#which is basically the same thing in Spanish with less words

[edwardslostalchemy]

I like to show my mom pictures of Shouto, and tell her he's my son. And she's like "Hi honey" as if he can hear her. 😂 I told her today I like to make him suffer in my stories and she was like 😰 and then I amended that by adding I also make him a BAMF and she was like 🥰 "that's how to do it 💖".

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 1

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not)* Nudity, body positivity, talk of oral sex, discussion of/evidence of abuse from a sexual partner, physical abuse of sex workers, groping, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Two Americans are both regular customers of the local brothels in Bogotá, which is a tie that will bring their fates together in ways they could never expect. Notes: For this series, please note that reader is American and speaks fluent Spanish! There is no indication of how she knows the language, whether or not it relates to her background, or anything specific like that. In order to make the story flow as best as humanly possible, it is written entirely in English (the writers' first language) but most of the time the characters are speaking in Spanish with each other. That is simply the nature of the beast with this exciting story to come, and we hope you enjoy!

Bogotá, Colombia 1987

Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world. Removed from the skills that took the cavemen beyond the hunter/gatherer roles that had prevailed during the ends of the last Ice Age and had allowed less nomadic lifestyles. Farming and growing crops had become possible and their limited technology had slowly advanced from rocks and sticks to weapons and electricity. Still, selling sex was the same. Except instead of food or hides in exchange for a warm cunt, it was cash and sometimes information.

Who knows if things are any more or less complicated now than they used to be. Or if things haven't basically stayed the same on an emotional level as the whole world has changed around its oldest profession. Whether the women and men who make their hard-earned living providing pleasure, solace, and distraction even waste their time thinking about how things used to be. It isn't what you talk about with them, anyway. Coming to Medellín's brothels isn't something you do for philosophy or soul searching. You, like so many other customers, are here because you need something. And, like so many others, it seems like the thing you came for is not what the workers here know you actually need. Coming to these women for information had turned into some very real friendships over the course of the few months you have been in Colombia, though that was never your intention for coming to see Freckles and Vanessa in the beginning.

Vanessa stands in front of the mirror, her back to you, long black hair cascading down her back to her bare ass. Plumping her lips, she reapplies the dark pink lipstick that compliments her tawny skin. Dark eyes flickering over to you as you lay in the bed, just as naked. She smirks slightly and goes back to her task. “You never try out any of the men here.” She observes. “Why?”

"Women are better at eating pussy," you reply through a haze of smoke, enjoying the ritual of a post-orgasm cigarette. It's a pithy reply, but telling her the truth feels too vulnerable. Or maybe it's too vulnerable and too dirty. It's probably both.

She snorts. “Then you haven’t met the right kind of men.” She turns around, her nudity something that she’s completely unashamed of, especially with someone that she had just fucked. “One of my favorite pussy eaters will be here later.”

"I hope I'm on that list, too." The grin you flash her is playful, not serious in the least, although you do hope she doesn't dread seeing you come through the door as a customer. Just because you like to chat afterward and have occasionally spent time together outside of these walls doesn't mean you're at the top of her client list.

“Favorite male pussy eater.” She clarifies, walking over to you and leaning down to press her newly colored lips to yours and steal a puff of your cigarette. “Surprisingly attentive. But you are my favorite customer overall.”

"You flatter me." Careful not to smudge her lipstick, you shift slightly on the bed to offer her a place to lounge if she wants to. Vanessa is one of the only people you don't mind laying around entirely naked with – she's been upfront with you about her love of plump women and made you feel very beautiful along with it.

She lays down and passes the filtered Marlboro back to you. It’s nice to have the American cigarettes when you are here. She sighs softly. “La Quica was here a few days ago.” She tells you quietly, her fingers finding the meat of your thigh and she caresses it gently.

"In a mood, or feeling cocky?" You ask, running the fingers of your free hand through her hair. She likes the soothing motion and it helps you think. Whenever La Quica comes by he either crows like a cartoon bird or he broods and ends up scaring the shit out of some of the girls.

“Freckles is…recovering.” She admits, her jaw tense and teeth clenched together. “Which is going to put Javier in a mood when he finds out.”

"Javier's your other pussy eater?" The gentle question comes with filing away the information that you should go and check on Freckles before you leave today.

She hums in agreement and sighs, flipping onto her side and watching her fingers as they move over your skin. “He’s another American. DEA.”

The way you have to put decided effort into not tensing or physically reacting to this information in any way leaves your blood feeling like ice. While you might not spend the majority of your day-to-day at the American Embassy, you surely spend enough time there gathering quotes and following leads to know who Javier the American DEA agent is. Swallowing down the information and filing it away for later, you stub out the butt of your cigarette and bend your leg to give Vanessa something to lean against. "Oh yeah? Another American?" You force some amusement into your voice and smirk at her teasingly. "I think you might have a type, Nessa."

“You pay more.” She teases back, smirking as she slides her hand up to cup your cunt. “Of course I like Americans.”

"Clever," you tease, rolling your eyes at her like she's told a joke instead of making an incredibly practical decision.

Laughing, her hand drifts up to your breast. “Don’t be offended.” She huffs. “I like you a lot more than most of the people who pay for my time.”

"I'm not offended," you tell her honestly. "It's good decision making if nothing else." The threat of an incoming casual acquaintance does make you think twice about hanging around though, and you glance at your watch on the nightstand before leaning over to kiss her again. "You're more than just my favorite fuck, Nessa," you assure her with a wink. "You're also my friend, and I'm not going to begrudge you the chance to make as much money as you can off whoever walks through that door."

She can tell you are ready to get dressed. There’s an impatience to most Americans when they are restless. An undercurrent to their tone, even in Spanish. You and Javier are very much alike in that way, which is ironic.

Sitting up, you pause for a moment before leaning back again to look her in the eyes. “Is Freckles okay? Really?” La Quica can be…well, violent is being generous. And the sicarios tend to view working girls as punching bags as much as anything else.

“She will be.” Vanessa promises, sitting up and climbing off the bed again. “Helena is looking after her. The girls are all pitching in to pay for anything she needs.”

That makes you frown, and you reach for your purse. Pulling out double the money you would usually pay and handing it to Vanessa, you shake your head when she sighs softly in reticence. "Take it," you insist, still holding out the bills. "The least I can do is contribute to the funds."

“You don’t need to do that.” She reluctantly takes it after you refuse to take half of it back. “I’ll give it to Freckles.” She promises.

“If I knew a doctor or a nurse I could trust, I’d bring them in and foot the bill myself.” Not having that resource when they clearly need it needles at you, but there is quite nothing you can do about it in this moment. “If she ends up needing more, or needing a doctor, will you promise to tell me?” Even if Vanessa promises there is only a fifty or so percent chance she’ll actually do it, but your concern stands.

“I will.” Vanessa sighs as she puts the cash away in a drawer. It’s dangerous to leave money out when another client could come in. Especially American dollars. “We took her to the clinic the nuns run. They need nurses but it was better than no one.”

“Good.” You’re swift to dress — a basic personal uniform of panties, bra, jeans, and a blouse never needing much fuss. It does get you a few odd looks when you go around the embassy in denim but to most of the employees there you’re that journalist already anyway. “Is it okay if I come around again in a few days to check on my favorite girls?” If La Quica got physical there was a reason for his anger. Some of the other girls might be next, and if that happens you want to know.

“You never need to ask if you can come by.” Vanessa turns and sends you a sultry smirk and a wink. Even though the sex is nothing more than a business transaction, she enjoys spending time with you. Plus there were interesting conversations with the girls about the two Americans that visit this brothel.

"I don't want you guys to start dreading my appearance." It's easy to brush it off with a wink and a smile. You both do it. Freckles does it. Helena does it. You've met a million men in your life who do it. A wink and a smile lets everything slide off your back – until the middle of the night when every awful though comes back to haunt you. But for now you grab your purse and lean over to give Vanessa one more kiss before she lights another cigarette. "See you later, Nessa."

“Later, love.” Her relationship with you is complicated and easy. You fuck, you talk, you go about your day. The fact that she knows more about you than you know about yourself is a non-issue right now. “You should go on a date.” She calls out with a laugh. “You’re too pretty to pay all the time.”

"Easier said than done, gorgeous!" You call back, and wave once before turning down the hallway that leads to the front door.

Taking a drag off her cigarette, she smiles as she blows out the smoke at the ceiling. If you only knew how alike you were to your soulmate, you would hate it.

******

The sun has set while you've been inside. Going to see Vanessa was a spur of the moment decision after a lead on a story didn't pan out and you had decided that fucking away your frustration was the way to go. Now, as you slip out the front door of the brothel and out of the gate to where you parked your junker of a car up the street, Bogotá is starting to take on its second life. There will be plenty of noise and people dancing the night away at the restaurant two floors under your apartment, and the white noise of an active city will lull you to sleep tonight just like it has for your whole life.

Javier Peña steps out of his Jeep, pulling at his belt slightly from where the jeans don’t sit quite right and shakes his hand as he walks towards the brothel. Feeling jittery and slightly needy as he steps in the familiar path. Helena couldn’t come to him for some reason, busy with her kid or something, so he had decided to take her up on her suggestion to visit Vanessa. She is a good time as well and normally had information to sell. The woman walking towards him looks familiar, but he can’t place where he’s seen her, striding by confidently with her purse firmly in hand. She doesn’t even spare him a glance but he can’t help but twist his head around and watch the curvy ass bounce past him tauntingly, making his cock twitch in his jeans as he imagines what it would be like to push inside her. Fuck. He needs to get laid.

"Hey, Javi." One of the newer girls is milling around in the front room when he comes in, but new or otherwise, all the girls have heard about the American DEA agent with deep pockets and a taste for their company. They're also always told that he has favorites, but every one of the new girls thinks they could be his new favorite if they just try.

“Hey…” he scrounges for her name. “Rita.” He sends her an easy smile and looks around to see if he can spot Vanessa. Rita is pretty, but he’s certain that Helena pointed him towards Vanessa for a reason. “‘Nessa with a client or she available?” He asks, looking back at the other girl with an assessing look. She’s a little young for him, but she’s pretty.

Rita's smile droops instantly, and she huffs as she turns to move behind the bar that they keep stocked in the front room. "Her last customer just left," she tells Javi, and points toward Vanessa's room.

“Thanks.” He nods at her, aware that she’s pouty that he’s not letting her take him to her room, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he walks down the hall towards the brightly painted door. This brothel is nicer than some, almost elegant. Shuffling slightly, he wishes he had a cigarette as he knocks.

"Come in!" Vanessa hasn't bothered to get dressed since you left, just thrown on a thin robe and tidied up the bed to sprawl out on it for a while until Javi comes by.

Javi quickly opens the door, eyes immediately drinking in the casual pose and skimpy clothing and hums in approval. “Vanessa.”

"Javier." She purrs his name happily, shifting on the bed to turn subtly in his direction but also so she can watch his eyes drag down to her cunt as she spreads her legs. He looks hungry today. "Come all the way in, handsome."

The door is kicked closed behind him and he’s not wearing a jacket, so it’s one less thing to shuck as he starts to undress. Obviously Vanessa knows why he’s here, but her cunt is slick with arousal and he wonders if she was playing with herself before he showed up.

Hungry. She was right. Vanessa pushes up onto her knees on the mattress and tangles her fingers in Javi's shirt. It pulls him closer but also helps him undress faster, which is something he clearly needs tonight. "Did you miss me that much, baby?" She hums, running her other palm along his chest as soon as his skin is bared.

He almost rolls his eyes at the endearment, but he doesn’t. He knows some men like their egos stroked, but he would rather she pay attention to his cock. Leaning forward, he answers her with a kiss, hot and urgent as his hands peel the robe off her lithe body. Suddenly thinking about the rounded curves on the woman he had passed coming in.

Alright. No need for verbal foreplay this time. Vanessa checks that effort off the list and haul Javi into her bed. He'll fuck first and talk later if he even needs to talk at all, so she pushes him down on his back and works open his jeans to have his cock in her hands as fast as he needs it.

The girls here always give him what he needs and he breaks away from her lips to start kissing down her chest to take a nipple into his mouth. He loves sex, losing himself in it and finding that it blocks out the doubt, the worry. The guilt. It’s forgotten as he chases that bliss that settles into his bones after an orgasm.

His jeans go, tossed on the floor without a second thought just like his shirt, and Vanessa doesn’t care about it either. Javi never wears underwear so it’s always directly to the point — his cock in her mouth and down her throat, fingers wrapped around the base until he grunts and twitches on her tongue. That’s when he pulls her off and gets her on her hands and knees instead, fucking the life and sense out of her as he tries to block out whatever demons follow so closely at his heels that he has been running from them every day for years without gaining any ground. In other moods, he’ll take his time or have her different ways. But when he’s hungry like this it’s always animalistic and needy. With Javi, she and Freckles and Helena don’t have to fake their noises. Or their orgasms. But they do have to fake nonchalance about his life. They know far more than he realizes.

His fingers slide between the folds of her sex and he groans. “So wet.” He quickly coats them in the slick and pushes two thick fingers deep inside her, loving way her breath catches in her throat. “I know it’s not for me.” He hums, flicking his tongue over her nipple. “But I’m going to use it.”

“She always gets wet for you, Javi.” Vanessa promises him, and that isn’t bluster. Some of their clients require more than a fair share of lube just to make things palatable. Javi? Not at all. He might be paying but he’s still giving pleasure while he takes it.

He snorts, smirking slightly at the curve of her breast as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. “Have you cum today?” He wants to know so he can make sure that if she’s hadn’t, he would make her cum more than once.

“T—twice.” His long fingers reach deeper inside her than yours had and Vanessa’s head tips back on a moan so he can hear her loud and clear.

“Hmmmm.” Javier isn’t jealous, he has no reason or right to be. She isn’t his. “Good, sweetheart. Then you can cum for me and then I won’t feel bad about putting your legs up on my shoulders and making you soak your bed.”

She doesn’t doubt that he could do it. He’s made Freckles cum so hard her vision whited out, and Helena had told them the story of a time she had gone to his place for a marathon session when he was particularly frustrated about something to do with work. She doesn’t doubt him, but she’s also not asking for any miracles. “Whatever you want to do,” she reminds him, voice strained just a touch from the angle her head is tipped back at.

He knows that’s how the game is played, but he doesn’t particularly like when his partners don’t enjoy themselves. “Good girl.” He murmurs, taking advantage of her head being pressed back into the pillow as he works her cunt on his fingers. His kisses have a little bit of teeth to them. Not enough to mark, but scrapes to hear her moan when he drags his teeth over her pulse. “Your cunt feels so good around my fingers, beautiful.”

“It’ll feel even better around your cock,” she reminds him, sighing happily with the next thrust of his hand and wrapping her own back around his hard on.

“I know it will.” He growls, working her on his fingers as he feels the need start to build in his body. Waiting will make it even more relaxing when he finally cums. Pouring out his frustrations and fears into the willing body of this beautiful woman and quieting the doubts that rattle around in his head.

Javier Peña fucks, and paid or otherwise, everyone who had ever gone to bed with him know this. The only emotions he is consciously pouring out areas the frustrations of the day and a desperate need to feel, so the woman in his arms is always going to feel him just as deeply as he feels his frustrations. Vanessa’s hips jerk against his palm, writhing with the tempo of his ministrations, until she gladly throws her head back to keen his name for at least the first time tonight.

He loves women. Their smell, their sounds, the way they tremble under a touch that is making them quiver in pleasure. “Cum for me.” He still thinks about that other woman, the thicker woman from the street. Wondering if she had been here. He pushes that thought away when Vanessa clenches down around his fingers again. “That’s it.”

"Fuck, Javi." She'll give him the satisfaction of seeing her all sprawled out and panting for him for a few seconds before she moves again. It isn't hard, after all. The two clients she's had today are her favorites for a reason.

His wet fingers caress her hip before he’s turning her onto her stomach and pulling her to her knees. “Beautiful.” He groans, bending down to kiss along her back.

"And now you've got this pretty pussy dripping all over again," she purrs, looking back at him over her shoulder.

His cock lines up easily and he snaps his hips forward to buried himself deep, knowing she can take it. “Fuck.” He hisses, loving how her cunt squeezes him tight. “Fuck.”

Not so long as to be painful, but long enough and thick enough to make her feel incredibly feel, Vanessa rolls her hips back to him and lowers herself onto her elbows to brace herself against whatever pace he decides to set. "Feels so fucking good, baby." She loves not having to lie or perform, the time she spends with Javi is much more desirable for it.

He gives her a moment, knowing that he is girthy enough to need to adjust to him. It doesn’t matter how many men she fucks daily. He groans and twitches inside her. “So good, sweetheart.” He hums. “So good.”

Vanessa lets him set the pace once she's adjusted to the feel of him inside her, rocking back into his hips and letting out an encouraging moan. If Javi needs to relieve his stress, she will happily help him with that. He doesn’t start out full tilt. Letting the pace build until the slap of his hips against her ass is just as loud as his grunts, her muffled cries. Every thrust a release for him and making him pull back quicker. Losing himself in her body.

The rhythm of their bodies and creak of the shaking bed weave a kind of hypnotic trance for both of them, letting them dissolve into animalistic sounds of greed and need without any need for traditional vocabulary. It's the perfect escape from thought – something everyone needs at least once in a while. Only the smell of sex and sweat and the sound of fucking fills their senses as Javi and Vanessa work to fuck each other breathless.

His fingers dig into her hips, holding her steady as he plows into her. Watching her ass bounce and shake from the force of his thrusts. It’s not going to last too much longer from the way his body is start to prime itself and he hunches over her, sliding fingers to her clit to rub that sensitive little nub.

Vanessa's panting picks up, her back bowed and her cheek against the crumpled blankets while he moves over her at an increasingly frantic pace. He's close and she wants him to take everything he needs on the way.

“Fuck.” Javi hisses, gritting his teeth to hold back. “Come on, Vanessa, give me one more.” He begs. “Cum for me.”

She's close enough that his next thrust pushes a groan out of her along with a whimper of assent, and if he were the kind of man who was into that she would be calling him Papí and begging him to let her cum. Javi has never been much for permissions or honorifics, though. There's an honesty to the fierocity that he fucks with that Vanessa appreciates.

“Fuck, that’s it, cum. Cum!” He growls, pulling her upright and holding her against his body as his thrusts sharply into her.

The force of his thrusts and the change in angle pushes her over the edge with a rapturous cry, and Vanessa clings to his arm to make sure she doesn't fall over as he chases his own orgasm with unyielding thrusts. The gush of her cunt makes him moan in her ear. Eyes closing in bliss as he gives in to the needs of his body and thrusts deep a final time. Pouring hot waves of himself into her body as he wrings himself dry.

"Fuck, Jav." Vanessa laughs, her legs wobbling as he hangs onto her and keeps them both upright. It just a minute they'll tip over and end up sharing a cigarette sprawled out on her bed, which makes it the second time today that she'll have done that with a client.

“You’ll have to give me a minute if you want to go again.” Javier pants in her ear, smirking and kissing her lobe gently to make up for the marks of his teeth that were made while he was cumming. He tends to bite unconsciously but always soothes it away.

"Take your time." She chuckles, stretching luxuriously as they both plop down on the mattress to catch their breath.

He chuckles and pats her hip as he eases out of her. Sighing in satisfaction and staring up at the ceiling.

There is enough routine here – enough knowledge of each other – that Vanessa reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a cigarette and her lighter, savoring the first drag herself before handing it over to Javi. If he wants to talk he will, and he almost always does. But sometimes he enjoys a few minutes to just think of nothing, so she won't take that from him.

The cigarette is gladly accepted, breathed into his lungs and he lets the nicotine spreads through his system and mellows him even more. “I didn’t see Freckles or Helena.” He observes quietly.

"Freckles is...resting." Enigmatic replies don't go far with Javi, Vanessa knows that, but since she knows he's going to be angry she hopes that he'll just accept it for once. Highly unlikely, of course, but a girl can hope.

He catches the hesitation and he braces himself for the answer to the question that he will ask. “Who?” He asks simply, knowing she will understand what he means.

Vanessa sighs, pinching her eyes shut and wishing she hadn't said anything. "La Quica."

Javier tenses, his hand that had been stroking her thigh freezes. “Bad?”

"She'll be okay." She will. At least that isn't a lie or simply wishful thinking. Freckles will be fine. But right now she doesn't look it.

Javi turns his head and his eyes bore into hers, gauging the truth in them. “What set him off?” He asks, sitting up and reaching for his pants.

"He was too drunk to keep it up and he blamed it on her." It's not as though he was the first client to have that problem by any means, or the first to be angry about it, or the first to take it out on the girl he had hired. La Quica just has a particular ability to always take things too far. "It's not like it's a new problem around here."

He knows that. The girls have a dangerous job and some of the unfortunate ones had paid the highest price when their client got too angry, or vicious. He clenches his jaw as he pulls out his wallet and pulls out several folded hundred-dollar bills. “Give this to her.” He tells Vanessa, twisting around to hand her the money.

"Javi..." She shakes her head, it being the second time today that she's been offered far too much money to help Freckles by someone who technically owes the girls nothing.

“Take it.” He waves it towards her again. It will all be expensed out anyway. Why not let some of Uncle Sam’s money go where it can actually help for once? She reluctantly takes it and Javi relaxes slightly. “My partner’s wife is a nurse.” He offers. “I could bring Freckles to her.” From what he’s seen from Steve Murphy, he would never let his pretty little wife near a brothel, but he could have her come to his apartment.

"Between you and–" Vanessa shuts her mouth and shakes her head again, but tucks the bills away in the same drawer where she put your donation to Freckles' well being. "We have enough to pay." She tells him, grateful that he would offer regardless. "It doesn't have to be a charity case."

“It’s not charity.” Javier steps into his jeans and pulls them up over his hips, tucking his cock away. The idea of another round was killed by the grim realities of the professions they work in. He wonders who she had been about to say, but figures it might be another regular. “You also need to put some away for when this isn’t an option.”

"What do Americans call it?" She looks up at him as he dresses and wishes the relaxed bubble of post-orgasm relaxation hadn't been popped so abruptly. "A rainy day fund?"

“Slush fund.” Javi huffs in amusement, turning towards her and deciding to sit back down and leans in to kiss her.

"That's it." The returned kiss is soothing. Appreciative. And slightly amused. "I knew I had heard something like that." From her other American regular customer. And what an irony that is.

“You should relax the rest of the night.” Javi murmurs, stealing one last kiss before he pulls away again. Needing to get dressed and see Carillo.

"I'll try." It's nice of him to suggest it, but she does have to work if someone shows up for her. That's how the job works.

Once he’s dressed, gun reattached to his hip, Javi reaches out and pinches her chin softly. “Be good.” He murmurs, winking at her before he turns around to walk out of her room.

"Never." Vanessa calls back, shaking her head a little as he strolls out into the hall and settling back on her bed. She'll clean up and then go and check on Freckles, but she's going to allow herself a second to breathe first.

Javi’s easy smile slips into a frown as he steps out of the brothel. The dim lap light makes him look even more forbidding as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. Taking a drag as he looks around the deserted street and then marches towards his jeep with the determined gait of a man on a mission.

******

A bare five minute later, Vanessa taps lightly on Freckles' door, the four rhythmic knocks letting the girls inside know it's one of them and not a customer. Helena opens the door a crack with worry in her eyes, but relaxes the second she sees Vanessa in her robe. "You've had a busy day," she observes, stepping back to let the other woman in and shutting the door tight behind her.

“Both of our favorite customers.” She snorts and walks towards the bed. Freckles looks horrible, her face still swollen and the bruises garish on her normally beautiful features. She sits down and takes her friend’s hand. “They both are upset you are ‘ill’.” She tells the other girl.

"Javi must be pissed if you told him the truth," Freckles observes, resting amongst her pillows and grateful for the respite of a few days to heal. Yesterday even talking was excruciating.

“I think that’s an understatement.” Vanessa murmurs, pulling the money out of her pocket and pressing it into Freckles’ hand. “Both of them were angry, but Javier left before round two.”

"That's furious in Javi terms." Helena leans over, inspecting the bills, and bites her lips when she looks back at Vanessa. "Both of them?" She asks, seeing the amount there.

She nods, shaking her head with a small chuckle. “So goddamn alike it’s almost comical.”

"Have they ever even met?" They haven't that Helena can remember, but it's not as though she keeps close tabs on either of them.

“Not that I know of.” She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know if they want to meet.” All three women have heard their views on soulmates.

"What if we want them to meet?" Freckles sips a glass of water and laughs at the very thought of it. "Can you imagine? Running into each other here of all places?"

The other two women laugh, knowing that each of you would be defensive for different reasons. “They might have seen each other on the street.” Vanessa admits. “She left right before Javi got here.”

"Does she even like men?" It had astonished Helena the first time she'd seen the matching marks for herself, but the fact of soulmates is pretty undeniable when it's right in front of her nose. "She always sees one of the three of us. I don't think I've ever even heard her talk about a man."

“She said that women are better pussy eaters, so I assume she has some male reference.” Vanessa laughs. “I don’t know for sure though.”

"And she's absolutely not wrong." Helena steals a drink of Freckles' water and lays back with Vanessa on her other side. "At least she won't be disappointed in her soulmate if they ever end up in bed together."

“I love the days Javi wants to go down on me.” Vanessa agrees. “Normally he wants me to ride after too.”

"You've got a thumbprint bruise blooming on your hip, baby." Helena observes with a tilt of her head. "Was he already worked up when he came in? He normally doesn't get rough otherwise."

“A little.” She admits with a grin. “It was more of a work up to that fast and furious pace that makes you squeal.”

"I almost hope that man never leaves the country." As much as she is trying to work things out and get away herself, Helena still has her doubts that it will pan out. In the meantime? She is very much appreciative of the few clients like Javi they have in their lives.

“I know, he has you come over to his apartment.” Vanessa nudges the other woman’s foot playfully. “Is it messy?”

“No messier than he is here.” Helena shrugs. Once, on a night that has become a very fun story that she keeps for just herself and her closest friends, Javi had actually made her squirt. That was messy.

“So….a little rough around the edges but mostly contained.” Freckles hums. “He’s probably the one man I could see falling for. As stupid as that is.”

“We’d all be in a hell of a lot of trouble if we let ourselves think like that,” Helena points out, despite having had the same thought more times than she cares to admit.

“I know, which is why I don’t let myself think like that unless things are really bad.” Right now, things are bad for her, so it’s a nice little escape.

“You dream all you want right now, honey.” Vanessa urges, soothing one hand over Freckles’ thigh in gentle strokes. “While I’m thinking of it…” she looks between the other girls. “Javi’s partner’s wife is a nurse. Said we can bring you to her to get you checked out. I honestly don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Is it that bad?” Freckles ask, having been afraid to look in the mirror at the damage.

“I think you’ll heal just fine, sweetheart,” Vanessa assures her, her soothing hand doubling down on gentle gestures. “But she might be able to help with pain. Or getting it to settle down and heal faster. And…nicer.” They work in a job where their beauty is an asset, and it would not be the first time that a customer’s brutality left one of the girls without that particular asset, making it harder for her to work.

“Hopefully she’s not a bitch.” Freckles sigh, resigned to the fact that it would be a good idea. “Or think we are fucking her husband.”

“I don’t think he would have suggested it if he thought she would be a bitch to us,” Helena points out, though it might be wishful thinking.

“He doesn’t tolerate much shit.” Vanessa adds, wishing she had some alcohol to help them relax.

Helena nods, knowing that’s true, and adds: “And if she turns out to be a cunt? We’ll leave.”

“I will call him.” Helena offers, shooting them both a smile. “And maybe he will want me to stay after.” She jokes.

“Maybe.” Vanessa smiles, knowing that Helena is attached and that some of the girls suspect Javi might even be a little attached to her. Mostly the whispers are jealous, but Vanessa tries not to be.

Freckles hums and when she twists to get comfortable, she groans in pain. “I— if you think it’s alright.” She concedes softly.

“You should rest, honey.” Vanessa coos softly. “Helena will call Javi and find out when we can take you to the nurse. We’ll get you better in no time.”

Nodding, the injured woman closes her eyes and sighs softly, trying to relax.

******

It's past dark when you get home, the nightlife of Bogotá coming alive around you as the city pours out onto the streets to celebrate the night of another day. The club on the ground floor of your building has just opened for the night, and you slip past the bouncer with a friendly wave to have a drink and say hello before heading upstairs to solitude for the night. You do have work to do, but it's nice to at least see Inez and soak up a little of the atmosphere before it gets too busy. The crowds won't be out in earnest for another few hours.

Before you even sit down at the bar, there is a drink in front of you. Inez smiling at you as she leans back to grab her rag and wipe up a little of the condensation from another patron’s beer bottle. “Surprised to see you here.” She hums.

“I was feeling social.” Is your excuse, but it’s more like you know you’re probably going to be hunched over your typewriter for a while and you wanted something nice before resigning yourself to that fate. “Besides. You make the best Coco Loco in Bogotá, why would I miss out on that?”

“You shouldn’t.” She snorts, watching as you pick up the glass and take a sip. She likes the hum of approval you give and when your drink is already halfway down, she pours the rest of the drink from the mixer into the glass. “What have you been up to today?”

“Work. Mostly.” Even your stop to see Vanessa could technically be considered work since you learned a bit about the tone of what’s going on with the sicarios lately. “I have to write something up to send to my editor.”

“They can’t expect you to come down, spend a week and have the story of the year, can they?” Inez snorts, not sure why Americans are so interested in Colombia. She enjoys you being here, but it’s strange to think of how involved they are with her country.

“I need at least a few inches to prove it’s worth the expense of bankrolling me down here.” After about a month in the country you’ve only managed to send back copies of your notes and drafts of actual article inches. You’re working at it, but the story down here is so much larger than you thought that it’s taking time to get all the puzzle pieces together.

“Have you given any thought to my idea?” She asks, certain you have already dismissed it.

“Actually, I did.” Inez had been the one to suggest that the working girls of the city might have far more information than some others because of braggarts with wagging tongues. And she was very right. “They’ve been my best source so far, so thank you for that. Most of my running around the past few days has been following up on things they told me.” You’ve also been a paying customer since the suggestion was put to you, but your neighbor doesn’t necessarily need to know that. Inez has been a good friend but if you didn’t live across the hall from her she probably wouldn’t have given you a second thought, which is fine.

“Good.” She smirks slightly and shrugs. “They are a good group of girls. Just have some shitty luck.”

“Everybody has shitty luck sometimes. Nobody deserves to get judged for it.” You shrug a little, enjoying the alcoholic bite of the coconut cocktail. “Or judged for what their job is. And those girls get plenty of bullshit. I promise you, they’re not getting any grief from me.”

Another customer comes up to the bar, so Inez quickly shifts over to them, a bright smile and quick smatter of small talk to hopefully get better tips.

There isn’t much business yet, which is normal, but you take a few minutes to survey the early arrivals. There is a group of women that comes twice every week without fail — coworkers, a group between three or even six of them who come to each dinner and stay until the party picks up. You’ve figured out from eavesdropping and the types of clothes they arrive in that their office closes just as the club opens. A pair of men that you’ve seen before files in after them. They’ve been here twice before but tonight they look far more excited than the previous visits. Good for them, you think, smiling to yourself when you see their hands brush and fingers twine momentarily as they sit down in a booth.

The man who just sat two stools down from you at the bar is new. Or at least new to you. Inez bats her eyelashes and flirts, making an art of mixing his drink and gets a large bill handed to her in return. She winks as she walks away, back in your direction.

Sliding to a stop in front of you, she turns her head to make sure the man is occupied with the mirror over the bar that gives him a sweeping view of the place. “CIA.” She murmurs quietly, motioning over to him.

“Seriously?” You’ve seen them around the embassy but not often enough or close up enough that you would recognize one of them out in the wild. Clearly.

“Mmmmhmmmm.” She glances over at him again. “Maybe I should introduce you? Or you think you can manage that yourself?”

Glancing to your side again, you consider what better or worse end might come from that kind of thing and hum to yourself quietly. "If nobody shows up for him before his next round," you murmur to Inez, swirling the watery remains of your own drink. "Put the next one on my tab and tell him I sent it. We'll see if that gets him talking."

She smirks and nods. “You are a smart girl.” She promises before looking past you to take the ticket from on of the waitresses that work the booths.

"I do my best," you sigh as she walks away, but sometimes it really feels like your best just isn't enough.

The club starts to fill up, the music gradually increasing until it’s a thumping rhythm showcasing the hottest dance music. Bodies start to move, but the man next to you just watches the mirror.

“Waiting for someone?” It’s a risk. Chatting someone up at a bar is always a risk. But considering you know what he does, you’re going to switch to English and how he feels infatuated to talk to you just by virtue of being a compatriot.

It’s always intriguing to hear English, so he turns to look at you. Knowing that he recognizes you from somewhere around the Embassy. “Not really.” He admits, taking another sip of his drink and glancing at your left hand. “You?”

“Not really.” It’s a crap shoot with men, you’ve found. Whether they’re bothered by the fact that you’re not a stick or willing to go for any old cunt they think they can fuck. Women tend to have more appreciation for a plush figure. Thankfully this CIA agent only seems concerned with the lack of ring on your left hand. Well, that’s fine. “Have I seen you around somewhere?” You ask, turning a little on your stool to be facing him. The fact that you know the answer already doesn’t matter.

“Don’t know, where have you been hanging out?” He asks, catching the cute bartender’s eye and motioning for another round of drinks for you and him.

“I went by the American embassy last week.” Trying to make it seem like nothing so he doesn’t put his walls up in front of a journalist, you shrug and just say, “Paper work” as an excuse.

“Gotcha.” He doesn’t offer up what he does, despite some throwing it around like a badge of honor, he prefers to be low key. “Are you visiting?”

"Trying to find myself," is your enigmatic answer, though it is technically about ninety percent a lie. That wistful, dreamy part of you that read Gabriel García Márquez novels and fantasized about finding love with exotic sunsets in the background in still hoping you might be able to scrounge some truth about yourself out of this assignment. But really? It's work. "You?"

“Work.” He answers simply, nodding towards Inez as she sets two new glasses down in front of you both and grins. “Decided to see what the night life is like here.”

"This place stays busy until all hours of the night. Party music and people dancing, shouting, all of it." Still not quite sure what might get this stalwart CIA agent to crack even a little, to give you anything, you mentally shrug and decide to go for the old standby. The expression on his face wonders how you could know what this place is like – if you're a regular maybe, or just like to haunt the bar here. So you offer, "I rent an apartment upstairs."

“Really?” His interest perks, like a dog that’s caught a scent. He reaches for his drink and sends you a smile. “What’s that like? I bet it’s…noisy.”

"It can be." Bingo. Hooked the fish, you think, prouder of yourself than you probably ought to be. "But sometimes I like to make just as much noise."

“Doubt anyone down here could hear that.” He glances back up at the mirror. “Can you see the bar from up there?”

"You can see the street." It's an odd question, but you don't fight it. "From my living room windows, I mean. The door to get upstairs...and my bedroom...those don't face the street." He's sniffing around for something from you, too. You can feel it. But you're just not sure what.

He nods and leans back to look at you. Assessing you. “So no one can really see you come and go.” He hums. “That’s smart. Safe. A pretty woman like you needs to take precautions.”

Something in his tone doesn't sound entirely sincere, but since you're not either, you're not going to hold it against him. "I'm a city girl," you assure him with a demure smile, pretending like you're hiding being flustered behind your drink as you take a sip. "I know how to look out for myself."

“That’s good.” He sends you a confident smirk. “I’m Alex.” He offers, leaning close. “What’s your name?”

You tell him, though he’ll probably end up calling a condescending ‘sweetheart’ if anything at all, and decide to lean a little closer just to put an edge in the flirtation. He isn’t bad looking, after all, or rude. He hasn’t been misogynistic to you tonight or haughty. He just seems quite bland overall, which isn’t a sin even if it does make something in the back of your mind dread the idea of seeing your soulmate’s scars on him when his shirt comes off later. The tattoo on his thigh. Your own scars marking memories that your soulmate would have felt but never shared.

Nope. Stop thinking about shit like that. Soulmates are for saps.

“That’s a beautiful name.” He admits, taking another sip of his drink and repeats it. “Do you want to talk somewhere a little quieter?” He asks suggestively.

“I think I know a place.” Pointedly looking up to the ceiling, you slip the strap of your purse onto your shoulder and slide gracefully off of your stool. Inez has been keeping one eye on you, and you give her a subtle nod to promise her that everything is okay as your new friend Alex shifts onto his own feet.

Alex pulls out his wallet and puts down the money for the drinks and a hearty tip. Wanting to make sure that the bartender stays warm to him. This club is important and he needs to be welcomed.

"Have a good night." Inez calls you by name, wanting there to be no mistake that if anything even vaguely out of the ordinary happens to you or around you, she will know and she will know who is responsible.

"Night," you call back, allowing yourself to be lead out of the club, though you know you'll have to lead the way from there.

“Have you been here long?” Alex asks as you lead him towards the stairs to your apartment. It’s ingenious to say the least and he’s glad he had sat at the bar tonight rather than a booth.

"About a month." The charming smile on your lips as you head up the stairs around the tight corner of the club's back hall is girlish. Smitten. And a put on. You're still wondering if he's going to spill the fac that he's CIA or if you're going to have to hope he talks in his sleep. "It's not a lot of space, but I'm just one girl." One girl who typically has all of her work spread out on nearly every surface in the apartment. Thank god you went on frustration-induced cleaning bender yesterday.

“I don’t like having a lot of space if it’s just me.” Alex admits, looking around the small little hallways for any type of security. “More to clean.”

“That’s true, I guess. Smaller is easier.” As you lead the way up the stairs, a large caramel-colored lump on the top of the stairs starts to growl menacingly and lift its sizable head. Teeth bare at the sight of a man behind you, but you hustle up the stairs and coo gently to the enormous mastiff in a sweet voice. “Hey Chi-Chi. How’s my girl?” Immediately the dog stands, bumping her head into the hand you’ve reached out toward her and snuggling into you for pets. She is a living security system that really loves snuggles.

“Yours?” Alex stopped at the first growl, watching warily as the size of the dog is revealed. She’s obviously a big breed and doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

“My landlady,” you explain, still coping at the enormous dog in a mix of English and Spanish that she is obviously used to and enjoys. “There are a few single women in this building, so she taught her dog to sleep on the stairs and guard us. Didn’t she, Chi-Chi baby?” It’s a good system, and you smother the dog’s large head in kisses one more time before coming back down a few stairs and bringing Alex forward by the hand. “She hates men.” Is your casual addition to the thought as you lead him down a short hallway.

“All the time?” He asks, looking behind him at the dog as he expects her to attack him. “Or just those she doesn’t know?”

“If you come around more than once, I’ll teach her to like you.” Something tells you to very much doubt it, but you just try to toss him a semi-charming smile while you dig in your purse for the key to your apartment.

“Well I guess it all depends on how tonight goes, hmm?” He asks, stepping closer and grabbing hold of your thick hips. “If you invite me back.”

“I guess you better impress me.” When your fingers close around your keys at the same time his find your hips, you look back over your shoulder and find a little smirk curling in the corner of your mouth. “Good start.”

He chuckles as you open the door, shuffling in behind you and he nudges it closed with his foot. “Then let’s see where we go from here.”

Inside the door, you drop your purse and keys on the side table, flip the lock on the door so you won’t be disturbed, and finally turn around in Alex’s arms to let your fingers trail through the hair on the back of his neck. “Let’s see,” you agree, already feeling his shoulders drop as he bends down to press his lips to yours. No pre-destined bullshit or obligation in sight, the fact that he isn’t your soulmate speaks to you. Your life. Your choice. And tonight the choice is him.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo

My Masterlist!

[itsfairly]

I loved your latina reader fanfic's so much (especially since I rarely see any and I thank you soooo much)!! So I was wondering if you can write another Nanami fanfic with a latina reader in which she shows him to her family (when they are both attending Jujutsu high as teenagers?). Her mother is a bit skeptical, like all latina mothers are but loves Nanami!

Meeting Over Dinner // Teen!Nanami Kento x Latina! Fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

cw: teen!nanami, fem!reader, teen!reader, established relationship, fluff, untranslated Spanish (like four lines or less), not proofread, use of reader as a name.

summary: Nanami and you have been dating for a while, which means that eventually, you have to bring him to your parents. Yet, everyone knows how parents can be quite picky about their children's partner when meeting them for the first time.

a/n: this took me a while to write, but i am so excited since this is my first ask! thank you @erigaur for dropping a message and for enjoying these latine!reader fics, i enjoy writing them as well! this is also my first time writing for teen!Nanami, so a couple of first happening today with this one. Hope you all enjoy this one!

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

There comes a time that every person in a relationship fears—meeting your partner’s parents and having your partner meet your parents. Unfortunately, you and Nanami had reached that point and you couldn’t avoid it any longer from your side.

It took a while before the two of you even became a couple due to how different your cultures were. Whereas his culture was pretty restrained and his reserved nature did not make his feelings easy to see, your culture was indulgent and it made you seem like a social butterfly, trying to strike up a conversation whenever you could rather than someone who had a huge crush on him. Neither of you noticed that glint in each other’s eyes that appeared every time you talked. Lucky for the two of you, Haibara did and decided to play matchmaker.

He saw the way Nanami would try to talk to you when all students hung out despite always keeping to himself in such outings and the way you would always offer your food to him first without fail. Most importantly, he saw the way you two always denied your feelings for the other with that same glint. It took a few sneaky moves and the help of his seniors, which was basically stopping Gojo from teasing the two of you when alone, but eventually, you and Nanami started dating.

But dating was a special topic in your family. One that you were constantly reminded of every time you had a family reunion.

After countless times of hearing your aunts asking you “¿y el novio?”, you were finally able to say you started seeing someone. Least to say, your family became curious the minute you revealed this information and not only started to ask you about him but also teased you. You would talk about your day and they would see how you smiled when you mentioned Nanami. They would tease you with squeals and knowing glances at how smitten you looked. You would tell them you were going out and suddenly you had a billion questions regarding your plans with your boyfriend. After a couple of months, they knew you were getting pretty serious about this boy, turning the teasing into nagging about when they would meet him.

Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, you invited Nanami to have dinner at your house, which brings us to this moment with you and Nanami walking to your house. You were quite surprised at how collected he seemed to be about this, which assured you that things would go smoothly since he has always been able to hold his own. However, on the inside, Nanami was freaking out. He wanted to make a good impression on your parents, especially your father. He really really liked you and knew he had to show your father that he was worthy of dating you.

“Listen, if at any point you feel uncomfortable, just tell me. I’ll keep you up with whatever they say in Spanish but don’t think too much if they speak it. They are just more comfortable speaking it.” You told him, a small crease on your forehead as you prepared him for his whole dinner.

Nanami sighs, looking at the door before him. Though he was nervous, it was more obvious how you kept repeating the same warnings that did nothing but grow those nerves of yours the more you went around in circles with your thoughts. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a small squeeze.

“I’ll do my best to show the best me, okay? You don’t need to worry about me embarrassing you.”

He was really sweet in trying to assure you. But to you, Nanami was not the one you were worried about. But you didn’t want to give him any more reasons to worry him now that the two of you were at the steps of your front door. Instead, you flash him a small smile, finding some comfort in his words from how he is trying to calm you down. It was sweet. “I know you won’t. Just don’t let their words get to you.”

You open the front door, making your way into your home and holding the door open for Nanami. Taking a deep breath and putting a smile on your face, you announce to your family that you’re home.

The two of you leave your stuff by the front door, making your way to the kitchen where both your mom and dad are busy preparing dinner. When they hear your voice, both of them turn to look at you with a smile on their faces, putting the utensils away and cleaning their hands before making their way to greet you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Nanami watches your parents greeting you home with such warmth that it suddenly makes sense why you are so sweet and lively even during the worst days. Because you came home to such a caring atmosphere. It made him feel nervous, on the other hand, because he was not used to such greetings that seemed too touchy for his liking. He knows that it is one of the cultural differences you have faced in your relationship, but he hopes that your parents can understand that as well as you have.

Your father is the first to greet Nanami, instantly making him feel insecure under his gaze. But the feel of the moment changes quickly when your father smiles gently at Nanami and extends his arm.

“Ah, you must be Nanami, right? We’ve heard a lot about you, it’s really nice that we finally get to meet you.” Your dad beams, his friendliness making Nanami’s earlier expectations of your father completely wrong.

He thought your father would be looking at him with a harsh glare, one that would make him tense on the spot and feel inferior to him. But here he was, relaxing his shoulders as he reached out to your dad’s hand and bowing before him as he greeted him. Maybe your dad wouldn’t be as frightening as he once thought. Not when Nanami could hear the playful chuckle from your dad when he bowed, but he shook it off since he wanted to be respectful.

“I apologize for taking so long to meet you, sir. I should’ve introduced myself the moment I was interested in your daughter.” Nanami says as he straightens up, trying his best to ensure a good impression on your dad.

But once again, your dad laughs, throwing his head back, and lets go of Nanami’s hand. “Sir? No, no. No need to go so far, I do not deserve that much respect, young man.” Your dad said, shaking his hands in front of Nanami to assure him further.

No, your dad was not who Nanami should be worried about like he initially believed. It was the woman before the two of you looking up and down his figure with a polite smile but eyes that were sizing him up the moment he came in. Your mom.

The moment you saw how your mom was looking at Nanami, you could feel your heartbeat accelerate as you tried to make out her reaction to Nanami. You knew the way her eyebrow raised every time you talked about him, impatiently waiting for you to invite him. Your mom was not thrilled to learn you were dating someone who was not Latino, mainly because she wanted to be able to speak to your partner in the language she was most comfortable speaking. Your mom didn’t know much about Nanami other than he was a sorcerer in the same class as you. She was already skeptical of him and how good he would fit into the family.

It is not ideal at all from how her eyes go to his hair first and you mentally curse. Before she could say anything, you decide to beat her to it and speak first.

“Ama, this is Nanami. Nanami, this is my mom.” You say in a cheery tone, hoping that the way your eyes kept darting between each other didn’t give away how nervous you were as you try to make out their reactions to the other.

Nanami extends out his hand to your mom, wanting to greet her with respect. But your mom was surprised when she was already standing there with her arms open, expecting a hug. She looks down at Nanami’s hand, putting down her arms and shaking his hand with a less-than-pleased expression despite her smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss. Your daughter talks a lot about you, thank you for inviting me to your home.” He says, his tone sounding too serious for your mom’s liking.

The bow he does after it does not really help his case either, it makes your mom flash you a look that you interpret as a he does this every time? To which you responded with a tilt of your head and a be respectful, different cultures, remember? look.

She lets go of his hand, still sizing Nanami up and not looking too pleased about it. In her eyes, he was too formal. You knew it was going to happen considering how warm your mom usually is, but you thought she was going to think of it as a sign of respect. After flashing him a smile and clasping her hands together, she tells Nanami.

“Oh don’t mention it, we were excited to meet the boy that had this one so happy.” Her tone, though still warm, wasn’t the one you were used to. It sounded as if she was distracted trying to learn everything about Nanami from his appearance and greeting alone.

Your mom turns to look at you with that raised brow you know too well and asks you, “¿y este es emo o por qué el pelo le tapa la cara?"

“Do you need help setting up the table? I’m sure food’s almost ready since we took a while to get here” You say quickly as you clap your hands together, ignoring your mom’s comment by changing the topic into something that wouldn't involve her being judgemental towards your boyfriend.

Your mom’s eyebrows jump slightly at the conversation change and it does not go unnoticed by you at the way her demeanor is borderline critical of Nanami, practically disapproving of him without really knowing him. You know she was just getting used to seeing you date someone, but you wanted her to be a bit more considerate and kind to him.

Nanami, while oblivious to what your mother said in Spanish, catches the way you so suddenly offered to help with the table. He nods and looks back at your mom, offering his help as well. “Is there any way we can help? After all, it’s only right since you went through the trouble of cooking, miss.”

Your mom looks back at Nanami, looking satisfied-ish at his words despite his formality. She nods, telling them that dinner will be ready as soon as the table is.

As you and Nanami start setting up the table with the glasses and the utensils, you look at him with worried eyes. Your mom is cautious about him, yeah, she was also pretty stuck on the fact you were not dating anyone from your culture. You know she had no ill will. It's just that every person who would meet your parents for the first time would enter an interrogation with your mom. Since Nanami was not just any person and someone you were dating, you were worried she would be harsher on him, especially as someone outside your culture.

“Hey, so,” You started, putting down the forks and knives on each seat of the table, “my mom can be a lot in these meetings. Ask a lot, say a lot, go over the line and all. What I am saying is that you don’t have to answer her questions if they make you uncomfortable.”

Nanami looked at you from the other side of the table. Tonight was different from what he expected. He didn’t know it would be your mom who he had to look out for, nor that you were this worried for him. While it did make him feel more anxious, he walked towards you after setting down the last glass, shaking his head at your words.

“Your mom only wants the best for you.” He says nonchalantly, trying to hide said nerves even though that sigh that escapes his lips snitch on him. “I’m more than okay answering her questions if it means ensuring your parents know that I care about you.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to answer though.” You look at him, placing your hands on the chair and gripping it to calm yourself. you couldn't understand how he could look so collected despite the nerves he felt.

“They are not pressuring me. I’m telling you I want to answer those questions. I was the one who said yes to coming, remember?” Nanami says softly, taking one of your hands and entwining his fingers with yours, giving your hand a small squeeze as he hums. “I’m not only dating their daughter, but I am also someone from outside their culture. If I have to answer a million questions, then I will answer them because I don’t want to miss my chance with this amazing girl just because I didn’t say what my intentions with her are.”

Whatever you were feeling before was gone and replaced with tenderness in your heart. You smile at Nanami, squeezing his hand back as you turn to face him completely. “You think I am amazing?”

“Without a doubt, I definitely would answer a million questions for you, no matter how weird I find them.”

As you giggle at Nanami’s words, your mom is standing at the kitchen’s entryway as she hears the two of you talk. You had that glint in your eyes, both when warning him and when hearing his compliment. You always had that glint when you really liked something, like an ice cream flavor or a toy when you were younger. But it was different somehow, more affectionate and much more hopeful. It was as if all tension left your body and that glint just affirmed such. You looked just as smitten when looking at him than when you talked about him.

Not only that, but she also took the time to look at Nanami. When he came in, she thought he felt indifferent about being here. But when she heard that shaky sigh of his when he comforted you, your mom wasn’t seeing that overly formal kid that bowed before her when he came into her house. She was seeing someone who was putting you before him, that glint in his eye as he talked to you. Your mom was planning on measuring him up, to determine whether this boy was worthy of you and cared about you. But now she wasn’t sure if her questions were that necessary. She would still ask them, but now it was because she was curious rather than cautious of him.

How could she be so critical of him when he was holding your hand so carefully? Or how he seemed as if holding your hand erased all the nerves he felt at the moment? He was just a kid and he seemed to care and feel for you a lot. She couldn’t be disapproving of him now that she saw this.

Your mom returns to the kitchen and announces that the food is ready, serving the plates and bringing them to the table. Nanami quickly offered his help to help your mom bring the tables from the kitchen to the dining table, which your mom accepted with a smile. A genuine one, not a wary one. You noticed the change in her smile, walking to her as she sat down the first two plates. But before you could ask her about it, both your dad and Nanami came back to the table and everyone sat down.

Nanami looks down at the plate before him, recognizing the smell as similar to the food that you have offered him before from your lunch. Deciding that he couldn’t let his whole first impression be based on questions alone, he decided to take a chance and looked up at your mom. With a small smile in an attempt to be as warm as she was with you, he said.

“I’m very excited to try your food, miss.” He lightly tilted his head in your mom’s direction, taking a deep breath to keep his heart from beating any faster from his worry to look good. “Reader always brings very good food as their lunch and is kind enough to share it with me sometimes. I can only imagine it tastes better when just made.”

Your mom looks at Nanami, her fork in the air as she processes what she just heard from the young man. You look at your mom and then at Nanami, whose smile starts to falter as if he feared he said something wrong or as if his comment was too much of a step for your mom. But he quickly relaxes when your mom gently laughs in delight.

“I didn’t know you had tried my food before.” She explains, placing a hand on her chest.

“Well, Reader has tried to show me more of their culture so I could learn about it before we started dating. Yet, food has always been something I enjoyed and they have shared with me the basic dishes. I have tried to follow a few recipes but I am afraid they are never as good as the lunches you prepare for them.”

It was as if a switch flipped in your mom’s brain regarding Nanami, smiling so brightly at the compliment. She put down the fork, making you and your father exchange glances at how quickly she dropped her guard at Nanami. Though the compliment certainly goes a long way, the little moment between you and Nanami from earlier was now warming her heart much more now that she knows he has tried to learn about your culture. Maybe as long as there was that dedication for her daughter, then Nanami could fit in just fine.

“I didn’t know you cooked, let alone that you have tried to cook something from our culture.” Your mom beams, her gaze softening despite her excitement as the tension leaves Nanami’s body with this new attitude. After all, he didn’t feel like he was being interrogated in the way you feared.

Dinner goes smoothly. Your mom asks the essential questions to know more about Nanami and how your relationship with him has been going so far, your dad shares embarrassing stories of you that you would’ve rather keep until after a year of dating Nanami for him to hear, and your mom offering her help to Nanami so he could get those last touches when cooking. But one constant was how hard you were smiling, you didn’t expect things to go this well. Yet, you weren’t one to complain.

Once Nanami is at the front door picking up his stuff and getting ready to head out, your mom walks up to you two and turns to Nanami.

“Thank you again for coming, Nanami. Please do come more, next time I’ll make sure to write a few of my own recipes. Maybe even come earlier so I can teach you how to make them.”

“Of course, miss. Everything was delicious and I am glad I have finally met you. I’ll make sure to keep your offer in mind for next time.” Nanami says, feeling quite sheepish at your mom’s excitement.

“Well, it’s getting late and you should probably get going. Be safe.” Your mom says, reaching out for his hand and shaking it once more.

Nanami nods and you offer to walk with him to the train station. Though before you can go, your mom gets close to you and asks you to invite him more often since she could definitely use more hands in the kitchen.

You sigh at your mom but nod nonetheless before you close the door and start walking to the station with Nanami, hand-in-hand. As you talk about tonight’s dinner, you two agree that Nanami meeting your parents was much easier than you both expected at first. After all, your mom was already nagging you to invite him next Thursday.

[dearest-painter]

No she’s MY daughter PT.2

Summary: Y/N Drew is the adopted daughter of Jessica drew as a 6 soccer year old girl. What she doesn’t know is that she looks a bit to familiar to her mom’s boss, in his eyes she’s the reincarnation of his dead daughter. When Y/N and her friends have to help an anomaly stay alive it reveals that more people want her as family.

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is basically Gabriella O’Hara aka Miguel’s dead daughter but you can change your looks just some things will look like Gabriella,Reader is a soccer player which is based off of my experience,Reader is 6 years old so no romance bc duh,very out of character characters,this is a series,Her mama brought her to a chase,Reader is BFFS with Pavitr,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

PT.1 PT.3

You’ve been waiting for your mama for so long that coloring became so boring! “Miss Lyla, if your an AI can you tell me where my mama is please?” “I can try kid!” You smiled as she began looking for your mama, you’ve seen Miguel every so often asking if your hungry or thirsty..he’s sorta scary in your eyes as the dark room doesn’t help with his skull spider logo. He’s the same height as your dad so that made you less scared of him…sorta. “Okay kid, your mom is coming with some other people”

You nodded your head then started move your ankles in a circle motion at different times as your shoes were getting annoying so you then decided to just untie them to loosen them up. “Much better!..what to do is the question…” you made a ‘tch’ sound multiple times as you thought, steal from Miguel since in Hobie’s words ‘Big man don’t need it, he already got to much power’ or something like that, take a nap, or fix the little gizmo in your pocket…fixing the gizmo it is! You took the gizmo out and your double sided screwdriver (basically it can come out of the holder and it has a different screwdriver head on the other side). The gizmo is just a little robot fella named Gizmo.

Lyla watched as she secretly recorded it as she liked to see you happy. “There’s my girl!” “Mama!” You stopped and ran to hug your mama’s legs which you did! You then hugged Hobie which he hugged back then Gwen but you stopped at the new guy. “What’s your name? I like your outfit!” “Thanks! I’m Miles Morales!” You smiled and held your hand out to be nice. “Y/N Drew!” Miles shook your hand then looked at your mother then at you as he didn’t know what to say next. You looked around to see Pavitr as you missed your best friend.

“Where’s Pavy?” “Pavitr is busy but don’t worry, you two will see each other soon” “Yay!” You jumped a bit not paying attention to the conversation that’s currently happening between Miles and Miguel. “Don’t blame him! He had a bad teacher!” “Peter!” “Hey!” “You have a baby!” “I have a baby!” You smiled as you held Mayday as you two giggled, she then wanted to go to the wall so you walked to the wall and she started crawling on it. Miguel was say something in Spanish but you didn’t understand as you giggled seeing Mayday run or crawl away from her dad.

Jessica smiled as she knew you’ll be a great big sister with the way you take care of Mayday, your baby sibling will be so glad to have you as a big sister. Her and her husband always loved the way you ramble about how your going to protect and annoy your baby sibling as it seemed so adorable. Miguel looked over a bit to see you and Mayday playing together and laughing in joy.

He smiled a bit as it was a cute sight to see his daughter playing with a toddler. He knew Lyla was recording with the way she was squealing silently in joy so that no one payed attention to her. He wish he could take you home right now so you’ll be safe and far away from all these annoying assholes as you don’t need to be around all of these people as they’ll rot your brain.

[pottedplant53]

Oumota Post [Contains Spoilers]

---------------------------------------------------------------

Something I don’t hear talked about enough in relation to Oumota (or just Kokichi and Kaito in general) is the SHEER NUMBER of parallels that they have with eachother, beyond just their narrative roles. Their philosophies of Faith VS Logic and their respective Hero/Villain personas are undoubtably the most interesting part of it, but there’s so much more to be said than just that. Even their physical appearances are designed to contrast. Here's a list of some of the similarities I found.

-------

•Kaito is tall with broad shoulders, while Kokichi is short with a small frame.

•Their hair colours are almost exact opposites on the colour wheel. On top of this, while you don’t really see it due to their respective hairstyles, they both have roughly shoulder-length hair.

•Tying into the previous point, they have very similar colour schemes. They both wear white shirts, and have red, yellow, grey, and white accents scattered around their outfits. They’re also both heavily associated with the colour purple, with Kaito being more aligned with magenta (pink) and Kokichi being more aligned with indigo (blue).

•Kokichi is especially pale compared to the rest of the cast, while Kaito is noticeably tan.

•Kaito’s eyes are upturned, and Kokichi’s are downturned. I’m not sure how to word it but it’s almost like their eyebrows are going in different directions, too.

•They both wear capes that fan out in their splash arts. Kaito’s is a coat, but it has the same effect.

•They’re both bilingual. Kaito can speak English, Japanese, and Russian thanks to his astronaut training, and while it’s unclear why Kokichi can speak multiple languages, we know that he can thanks to his second FTE with Kaede, wherein he says ‘common sense’ in English, Japanese, French, and Spanish. ‘Common sense’ isn’t a commonplace word that new speakers of a language would know, implying some level of fluency.

•In the original Japanese script, Kaito had quite a few homophobic, misogynistic, and transphobic undertones, all seemingly stemming from internalized toxic masculinity. Kokichi was very much the opposite of this (read: not straight), as is discussed in-depth in the trivia section of his Wiki page. [We do not talk about Japanese Kaito in this household].

•Kokichi’s birthday is the 21st, an inversion of Kaito’s birthday, which is the 12th.

•Neither of them portray themselves 100% authentically. Depending on how you read their characters, you could almost argue that deep down, they’re more similar to the other’s persona than they are to their own.

↓

Though he’s often referred to as an idiot due to his stubbornness in the trials, Kaito is actually rather analytical when he so chooses to be, seeing straight through Maki’s lone-wolf act and understanding her needs startlingly fast. He was intelligent enough to pass his astronaut entrance exam (which would’ve involved extremely complicated scientific concepts and a basic understanding of medicine) and has proved himself willing to cheat and lie to get what he wants (i.e, forging an I.D to get early acceptance).

This isn’t the only instance of him lying when it wasn’t strictly necessary, another notable example being the entirety of his Free Time Events; he lies about his impossible summer escapades and brags about how many famous people achieved success because of his influence, seemingly just to boost his own ego and to make himself look more impressive to Saihara. Shuichi internally calls him out for this, more or less verifying that it was all a lie.

He repeatedly lies in the trials (like when he tried to insist that he was the one in women’s underwear in chapter 2), and of course, hid his illness from the others by pretending he was fine, when in actuality, he was on death’s door.

None of this makes Kaito’s passion and kindness any less real, but it’s important to note how he’s not as saintly as he seems. He’s a lot of things, but he’s also an Egotistical Liar, much like Kokichi promotes himself to be.

Moving on to Kokichi, while it’s hard to say with 100% certainty what kind of person he is, we’ve seen him become emotional a number of times throughout the game, most notably in Gonta’s trial. There’s a lot of debate over whether his tears were genuine or not, but the general consensus is that they were. He shows anger here, at both Gonta, the situation, and more likely than not, himself. He clearly feels a lot of shame and grief, but ultimately continues to push on with his plan for everyone else’s sake.

He shows mercy to Yumeno in chapter 3, when he asks her what she was holding back at the end of the trial. This is seemingly done in an attempt to help get her in touch with her feelings, with no obvious ulterior motives or mocking undertones. Him calling her out earlier in the trial can be chocked up to his hatred of hypocrites – as is seen with his overall relationship with the rest of the cast, specifically surrounding how they gang up on him and treat him like a monster for lying when it’s something that they themselves do – but this interaction shows that he sympathises with her, proving that he has some level of empathy.

Kokichi is EXTREMELY selfless, something that’s proven over and over again to the point that if I sat here and tried to list every example, we’d be here until the release of the V3 anime [forever]. He actively plays devil's advocate, knowing that this would lead to the rest of the group disliking him, and his entire plan to end the killing game centred around villainizing himself, all so that he could die to save the rest of the cast. He’s shown to have spent time, likely days upon days, thinking about how to end the killing game – if his room is any indication, he’s poured a lot of toil into making that a reality. Much like with Kaito, none of this changes how Kokichi chose to act – he’s still a bad person who did inexcusable things, but there’s some merit to the fact that beneath all of that, he’s a human being.

 In the end, he dies as a Selfless Hero, trying to save a group who he surely must’ve known would feel no gratitude for his sacrifice. He's the exact kind of person that Kaito would approve of, were it not for the other, less pleasant aspects of his personality.

--------

Again this is all just my interrpretation and what do I know but I thought it was interesting so here :3

[headphonesbones]

Shattered dream sans x a reader who works for nightmare- [idk if this is what you mean by like you know writing reqs-]

Cas and Null decided to write this together! Hope you enjoy <3

-----

Alright, this is probably gonna get real complicated REAL FAST

Man is crazy (obvi)

But he’s thankfully (or maybe not thankfully) crazy for you

Uhhh… good luck with that…

So man, this can go a few ways… None of which are probably good lol

Let’s say you’re close to Nightmare before stuff hits the fan. Well, as close as you can get to him…

He’s kinda emotionally constipated, but we love him (kinda)

Nightmare, if he actually gives a damn about you, probably would be… let’s just say “reluctant” to have you around his newly corrupted brother.

He trusted him even less now tbh

BUT

I mean, at least he’s not suspiciously nice anymore??? /j

So, man’s crazy x2 so both of them are kinda trying to manipulate you in order to “see their side”

Basically, they’re fighting over you. One as a romantic interest and the other as platonic… probably.

But basically, neither are exactly “right”

You were doing a pretty good job at trying to stay away from Shattered!Dream until, one day, he managed to corner you when you were really sleepy

“Oh, poor thing. Aren’t you tired of mercilessly working for that…. Imbecile brother of mine? Come here, rest your head.” Shattered cooed at you from the other end of the room, watching you stumble your way into your house after a particularly rough mission. How did he even get in here? You were too tired to care. You shuffled over to him and slumped down at his feet, resting your head in his lap. He places his hand on your head, tenderly stroking your hair and murmuring sweet nothings. 

So naturally, you were like “whaT THE FU-”

Nah, you totally didn’t suspect anything. I mean, how different could Shattered!Dream be from his old self? (very different, as you’d come to find out)

You hadn’t slept in literal days, you’d just come back from one of Nightmare’s missions, things got messy in that mission, “your husband is dead, we found him with no head” type shenanigans. 

(… the frick did I just say???? ADHD brain is wack as frick, don’t do vegetables, kids)

Your brain was confused and static-y (is that a neurodivergent thing???) and you were just done by that point

You were kinda not too trusting of him, buuuuut… his lap was comfortable, what else can I say, Your Honor?

(I was just in a silly goofy kinda mood, so I fell asleep on my mortal enemy’s lap)

His voice was relaxing, his lap cozy, the mood just right, and you were exhausted beyond belief

So what did you do?

You fell asleep

Anyways

I have no idea if any of this is coherent

When you woke up (like 16 hours later, thanks to exhaustion) you found that you were in your bed.

You, not knowing wtf just happened, are confused, of course.

Was that all a Dream? Well, Dream was involved but NO, IT WAS NOT A DREAM

HIT THE PANIC BUTTON

You have gay panic for a bit until you see the note on your bedside table

He called you mi cielito in the letter.

Mi cielito?? Depending on if you know Spanish, you may be a little confused. Means “my little sky”... what can I say, he’s a sucker for Moon, Sun, Stars, Sky, etc. motifs

Same

Alright, so…

Thankfully, unlike Nightmare, he’s probably not gonna leave dead birds outside of your doorstep

(probably)

You know, for someone that doesn’t really like cats (we all know what I’m talking about), Nightmare sure does act like one… Neko! Nightmare coming up? (I know the word “neko” just dealt +40 psychic damage to one of you out there)

----- 

Alright, I didn’t really answer your request but I am PLANNING on making this a smol series. So like… a few parts? I just really want to get this out! :]

Cas was sorta working off of first caffeine in week, combined with not sleeping in over 24 hours.

Hope you enjoyed! Please, feel free to send as many requests as you want!

[amidst-wonderland]

feel like we let go of the rebecca yarros gàidhlig thing way too quickly as an author who was actively profiting off her ignorance and misinformation.

to take a language like gàidhlig and go, ‘well this is how i pronounce it’ is such a scummy thing. can you imagine doing that to a language like japanese, italian or russian? people have died over this language becky.

yarros calling gàidhlig, gaeilge is like calling portugese, spanish. similar roots, different language. which she’d know if she even done the slightest of googling, y’know for her bloody book.

fair enough that she’s getting a tutor but as far as i’m concerned it���s too little, too late.

i am sick to the back teeth of lazy americans co-opting minority languages instead of doing basic world-building and facing zero repercussions because of course their audience don’t know any better about a minority language that less that 100,000 speak in a very specific part of the world, and therefore these writers are spreading ignorant misinformation.

it’s the same with outlander, like can american women keep their claws out of this barbaric and reductive image of scotland? considering their feet sure as hell haven’t touched its soil.

also, calling your dragon ‘fire’ is stupid as fuck. it’s like me calling a boat ‘seòl’ or a car ‘dràibhig’ just because it looks cool in a language you don’t speak doesn’t mean you haven’t called it its basic function.

i don’t expect authors to be fluent in languages they do use (i’d be a hypocrite if i’m honest as my scots isn’t conversational and i do make mistakes, however it is a language that’s there to genuinely enrich my character and makes sense as to why it would be used and not just as a naming function to make something sound cool) but i do think we should expect respect towards a minority language and not a “i’ll pick and choose” blasé attitude. especially when it comes to folk without ties to the language (which, i do have with scots and it made every january in primary school hellish).

american authors, word-to-the-wise, before you go co-opting gàidhlig for ‘flavour’, do us all a favour and, falbh a ghabhail do ghnùis airson cac or, aw’a an tak yer face fur a shite.

[klunkcat]

tagged by @goodlucktai <3333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

45 lol but i have I think. 30 wips that exist somewhere on my computer at any given moment. alas.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

701,032

which..... is like far too many words per fic actually imo

3. What fandoms do you write for?

honestly whatever currently grabs my brain stem changes a lot but i think my top ones are tmnt and stranger things (what a wild combo actually). Actively atm I have a trigun wip and a tmnt one

4. Top five fics by kudos?

A Kiss is a Kiss (But it's never like this) - 6,528

(something happens and I'm) head over heels - 3,518

Green with Envy - 1,880

Forget the mess I'm in - 1,791

Weak Point - 1,366

5. Do you respond to comments?

literally I am the WORST for remembering to reply I'm so sorry. I must say that I do read all of them in my email and screenshot them and cry

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

angsty endings are too much 4 me I believe so strongly in hurt/comfort but....

Impossible Things and the Tin Can I think is the most like, conceptually tragic series I've written

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Comfort is a requirement but I think but like Stepping over the line is basically just an extended meet cute so nothing really sad happens at all lol?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Actually genuinely have never gotten a rude comment in my life I did once get someone being hyper pushy about new chaps when I was like.... 19? Sometimes comments veer I think towards misunderstanding unreliable narrator elements and can be a little intense as a result

9. Do you write smut?

ehhhhhh closest I've ever gotten was dancing around the topic lol

10. Craziest crossover?

omg me and tai have gone down some rabbit holes and made a tangled/good omens fusion among other things, which was cute 2 me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've gotten some requests, not sure if they got uploaded anywhere?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did once many years ago but we didn't end up finishing it from what I remember!

14. All time favourite ship?

oh god I mean. ineffable husbands and wangxian invented romance. big mckirk and vashwood fan despite what my published fics would tell you. stsg ruined my life this year. I'm really big on platonic friendships though personally

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My google docs are a cesspit of fics I will never finish. Once made a wangxian softball fic that will never see the light of day but I think of it fondly

16. What are your writing strengths?

Might actually be a weakness and not a strength but boy do I love prosey metaphor nonsense. Sometimes I think it works other times who's 2 say.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fighting scenes man, combat is hard as hell.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

in general I dooooon't write it too much just because I don't speak anything beyond like. grade 2 level spanish so.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

tmnt :' )

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Oh tricky. Stealing tai's idea of a top 5

Forget-Me-Nots - :') big ol love u to tai for this

Both the Sweet and the Bitter - so sorry to anyone who follows me for ST fics because I'm probably never going to write for it ever again or finish this but a dear friend of mine helped me with this story and it means a lot 2 me as a result. The flower metaphors were fun to research.

Plain White Beach Houses - also same as the above but idk pacific rim au....house metaphors.... I love this series a lot

change up, high inside - wanted to write a softball fic for my whole life basically and this is more or less me just waxing poetic about the sport if I'm honest

Feedback Loop - this fic was actually insane like. took me I think a full year to write out? There's a lot of stuff in this that I lol cannot reread anymore for reasons but damn if it wasn't a learning experience to write all around

Tagging @eternalglitch @byrdybyrd02 @jinbugs if u want to besties!

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 5

Masterlist

Summary: Both leaders take classes with the unwilling teacher, and she is reminded of her current state.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 2k

So... this part was difficult to translate, considering how the original was written. The next chapters will contain more two-language conversations, so I will try to translate the expressions and figures of speech as best as I can

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

She wants to murder these people, she is sure of that remembering bitterly how difficult it is to teach people without being an educator. That is why she chose marketing! There you only see numbers, statistics, market research... purchasing behaviors! Not a couple of adults quite frustrating.  

Karen wants to throw in the towel.  

She glares at those red eyes that return an intense discussion of few learned words. How can she explain the grammatical rules? The gerund, the subject, predicate and even worse the tenses... It’s difficult. She would have been better off opting for German or Spanish.  

It’s easier than her native language.  

She hates her past self who thought it would be good to speak to them with this language. She purses her lips at who continues to question as a very intense logical person. Tobirama turned out to be the worst student when he questions the rules so much. Hashirama is less intense and natural.  

This guy is structured, conventional... hateful!  

So it all comes down to her usual room with more papers scattered on the walls in her attempt to be a teacher who gives her ideas and a better understanding of her language. Of course there is progress, she does not deny that it is surprising how quickly they both adapt when she struggled so much when learning Spanish. It took her years... after that the other languages were easier.  

Because by throwing yourself into work of that style you are forced to learn hard.  

“Look, the subject is the person of the statement...”, she begins slowly. At least he has stopped frowning and although slowly he gradually to understand her. Of course that is what she wants to believe when she knows that both their bases are different.  

She bitterly curses Master Tanaka. Why aren’t the Eastern root languages easier? She snorts indignantly.  

“Not understand,” the man simply says in his rough tone, not at all friendly and without any type of conjugation.  

How did she learn Spanish? Ah yes... first she spoke then she understood the basics.  

Something that Hashirama skillfully applies.  

“You do not have to understand the rules first, you know?”, she bites in her simple tone. It’s confusing to be in the same room. Her things are scattered. There have been hard days of confrontations over things so stupid her head hurts.  

She wants a coke. Too bad there isn’t one here.  

“Not understand,” the man insists crossing his arms. “Not explain well.”  

“I’m not a teacher,” the woman now sitting says without any care. “Although I have to admit that there are better students,” she sighs keeping to herself the ease with which they have adapted.  

“Mmmm...” Tobirama doesn’t say anything and looks at the papers. “Exercises,” he gives her a blank parchment, typical of someone who is unkind and doesn’t know how to ask for things.  

“At least say please,” Karen points to one of her drawings where the basic manners that were tattooed on her soul as a child are expressed in a basic way.  

“Mph...” The albino does not comment. “Not have,” he throws shortly with an insolent arch.  

“Despicable,” Karen simply sighs reluctantly taking that sheet. “Dinner?” She ignores the intense look of someone who wants to decipher her lines with so little. The man is usually better at writing than his partner... taking this as a personal challenge.  

Although she swears that Hashirama has more fun since his brilliant idea or learning.  

Why did she choose to teach them? Ah, yes... she needs more to communicate... such as, for example, asking exactly where she is.  

She snorts again, gives some verbs, short verses and conjugations that she remembers, and sighs. Basic education is essential, but she learned it a long time ago and she forgot so many things that it is very difficult to explain. “Look, do this.”  

“Mmmm...” The man doesn’t say anything.  

“Dinner?”, she asks again seeing how she was ignored.  

“Usual time,” he simplifies with short comments, turning his back on her and leaving without any kind of extra expression. He is cold, rude and intense. Tobirama is still not her favorite person, but at least now he is more passable.  

Although he continues to look at her like a lab mouse.  

She looks at the door again, not wanting to take another important step outside. Hashirama indicated that she could leave but not go beyond a certain perimeter for some reason that they simply couldn’t explain, although an internal voice was more of not wanting to... She still feels kidnapped, but she receives a bath and more humane treatment.  

She could complain more but she doesn’t ask for much when she sees that life is rustic. They are distrustful and observant. She doesn’t know what they do, but she thinks it looks like something military, always looking over their shoulders and exchanging whispers that she doesn’t understand.  

She does not want to ponder too much on her little analysis, it is better to rest before the mean because her pain increases as she focuses on deciphering the type of culture beyond the oriental one that she has captured. She settles and closes her eyes to think about her bad luck.  

She misses her family... She denies to fall into depression again, because this progress is already done... and what is done, is done, so she tries not to see the negative in the matter.  

The kidnapped girl simply settles in... she no longer wants to think.  

If not, she will cry again.  

──

She has discovered that the house is lonely at all hours. She brightens up and goes out one afternoon on the fourth day of the week when none of her annoying visitors have come. They have plenty of time and she refuses to accept that she feels alone, depressed and missed by such absences.  

Hashirama’s only. Tobirama is irritatingly calm.  

Not even her usual escorts have come to take her to take a bath. Something is happening and she is bothered by the discomfort of missing out on whatever is going on beyond the thick forest. She stands on the edge listening to the birds in the distance and her nose fills with the clean aroma of nature.  

This is very different even from her destination travel place, now that she thinks about it... How did she get here? She has gone through so many crises that being calm gives her anxiety. She shouldn’t feel like that, she should fight, search and locate herself to be able to return home.  

However, she has confirmed that the constellations are not the same. She does not want to ask for a map to prove the stupid theory that has been going through her head since she first saw them. Those absurd ideas of fictional stories that her sister loves to watch...  

She misses her family, her friends, even her job...  

“You should not be here.” Someone scares her. Tobirama gives her a rather strange look that makes her more uncomfortable than normal. Light bandages are visible under the simple yukata.  

“Your conjugation is correct,” she focuses better when she sees that she should not be interested in the man’s wounds. She pretends not to see them, not to notice them so she can sigh.  

“You should not leave the house,” he warns without changing his cold tone. Karen crosses her arms frowning. A voice advices her not to play hard to get... she sees the features of the man’s white face so strangely tense.  

“I wasn’t going to go to the forest.”  

“That is not what I said.”  

“Mmmm... someone is being mean, more than usual.”  

“Karen,” the man warns with his neat tone in an austere touch, crosses his arms and watches his steps seriously without bothering to explain things. He never does but today it feels different.  

“Well... dinner?”  

“There will not be any.”  

“No?”, she frowns. She doesn’t like the company, but she doesn’t complain for now. She feels she shouldn’t.  

“No.”  

“I can make something.”  

“No.”  

“But...”  

“...”  

Karen tenses up and swallows a strong lump in her throat because of whatever the look transmitted to her with a quick shiver, very different from the first time. She doesn’t say anything, so she turns around with her heart racing because of such a strange emotion she has felt. She walks swiftly and quickens his pace not bothering to see if the company is following her.  

She closes the door and goes to bed automatically not wanting to reply. The person remains expectant.   

Karen has to admit that it was uncomfortable. She didn’t sleep well without wanting to face that person’s murderous harshness.  

Reminding her that she is still kidnapped... and not everyone is Hashirama.  

──

She doesn’t say anything. Karen stays locked up for the next few days with no desire to go out... There is silence, almost like the first days she was there. She hasn’t bathed and although her hair is tough, she has managed to tie it to a messy bun.  

Mikami hasn’t come. Tobirama hasn’t shown up either, thank God, since that annoying night and without asking about Hashirama.  

She remains alone. There has been no food other than bread and rice as always. There is no meat like the last few times. Although it lacks the flavor or softness of the seasoning of her land, she ate it, today conspicuous by its absence.  

“[...]” Someone opens the door. Karen does not turn around, not wanting to face somebody that gives her the murderous coldness of Tobirama. She hears the voice as it approaches her which makes her curious enough to turn around and frowns at not being known.  

“Mikami?”, she asks for her usual companion. She was austere, a rather suspicious lady who always treater her since she arrived at this place. Hashirama had told her her name as soon as she understood her language a little more.  

She doesn’t smile at her. She looks young compared to the former escort, which makes the newcomer at the question.  

She doesn’t say anything. She speaks in her native language with foreign touches, her gaze is dead but not aggressive... just like Tobirama she has some wounds that she simply ignores.  

She presses her lips together. “Are you okay?”, she makes gestures. Not that she was in the top of her favorite people ranking considering how rude she was during her first bath and the judgmental looks she gave her every time she talked to one of the men who visited her.  

But she is a regular person. She understood her fixations a little but more and she was not that difficult to deal with after several days of coldness. She was passable... and this one is completely strange, almost hostile.  

She shakes her head. She hands her a towel and stands by the door.  

She frowns. “[...]”, the stranger continues with a dry order that lacks the flat touch of her precious visit. She purses her lips, looks at her state and sighs, leaving the topic for now when she understands that they will be taking her to the bathroom after not letting her go out.  

She wants to ask so many questions, express her annoyance and perhaps throw a tantrum. The latter not so much. She is not a little girl not to understand that, despite the language barrier and the absence of her only two possible translators, she can sense that something serious happened.  

The woman walks behind. She feels her intense gaze as she walks down the hallway. “Tobirama? Hashirama?”, she asks continuing to walk with her and feels a slight chill that she ignores until she reaches the point where more ladies were looking at her. They are all different, although one or two she can see have light bandages under their rustic yukata.  

She sighs... she tries not to give them too much trouble so she undresses easily, removes the annoying bra substitute and the strange panties that she’s gotten used to, and gets into the bathtub with a trained ease.  

Usually the women talked among themselves, they judged her as they rubbed her or poured things on her body whose reaction they no longer caused her. Today there is silence, almost funereal that makes her remember the death of her grandmother.  

It doesn’t mean that this is... or is it? But she can’t really talk to anyone... not when his two apprentices don’t come, but at least they respect their routines.  

What exactly are they doing?  

A/N: As you will see, I will try to put more of her point of view, who is the focus of attention of others. Even if she doesn't want to she fails as a teacher, but she fights and is oblivious to the fact that the two people she teaches are prodigies... I always considered that both Senju were the best of their clan even after years.

Their learning ability is almost envious and she curses the fact that she did not choose Spanish as the base language in this place, but she felt comfortable with her mother tongue...plus she has more experience than with the others, forgetting the grammatical rules and other things. She now understands why they said that English is not that easy to learn.

Not to mention the slang or synonyms we pull out of our sleeves, a valid complaint I hear from those who learned English.

So poor thing. However, something happened... something that keeps the girl oblivious, in addition to causing a step back from the social progress she had had in the place, which, although null and still feeling like kidnapped, made her remember her position at this point.

They are not friends at the end of the day... many seeing her as a burden, the annoying pet of their clan leader.

Something Karen doesn't know... gaining enemies without knowing it.

Thank you for your comments. For now this is the only thing I can add: this woman will have a hard time…. easy, I don't know, we will discover it little by little.

Author-chan out! 

[spanishskulduggery]

i have a question about something -- i say "paso por ti" if im telling someone im passing by for them later today or something but im realizing that isn't the technical future conjugation, that'd be "pasare por ti". is there a reason we say paso instead of pasare. if you say it in the conditional is that saying that you aren't sure so have a back up plan lol

This is actually a very common question or concern. The thing is that present tense can also be used for short-term future

Like the way people say voy al banco can be "I'm going to the bank" or like in the very short future "I will go to the bank"

Another one is nos vemos as an expression is "see you later" but more literally "we will see each other"

(Also I'm assuming you mean pasar por alguien in the sense of "to come get someone" or "to pick someone up" in that sense?)

Using future tense pasaré por ti "I'll come get you" isn't wrong, it just feels more distant future planning... Like I'd say paso por ti enseguida "I'll come get you right away", or paso por ti temprano "I'll come get you early"

Present tense generally has three-ish basic meanings, the regular statement, present continuous, and short-term future. In other words if you say voy it could be "I go", "I am going", and "I will go (shortly)"

-

As for conditional, it would probably make more sense in an "if/then" statement which can be more actually hypothetical with imperfect subjunctive

si me hubiera pedido, pasaría por ti "if you had asked me, I would have come to get you"

...

In a regular sentence that isn't so hypothetical you might say, si me pides, paso por ti "if you ask, I'll come get you" or paso por ti cuando termino "I'll come get you when I'm done" which are more certainty-based statements

Subjunctive is more doubtful but possible... and conditional needs a condition to be met, in other words, "I would get you (assuming something were to happen)"

~

Related: I wouldn't say conditional sounds like a back-up plan it just requires something else to happen first, like "if only I could", "if I had time", "if I were there"... those kinds of expressions are often imperfect subjunctive, followed by conditional. If you were going for a more doubtful present-y feeling it would be present subjunctive

That more reads like doubtful like less than 50% probability or there are certain subjunctive phrases...

Like, es posible que pase por ti antes "it's possible I'll come get you sooner/before"

And it can exist with regular subjunctive - paso por ti cuando termine la película which reads as "I'll come get you once the movie ends" as if you don't know when it will end

Note here that present subjunctive has the same future-y quality as regular present indicative, like cuando termine la película "whenever the movie ends" vs. cuando termina la película "when the movie ends" both have the same element of "hasn't happened yet"

Same would be true for es posible que pase por ti "it's possible I'll come get you" it's just an indefinite future versus regular indicative paso por ti "I am going to come get you"

-

I think in this particular context, all of it can make sense it's more just the vibe of it; certain or uncertain, short-term or long-term planning, etc.

Present tense is a very nuanced tense in my experience; English tends to use more modals to express things like "will" or "would" which makes us question the exact timing of certain tenses

For us "I go", "I am going", and "I will go" require entirely different words (which Spanish does have) but it makes it hard to understand when Spanish present tense could possibly be any one of them

[anartisticdreamer0]

can i do a little rant about spanish as a language?

well i will.

rant under the cut. vv

(background i’m vaguely bilingual in that i grew up a native english speaker in the US, but my entire family speaks spanish and are south american immigrants. so i have a very good understanding of spanish but i’m okay when it comes to speaking. the understanding though is more important when watching streams.)

that has been a HUGE asset in enjoying all the streams of the qsmp that i watch (mainly english/spanish speakers). what i’ve found is that while i’ve always enjoyed the english content and the emotional connection is very much there, it feels so different in spanish. like maybe it’s because i associate spanish with my family but holy shit it hits different.

take the attack on tallulah and chayanne that happened recently with the binary entity. quackity is switching between english and spanish but something about what he says in spanish feels more powerful(?) i guess. he starts with just repeating “get inside” then switches to “meta te” (i can’t figure out how to write it) it means the same thing but feels really different. he then says “chayanne meta te pendejo, no seas pendejo. chayanne no eres babo ey” translated it’s basically “chayanne get inside idiot, don’t be an idiot. chayanne you’re not dumb ay”. the difference is “pendejo” is a vulgar/slang term and i’ve always associated it being like saying ‘fucking idiot’ which i think is part of why it hits different. it just feels so strong and quackity’s yelling it but it all makes sense because he’s panicking. if he had said ‘you fucking idiot’ it would have meant the same and the words had the same impact but i don’t think it would have the same effect on english speakers as ‘pendejo’ does in spanish.

on top of that the delivery feels so impactful like it’s so fucking frustrating that chayanne isn’t listening. it feels like spanish just can translate the emotions of the speaker with the less effort. i have never truly heard anyone speak spanish completely monotone, not like i have in english anyways. all your emotions just get projected out for the most part. it’s just a really beautiful language and i’m so fucking happy that more people are being inspired to learn it because of a damn minecraft server. :>

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall down - Chapter Three

Summary: Garvarioli but it's Alvar's character arc in Flashback and Legacy. Also please send help I accidentally made a character arc out of disconnected oneshots.

Word Count: 3040

TW: swearing, Alvar's troll goop illness, death

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

And bonus Garvar tags: @tw-5 @camelspit

On Ao3 (users only because, you know, AI) or below the cut

Previous chapter :) in case you missed it

    Garwin stares up at his ceiling, watching the fan slowly rotate around. Yes, he gets blinded by the light being on at the center, but that’s preferable to reloading his Imparter screen every two seconds for an update from Alvar.

    No less than three hours ago, he got summoned by Fintan, and the last time he was gone this long, he brought back a kid. That better not happen again. 

    Garwin doesn’t have the patience to deal with a child. Or Ruy. It’s basically the same thing, but at least Ruy can scavenge for his own meals most of the time. 

    He may have developed an unhealthy habit of going to the Forbidden Cities and flexing his extensive Spanish vocabulary at least three times a week, but, hey, at least he brings food home most of the time, so Garwin can’t complain. 

    How he’s able to get food with an addler on is also questionable. As is how he acquired human money to pay for it, cause it sure as hell ain’t coming from Garwin’s extremely broke bank accounts. 

    With that thought, the sound of a correct Duolingo answer echoes through the silent room. However annoying it may be, it keeps Ruy entertained, so, once again, Garwin can’t complain. 

    But sometimes he does anyway. 

    “Have you lost your headphones again?”

    “No. I know right where they are. I just can’t move to get them with someone laying on top of me.”

    That is a valid point, which is why it should be ignored at all costs. 

    “Oh no! Whomever could that be?” Garwin asks, shifting to his side to snuggle in closer. And stare at Ruy. Both things that are very important to do. 

    He’s so pretty. 

    Garwin may very well have dozed off much to Ruy’s dismay, because the next thing he knows, the orange light of sunset is shimmering through the windows. 

    Ruy and Alvar are deep in conversation, speaking in low voices presumably not to disturb him.  

    Ruy ruffles his hair. “Good evening, mi corazón.”  

    Garwin yawns. “What did I miss?”  

    Alvar opens his mouth to explain, but Ruy beats him to it. “Your boyfriend told Finny about his batshit amnesia plan.”

    “Oh, he’s my boyfriend now? Why do I always have to deal with him when he’s being an idiot?”

    “Because you didn’t get accepted to Yale.” Ruy presses a kiss to Garwin’s temple. 

    Garwin rolls his eyes. The first time it was funny. The 8123rd time? Significantly less so. Half of those were his own self-deprecating jokes, so he does share some of the blame, but that’s less satisfying than projecting his problems onto everyone else. 

    Garwin looks at Alvar. “You do realize this is a really, really fucking bad idea, right?”

    “Alden’s hiding something. Unless you have a better plan, I’ve had more than enough of that man’s bullshit. Whatever the ‘Vacker Legacy’ entails, I’m sure it’s going to be messy, and I think the trade off is more than worth it.”

    “What if you’re fucked up irreparably? What if something goes wrong with your memories?”

    “Bold of you to assume I’m not already fucked up irreparably, and, well, I fell in love with y’all the first time. I’ll do it again if I have to.”

    That’s the exact kind of answer Garwin was hoping he wasn’t going to answer. 

    That’s the exact kind of answer that isn’t going to take any form of criticism. And once Alvar has his mind set on something, it might be possible to stop him, but Garwin hasn’t figured out how yet and it’s unlikely he ever will. 

    Garwin looks at Ruy. “Bitch, I don’t know.”

    Ruy stres into his soul, betrayal etched into every line. “Dude. You were supposed to fix him. Fix him. Make him, I don’t know, not an idiot?”

    “What do you want me to do? I can’t convince him to do shit. I can’t even convince him to give me the fucking remote.”

    This is a real, actual issue Garwin has to go through every single day. He suffers so much for it. He’s the human here, and it’s not like any of the intelligent species produce their own TV shows or movies or whatever. He’s the only one with any personal experience watching human media his entire life, and yet that isn’t enough to dictate what is and is not watched. 

    “Well, to be fair, your taste in movies is horrendous.”

    “That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair at all. And now out of spite I am going to leave you two to your own devices.”

    He could choose to worry about Alvar, but worrying won’t accomplish anything. So might as well go along with his dumb shit because then at least you can have an idea of what he’s doing. 

    Then when he realizes he’s bad at making life choices, you can tell him I told you so.

    And then you’re the moral high ground. 

    …At least until you do something stupid. And so the cycle continues. 

   The first week without him, it’s just like he’s on a normal Neverseen mission. Well, at least normal in comparison to other things they’ve done. 

    Gisela took over again, Sophie and co. fucked up Atlantis. The usual. Actually, technically, Ruy undid the force fields and Sophie found a hydrokinetic friend to just like. Hold the water in place. Because that makes logical sense. Fluid physics definitely works like that. But Garwin chooses to blame Sophie because he can. 

    One of the very few times Garwin wishes there was some form of news or social media in the cities is when Alvar is found by the Bullshit and promptly scheduled for a tribunal. You know, completely normal shit.

    It’s ruled that he’s going to get to go back to Everglen. Which was the goal. So that is a good thing. Even if Garwin isn’t too excited about it because Fitz is probably going to slit Alvar’s throat in his sleep. 

    Why are the elves so pretentious that they have to name their houses? Eh, whatever. It’s probably more effort to ask than it’s worth.

   At least it’ll be fun watching Mr. Golden Boy Vackerpants getting himself banished again or Exiled. Unmapped stars, that would be so fucking hilarious. 

    The real trouble with Alvar being gone is that it keeps going for literal fucking months on end. 

    Him moving in got postponed because Umber needed to practice with their shadowflux bending with actual people and, well, Sophie and Fitz were good targets. At least it can still be on schedule for the Lunar festival thing that happens during the lunar eclipse.  

    Ruy definitely didn’t have lasting damage from seeing that. Definitely. If elves are supposed to break when they see blood and/or gore, he should be so far gone he doesn’t know where he started, but maybe he’s just cool like that. Or the exilium training did that. Or the Neverseen has made him desensitized to things. 

    Or watching Sharknado every time Garwin manages to claim the remote…maybe Alvar and Ruy have a point about his choice in media to consume.

    Nah. They just don’t understand the concept of so-bad-it’s-funny. 

    The Second One--no, seriously, that’s the subtitle--in all of its horrific magnificence comes out while Alvar is notably still absent, and while it may be sacrilege to watch it without him, the sharknado is too strong and Garwin is too weak to resist temptation.    

    The Celestial Festival finally comes on October seventh and eighth because nights do that sometimes so long as google is to be trusted to know what day it is. 

    But what happens during the Celestial Festival is nowhere near according to plan, instead being filled with fucked up troll babies. 

    Garwin is assigned the job of floating around in the crowd at the festival itself because he’s a useless pathetic human, so he gets the privilege of watching both of his boyfriends risk their lives in glorious technicolor. 

    Ruy escapes unharmed aside from a bit of splatter from Umber and a shit ton of inevitable nightmares, but Alvar is another story. 

    In all of the chaos, his memories are returned, so he’s left to figure all that shit on his own while avoiding mutant trolls, both the newly hatched ones and the ones named Fitz. 

    And it turns out, the one named Fitz is the one to watch out for. Who would have thought? This would have been a great time for an I told you so if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying. 

    Garwin starts praying to every single god he can think of, from human ones to the entire fucking troll pantheon and even Ogdy of the gnomes because apparently they have their own tree god thing, not just the magic four seasons tree thing. 

    If there’s such a being that can control the fate of the universe like that, he hopes it has a sense of humor because that’s the only way out of this. 

    He ignores Gisela’s screeching and leaps to Candleshade--their pre-discussed meeting place should shit go down--because shit has most certainly gone down and begins pacing. It’s not long before Ruy arrives, but it could’ve been hours for how long it felt. 

    Hours feel like years until the first rays of dawn begin flickering across the horizon and a troll goopy Alvar-shaped mound shambles toward them. 

    Garwin won’t admit it, but tears escape his eyes when he sees Alvar and tackles him in a hug that probably was a bad idea in hindsight. 

    A shower and a hot meal can do a lot to revitalize a person. That being said, the hot meal is Kraft mac and cheese, so it’s not exactly the most homecooked of meals, but it's better than burning a kitchen down. Even if Keefe would absolutely fucking love seeing its childhood home burned to the ground, it’s much more fun when the arson is intentional. 

    There’s no way to tell how bad the reaction from the Neverseen will be or if they’re even technically members anymore after everything that’s gone down. So, being the semi-responsible one of them by comparison, Ruy figures they should stock up on food, and that means human food because the gnomes are still pissed about the whole attempted genocide thing.

    Which, in all fairness, does make sense. 

    While he’s gone, Garwin and Alvar make themselves at home by borrowing into one of the bedrooms, becoming so blanket burritoed it’s likely they’ll never be seen again. 

    Garwin cups his hand to Alvar’s cheek, whispering, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

    Alvar presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks.”

    Normally he’d be full of sarcasm, but this time it’s genuine and that scares Garwin more than he’d like to admit. 

    Because once the sardonic walls are gone, then actual emotions may have to be accessed, and that’s not fun. 

    “How are you doing? Considering everything?”

    “Great.”

    He’s fine. That means he’s fine. 

    It’s easier thought than believed though. 

    Alvar elaborates, “I mean I couldn’t really figure out why my brother hated my guts so much the entire time I had zero memories or why the fuck Darek was so hot because apparently I forgot gay was an option.”

    Garwin laughs, remembering the near-fistfight that ensued between Ruy and Alvar over which of the councillors is most fuckable and let’s just say it became a forbidden topic. And also good motivation for taking the government down because they aren’t fucksble until that stupid no relationships rule is abolished. 

    Well, technically, nothing happens so long as you don’t get caught, but that’s beside the point. 

    And for the record, Darek’s the hot one. Ruy can suck Terik’s dick but that doesn’t change the truth. 

    “Lots of confusion overall. Still trying to put the pieces back together because they are nowhere near chronological order. Also feeling a lot of emotions in this Chili’s tonight and it’s been a while since I’ve had emotions so I’m still trying to deal with that.”

    “Would you like me to go harass some other room in this place?”        

    “No!” he answers, too loud and too fast, terror shining in his eyes. 

    Garwin takes his hand, squeezing gently. 

   Alvar takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want--I can’t think about being in that place again. You’re a good distraction.”

    “Everglen or the Troll hive?”

    “Yes.” Alvar smirks. “Both of them have my murderous little brother, so is there really that much of a difference? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him for willing to do what needs to be done, but that anger can be aimed in a better direction.”

    “I feel like it would be funny if you were like ‘I lived, bitch’ and then sent him ideas of how to be more of an anarchist.”

   Alvar smiles--the first since his return. “Hey, Fitz, I know you tried to kill me but here’s a to-do list. One: realize like half your anger is just repressed queerness and you’re pissed because I have two whole boyfriends and you’ve got that probably comphet whatever the fuck is going on with Sophie. Two: fuck up that matchmaking system because damn the eugenics are strong with this one. Three: figure out how to ask out that Dex kid you were so insistent about for reasons likely related to item one. Four: profit.”

    “Is the Dex kid the strawberry blond that’s for some reason friends with the Sophie?”

    “Good job, you remembered one person’s name. I’m proud of you.”

    He’s only at three-quarters the normal sarcasm level, which is, once again, honest-to-god terrifying. 

    He just needs time. Everything will be fine. He’s had a long day. He’ll be his usual asshole self in no time. 

    It’s just hard to not worry when he’s been gone for so incredibly fucking long. 

    What if something during that time has messed him up? He doesn’t seem to care that his brother literally tried to kill him, but what if he’s simply in denial? What will it be like when it becomes real?

    What if Alden’s presence made him regress back into the closet? Nah. He seems just as gay as ever. That’s the only thing Garwin has any confidence in. 

    What about the council? They kept him in their prison for weeks on end and there’s no telling how many violations of the Geneva convention they could’ve committed, even despite the elves’ supposed inability to process violence. 

    Those councillors could’ve just wiped their own memories afterwards, and no one would be the wiser. Or used Goblins. And if Alvar chose to come forward about it--which seems unlikely now that he has his memories, he’d instead use it as fuel for his villain backstory--it would be his word against theirs, a surefire way to lose a legal battle. 

    “Hey, don’t hurt yourself. Think any harder and you might have smoke coming out your ears.”

    See? Right there? He’s fine. But, once again, easier thought than believed. 

    He was fine after Dimitar’s torture, he’ll be fine after this. That’s what Garwin has to convince himself. Because he can’t let himself imagine what it means otherwise.

    Alvar drifts off to sleep, and Garwin spends a long time studying his face, etching every last detail into his mind. His long eyelashes, his unusually unkempt hair, the stubble that’s just barely starting to make itself visible. His shamkniv scars. 

    He’s been through more shit than elves are supposed to be able to go through, but he’s still here. 

    And the cherry on top: he’s still an ass. 

    He is all right, at first. He’s all right for weeks. Some may argue that he’s even more insufferable than usual, but that could just be because both Ruy and Alvar became used to not having to deal with his snark every day. 

    Although, to be fair, they have had to tolerate each other, so it wasn’t that much of a break. It’s just funny when Alvar drops some deranged bullshit that’s a direct consequence of growing up with Alden. Like his stories of traveling in the human world. Man’s a fucking professional con artist to feed his caffeine addiction. 

    And then he starts to slow down, unnoticeably at first but accelerating faster than anyone would like to admit, taking more time to climb up the stars, his appetite going to shit, having a normal sleep schedule for once in his life. The occasional nap. 

    Garwin can see in Ruy’s eyes that he’s noticed the same things, but maybe if they don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.

    By the time Sophie and Keefe come crashing over to look for god knows what, Alvar is barely strong enough to light leap. How he doesn’t completely fade away is anyone’s guess. 

     Garwin wishes he could just duct tape all of Alvar’s particles-cells-molecules-quarks together, but apparently that’s not how that works. Also duct tape probably wouldn’t be a safe choice for keeping an organic lifeform’s parts together, but that’s less of a concern. 

    And they’ve all simply agreed to not talk about it via the lack of talking about it because they’re all firmly in the first stage of grief and not going anywhere anytime soon. 

    To someone who hasn’t gone through losing a whole ton of people in his life, Garwin can’t help but draw parallels to when his grandfather passed away about a year before he came to the lost cities. 

    Three weeks in the hospital. 

    The day-to-day details are fuzzy, even having hope most of the time, unlike with Alvar. But Garwin never went to see his grandfather. His parents wanted to protect him or something. But that’s a luxury he can’t afford this time, watching Alvar slowly decay like a zombie in front of his eyes. 

    There has to be a cure or a treatment or something we can do. This is elvin medicine for fuck’s sake! They always advertize how advanced they are compared to humans, but they can’t fucking fix this so what’s the point? 

    I’d give anything for him to be alright. I don’t care what it takes. 

    I got a lot of people I can blame. 

    And Sophie, you better believe you aren’t going to fucking take anything else from me. 

[polgara6]

Florida’s big idea

Dedicated to @greatinternetllama <3 you Guess

Greg has been running some DND sessions with Florida, Louisiana, Georgia, and Wisconsin at Gov’s request so they can blow off steam for a while now. Today however Florida’s has an idea and honestly it’s pretty good.

Florida was so unbelievably done. The north east had finally gotten wind of Gov’s coffee consumption and promptly freaked the fuck out. So while Gov was essentially on bed rest for the next week or so the states had decided to go back to basics. As expected this meant for the past couple of meetings Virginia had been running the show and Florida was over it.

Virginia was absolutely no fun and not in the fun way Gov was absolutely no fun. With Gov Florida got big reactions and undivided attention, with Virginia he couldn’t care less about the crazy shit Florida came up with and would just immediately shoot him down. It was so unfair! Florida just wanted some chaos was that so much to ask for. It was like Virginia was Gov’s evil older brother or something.

Hang on a second. Florida’s head, which was previously lying on the table, shot up as he popped out of the meeting. He immediately dived for his bed, where underneath was his notes on the DND game Greg had made. He knew he didn’t seem like the type to take notes but because Greg included his fellow states in the world he built it felt like his book of conflict.

He quickly found the page on the in-game Gov equivalent, Franklin the Prince of Diamonds. Greg had also mentioned the rest of the royal family which included Virginia’s equivalent, Virgil the Prince of Hearts. Suddenly Florida’s imagination started to go wild, as he wrote out an idea for a new quest. He was sure Greg was going to love it!

***We interrupt your program to bring you a special report***

Greg was hanging out on set, well on set is a relative term. He doesn’t record every meeting at the table but he does have to be around for all of them in case they decide to record. He was glad Gov was getting rest and all but the way Virginia ran the meetings did not make for good entertainment. His relationship with Florida was not the same as Gov’s and his previous issues with Mass were long sense dead and buried. In conclusion no real conflict so bad tv.

Suddenly Florida popped into existence next to him. Greg cursed and almost dropped his phone. New York shot a quick look of approval his way for the rather creative curses as states were clearing out or grouping off after the meeting. Florida giggled at his facial expression before starting to bounce on his toys from seemingly sheer excitement.

“Hey Florida what’s up?” Greg asked worried yet curious about what the chaos state was up too.

“I had an idea!”

Immediately Greg felt a deep pit of dread open up in his stomach. Florida’s ideas, especially ones that made him this happy were never good news. But hey if he was coming to Greg about it maybe he would be spared from the coming onslaught. It was this kind of wishful thinking that explained why Greg had not yet quit his job and run as far away as he could.

Florida handed over his notebook which was filled with a truly illegible mix of English and Spanish with most of the English word spelled wrong. Greg shot Florida a look over the pages.

“Oops sorry Greg” Florida said cheerfully not looking sorry in the least. He went on to explain that it was an idea for their DND game based on recent events at the table. Ok Greg was paraphrasing but that’s essentially what Florida said.

“Ok let’s go somewhere else and then you can tell me all about it”

Florida practically bounced out the room. This was going to be so much fun!

A/N Well there you go a little prologue piece to a thing I plan on writing later. Who knows if I ever actually will but hey it’ll be fun. Oh and if your wondering about Florida’s idea it’s this brilliant post by Guess:https://greatinternetllama.tumblr.com/post/698542748603678720/i-came-up-with-the-idea-for-the-dnd-campaign-the

[eldifusor]

Get to know me- yes, it is a tag game!

I was tagged (with no obligations) by @pleiadianwitch and I am choosing to actually do it.

1. Were you named after anyone?

So my irl name's lore is: mother took it from the bible, father also chose the same but from a secular detective book so they surprised each other when they discussed how to name me. Bible name is confirmed. I have never been able to confirm name was actual read on a secular detective book: because father can't recall the title of said book. I do like this story a lot so I chose to believe that it is true.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I cry internally everyday more than once. Actual tears flowing from my eyes you ask? Well, like a week ago at time of writing this.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

And you did not ask but I will volunteer this:

I don't want kids "of my own" but I think "kids" don't belong to anyone and as a society we must take care of every single one of them.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

Back in the day I used to play a lot of basketball. Loved it. And actually played enough to try out for a pro team in Puerto Rico but failed miserably because I was not that great. Also never disciplined which was the real problem.

I also coached some little league basketball on my barrio.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Me?? NEVER.....

(yes, that "joke" is the most puerile and obvious way of trying to convey that I used it, love it etc.

BUT as I grow older, I am using it less and less because I think sometimes people don't know how to sarcasm properly or use sarcasm as an excuse to just being petty horrible people and I think that is fucking lame).

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes. I am obsessed with looking at eyes discreetly when someone is talking. Love seeing someone smiling with their eyes: the most endearing human quality that makes me feel good about humanity and that we might still have a chance of being not as horrible as we are.

7. What is your eye color?

Boring but Trusty Brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

You know what? I appreciate a good scary movie but I don't seek them. Maybe I should do more.

And I do think well earned happy endings are cool and all BUT what I really like are sad tragic endings.

But for this questions I will say: a sad tragic ending disguised as a happy ending. That's the REAL THING!!!

9. Any talents?

Public speaking-- for better or worst. :-D

10. Where were you born?

Bayamón, Puerto Rico

11. What are your hobbies?

I have a myriad of obsessions that I do sometimes simultaneously or some other that are seasonal, others dies and come back...obsessing over the intersection of politics, media, pop culture, meta-narratives, writing, storytelling, games...I mishmash everything...in other words: what TUMBLR represents in the virtual spaces, is basically what I would call my "hobbies". Does that make sense? No? EXACTLY.

12. Pets?

No more. Had a lot in the past. Loved them dearly. Suffered too much when they parted. Decided to stop that. But love to see other's pets and respect a responsible pet owner forever.

13. How tall are you?

6'1 mostly...6'2 other times

14. Favorite subject in school?

Spanish, History, Science, Social Studies

15. Dream job?

I had it. It became a nightmare. I still get to do some dream like thing on jobs and just appreciate when that happens.

*** I will tag (with no obligation to do it of course!): *** @peligrosapop @lierdumoa @raynitamusic @lydighed @holdinghorizons @poetessinthepit @james3neal

[sayitaliano]

Would you say that for you as an Italian that it's easy to understand other romance languages? Which ones are easier to get? Is there one that reading is easier to get than listening (or the opposite)? Do they sound weird/ugly/beautiful in your opinion? Do you think you could hold a conversation with someone where you speak Italian and they speak another romance language?

Ciao! I think the level of understanding depends on the specific Region/area an Italian is born in and on the "ear" a person has in relation to other languages. It's difficult to speak for everyone. Seen that you're asking me, I'm gonna share my personal experience but having studied some of those languages, I probably cannot be a good source for your curiosity (from what I get, you'd like to know as if I hadn't). :)

I have been born in an area in which both Spanish and French have been in control of, so the dialect (not just the Regional language, but my specific hometown version) has influences of both languages, French in particular. My ear has been pretty used to French sounds since when I was born (this dialect is spoken in my family), + my mother studied French (she translated me stuff at times) and I studied French as well in school (middle school) for 3 years. Ofc now I still understand French pretty well (even after having not practiced it for... years, ages prob.): I might not have all the vocabs I would like to have in my mind, I might have forgotten even some grammar rules (which prob makes it a bit more complicated for me to speak correctly), but the basics are still with me and I could survive especially by speaking it (I might wonder at least about accents for some written words, e.g.).

Now Spanish. Friends, don't hate me but Spanish is somewhat similar to Italian: we often say "you only need to add an s at the end of each word" jokingly (ofc that's not true, but it's true that we share some words and... something else too). I have been studying Spanish on my own for a while in the past and I admit, despite never having paid attention to verbs' conjugations, I still could manage to write with some online friends and basically make little to no mistake... I followed "the sound". When it comes to spoken Spanish, I still get basically everything, despite again I haven't really been practicing too much recently and I might have forgotten some vocabs. At first it only required me to practice listening a lot and form a good vocabulary through interviews and other stuff, and then I simply tried writing (and speaking a bit). Btw as mentioned in the past, my ear is a little more used to South American Spanish, but I get Spain's as well. Ofc I am referring only to "standard" Spanish here, if that is a thing: if you wanted to talk with me in e.g. Catalàn, I might get something but probably be less accurate (Idk, we can try). Same thing goes for French ofc! I meant only "standard" French, no Regional: listening to the ESC last year for example, I really couldn't get the song's lyrics too in detail (or maybe at all lol).

As for Portuguese, again I have studied it a little: at first I only could get a few words and understand some others from sentence's general meaning (spoken Portuguese was a little more intricate despite almost sounds as a couple of our Regional languages mixed together -jk), but then after understanding the sound, I started getting a little more also in the spoken language. I don't have a huge vocabulary so I'm still pretty behind when it comes to understanding, writing and speaking it (speaking always comes a little bit more difficult to me: I need to have a good amount of vocabs to start). I mean in both in Brazilian's and Portugal's ones (focused a little more on Brazilian's tbh). But I still can get something here and there, if people speak more slowly.

When it comes to Romanian, I can understand some words in their written form; not sure as for the spoken one cause I have never had the chance to try speaking/listening to it (at least paying attention to it) despite my interactions with some Romanians.

Going back to Regional languages, even just Italians' are way too different in how they're formed... I cannot get everything people say, especially when they speak fast. And especially when it comes to Regional languages that are far from the one/s I have been in contact with the most, like those from the center/south or in the north-east, or that use different languages influences (Ladino, Patois... e.g. in Patois I understand counting as it's basically in French). It depends on what they say, if I have already heard that or not. If I know the word's meaning or not (or if I can at least guess it from the rest of the sentence: but many times it's hard even to do so).

Now, I know there are other Romance languages I haven't mentioned but understanding them, for me, depends on the sounds, my vocabulary knowledge, how the sentence is buildt and if I can relate them somehow to Latin (which I studied as well for 5.5 years in school so maybe it helps me too)? To me, every language sounds beautiful honestly, exactly because it has its own sounds and rules that make it different from another. And not just Romance ones.

As for holding a convo with someone speaking another language (supposing that I don't know it, not even by chance)... Idk, probably only a basic convo? I guess I might end up using gestures or sth to help the communication at a certain point. The only way to know is to try, any volunteer? :)

Did I answered everything? I hope so!

I forgot: in general you read at your own pace so prob reading is easier than listening to a native who speaks fast, no matter the language, especially in the beginning. But it's of help in keep practicing listening in order to get to their level.

[finsterhund]

so you have any info for an english translation of the original french heart of darkness? you did mention some diffrences in what andy says and id like to know more about it!

I've been on and off looking for a professional translator or dedicated fan who's first language is French to pay to create a transcript and then making a subtitled video of all the cinematics, possibly even modifying the PAF file to create a fanmade English subbed install of the game that properly runs. But finances and stress has put that on the back burner. It is very much planned though. I fully intent to make this a resource available online when I get there.

My French is poor enough that I cannot do this by myself but good enough that I can notice differences and in slower sections pick out specific words and understand the meaning. From what me and other people have said, there's a more serious tone in the general cutscenes with Andy being presented as more younger and naiver and with dialogue that is less "of the time period." Knowing that there was a large cardboard cutout of arnold schwarzenegger in a tv interview that showed a bit of Eric's studio at around that time, the inclusion of a Terminator reference at the final confrontation for the English dub makes sense. Particularly in that scene, it would not make sense for a direct translation. As in French the Master essentially goes "We'll all die" and Andy says "No, you'll die" which sounds more like a meme sort of joke line directly translated into English where as in the English dub the Master goes "You'll kill us all" to which Andy responds with the comeback. Andy being a bit spicier and quipping with the big bad being the ultimate result of the change.

Contrastly, Andy actually swears in the original. In the opening cinematic he says "merde" several times, which in the English dub is translated as "shoot" as oppose to the more correct "shit"

There's some figures of speech that weren't directly translatable. the "sleeping in class" is basically "head in the clouds" in the original French and from what I can tell the Teacher's rant is more along the lines of "if black holes are so boring maybe you'll be more entertained by the black of the cupboard" as black/dark are both "noir" and that's a bit of a word pun with black hole and the dark.

Other notable differences that I can confidently point out are what appears to be a political joke in reference to the European Union when Vicious is first thrown against a wall (this scene due to a mixing error is almost impossible to hear in the English dub so it was a point of focus when trying to listen and understand what the lines were in the original French), and the Ami/Friends/Amigos not being speakers of another human language. They simply speak broken French. Which I think makes more sense that their species is called "Friends" and the one that Andy befriends is called "Friend" because it's them using a human word they know. It's not their actual name. Just something they hope Andy will understand. Interestingly, the English dub and the Spanish dub are the only ones that changed this, instead having the Friends be shown to speak one human language better than that of Andy and the viewer. It's common knowledge for the English dub that Spanish was chosen for the language of the friends. In the Spanish dub, it's English! Not related to the French dub itself, but I found that fun.

Additional fun fact about things lost in translation. Maître (Master) has a dual meaning. It's also the title given to what's the equivalent to primary school teachers by their students. So hahaha the teacher and the master are the same entity hehehe.

There's probably more word puns. I'd argue that if there's any more significant differences it'd be more lost in translation stuff.

Oh, also my current blog title is "Send the Flying Spectres" because that's what the Master says in the original French where in the English dub he just says "Get him"