intense it was.

Saying in a rough, whispery voice, “This is the room I've been in for months,” he said. “You actually spent a lot of time in this room with me; we had many wonderful moments together. Your body must have a memory of its own.”

“I really tried hard, but...” you began to defend yourself, not sure for what, but he interrupted you right away with understanding.

“I know, I know.”

With a shy glance, you were able to save yourself from Soldier Boy just after you had a moment of silence. You clearly needed rest after such a difficult and stressful day.

You said, hoping to change the conversation and find out what his intentions were about tonight: “Will we stay the night here? I should mention that you have nothing to wear. The entire wardrobe appears to have been emptied. But I'll search Kimiko's room for something for myself.”

“Yes, we definitely will. Also, that's not a big deal,” he muttered as he hurriedly began to remove the cloth covering his chest and place it on the table.

Thoughts raced through your head as you held your breath for a moment. It appeared that a discussion regarding the best course of action was required.

With the knowledge that Soldier Boy was determined about sleeping by your side, you changed your clothes after finding clean underwear in Kimiko's room. God, you thought he might try to fuck you again after you had given him a handjob two hours earlier. This time, you believed that handwork would not be sufficient. You needed to speak with him in a serious tone.

You had no idea how your sex life with him would be, and you didn't think he would force you or anything, but he was still a supe, your so-called ex-lover or whatever. The situation was simply awkward. You had to let him know that you were different now. When you walked into the room, he was examining every inch of you while wearing a sly smirk.

With a trembling voice, you stated, “Well, I guess I need to be clear about something.” You really tried to sound tough and confident. It was becoming difficult to maintain your composure, though, under his playful gaze as he removed his jeans and boots. “I must tell you that I don't want any sexual stuff because, as you know, I can't recall a single thing about us. Until I regain my memories, you are, at the very least, a complete stranger to me.”

Ben grunted in exhaustion as he lay on the bed, rolling his eyes and holding back a smile in response to your explanation. You watched him nervously, waiting for an answer.

“Actually, I had no intention to,” he remarked honestly. “Of course, I still love you and want to give you a good fuck very much, we both need that, but you know, you kind of feel like a different person now. I suppose we need to go through this quickly so you will remember us. When things get back to normal in our relationship, that's when I'll give you a big, deep fuck, so you better heal quickly.”

His lighthearted remarks about how you were like someone else to him didn't make you feel better—in fact, they kind of broke your heart—but at least he was serious about staying away from you, which was good. What you shared in the room hours ago was already too much.

You turned your back on him and felt his naked upper body moving closer to yours instantly, but you remained motionless. You simply awaited his next action.

Once more, the hands of Soldier Boy stroked your lower abdomen, drawing you even closer to him and pressing your back against his bare and warm chest. You felt his power on your back. Uncontrollably, your hand contacted his rough one to see whether he would react to you and to feel something toward him. Although they were warm, rough, and understanding, surprisingly, his hands were not forceful.

He mumbled to your ear, wanting you to make yourself remember what you had. “We used to spend most of our time here, lying like this for months, for many nights,” he said.

Your hands lingered on his hands and said nothing, and he went on, “I miss you so much.” His tone was achingly sharp.

The way he'd said it, with his firm voice as though he was talking to someone else, was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn't. You wondered if he would still love and care for you, even if you felt like a stranger to him and you couldn't remember anything about him. With that kind of personality, wouldn't he love you? He had loved and missed the other side of you that he had been missing.

There was no more space between you two as he held you near to him; your back felt the warmth of his bare, powerful and warm chest, but you were agonizingly too distant to stay close and way too cold.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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[starsluver]

Random Facts About the Slytherin Boys

Part 1

Mattheo Riddle

In the first year, no one believed that he was related to Voldemort. mainly because no one thought he'd have a child

He also fluently speaks Spanish since he was raised by his mother (ngl I believe that Mattheo is either Guatemalan, Mexican, Colombian, or Puerto Rican) cause his father didn't want anything to do with him until he got older

Had a side part phase for most of his first through fourth year because his mom liked it until his fifth year where he learned how to take care of his natural hair and he takes VERY big pride in it, he literally spends all his money and time on it and REFUSES to let anyone touch it.

He got the scar on his eyebrow from trying to give himself a slit eyebrow in his third year because he'd thought he'd look cool but ended up with a scar and his mom yelling at him but tells everyone he got it from a fight

He got the scar on his nose in his sixth year from banging his nose on a sink but tells everyone that he got from a fight with a guy from racenclaw (Theo's the only one that knows the truth)

Secretly a theatre kid

Has the messiest hand writing, literally no one can read it.

Silver Tooth Kid activities !!!!!!

He had perfect grades until 5th year when he started slacking off cause his dad would always pressure him to get good grades

had a THICK Spanish accent and was kind of used to get made fun of for it. He barely speaks it around people which is pretty much why most people completely forget he's Latino

Made friends with Blaise, Enzo, Theo, and Draco in that exact order

Blaise thought Mattheo looked like he was gonna cry when his mom dropped him off at the train station first year. so he and Mattheo played on his Nintendo DS the whole train ride

Enzo soon met Mattheo in their second year after Blaise introduced them.

Afterward, Enzo introduced Theo to Mattheo that same year. They bonded over the fact no one else understood what they were saying and that they had deadbeat dads

"Blaise, what are they saying?"

"Don't know but at least they're getting along!"

His middle name is Andrés

He grew up with two cats and a dog. He had a ginger cat named Garfield who died from obesity because Mattheo wouldn't stop feeding him table scraps. He currently still has a black cat who he named Loki until later on finding out it was a girl because she got pregnant and had kittens, renames her Kali (inspired by Kali Uchis 😛) he currently has a pitbull named Dodger

He met Draco through Blaise again

"why do you talk like that?"

"why does your face look like that?" In a HEAVY Spanish accent

Used to bite people he didn't like

Sassiest 1st year

He was so obsessed with death note in his third year that he'd put the names of people he didn't like in the book hoping they'd just randomly drop dead. (They didn't)

He had a crush on Padma Patil since his FIRST YEAR TO HIS SIXTH YEAR. And even thought of asking her to the yule ball until he realized she was going with Ron. He beat Ron up as soon as he found out and told him to stay away from his girlfriend. (He never even had a conversation with her)

Theodore Nott

He was SUCH a cute 1st year. All the older girls would tell him how cute he was and he thought he was sooooo cool.

Didn't know English until his second or third year and barely anyone understood what he was saying.

Enzo met Theo when he saw Theo alone on the train ride. Enzo showed Theo his Pokemon collection cause neither of them understood each other and Enzo was basically his only friend at the time.

"anch'io ho quella carta!"

"🤨🤨🤨"

Eventually Enzo introduced him to Blaise and Mattheo. Where him and Mattheo bonded the most

"è un tale sollievo che qualcuno mi capisca!"

"¿que es eso güey?"

Theo met Draco long after through Lorenzo again

"why can't anyone here speak proper English?!?"

"il furetto,"

"Ki sa l menm ap pale de?" (I feel like Blaise is Haitian on his mom's side idk why but I'll explain it in the next part!)

"pinche guëro"

He was named after his father and had two middle names. Niccolo and Brando (the real ones know)

He grew up in the country side of Italy and was a VERY energetic child

He started smoking after a random 5th year asked if he wanted a hit in his 1st year

Perfect grades and handwriting

He's secretly friends with Neville and Luna because they secretly sell weed on the side but also the fact that he was also a loner and refuses to let any of his friends bully them.

Had a crush on Ginny and thought of asking her to the yule ball until Mattheo told him she was dating Dean Thomas (he cried himself to sleep)

[changingplumbob]

First Round - Day four (Connor group)

Dee: So this is the villa huh? Not too shabby

Berenice: do you think Joey will visit today

Kaye: *sighs* I hope not. Shouldn't you be more concerned about when Deanna will show up

Berenice: I can be concerned for both! I mean I am concerned for both. About both?

Nyami: Don't look at me, I didn't speak until I was five

Isla: That was a true fact?

Nyami: Yeah but I speak a bunch of languages now, I basically never stop talking

Isabella: Being able to speak more than one is so freeing I've found

Dee: How'd you learn so many Nyami?

Nyami: I mean each tribe has a different dialect right? Learning all the differences made it easier to pick up completely different languages as well

Isabella: It might be a weird question but do you have one you like most?

Nyami: For sure! Bunny-Latin. Owhay areyay youyay oingday?

Wikihow on Pig-Latin rules

Unfortunately the Bunny-Latin was too much cringe for Isabella and Isla to handle. They went off to the hallway mirrors to try talk themselves out of their second hand embarrassment.

Berenice: Watcher, Bunny-Latin clears people out faster than cast- cats, I mean cats

Kaye: Cats don't clear people out

Berenice sits awkwardly.

Kaye: I think I'm going to go grab lunch early

...

Nyami: I can be a bit much for some people

Berenice: oh, word. I mean, not you specifically - just word. Word for word. Uh, is anyone else having trouble with how to English?

Dee: *laughs* You're too funny Bernie. Why are you even studying physics? You should do comedy

After a while Isla and Isabella rejoin the group, leaving Nyami happy she hasn't scarred them away forever. Kaye also bring her mid morning mac and cheese to the couches.

Berenice: It doesn't actually take that long to knit the socks, I still find time to study

Isabella: You must hardly sleep with all that going on

Berenice: I sleep! On a bed, even. Yeah beds are great and comfy and things I use every day - uh, night.

Isla: Anyone want to play some some foosball?

At lunch the women settle down and chat with Deanna about how they're settling in. Kaye gets seconds.

Kaye: This mac and cheese is amazing!

Dee: It did taste pretty good. I wonder if there's a secret ingredient

Deanna: Bella? Isla? You all right?

Isabella: Just a bit queesy

Isla: I'm used to Sulani food

Nyami: So long as you're not still put out about my jokes this morning because that would be cringe

Deanna: Normally I like to put bacon in macaroni cheese but I figured with a vegetarian around it would be best not to

Kaye: Thanks Deanna

Isla: I couldn't imagine my life without bacon

Dee: I couldn't imagine my life without love *blows kiss to Deanna*

Deanna: *giggles*

Nyami: One time I heard this story about-

...

Kaye: I'd love to explore more of Salvadorada

Nyami: Well it's there waiting and just full of history. If you want to go you should

Berenice: I heard a rumour that there's maybe some kind of ma - something otherworldly going on there?

Nyami: If you do good the sun gods have been know to grant blessings

Isla: *sighing* I miss the sun

Nyami: Funny you mention the sun. Back home-

...

Isabella (voiceover): I…admit it was a little…cringe. Ahem. I didn't want to make Nyami feel bad so I left with Isla. I don't know why, I felt a little embarrassed. Nyami was nice at lunch though, she knows so much about so much and isn’t afraid to share knowledge. I don't want to nitpick the food but I miss my Bea's pasta a little bit haha. Anyway, after that, I figured I might need to work on my charisma, level my head and refocus.

Isla (voiceover): I think I'm doing alright today. Sure I had to take a minute this morning but I got back to socializing. For lunch, well, I would have liked the chairs to have more cushioning. All the furniture in Sulani you can just sink in to you know? I chose charisma for skill time, hopefully I can develop an immunity to the cringe

Kaye (voiceover): Did I get distracted by food this morning? Yeah... I just get hungry people. It was cool to chat with everyone though. I loved getting to talk to Nyami about the jungle, she's a fellow adventurer I reckon. Berenice is an acquired taste but I think I'm getting used to her? Maybe. Anyway I had to go with video gaming for skill time!

Nyami (voiceover): Oh boy are my family going to have a field day watching this. They're used to me running my mouth off about everything, I forget normal people take pauses. I probably got over enthusiastic at lunch but I feel like Deanna enjoyed hearing about the jungle. So yeah worked on charisma first, reminding myself to take pauses. I don't want everyone thinking I'm talking over them deliberately, I just get excited

Berenice (voiceover): Phew! Almost had some slip ups this morning due to something I may or may not have consumed [eyes dart around]… All natural, totally natural. I swear! Uh well, Dee seems to like me, which is nice I guess. But also it’s like “Dee, are you okay? Do you maybe need to see a specialist about that???” Well she’ll get to know me better and then she won’t like me anymore, so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts *shrug*

Dee (voiceover): I think my first impression of Berenice was spot on, she's hilarious! Of course the more refined in the group didn't approve but I'm sticking with her. She actually got me feeling pretty happy and confident so yeah I threw in a flirt with Deanna at lunch. I'm really hoping for a date from the challenges this round though so I picked charisma to work on for skill time. You never know I could win the very first challenge

Berenice (voiceover): You know, sometimes I think it’s worse for people to find you annoying than it is for them to think that you’re a bad person. Because a bad person, you’re expected not to like them - but with an annoying person it’s like “well they’re not actually a baaad person so I should be friendlier/nicer?” and that makes people resentful or something, but it is kind of nice to have a friend, even for a little while. You're not going to tell Dee that I chose to focus on mischief, right???

It was another cloudy day at the villa but the contestants opted to eat outside again. We really need to put in a complaint to whoever is in charge of outdoor lights at dusk because they really illuminate nothing. Anyway most contestants got to dinner on time. Berenice was a little late, apparently she needed a wardrobe change? Spirits were once again calm as contestants talked, Isla really missed the sun though.

Nyami: And that's how I escaped the python

Kaye: *mouth full of food* Darn, I thought I was adventurous on the slopes but you are one brave lady

Deanna: I hope you wont find watching a movie too slow

Isla: Well I'm excited to watch something that's not just a sports true story turned in to film. At home my brothers hardly ever go for films unless someone wins a trophy in it

Isabella: *smiling* I guess there are benefits to being an only child, picking the film

The group head inside to the living area to set up to watch a film.

Kaye: So I'm really thinking we should make popcorn

Isla: *chuckling* We just ate dinner

Dee: But movies require snacks. I still remember the rush of sneaking food in to the cinemas as a kid

Berenice: Were you afraid of getting caught

Dee: One time an usher came over and demanded we show him our bags to prove we hadn't brought in outside snacks. Luckily the chocolate was in my jacket

As the film plays the contestants sit on the couch and chat about what's happening. Most of this bunch don't seem to mind talking during films. When it finishes half the contestants head to bed but Kaye, Isabella and Isla stay chatting for a while. Eventually Kaye needs to sleep to.

Isabella: I'm sorry Deanna if I seemed out of sorts at lunch

Deanna: It was more than the macaroni cheese then?

Isabella: *chuckles* I don't want to nitpick with the food. It’s just that, it's difficult trying to befriend a bunch of women at once.

Isla: I felt the same. You just want to impress everyone here

Deanna: Don't worry, I feel the same about trying to connect with everyone. It can get hard

Sims created by: @corrienteallita, @eljeebee, @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants, @hashimasims, @jonquilyst, @riverofjazzsims

[cisthoughtcrime]

I’m interested in learning Latin, where would you suggest I start?

So exciting! I'll try to keep this short:

I recommend starting with this very short informal intro, especially if you don't have a strong grasp on technical terms about grammar (most textbooks take that for granted). Latin grammar follows a rigid organisational system and the earlier you understand how it works, the easier it will be to learn the rest of the language. The 18-page PDF in the link uses English examples and practice questions to go through basic Latin grammar concepts and tables. It doesn't go through less basic things like participles or conditional clauses, but it does explain everything you need to know in order to learn those more easily. It also includes a hyperlinked list of good online resources for self-taught Latin and Greek students.

If you want to work through a textbook, Wheelock's Latin is probably the most widely used and comes with a lot of accompanying resources and guides (even though the official website looks older than Rome). Ecce Romani may be a bit more approachable and there are plenty of unofficial online lessons and guides made to go along with it. Those are my top two personally; I know some people like Latin Via Ovid because the practice texts are adapted from an actual ancient text about different myths, but imho I don't think it's as good a starting point if you're teaching yourself from scratch. Keep in mind that they'll all follow different formats for conjugation/declension tables, which can make it a bit confusing to switch between them; the short intro in that first link is a good way to understand how these charts work well enough to use them no matter the format.

There are tons of free resources online, even including full recordings of lessons, live study groups to join, communities with forum posting, and written-out explanations. For any individual concept that's troubling you, there are almost definitely multiple youtube videos of someone in front of a whiteboard saying it differently from the textbooks. Again, there's a good list included in that first document.

For practice in reading and understanding without deliberately translating, it's fun to try reading Latin translations of books you already know well in English, like Harrius Potter, Hobbitus Ille, Winnie Ille Pu, Alicia In Terra Mirabili, and many, many more, most of which are free on Archive and/or can be bought as physical copies.

However, this will be much more rewarding once you've built up some vocabulary and grammar, and might be frustrating or discouraging if you try the long ones too early, especially since they sometimes use words irregularly to convey modern meanings.

There are also a handful of recently-written stories in Latin targeted at students who like this kind of practice more. The German Netflix series Barbarians has all the Roman characters speaking in real Latin, and listening to it with subtitles can help build your ear for what sounds right.

Those are my recs for where to start! If you're stuck on something and can't find a good explanation, you can also send me an ask about it and I'm always happy to lay out how I think about it (even if my response times are irregular).

Good luck and enjoy!

[joysisland]

First post so first drabble about big mountain man König! I'm still unsure if I should write a part 2 or not Also, English isn't my first language so I'm sorry if u find some mistakes enjoy!<3

(TW: none)

Thinking about reader getting lost in the austrian alps, and it doesn't help that it's getting dark and progressively colder in the forest, you're tired and probably have walked for kilometres trying to find a way out, it probably goes in circles too.

But when you start to loose hope you finally find a way out - a house in a valley between mountains, you search for any other sign of civilization but it's just this house and what looks like a shack, or a barn. Weird.

But you're still *very* far from the nearest city, considering the only thing you see in the distance is the forest.

At this point it's pitch black outside but when you try to knock... no one answers. Definitely weird.

It's surely abandoned, and honestly you don't blame the owner, it must get lonely up there.

Shit, it's locked.

You decide it's safer to sleep in the hay of the barn instead of outside.

...

The next morning you're met with the indecipherable stare of a shepherd– a tall one at that –white as a ghost, even if his dirty clothes and toned physique show how much he works. He seems to also have a hood. Triple weird. Now that he noticed that you're awake he seems... nervous or at least awkward, as if you just caught him doing something he shouldn't do as soon as you return his gaze. After a long moment he finally speaks:

"...Uh, are you lost?"

...

In the next few hours you learn about the lonely shepherd named König, and how he lives in the mountains in total isolation except for the few times a year he goes to town (just to keep in touch with the outside world), while he prepares a meal for you to "heat up when it's so cold in these harsh mountains". Then, as you get comfortable in his house, you realize he's still using bronze pans and wooden tupperware like they used to a long time ago. After being done, he decides to sit by the fire as he tells you why he uses those still, and the sight of him as he carves a piece of wood with a knife is strangely... cozy, and warm, almost comforting.

After a bit of unintended staring you notice how he suddenly started stuttering over his words as the trembling in his hands worsened.

"Is... something wrong?" he eventually speaks up.

"No, nothing" you reply, but your gaze couldn't help but return to him naturally.

You figured it was just natural after he almost saved your life by giving you a warm place to stay. Plus, he has been very accommodating and respectful...

But you could see the glint in his eyes every time he looked at you, unhinged and almost off-putting, but you still decided to not let it bother you too much, as long as he didn't do anything weird.

In a strange way, this contributed to his mysterious and almost dangerous appeal: his forearms full of a variety of scars, all different and some faded more than others, and unfortunately for you they looked so good on his massive arms, which along with his huge physique played a large role in you stealing glances at him every time you could, even if he wasn't aware. God, he looked like he could've thrown you across the room like it was nothing.

A cough from König made you come back to reality, and as soon as you looked at him, a bit embarrassed to have even thought of something like that, he looked like he realized what you'd been thinking about. You couldn't exactly say you were discreet with your glances, so he must've figured out something.

It still threw you off, that crinkle in his eyes which suggested a smile, a smug one, so you weren't able to do anything but stare at the floor for a moment.

The rest of the night passed without any other embarrassing or remarkable moments, until:

He stretched for a moment and let out a tired groan "I'm tired, I'm going to bed"

you finally had the opportunity to ask him something that had been bothering you all night: "where am I sleeping tonight? — I don't mean we should share, but-"

"-don't worry, I don't snore" he cut you off, and without waiting for your response he headed to his room.

[skye-foxstar]

Baby!Reader x Boothill | Fluffy, Familiar, Platonic

Warnings: poor English, I don't speak the language, use of translator, sorry (　；∀；)

Life had indecipherable ways of turning some people's lives upside down. As a cowboy, he lived in Aeragan-Epharshel, a quiet place full of grass, animals, a town, and even farms with several horses. A free place where he could sit on the highest hill and watch the stars. Sometimes he did it with his parents, sometimes he did it alone, having to return home late at night, listening to Graey tell him she was worried about him before giving him a nice cup of hot chocolate along with freshly baked cookies

He remembers the lingering smell of the food Nick prepared, always with a spicy undertone that made his eyes water and which over time became his favorite dish. He remembers the smell of the house, a rather fragrant and rich aroma, the constant noises of his brothers chasing each other over who would have to finish their chores on time, sometimes having to take over.

Among all those memories, there was also her... Clementine, that's what she had named the baby she had found one day, abandoned, tucked into a basket in the middle of nowhere, her red face crying sadly as if her cries were screaming to be taken out of that loneliness. Her heart, which she had back then, shattered at the thought of a poor abandoned baby, just like Nick and Graey had found her.

That day, she took the baby to her home, raised her like her own daughter, and even made her a miniature guitar that the little girl clapped happily as if she were playing it. At that moment, she thought, everything had to stay that way, peace and quiet. It had to stay that way. With her little daughter barely old enough, she would need something to even walk.

The IPC had destroyed everything: his home, his family, friends, siblings, acquaintances and strangers. It had killed his own daughter, his little baby. It had killed him, his heart, his dream of living a normal life. But now he had to live with a metal body, a non-human body. His life was filled with hatred toward the IPC, with resentment for taking away the life he wanted.

Everything around him was almost monotonous. Sometimes he felt little happiness... until he met you. Once, he had a mission on a random planet. He had infiltrated a strange laboratory where he had to annihilate some guys. There was nothing in the lab, or so he thought, until he heard a baby crying in a random room. He had found a half-dead woman trying to relieve a small bundle in her hands. The woman, as soon as she saw him, begged him to keep you alive.

Your mother had been a test subject who was badly injured. They had also taken you as a test subject. In an attempt to defend you, everything ended badly, deciding to keep the two of you isolated until one of you died. Sadly, your mother died when Boothill took you in his arms. He needed explanations, to save the woman, but it was too late. You were left alone, like him

As time passed, Boothill had grown very fond of you. You were, in fact, a fairly calm baby, taking you on missions with him and keeping you in a place where you would be safe. He had become a father again. The desire for revenge faded slightly, only feeling anger towards the IPC. He knew he couldn't go crazy creating destruction now. No, now he had you, and you needed someone to take care of you

Boothill learned to live again, now he had more fun because he had you, taking care of you was difficult of course, you were very sick when your mother put you in her arms, with someone's help she was able to know that you had a fairly accelerated growth, your body grew as if the years were passing but in reality only months passed, months passed when you already had the appearance of someone of 4 years old, even so he loved you, he loved you with all his devotion, you were his little girl forever and he would go with you to the ends of the universe to rescue you from the clutches of someone as cruel as the IPC

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