#Either be patient and kind to people with an accent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosepascal · 10 months

Text

Desire || Joel Miller Smut

summary: You need money and a offering your body for some mutual pleasure doesn't seem like a bad idea. If only you could know the man behind the wall who is set on ruining you for anyone else.

warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. glory hole smut bby, dirty talk, unprotected sex, afab!reader, fingering, creampie, pussy slapping, sex work (we love and respect sex workers here tyvm), Joel calls you a toy, anonymous sex, swearing, rough sex.

a/n: Aight so no one judge me but I want this so badly and I want Joel to be the man to do it to me. Anyways please let me know if I missed a warning and I hope you enjoy!

part two: crave

People have needs. They had needs before the outbreak and they have needs after the outbreak. There's really no judgement anymore between people. Maybe some suspicious looks or hushed whispers every now and then but no one really has any moral high ground anymore.

You've lied, stolen, cheated, killed. Does it make you proud? Not always bit hey, that's just how it has to be sometimes. Today happened to be a day where you needed ration cards and to fulfill a few...desires.

A carnal desire to be completely ruined.

No emotions, no complications. Just a dick inside of you and an orgasm is all you need. Those kinds of services aren't easy to find anymore but you know the right people.

You heard whispers of an underground brothel of sorts. The upper half of your body is hidden away meaning you didn't have to see the men and they didn't get to see you. For ration cards and whatever the men felt like tipping was a good enough deal for you.

The little bed they provided was comfortable enough. It was leather and cool to the touch. Stripping your clothes down you shiver as you climb onto it. After some instructions that are muffled by the wall, you feel a pair of hands hook you up to the cuffs.

Spreading you out so that your cunt and ass are fully on display. You shift around, hearing the swinging of the small chain against the wood. It's only a few moments before you hear voices. You aren't the only one who's here. Some are on their stomachs while some are like you.

Either way all you can do now is patiently wait. You wonder what kind of people are here. In fact you wouldn't be surprised if a few FEDRA soldiers took pleasure in a place like this. Moans and grunts fill the room and you bite your lip in anticipation for what's to come.

Suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your legs. A gasp escapes from your lips as you feel his rough hands glide up and down your bare skin.

Even if you can't see him you can tell he's a big man. His hands wrap around your ankle, thumb running over the flesh. He's a tease. Most men would dive right in, not wasting anytime lubing up and fucking their cock into one of your holes.

But this man, he's taking his time. You jump when you feel his lips on your skin. Their chapped and sloppy as he kisses down your leg until he hits your thigh. It's a strange but incredibly wonderful feeling as he sucks on the skin. He nips your thigh and you whine.

A muffled chuckle can be heard through the wall and you know he's enjoying this. His hands slowly slide further down until they're right where you want them to be. His thumb swipes over your clit and you squirm. The small burst of pleasure was nice but you crave more.

"Don't move baby." The man purrs, his voice is clearer than before and fuck does he sound delicious. It's deep and smooth like whiskey. There's an accent to him too.

But you're not one to just roll over, at least not now. You want to see how far he'll go. Defiantly you roll your hips as best you can, searching for the sweet touch of his fingers. He tsks and you let out a small scream as his hand comes down on your pussy.

He slapped you and fuck did it feel good. A rush of arousal fills your body as you crave the feeling again. "What'd I fuckin' tell you." Without another word he slides two of his fingers deep inside of your cunt.

No warning, no time to get used to the feeling. A small glob of spit hits your cunt and he slowly pulls his fingers out, spreading it around and then shoves them back in. His thick fingers pound into you without mercy.

"Oh fuck!" You cry as you mindlessly search for something to grab onto. To anchor you back to reality as this man makes you see stars.

His fingers are so thick and curling in every way that makes you scream. There's no shame anymore as he groans at the sight of you sucking up his fingers. So wet, so tight.

"Bet you're gonna feel real nice taking this dick baby." He mumbles. You hear the clinking of a belt and his breathing becomes faster. He must be touching himself.

Fuck.

You almost regret having the wall between the two of you, wanting to know what it looks like. Wanting to see how he fucks his cock with his hand. If he's long, if he's girthy.

His thumb presses hard on your clit and you cry out, music to his ears. Why he's doing this you'll never know but you're glad he is. You're glad he's taking his time with you. Pleasuring you.

The tightness in your core gets tighter and tighter as he continues to fuck you with his fingers relentlessly. You're not really supposed to talk so you let your moans speak for you. Not holding back as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"Almost there." The man grunts out. Before you can come he rips his hand away from you. If you could you'd curse him out until next week. It's not fair.

"Aw don't be sad baby, I'll get you nice and full real soon." The man purrs.

The tip of his cock slides into your dripping cunt and god...he's big. Really fucking big.

"That shut you up real quick." He slides in a slow, torturous pace.

It doesn't fucking stop. When his hips hit the back of your thighs you're shaking from the feeling. The head of his dick deep inside of you, deeper than you thought possible.

"Ah fuck, knew you'd be a special one." His hands slide down to your ass and lifts it slightly. His hands giving it a squeeze before he slides out and slams back in. Your back arches as he fucks deep and rough into you.

"Take it baby, take this cock." He grunts loudly as he starts to lose his composure. It's like you're made for him. He could get lost in this cunt. Fuck if he could he'd take you out to dinner after this and fuck you on his mattress. Keep you safe and provide for you.

"Feel good? Bet it does, bet this is the best fucking cock you've ever taken." You're nodding your head but he can't see it. He's fucking the words out of you.

Leaving you breathless and desperate to come. The bruising grip on your ass loosens as he slaps it instead. Sending shockwaves through your body and prompting him to do it again.

"Ngh-Fuck! Oh god please." You moan.

If your legs weren't pinned to the wall you'd spread them even wider. Wanting all of what this man can give you. He's getting cocky but he can back it up with how he's treating you. And he's right. This is the best dick you've gotten in a long time.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya. Just hold on a little longer." His hands run across your ass, this time in a much softer manner.

You wish the wall was gone. That you could see his face, see the man who's ruining you like you always dreamed of.

"Hurry up." You hear someone else say.

Suddenly you're brought back to reality. You're just someone to fuck. No face and no name. You came here for that but now you're wishing you could at least the get name of this man.

"Fuck off." He snarls. His gruff voice getting angrier as he stills his hips. Silently you clench around him, begging him to fuck you again.

"Patience." He says to you harshly as he slaps your ass.

"You've been here for fucking ever man." The other man complains.

"I won't say it again. This one is mine." It shouldn't arouse you as much as it does. You don't know him and he doesn't know you but god the way he said it. The way he called you his, it made you want him even more.

Of course he notices the way you started to shift when he said it. How you squeezed around his cock, and the small whine you let out.

"Oh you like that? Like knowing that you're going to be nothing but my little toy." His hips start to move faster.

His dick fucking roughly into you over and over again. He's ruthless, chasing his own pleasure and using your pussy as a means for it. His thumb rubs your clit harshly as he nears his end. Knowing you're getting closer to coming you egg him on.

Begging for him to make you come. Pleading for him to push you over the edge with his cock and his fingers. His hands slam against the wall, groaning loudly as he stills his hips. He doesn't let up on your clit until you cry out and come hard on his cock.

He's throbbing in overstimulation but he stays deep inside. Not ready to give up your sweet pussy yet. His cock slides out slowly and you hate it, wanting him to stay inside you for longer. Whining sadly you clench around nothing.

"Don't be sad baby, I meant what I said." He says sweetly.

You can feel his cum dripping from you and down your body. It feels sticky and hot and you want more. You gasp when two of his fingers gather the dripping mess and pushes it back into your cunt.

"Come find me when you're done baby." With that he's gone.

You take a moment to catch your breath and thankfully no one comes up to you. His words dawn on you. Come find him? He didn't even give you a name.

Some more men come and go but no one compares to him. As they try and fuck you with their sloppy thrusts and misguided hands, all you can think of is him.

You're sore when they unlock your legs. When you leave they hand you an envelope and send you on your way. There's a wonderful ache as you walk back home.

Finally when you're safe from FEDRA and in your shitty little apartment you open the envelope. The promised ration cards are there but with them is a bundle that contained almost double the pay.

Attached was a small note with a name.

Joel Miller

Below that is an address messily scribbled down. Smirking you throw the card on your bedside table. You'll find him. And when you do, he better be ready.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 28 days

Note

Can I request the fluff alphabet for Nikolai or Soap? So happy to hear you’re doing well, always look forward to your writing!

Hey there! Of course you can! And thank you! Glad to hear you enjoy my writing!

Fluff Alphabet for Soap

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Soap definitely loves being out and about, so he’d love nothing more than to go outside with you and just do things there. It doesn’t even need to be anything terrific like hiking on top of a mountain, a walk in the park suffices for him as well. As long as he gets to spend time with you he’s all game. Though, beware: He will likely be touching you in some way the entire time. If it’s raining outside or the weather is bad otherwise then he’ll opt for cuddling on the bed or couch with you. He’s a touchy guy, the only time he’ll let up is when you need to use the bathroom. But even then he’ll whine to no end.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He knows that he can’t be home for too long, so he definitely admires your patience with him. It takes quite a lot of it to date a soldier. Another thing he admires about you would be your loyalty and trust in him. He’s abroad for months at a time, but you don’t question his intentions, believing that he’ll stay with you. And that he will. Soap wouldn’t betray that trust. You don’t message him every time you’re being insecure about your relationship because there’s no need to be. Soap makes sure you feel loved and that you’re the only one.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He’d go about it in the same way he’d prefer to be handled during tough times. He, too, can be a patient man and will listen to your every woe, should you want to tell him about it. Although he may not have the best advice for everything, he’ll certainly try. If you want your favorite dish, he’ll cook it for you. If you just want to cry on his shoulder, he’ll let you while he holds you.

If you’re having a panic attack then he’d try to calm you down immediately, getting you away from whatever might be causing you even more distress. He’s learned a thing or two about calming down, so he’d just talk to you, distracting you from it all until you feel better. This guy has plenty of stories to tell, funny ones too. He’ll calmly talk to you, trying to not have his accent be as thick as it usually may be either so you can understand him.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He’s a more traditional man, so I can see him wanting to get married to you eventually. He dreams of the day he gets down on one knee, pulling out the little box with the ring in it and asking you the big question. Afterwards he’d love to have a dog with you. A rather big one as well, like a St. Bernard or a German Shepherd. Soap loves picturing the kind of future where his dog will lie on top of you while you try to get it off and complain to him about him taking pictures of it. He may love being a soldier, but he adores you and would do anything for you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He believes himself to be more dominant than he actually is. Sure, he can take on the role of being the more dominant person among the two of you, but he will step back as well if he needs to, or wants to. When it comes to your well-being, though, that’s when he’ll get very aggressive. Someone sleazebag is flirting with you? Soap’s won against plenty of people, so this fucker will be no exception. However, he can appreciate a suggestion you have made as well and will follow directions. Sometimes he does like letting you take the reigns as well, though.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It’s not very hard to annoy him, even if he can hold himself back usually. But when it all gets too much he’ll get a bit louder for a moment before going quiet. He’ll be passive aggressive the entire time, even if he won’t outright insult you. He knows when emotions are appropriate, so he can control them 80% of the time. Won’t insult you, won’t yell at you either, but he will hiss at you. Give him some time to cool down and think it all over and he’ll forgive and forget. If he’s in the wrong he’ll apologize, if you’re in the wrong he won’t forget as easily without an apology, but he’ll forgive.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Yes, he’s very aware of what you’re doing for him. It’s not a given that someone as wonderful as you stays with him, even less so that you do what you do for him. He’s very grateful and will show such as well. Gives you chocolates and flowers, will take you on dates and outings, will do whatever he can to pay those favors back as well. He loves you and you should know that, so he will cling to you like a koala. Either that or he’ll help you with the chores when he’s not as tired anymore after deployment. Either way, you won’t be alone with doing the chores while he’s around.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

There’s plenty of things he doesn’t tell you, actually. Sure, there are some confidential missions he can’t tell you about, so there’s always that. However, he still does have some pride, so he won’t always tell you when he’s in pain either. He can take it like a man, no need to bother you with that sort of thing. He’s also pretty good at hiding his injuries and how much pain he’s in, if it isn’t too overwhelming. But other than that he’s a pretty honest guy and will tell you just about anything. You deserve to know everything about him, but likewise he expects you to be honest and open with him as well. A relationship can only truly prosper with communication.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

I think you would likely be able to help him with calming down a bit and finding a purpose in life that wasn’t being a soldier. He’s always been an active guy with a knack for chemistry and weaponry, so he wanted to put that knowledge to good use. However, ever since he’s gotten with you he realized that not everything needs to be about work or war. He can definitely appreciate the smaller things with you, like receiving a flower crown from you. You make his life more worthwhile and he finally has something to look forward to that isn’t just work. He has someone to come home to, and that’s worth a lot in his eyes.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

It depends on the person stealing your attention. If it’s, say, Ghost, then he doesn’t mind as much since he knows Ghost has no ill intentions with you. But if it’s some random person then he definitely gets jealous if you spend too much time with them. Starts brooding and getting closer to you, wrapping an arm around you, maybe even kissing your cheek while he’s at it. If it was appropriate, he would growl at the person as well, trying to get them to go away. You’re his and no one else’s. Doesn’t apologize for his behavior either, if he’s jealous then he’s jealous, and that’s that. You’re more than welcome to act the same way with him as well, by the way.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s not too bad at kissing. Soap has had a few high school sweethearts, so he’s definitely kissed before and takes it easy. He wasn’t particularly stressed out about your first kiss together either and just let it happen. Although he was being cheesy and asked you to close his eyes before he kissed you. It was a gentle kiss since he wasn’t too sure if you truly liked him the way he likes you and he didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable. But when you told him you felt the same way he quickly gave you another kiss.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I don’t think he’d make too much of a fuss about it. He’d take you to a nice park on a nice day, maybe have a picnic with you and then casually ask you if you wanted to be a thing together. It’s not too bad if you say no, even if he’d be crushed, but he could just play it off and continue the picnic and be friends with you. Would love to watch the clouds go by while lying on the blanket with you. That’s also when he might confess to you.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes, he definitely wants to get married. He wants nothing more than to have a spouse to come home to. With you wearing an apron, asking him if he wants dinner, a bath or you first. It’s cliched, but he’d melt if you ever called him honey. I think he’d think his proposal through, though. It’s important to him, but he still wants the day to be fun, so he might take you to an amusement park and propose to you on the ferris wheel, sincerely hoping it stops while you’re on top and can view the entire city. The marriage would be sweet, he’d be even more doting on you. Would proudly introduce you as his spouse.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Although they’d start out as a joke where he would mimic those embarrassingly sweet couples calling each other embarrassingly sweet things, he’d eventually take a liking to things such as pumpkin, pudding, or cutie pie. Naturally, there’s also things like babe and baby. If he can reference a stupid meme, he will. You’re also his silly little rabbit, no matter how much you dislike that nickname.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s somewhat obvious to others. Soap is much more inclined to gravitate towards you and try to spend as much time with you as possible. He likely also won’t leave you alone unless you ask him to. He becomes much more chatty with you and brags about his accomplishments as well. Might even flex for you, even if it’s cringe. You need to realize how strong and awesome he is. Also does you a lot of favors, you don’t need to repay him. See? Isn’t he just the ideal guy? Isn’t he just so dateable?

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

If it was up to him either one of you would be holding the other at any point in time. He’s not afraid to show the world you’re a thing, he will brag about you to everyone willing to listen. Even if he’s being called embarrassing, he’ll just keep on going. The world needs to know just how lovely you are, that you’re the best partner anyone could have ever asked for. Kisses you in public, hugs you in public, cuddles you in public. If you’re comfortable with it.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s a very observant guy, so he’ll almost always know what’s up just by watching you for a bit. You’re happy? You’re sad? You’re mad? Don’t worry, he can pretty accurately gauge your emotional well-being just by watching you for a bit. Does what he needs to do to either cheer you up or keep you happy afterwards.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s somewhere in the middle. While he may not be the most romantic person out there, he does dream of kissing you under the moonlight and dance with you then and there as well. When it comes to making you happy he’d do just about anything. You want a cat? You want some cuddles? You want him to kill that guy for you? Just ask for it, you’ll receive whatever you want, you’re his partner and therefore very important to him. He tries to get a bit more creative with what he gifts you and actively searches for things online. But usually he just settles for showing you Scotland. His country is important to him as well, so he hopes you can appreciate it as much as he appreciates you. He means well, he’s just very easily excited about it.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Oh, definitely. It doesn’t matter what your goal may be, he’ll do what he can to help you achieve it. You wanna work out? He’ll go to the gym with you. You wanna get better mentally? He’s there, cheering you on every step of the way. You wanna be independent? He has connections, you’ll get your dream job and dream pay, don’t even worry about it. As long as you let him help you, he will. And even if you refuse his help he will somehow weasel himself in anyway and help you out, even if you won’t ever know about it.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Although repetition can be a nice thing, he does prefer having something new every once in a while. Sometimes he wants to see another country with you, sometimes he wants to try new foods with you, sometimes he just wants to watch a new movie with you. It doesn’t always need to be the most exciting thing with you, even the small things suffice, but he needs something new. The same routine every time bores him to death and annoys him as well. Again, something small will suffice for some time, but then it’s definitely time for a vacation away from it all.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He likes to think he knows you quite well by now. He can remember things very well too, so if you ever mention a fun fact about yourself, chances are he’ll remember it forever. If you ever want something, no matter how small it is, Soap will remember and you’ll get it eventually. He’s also an empathetic person. He sees you and feels what you’re feeling, at least to some degree. Probably not with the same intensity that you do, but he tries to understand you.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship with you is very important to him, as important as his friendship with Ghost, Gaz and Price. The four of you are the most important people in his life, along with his family, and he’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. He does hope that you can get along with the other three as well, though.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Has probably tried to serenade you before. His voice is by no means bad, but it’s his accent that makes you giggle. He does lay it on extra thick as well when singing I’m Gonna Be just to hear you laugh a bit. He mostly just sings to you to hear your giggles and see you smile, but he does like singing and whistling to himself when he’s alone.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes. Soap loves nothing more than holding you close whenever he can, especially if you haven’t seen each other in months. When he’s tired you can be certain he’ll be all over you the entire time until he falls asleep. And even then he has an iron grip on you so you won’t escape him. He’s a human furnace as well, so while it may be pleasant in winter, it’s hell in summer. But that’s the worst part about him, he doesn’t mind being sweaty as long as he gets to cuddle you. He’s used to being sweaty anyway, he can just shower it off, but he needs to hold you or else he’ll combust.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Whenever he can, he’ll text or call you. He knows it’s not always the time for such a thing, but he’ll do it anyway. Sometimes, he’ll call you just to hear your voice and fall asleep to it. He imagines himself doing all the domestic things to you he can’t do in the moment, it helps him fall asleep when his heart is aching for you yet again. Sometimes, when he’s just on base and not necessarily being deployed, he’ll steal a plushie from you and take it with him, cuddling it in your stead at night. It does help him sleep better.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Soap would literally kill and die for you. He has this sense of camaraderie to him, and that extends to you as well. He’d fight for you, he’d take a severe hit for you. Anything to make sure you’re alright . Soap is loyal to a fault, so even just someone looking at you the wrong way warrants a fight, in his eyes. You’d need to remind him that none of this is necessary, that you’ll be alright and then he’ll calm down. But don’t you ever think that this man won’t blow up entire buildings just to watch you smile. He’ll make his own explosives as well, if he needs to.

#cod #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #This took me almost two hours to write ^^;#I think I'm just gonna do Nikolai and then only accept up to five letters at a time for a character and not do the whole thing ^^;#also this is not proofread I am too tired to proofread this right now #I'm sure it'll be alright though #I was so happy to receive a request for Soap! my brain's been Soaping as of late again!#plus I love that little stinker with all of my heart and much more!#I hope these are alright! feel free to interpret these things the way you would want as well!#I missed Soap he's such a good character I wish I could hold and cuddle him irl as well #but alas my imagination will have to do!#writing about Soap cuddles is definitely cathartic though!

66 notes · View notes

useless-catalanfacts · 3 months

Text

A new rule to increment discrimination

Context:

Public healthcare is one of the places where the most Catalanophobic interactions are reported. In 4 years, more than 100 Catalan speakers have reported that they have been denied healthcare or otherwise discriminated against for speaking Catalan, or were unable to access any healthcare in Catalan in a Catalan-speaking territory.

From disabled people who only speak Catalan being refused any medical attention unless they speak Spanish (which they don't know how to speak), to a man calling the ambulance but the healthcare worker who answers the phone spends the time scolding the caller for not speaking Spanish instead of calling for the urgently-needed ambulance, to many, many, many, many, many, many doctors telling patients "either you speak in Spanish or you leave", and many others given choices that link their language to shame: "would you rather speak Catalan or your son get cured?", "do you want to speak Catalan or do you want a vaccine appointment?", or being told "[derrogatory/infantilizing word for "woman"], you're making me waste time" for seeking medical attention as a Catalan-speaker.

Lack of access to healthcare is a systemic problem for Catalan people, who are often forced to use Spanish if we want medical treatment in our own country.

People should have the right to access public services (that they pay for with their own tax money) in the language of the country. Can you imagine an English speaker in England not being able to see any doctor or nurse who can attend them in English? Or in French in France, or German in Germany? It doesn't happen because speakers of the dominant language have the State on their side, but Catalan speakers have the Spanish (and French, in the case of Northern Catalonia) Government actively working against us.

And, more than anywhere else, in a moment of great vulnerability like the medical setting, it's very important that patients can speak their own language and not have to worry about translating concepts, they need to have the confidence to speak clearly on what happens to them and be focused on the issue, not on word choice or accent of this second language. Even less be worried about possibly facing discrimination for it.

The new rule:

The new Government of the Valencian Country (a coalition of the right-wing party PP and the fascist party Vox, both Spanish supremacist parties who make the hatred against Catalan/Valencian one of their main campaign points) has announced yet another way to increment that discrimination.

Until now, to decide who to hire for public jobs, there was a system of points, where each kind of certificate and qualification gave you some points. Speaking the local language (Valencian/Catalan) was already not a requisite —legally creating the situation where doctors and nurses can not know any of the language spoken in the place where they work. But, until now, speaking the local language at least gave some extra points.

Now, this new Spanish supremacist regional government has decided that knowing Valencian in the Valencian Country to work in a job with public interaction is worth less than speaking any language of an independent EU state. This means that you get more points for speaking, for example, Latvian, Swedish, Maltese, Slovak or Lithuanian, than for speaking the language of the place where you will be working and where you will be talking to people.

My full respect for speakers of all these languages, but (as an example) a hypothetical Estonian speaker who you might never even encounter in a Valencian town should not be worth more than the very real Valencian speakers that you will surely encounter working in the Valencian Country.

This rule is another step to legally protect systemic discrimination and to make it continue in the future.

Note: Valencian and Catalan are two names for the same language. They're being used interchangeably.

#actualitat #país valencià #coses de la terra #valencià #catalanophobia #catalanofòbia #discrimination #language rights #minoritized languages #minority languages #valencian #langblr #languages #cultures #human rights #healthcare #medblr #european union #imperialism

89 notes · View notes

m00nsbaby · 7 months

Text

Violent things.

Steven Grant + Marc Spector + Jake Lockley x F! reader. Part I. (Out of 3.)

Tags & warnings. Lots of talks about death, violence, abuse. Inspired by Moon Knight's 5 episode x Corpse Bride. (+ this one is for my delulu girls since the reader is a bit delulu lol.)

Word count. 6.2k

Summary.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. Hah, he did that too. "I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else. "Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Each person had a different 'other side.'

Except you. Or well, technically, you had it, but it had been a long time since you'd been in it. In fact, apart from the bright colors, you couldn't remember much of it.

You'd been in excessively bright representations of what people imagine as 'heaven,' parties with mead, and you'd even tried candies that would have turned your tongue green if you'd eaten them in life.

Although, of course, that's how the most common ones looked; there were stranger ones too. People seeing themselves in their tiny cat-filled apartment or wandering the halls of their old school. Either way, it was fine because it was only temporary while they reached their destination.

Everyone except you.

And a few others who had the misfortune of lacking emotional intelligence even in death.

Literally.

It's okay, though. Over the years, you got used to this 'life' and the idea that you would never see him again, although getting used to it didn't mean you stopped missing him.

Stopped thinking about him.

Stopped wanting him back.

Anyway, work kept you busy because, yes, even in death, you couldn't escape the damn bureaucracy. You didn't have a real name for your boss because she also looked different to each person; to you, her face was very similar to that of an old friend, even though you couldn't specify which one.

She took pity on you somehow. She explained your situation, although it took you a lot of energy and time to understand it. She did everything possible to keep you from becoming one of those lost souls who simply roamed around here. She also pulled you back onto the path when you began to stray.

"There are 3."

You frowned.

"What do you mean, there are 3?"

"There are 3." she shrugged as you walked through the corridors of the psychiatric void. This was a new scenario, and your clothes were different too. Something more modern, you didn't recognize it as something from your time.

Yes, a few years weren't that long, but fashion moved disgustingly fast in the world of the living.

"Do you think you can handle them?" Should you mention to the boss that she looks like a chatty hippo, or is that the kind of thing you keep quiet to maintain good working relations?

You bit your lip and then nodded.

"Good luck." Her mocking smile was never a good sign.

Before you could object, she had disappeared. You took a deep breath; those were funny expressions that had stuck with you even now that you didn't have to breathe for real.

Your shoes echoed in the empty halls as you headed for what you assumed was the main entrance.

The door opened by itself.

Or rather, it opened before you even extended your hand.

"Whoa." You muttered, your eyes widening at the guy in front of you.

A rebellious curl fell over his forehead, and his huge brown eyes were even wider in surprise. He was dressed appropriately for the situation; it looked like a uniform for a psychiatric ward patient, and although it was loose-fitting, you would swear you could see his muscles from miles away.

And he, on the other hand, practically screamed in your face.

"Shit!" He jumped in place, bringing a hand to his chest as he laughed in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there was a bloodstain right on his chest. Nothing to worry about, not anymore at least; once you died, you technically couldn't die twice.

Although finding a functional washing machine in any of the many 'beyonds' was trickier than it seemed. If this Marc Spector guy was in the same situation as you, it was quite likely that he would spend the rest of eternity with that stain on his clothes.

Unless the boss offered him a job.

It would be wonderful to have him here forever.

Were you overthinking? Probably.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

Hah, he did that too.

"I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else.

"Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Your voice sent shivers down his spine, and when he finally bothered to look at you more closely, you could see a touch of fear in his expression.

You were used to it by now, so why did it hurt this time?

"You're joking."

"Maybe if there was someone else to see me lying to you, it would be more fun, don't you think?" You tried to joke, but the poor guy seemed on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

That was a good sign; maybe you could keep him after all.

Marc pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Do you expect me to believe this is the afterlife?"

"No, not the afterlife, an afterlife. This one is yours, well, for now, this is the path."

He fell silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if his body still needed oxygen.

You waited.

And waited.

But he never said anything, so you caught his attention by clearing your throat.

"Welcome, dear… traveler," you murmured as you clumsily searched for your notes in your pockets.

Ah, there they are.

"I will be in charge of…" You continued reading. "Guiding you on your way to…" How could you call this? Heaven? Valhalla? Mictlan? "What comes next."

Marc looked at you as if you were crazy, and you had no choice but to continue.

"It's a place that's difficult for the human mind to comprehend, so for you, it's something more…" You looked around with a furrowed brow. "Familiar."

He scoffed, his tone full of irony.

"I really am crazy," he muttered in a whisper.

"Together, we will traverse the 10 steps that will lead you to eternal rest." Your arm moved awkwardly up and down. What a stupid choreography your boss had given you. "Although," you stepped out of character. "Sometimes they are doors, and it seems that will be the case this time."

"Who are you?" He asked out of nowhere, and you swallowed hard.

"Your guide."

"Are you some kind of… Goddess? Are you God?"

You laughed, partly embarrassed, partly genuinely amused.

"I'm just your guide."

Marc had to settle for your answer.

"Are you ready?"

"Can one be ready for something like this?"

You shook your head but gave him a resigned smile. You felt sorry for him, as well as for all those who passed through your hands, but at least you did your part by taking them to what you would never know.

You offered him your hand, and hesitantly, he took it.

The contact with his skin made you swear that your heart was beating again.

You took a slow step through the corridors of the psychiatric ward with him behind you, his fingers gradually clinging to you. This was the first time in a long time that Marc allowed himself to be afraid, even when his thoughts were divided between his desire to cling to life and, on the other hand, that 'finally' feeling that had been intoxicating him for the past 10 years, ever since Roro left.

A few minutes of walking, and you knew by pure intuition which was the first door.

Unfinished business.

The first scene was… Something.

No one likes to witness the way they died, but much less what happens afterward. Have you ever heard that the last sense you lose is your hearing? Marc could clearly hear Layla scream his name just after the gunshot.

Or at least, his body managed to register the sound because he didn't remember it, but you could clearly see the scene at this moment.

"You left something unfinished." Your voice was as gentle as you could make it as you surrounded his body on the ground.

A strange feeling overcame you as you watched the curly-haired girl kneel beside him.

Holding him, begging him to come back.

Not sadness or pity, as it usually happened; you felt… uncomfortable? Annoyed?

Marc released your hand to get closer, appreciating the scene up close, and you knew how much he wished to touch Layla when his hand moved in her direction, trying to get her attention.

"Layla?" He whispered, his voice broken, his attention focused solely on her. He didn't even look at his body, which was slowly giving in. He didn't realize how she cradled him between her cheeks and kissed his lips one last time just now.

Your stomach churned; fortunately, you had already forgotten when was the last time you had ingested something.

"Baby?" He asked louder, and you knew it was time to intervene.

"She can't hear you," you whispered from behind, only able to observe Marc's back. The way his body contracted and suffered from small spasms due to crying.

Isn't it curious how all those things become muscle memory? Your breathing shouldn't be a problem when you weren't in your physical body, yet these things still happened.

"What were you doing here?" Your gaze wandered through the darkness inside the pyramid, your steps careful as you approached the open tomb of God knows who. A disgusted expression appeared on your lips at the sight of the mummified corpse.

Everything was better when you pretended that maybe you didn't really look like this.

Marc gave an ironic laugh, still crying, but you decided to give him space.

"I was trying to save the world."

You scoffed. 'Well, to each their own,' you thought as your fingers traced the edge of the tomb.

Hopefully, they buried you in something nice and expensive too.

"This might hold you here; we still don't know what will happen next because it's very recent."

"No." He interrupted, still kneeling in front of himself.

It turns out that the last thing his body registered was the way Layla grabbed his chest, taking something that rested on it afterward. The girl stood up, still with a broken heart but doing her best not to collapse.

You recognized that expression quite well.

"She'll take care of it."

Everything around him became blurry, apparently, that was the point at which he stopped fighting.

Marc slowly got to his feet, his eyes red, and he sniffed repeatedly. If you had the chance, maybe you'd tell him that he didn't need to do that, nothing would come out of his nose.

He looked good, though, even after getting shot, he still seemed attractive.

The good thing is that you still had 9 different opportunities to make him stay with you, but there was still one question. What did the boss mean when she said there were 3? An administrative error or something like that?

"She'll figure it out," he sounded sure as he pressed his nose bridge and took deep breaths. "She'll fix it."

"Then this is closed." You shrugged. Over time, you learned which dead ones to trust and which not to. Maybe Marc wasn't so wrong.

Nine opportunities.

"Congratulations." You offered him your hand, and he took it again.

That had to mean something, right?

You didn't pay much attention to the way he looked back, as if that would give him one last look at Layla. She had been gone for a while now. In fact, in the world of the living, this had probably happened hours ago.

The good thing (for him) is that apparently, she hadn't died yet.

Well, for you too, so you wouldn't find her wandering around. Romances that not even death could separate were the worst.

No more was said as you guided him through the passageways of the old pyramids as if you were an expert archaeologist, or perhaps an amateur with a lot of free time. One step forward from both of you, and everything around him looked different.

Vengeance.

"I have to tell you now." The cold streets of New York made you feel alive, especially in the short skirt you were wearing. The breeze cooled your legs and tousled your hair.

This seemed more common, even in the seedy side of the city. Apparently, Marc had been a normal person occasionally in his life, not someone who went on pyramid expeditions for fun.

"You won't be able to get revenge on anyone by being here." You walked ahead, trying to find the next door. It wasn't worth wasting time on this. "Sometimes divine justice serves in your favor and takes care of them, but it's not worth staying for a trivial matter."

And you knew it well.

When Marc's silence seemed suspicious, you looked back.

His clothes had also changed; he was wearing a leather jacket and a rather peculiar cap. It was gray, and it fit him ridiculously well.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his hand still holding yours.

"Cariño?" That accent was new. Did Marc like to play someone else occasionally at night? It wouldn't surprise you from someone like him.

Weird, like you.

Different, perhaps.

"What am I doing here?"

"Oh no, are you one of those?" You confronted him, one hand still holding his, and the other going straight to his face. You opened one of his eyes wider with your fingers, and he stayed still.

Had he drunk too much the night before or something? Jake didn't experience these things, never.

He didn't lose track of time; he didn't dissociate or lose control of his body; he didn't forget, and he didn't sleep.

This didn't make sense, at least not for him.

"You are dead, Marc," your words made his stomach churn. "I'm guiding you, we're only on the second level." Vapor came out of your mouth as if it were freezing, and your body still had that natural warmth that one emits when they are alive.

He furrowed his brow, looking at you as if he were seeing a ghost.

Well, that's what he was doing, but when you're dead, you don't have the right to see other dead people like this.

"I'm not… I'm not Marc."

Oh.

The boss's words made a bit more sense now. So, were they really brothers? Twins perhaps? Or whatever they were called when they were three.

The poor guy seemed about to have a crisis, very similar to Marc when you first found him.

"Jake Lockley." Your mind clicked, as it always did when you had these encounters with the souls you guided. A hazard of the job, there were things you knew and things you didn't.

He nodded slowly.

"Listen, sweetheart." He slowly released your hand, and the gesture didn't please you. I mean, if you couldn't keep Marc, maybe it could be one of the other two.

"I don't know what kind of joke you're playing," he walked past you while searching in his pocket for what seemed to be keys. "You're beautiful, and maybe we had a pretty fun night, but it's likely that what we have won't work, especially when you're calling me by another name and trying to play those little mind games with me, which, by the way, don't affect me in the least…"

Jake bumped into someone as he moved away from you clumsily.

"Sorry," he muttered, still confused. The other person ignored him, but when he looked back, his eyes widened in surprise. "¿Qué mierda?" You heard him mumble as he stumbled, sitting on the pavement.

Turns out Jake had bumped into himself.

And you suppressed the 'I told you so' smile.

"See?" You watched him pass you as well, and after a few seconds, you decided to approach him, extending your hand.

He looked at it in silence before taking it and getting to his feet.

"You're not playing, right?"

"Nope," you let go of his hand as you inspected his face. He looked so similar to Marc, yet so different at the same time.

"Are we dead?"

"I'm a little deader than you, but yes."

He bit his lower lip, and you saw him take off his cap and run a hand through his disheveled curls, more out of desperation than aesthetics.

He took a deep breath several times, more than you could count, and looked back. You saw the other Jake moving away in the crowd, and without saying anything, you turned to follow him without losing track.

Jake had to snap out of his crisis to follow you.

And him.

"Is that it? Are you not going to give me an explanation?" He hurriedly walked, doing his best not to bump into anyone until he realized that no one seemed to be affected by his shoves, not even moving them.

"We can't lose sight of you."

"This has to be a bad dream."

Maybe you liked Marc more than him.

"It's not a dream, Jake." You let out a deep sigh as you continued walking behind him. "You died, Marc did too, and…"

"Steven?"

"Right."

You finally turned to look at him when Jake from his memory stopped in front of a car.

It was a nice car.

"I still don't know what happened to you and Steven, but Marc got shot right…" You touched the center of his chest, and he didn't show how your touch made him shiver. "Here."

He wasn't sure if it was worth explaining to you right now that if Marc died, he would drag them both down with him.

"And who are you?"

"Your guide." You gave up; you would have to go through this again.

"Are you a product of my imagination?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Why do you look like one of my one-night stands?"

"I look like this all the time, actually," you looked down; this outfit was terribly uncomfortable. "Except for the criminally short skirt."

The sound of the door made you look forward. Apparently, the other Jake got into the car when you were distracted.

You opened the rear door of the car and looked at the confused guy in front of you.

"Get in."

And he obeyed; you got in afterward.

They were silent for most of the way, neither of you knew exactly where you were going because Jake had vague memories of this particular memory, if that made sense.

He had traveled this same road so many times for the same purpose that this could be any day of his life.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Your voice broke the silence, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I was interrogating some guys in Cairo."

Ah, well, it seemed that he was just as strange as Marc.

"I see."

Jake somehow saw himself as the most stable of the three; he had learned to deal with the blows of life that he was forced to take to protect Marc and Steven from them.

But nothing had prepared him for the idea of failing them.

For failing them so horribly.

If he kept thinking, he'd go crazy. Even more.

You didn't know how long you had been here; everything seemed more tedious when Jake decided he didn't want to chat with you, or anyone, for that matter.

You assumed it was shock or something similar, and as for what this scenario meant, you understood why revenge wouldn't retain him.

Because Jake got rid of everyone who got in his way. To him or to Marc.

Both of you watched him drive, dispose of bodies, clean his clothes, and repeat as many times as necessary.

Well, he observed with a disgusted expression, and he took the liberty of covering your eyes with his hand. Well, it wasn't anything you hadn't seen before; apparently, the innocent face always gave the wrong impression.

The night ended with him crawling heavily to his apartment, tired, regretful, and often injured.

You looked at him beside you. Why did he seem so distraught by his own actions?

"So, can we cross revenge off your list?" You tried to joke when the expression on his face weighed on your chest. He didn't hear you; he kept looking at the path he had taken to the apartment.

If this was a divine way to make him regret his actions in life, it was quite functional, to be honest.

"And now?" His eyes fixed on you.

And you looked back at him.

"Do you still have the keys?" You pointed to the car.

He searched his pockets, and the keys jingled. Without saying anything, he opened the front passenger door for you to get in.

The gesture made you bite your lower lip to avoid smiling.

He got in afterward.

"Where are we going?" He started the car, and the roar of the engine added an extra note to the pain he was carrying at the moment.

He wasn't going to drive his car ever again?

Driving was the only thing that brought him peace, and the car was the only thing that belonged to him and only him. In fact, the vehicle was in his name, as was his driver's license. They were the only legal documents with Jake's name on them, even if it had cost him a fortune to bribe those in charge to get them without having to present any other proof that there was nothing suspicious behind them.

They were the only proof that Jake was real.

"I don't know, you'll feel it when we get there," you murmured without bothering to roll up the window; you just let the breeze hit you as the car started moving.

He didn't believe you, but apparently you weren't lying, his instinct was guiding him through the empty and dark streets of New York.

His home.

After a few minutes, Jake took a moment to look at you while you seemed completely absorbed in the detailed memories of Jake, who seemed to have even memorized the signs that adorned the streets he was driving through.

"What are you?" The question sounded a bit more offensive than he would have liked.

"Your guide."

"Are you sure you're not some kind of fantasy of mine?"

Was he flirting with you or insulting you? Either way, you smiled.

"None of that," you cleared your throat and finally looked at him. "I'm at the point where you are right now, and I'm staying here."

Should he inquire further, or were manners no longer as necessary when you were dead?

"For how long?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to know a lot about this; how long have you been like this?"

The way you shrugged was enough of an answer for him.

You had to close your eyes for a few seconds when you realized the effect the question had on you. You usually didn't talk about yourself, especially not with the people you guided. They were always more concerned about themselves, and with good reason; the boss knew well what had happened to you, but having someone directly ask about the situation left a disgusting taste in your mouth.

"My dear."

"Huh?" You looked at him immediately, furrowing your brow.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"I didn't say anything." The most similar you came to a normal conversation began when Jake released the wheel for a few seconds, raising both hands to declare himself innocent of whatever you were accusing him of.

"I heard you."

"I didn't say anything, I swear on my… death, I guess." He ran a hand through his chest, furrowing his brow.

Even with a bad feeling, you smiled.

And he did too.

Things were more fun when you collected as many jokes as you could about being dead.

"Alright." Your head returned to its position against the seat, and your gaze returned to the outside.

Jake looked at you for a few extra seconds; he knew that smile well.

"I think I can get us out of here," he thought, hoping that Marc and Steven could hear him.

Strong emotions or feelings.

The movement of the car eventually stopped, and you could no longer feel the leather under your fingers; you recognized the grass immediately.

Your eyes were forced open when a couple of children ran past you, laughing and pushing each other. You were beginning to feel tired, even though you were less than halfway there.

You sighed, your body feeling heavy as you stood up.

A couple was enjoying a homemade BBQ, even though the clouds seemed threatening to ruin it.

"Jake? Marc?" You looked around.

Ah, there he was.

Near the children's mother, looking closely at her with a radiant smile. It wasn't difficult to guess that he was Steven; his messy hair and tired eyes didn't resemble the features of Marc or Jake. Well, they did, but not really. Does that make sense?

Finally, one of the three didn't look at you in fear or confusion.

"Oh Gods, hiya!" His accent made you smile, and you waved back in greeting, approaching him as he was only a few steps away.

"You must be Steven."

"And you must be my guide." As if it were a friendly arrangement, he extended his hand, and you shook it gently, enjoying the contact. "Jake explained to me."

Was there a gap between door and door that you didn't witness for them to have a chance to talk? Well, you'd ask later.

"You seem calm."

"I'm totally freaking out on the inside."

You laughed again and nodded. You liked Steven, you liked him more than the other two.

"What level is this?"

"Third." Your attention shifted to the couple next to you, the woman's huge brown eyes told you in seconds that she was the mother of the three.

That was something they had in common, those lost-puppy eyes.

"Strong emotions or feelings." You took a step closer to her, your eyes scanning her face for more familiarities among the triplets and her.

The little wrinkles at the edges of their eyes when they smiled also seemed to come from her. And the curls definitely came from their father.

"Well, I love my mom." He seemed just as distracted by the scene as you were.

You didn't mention that love, at this point, wasn't one of the emotions that could retain you.

The situation wasn't new to you; there was almost always a familiar memory here. You didn't count friends separately because time had shown you that friends were the family you chose; the lines blended easily in those cases.

Maybe this was the reason why you would stay with one of them, and with just 5 minutes exchanged, Steven seemed like a good choice.

The children ran by your side again, and Steven's attention was completely stolen by them. You tilted your head to the side with tenderness and a slight curiosity.

"They're not ready yet; you can go play for a while, understood?" The taller boy nodded, stopping right in front of his brother, who ended up crashing into him.

Both laughed.

"Is it you?" You pointed to the younger one.

Steven seemed as distant from the situation as you. He shook his head slowly before looking at you as if he wanted an explanation. It took him a few seconds to be able to murmur.

"I don't… I don't remember."

"Marc?" The woman called, causing an amusing scene between the two children, Steven, and you since everyone turned to look at her expectantly. "Take care of Roro, please."

Roro?

"Do you have another brother?" Your voice came out so low that not even poor Steven could hear it.

It was a silent agreement in the way you followed him while he continued to follow the children with his mind in a tangle of thoughts. Was this what Marc had been hiding so eagerly?

You could swear a shiver ran through you from head to toe when your eyes settled on the cave the two children were heading towards, and the thunderclap sealed the deal on the bad omens.

You had witnessed these scenes before. When someone was about to die, it always felt like this. Being sensitive to death was one of the quirks that came with the job.

"Steven?"

He didn't even look at you.

"Lads?"

No answer, obviously.

"It's… It's dangerous, they shouldn't…" He seemed to have lost his breath. "They are going to..."

And you nodded slowly.

"I know."

The small steps were only a few meters away from you as the rain intensified. Both you and Steven were getting wet.

"Let me…" He was never able to form a complete sentence. "I know I can…"

You knew he couldn't, but you still followed him into the cave.

You walked in darkness for a very short time, with "I want my mommy" echoing in your ears over and over again.

The cave seemed to end in the living room of what you guessed was their house. Both of you arrived dripping wet, Steven with red eyes after what he had just witnessed.

You were still wondering what role he played in all of this.

Had Marc's emotional burden somehow reached him? After all, he was also their brother, or at least it seemed like it.

You stopped abruptly when both encountered Steven's mother, hands on her hips, her cheeks red with anger. Steven jerked when she yelled the words, "This is all your fault."

Everything was happening too fast, even for you, who had learned the art of controlling the emotions of the moment. It was usually the boss who handled these kinds of situations.

You were never strong enough.

You moved past the scene, your hand learned to Steven's wrist as you directed him upstairs. He couldn't stop looking as he moved awkwardly, stumbling over his own feet.

"It's this way," you whispered, leading him into the room.

You sighed calmly when finally the silence enveloped you. Inside, one of the children was playing alone. The scene tugged at your heartstrings a little more, but hey, at least there was no one screaming.

"I must be remembering wrong," he whispered as a last hope while he sat on the floor, defeated. He took a seat in front of the child. "It must be Marc's doing."

You pursed your lips, deciding not to say anything as you watched his hands tremble. This kind of thing wasn't in the manual.

"Maybe so," you gave him false hope before knocks on the door diverted both of your attention.

"Open the damn door, Marc!"

Another shiver, as horrible as the first one.

"It's not my mom, it's not my mom," the child whispered, covering his hands. Steven and you could do nothing but watch.

"Open this door!" More loud pounding.

More knocks, more panic, more fear.

Until the voice of the kid made you look again.

"Bloody hell! Look at the state of this place." His little eyes focused on a bunch of Legos in front of him. They weren't even scattered. "Better sort it out before mum sees it." His accent was the same as… Steven's.

"Marc! Open this door right now!"

Witnessing that was enough to clear your doubts; you weren't foolish. After your death, no one could really receit you. Your brain easily connected the dots, and apparently, Steven's did too; he had more clues than you did up to that point.

They weren't brothers.

Marc, Steven, and Jake shared the same body.

"When danger is near," Steven narrowed his eyes as he read from the poster on the wall above the child, "Steven Grant has no fear."

He took a deep breath through his mouth with heaviness.

"He made me up." That was the next thing he said, and you couldn't help but watch the child as he organized his Legos.

The door burst open with a shove, and that was your next cue; it was time to get out of there.

"Steven?"

Wendy, whom you had been referring to as 'the mother,' entered the room, her eyes red, and an aroma of alcohol that even you could sense.

"You are going to learn…" She took Marc's belt, the one that hung next to his toys. It was a horrible parallel, and you could swear your chest hurt. "to listen."

Her steps were slow as she coiled the belt in her hand.

"Steven?" You whispered, pushing him in the chest. He stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the scene.

"I wanna see what she did." He mumbled with difficulty.

You gave him another push with all your might.

"Steven, we have to go."

"Let me see what she did." That was the last thing he said before you slammed the door shut, muffling the poor child's cries of pain inside the room.

"I don't hate her." It was the only thing he could say after what seemed like hours. The sun seemed to have set.

You nodded slowly, your head resting against the door just like his.

"I know."

"She was sad."

You had to swallow the urge to tell him that it didn't justify what she did, but you chose to nod and offer him some peace.

"She was."

There were a few more seconds of silence before you murmured, "We have to go."

He nodded and was the first to stand up, intending to offer you his hand, just as you had done with Jake a while ago. You took his hand and stood up, but you didn't let go of his hand.

You descended the stairs slowly; the house suddenly seemed filled with people. Apparently, this wasn't over yet, and you started to seriously think that Steven wouldn't get out of here. How much more could his heart take?

Everything seemed blurry, although of course, you didn't know that the reason behind it was that Marc had never entered the house that day; the memory was clouded by a window in between.

"What happened here?" He whispered behind you.

"Your mom, Steven."

Her photo was on one of the tables, behind two long candles.

"Don't talk nonsense." He took a few steps forward to see what you were seeing. "My mom and I already sorted this out; it must have been something that ha- happened." They were all wearing black clothes around him. "in the past." He completed in a whisper.

You looked at him again, his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head.

"No, no, this can't…" He swallowed hard, making your own throat ache in response. "Marc would have told me."

You doubted it, but it wasn't the time to remind him that Marc seemed to be hiding many things from him.

"No, this can't be happening." He mumbled, again losing his ability to string sentences together.

Breaking your heart once again. The front door of the house opened in front of both of you, and you understood that it was time to move on.

Without saying anything, you tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. You pointed to Marc outside the house, just a few meters away, drinking from his flask with teary eyes.

"Marc?" He whispered to himself as he moved awkwardly and quickly towards him, leaving the house with you behind.

You decided to give him space; his memory allowed you to stroll through a couple of nearby gardens, and you waited on the grass while Steven processed the moment when Marc finally broke down.

Kneeling on the pavement, his body tense until the English accent of the other became noticeable in the way he spoke to himself.

The place was getting darker, and after a few hours, you sat on the sidewalk, watching the scene from afar. Steven had the opportunity to digest the situation as much as he could, and although for any normal person this would have been the end, you knew this wasn't the point for Steven.

He was understanding, strong within his sensitivity, and he knew how to deal with things that Marc couldn't.

You finally understood the feeling he was facing and what he was releasing.

Grief.

The grief of losing his mother as a child, and the grief of losing her again as an adult. His brother, his father.

The grief of losing himself while trying to understand that he wasn't 'the original' but Marc.

Meanwhile, as the crying finally subsided, Steven was talking to himself. Or so it seemed, because no one else (meaning you) could hear the voices of Jake and Marc arguing with him. "I know how to get us out of here." "Jake, we're not going to harm her." They didn't have to say more for Steven to understand that they were referring to you. "I'm just saying it might be an easy job." "Are you suggesting we kill someone who's already dead? You've truly outdone yourself." "At least I'm looking for a solution, unlike you, Mr. 'resigned.'" "We can't leave Layla alone," Steven whispered, his gaze fixed on you in the distance. "See? Steven's on my side." Marc rolled his eyes. "And what do you want to do?" "I'm just saying… if there's a way out of here, she's the one who knows it."

Meanwhile, when the imaginary crickets began to resonate through Marc's blurry memory, Steven returned to you.

"Hey?" You looked at him, who knows how long you had had your eyes closed. "Can we continue?"

You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Let's move on."

Mk's tag list :)@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

115 notes · View notes

mushroomates · 3 months

Note

Lord of the Rings hosting? Speaking foreign languages?? Love your posts!! the silly rambles of other tumblrians is my life blood currently

yeah!!!! ty for the kind words! ooooooooh hosting… stay tuned my friend that’s it’s own post :)

legolas: french. proper, france french. also european spanish, latin, and norwegian- which he will sometimes speak with gimli, but the dialects are so drastically different any communication is strained. he was taught formally, “properly” bc his dad lowkey a language purist and that’s kinda problematic but this isn’t abt him

gimli: most germanic languages, including danish, swedish, and norwegian. he speaks the common dialect, the conversational type- not the fancy literature university taught excuse of a language that legolas does. he likes to make a point that if they were on the street, legolas could read the street signs and not understand anything said to him.

aragorn: french (his upbringing), passible italian, street spanish (european and mexican), decent greek, decent norwegian and german, and some mandarin. is very quick picking up languages and speaking/understanding the local dialect

boromir: conversational italian. i’m sorry guys but gondor was based in italy and the roman empire,, and not even that but it just. feels right. im gonna say he speaks passible italian, but more… anglicized italian as he wasn’t really taught it but picked it up around family. (a lot of yelling by his dad)

frodo: knows latin. also french, spanish, and passable italian. has a generic accent that’s not to noticeable when he speaks. is a very good tour guide across europe and a great tutor if someone wants to learn.

merry: maintains a duolingo streak of easily four digits. it’s sweedish. no, he cannot understand gimli. no, gimli does not understand kerry’s sweedish either. he can, however, understand ikea directions. (it drives boromir nuts that the two people who on who can read the manual are possibly the worst at relaying them. merry because he doesn’t understand what’s going on, and gimli, because he believes he doesn’t need any manual)

pippin: tried learned klingon, but lost interest quickly. knows about eight different ways to say “your mom” and all the fun cuss words that come with foreign languages.

sam: is trying very hard to learn french. frodo is teaching him patiently and he’s picking it up rather fast. really, really hates verb congregation and gendered language.

gandalf: mandarin, greek, turkish, quebecois french, finnish, moldovan, castilian spanish, latin, pig latin, and probably more. he’s also fullent in hobbit.

41 notes · View notes

gelus-ugs · 2 years

Text

JJK characters x Foreign! S/o Reader

—————————————————————

I just randomly thought of this cuz I’m not from where I currently live so I’m used to different things and I have a bit of a different accent- so yeah

—————————————————————

Yuji Itadori

Loves, loves your accent, no matter what kind

He sometimes has trouble understanding you though 😭

He loves hearing you talk in your native language, even if he has no idea what you’re saying

He loves hearing about your culture and how things were wherever you’re from

He tells you about how things are in Japan

He’s the kind of person to go to when you wanna try random shit

He doesn’t know where anything is, but he’ll be more than happy to walk downtown with you and try whatever catches your eye

I see him as the type to love deserts from your home

I feel like he has a sweet tooth, so anything sweet, he’s down for

But if it’s something you baked that’s a recipe from your home? It’s 100x better

Megumi Fushiguro

He helps you get used to Japan

He takes you places every now and then so you can try different things in the Japanese culture

He likes listening to you tell stories about your hometown/country

I feel like he’s really good with accents, so he can understand you perfectly fine no matter what kind of accent you have

I feel like he’ll try to learn your native language so he can communicate with you better if you’re having trouble with your Japanese

He loves trying dishes from your home!

You’ll cook for him every once and a while when he asks, but he wishes it was every. single. meal. of the day

Nobara Kugisaki

This girl will take you EVERYWHERE

Mostly shopping-

You’ll get used to Japanese styled clothes pretty quick thanks to her 😭

And you never look bad either. Girl knows how to hook you up 😌

You get used to Japanese slang too

She sometimes has trouble understanding you but she tries her best 😭

She loves hearing you talk about your culture and how things were there so she can compare it to Japanese culture and teach you how things are done in Japan

Toge Inumaki

He finds you intriguing

He loves hearing you talk because he loves your accent

He hasn’t heard anything like it before and he could listen to it for hours, no matter what the topic of the conversation is

He likes taking you downtown to experience the more modern part of Japanese culture :))

Toge is another one who loves trying dishes from your home

He begs you to cook for him all the time so he can try one of your dishes

There is never any leftovers. If anything, he usually asks for seconds 😭

Maki Zenin

She helps you get used to the basics in Japan

She’s really chill about you being foreign and is pretty patient with you

She helps you with your accent or slang that people might use so you can ask someone for help just in case she isn’t there

She takes you to historical places every once and a while

She likes taking you to different places so you can get used to the Japanese life style

Satoru Gojo

He makes fun of your accent 😭

He makes fun of you whenever you don’t understand something or mispronounce something

You always cuss him out in your native language but he has no idea what you’re saying-

He’s just like “🧍🏽❓Are they mad at me?”

He’ll take you out pretty often to get used to the modern Japanese lifestyle

Except he doesn’t teach you or help you with anything? It’s just him dragging you around place to place while you have no idea what you’re doing

It’s ok- He’s introduced you to Nanami because he wanted to show off his ‘amazing, spectacular, foreign significant other’

You just end up asking Nanami for help whenever you’re unsure of something cuz Gojo doesn’t do shit 😭

Kento Nanami

I can see this man being bilingual

Having trouble with Japanese? Surprise surprise! This man is fluent in both Japanese and your native language

He takes you to historical places so you can learn the history and base of Japanese culture

He also takes you with him whenever he goes grocery shopping or has to do something bank related so you can see what it’s like having to do the basics in Japan

He’s there to help you no matter what

Even if he’s at work, he’ll drop everything to answer your phone call and help you with whatever you need :))

You two take turns when it comes to dinner because he loves trying dishes from your home and you love trying dishes from Japan!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #x reader #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #toge inumaki #maki zenin #satoru gojo #kento nanami

407 notes · View notes

infernaleikon · 1 year

Text

dancing with the stars obikin au.

imagine anakin is some sort of celebrity, maybe an actor who's not really a-list but he's starred in a few acclaimed independent films but is still waiting for his big break; maybe he's a celebrity chef who's hit a rut; and anyway, his agent books him the gig at dancing with the stars. anakin isn't super thrilled about it because how is this supposed to help him and also dancing?? really??? but he doesn't really have anything else going on at the time and it's better than nothing and it gives him exposure, so maybe it'll help with business and he agrees, though he complains about it a lot.

he gets paired with padme, who is pretty and kind and patient with him. anakin hasn't really danced before, at least not like this, it's really not his style of movement, so all these steps, getting the speed right, being rhythmic, it's all new and a bit challenging, and he feels like an idiot because he's not really getting it and thinks he looks like a fawn learning how to walk. it doesn't help that his heart's not really in it either.

anyway, he does get the choreography down for the first show. he dances with padme and he doesn't forget any steps, they get through without any horrifying mishaps and anakin is actually pretty happy with himself because he thinks it's a pretty big step up from rehearsals.

until one of the judges just sort of. scowls disapprovingly all through the evaluations of the other two. anakin can't help it that his eyes keep snagging on the man. at first it was because he's classically handsome, neatly groomed beard, immaculately styled strawberry blonde hair, a glint in his eyes that makes something behind anakin's ribs tingle. but then it's because of that look. the scowl gets deeper and deeper with each word the other two judges say. and they're being kind, praising the routine and anakins effort and how well he's done, this being his first time dancing and all.

and then it's the scowly judges turn to talk. his name is obi-wan kenobi and he's apparently A Big Deal with lot of experience, a keen eye, and not one to sugarcoat anything.

“well,” he starts and his voice is smooth. he has a crisp coruscanti accent that's dripping judgement and a bow to his eyebrow that's rubbing anakin entirely the wrong way. “that was...very lifeless.”

anakin feels all the blood freeze in his vessels. obi-wan goes on to say how substantially uninspired and crude the performance was. while anakin def has the posture for it, he didn't hold it, he was just going through the motions, the footwork was sloppy, the placement of the arms and hands was lazy, anakin moved akin to a construction worker stomping around a construction site carrying heavy machinery, and there was no charisma to be found.

anakin is flushed and angry and gritting his teeth through it all. “how about you come down here and do it better?” he finally snaps and there are some hoots among the guests and some hushes too. obi-wan just smiles, all teeth and sharp gaze, and says, “its too early in the program for that.”

anakin fumes for the rest of the night. his score isn't the worst of all the pairs but it ranges in the bottom half. he doesn't get eliminated which he isn't quite sure how to feel about because he didn't quite expect (or want) to stay on the show for too long but he also wouldnt have been happy if he really had to leave already.

anyway. the next show goes similarly. anakin moves on to the next round furious.

at the third show, anakin almost jumps over the judges table. Kenobi doesn't smile though, he looks thoughtful and unhappy. he ends his assessment saying that he sees development in all other participants but not in anakin, who instead seems like he doesn't even want to try even though he has so much potential to actually be good at it, and he doesnt quite understand why anakin keeps voted to continue. anakin is about to snap at him when kenobi adds that, well, a pretty face makes up for a lot, for many people. and that. that sort of shuts anakin up because. did kenobi just call him pretty???

anakin, in a rare moment of self reflection, thinks about what obi-wan—kenobi—has said, and then asks padme why she became a professional dancer and what got her into dance in the first place. and he starts paying attention when she teaches him, starts picking up little cues, starts getting the details of the choreography right, and the next show, kenobi is silent for several beats before he speaks. he doesn't sing the glowing praise anakin expected but his assessment is much kinder and more approving. “for the first time, it looked like you had fun,” he says at the end, and there's a smile on his face, small but genuine, “well done.” and anakin feels heat pool in his stomach.

he gets better and better with each show, he knows he does, he feels it, he sees it, it becomes easier and he's actually having fun. padme challenges him with tough routines but that's what he likes, and anakin pushes himself while kenobi's soft voice in his head tells him he's done well.

anyway. anakin and obi-wan start bantering because obi-wan, apparently, still finds things to criticize and it's driving anakin insane. but it's far less of the hard words from the beginning and switched to a teasing tone that anakin jumps on. every time he finishes dancing he's giddy for obi-wan's—kenobi's—assessment. and every time, when obi-wan—kenobi—lightly praises anakin's progress and the things he's done well, anakin flushes (though luckily that's always masked by the flush from exertion) and feels hot and tingly all over.

there's a portion of the show when contestants dance with one of the judges and anakin is thrilled when he finds out he's been paired with obi-wan—kenobi. the rehearsals are hot, sweaty affair. not only because obi-wan pushes anakin to new limits and heights with a demanding choreography but also because his hands are on anakins body, they're so close they're practically breathing each other's air, and obi-wan smells so good, he feels so good, and whenever anakin finally gets a part of the routine he's been struggling with right, obi-wan smiles brightly, happy and proud, and softly praises him, and it's all too much.

they of course end up being the fan favorites, the audience goes wild for their performance and their banter cranks up a notch after that and turns very markedly sharper and flirtier.

anakin thinks obi-wan likes him too. he corners him one time after a show, manages to get them to a quiet spot, thinking that, okay, maybe. maybe he can get confirmation. he's not an Idiot, okay. he's seen all the videos on the internet that very carefully catalogued all of obi-wans expressions whenever anakin dances or speaks to him.

but obi-wan rebuffs him. he's not unkind about it but very firm, and anakin is so horribly embarrassed and angry that he flees without even waiting for whatever it is obi-wan starts to say.

the last three shows are. tense. anakin is giving his best performances and he gets near perfect scores but there is no banter. kenobi is very professional and only comments on details that anakin could improve, and anakin just stares past him with an aching jaw and tries very hard not to burst into angry, embarrassed tears every time.

the final show comes and goes, it's a bit of a blur. during the celebration and the glitter raining down and the crowd cheering and everyone jumping and being happy, anakin catches obi-wans eyes across the floor, and there's. something. in obi-wans eyes. something hot and happy and soft and it burns, and anakin is still so raw from the rejection, he cannot handle that look, that he turns to padme and kisses her. it doesn't even mean anything, and he apologizes to her immediately, but when he looks back over, obi-wan is gone.

some time later, after the show has wrapped, they probably run into each other by chance somewhere. anakin wants to bolt. obi-wan still looks so good, and his heart is beating in his throat, and it's the worst, he just can't—but obi-wan stops him gently, asks him how he's been, how's padme, and anakin snaps at him, angry and hurt, and how would he know how padme is, he hasn't seen her since the final show.

“oh,” obi-wan says, so softly. “you're not with her?”

anakin snorts. “i was never with her.”

there are some moments of tense silence between them and anakin is ready to flee when obi-wan says, “i really wanted to kiss you that night.”

anakin sneers even though hope is suddenly right there, in his gut, behind his ribs, at the tip of his tongue. “yeah, right.”

“i wanted to explain to you but you left before i could.”

“explain what?” it comes out way too breathy and anakin hates himself for it a little.

“i was still going to be judging you, anakin. you were a contestant. it wouldn't have been right and if anyone had found out about it, we both would've been in trouble.”

“oh.”

obi-wan smiles a little. “i wanted to ask you if you could wait a few weeks longer because i definitely would've kissed you at the after show party.”

anakin flushes. “oh. that. that would've been. yeah.”

long story short, they bang. it's phenomenal.

anakin becomes a hobby dance critic on their couch at home and he's so terrible at it that it both gives obi-wan a headache and makes him laugh.

#obikin #fans of course go wild over their banter #and notice that during the next season though obi-wan does banter its markedly different #people speculate whether he and anakin have actually hooked up #there are fancams of obi-wan looking at anakin and of anakin looking at obi-wan #anyway #i should be asleep #i will hate myself tomorrow morning #yikes

129 notes · View notes

acidheaddd · 4 days

Text

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

Tagged by @smulie ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Thank you! I figured I'd do Ian since I haven't done anything for him in a bit.

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Blood. Any significant amount of blood freaks him out and makes him feel faint. He was afraid to get any tattoos 'cause of this -- he thought he'd see more blood. 😂 That and losing his loved ones. Do they have any pet peeves? Ian's typically pretty patient and permissive of things... but he has a very good method to his madness when it comes to organizing (he's most definitely got ADHD, but was never diagnosed), so anyone moving something can frustrate him pretty quickly. What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? A guitar he rarely plays, his bong, and a perpetual pile of laundry that can be either dirty or clean. What do they notice first in a person? Their ~vibes~. 😂 How easily they'll laugh, how they carry themselves, how they speak, that kind of thing. On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Not high, but not super low... Maybe 5 to 6? The worst he's experienced is breaking bones (his wrist and ankle, due to skateboarding) and he handled that... okay, so long as he didn't look at it. 😂 Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? He's between flight and freeze more than fight. But if he were completely cornered, I'm sure he'd end up trying his luck with fighting. Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? His family's pretty small, and smaller still since his dad died when he was 18. He basically just has his mom left. They talk sometimes and he'll go visit occasionally, but he doesn't really like to. It's a complicated thing... His mom almost always brings up his dad at least once, and he'd just rather not talk about him at all, lest it bring up ~feelings~. He also feels slightly ashamed whenever he sees his mother, feeling like he's let her down and hasn't been there enough for her. So... instead of forcing himself to make a change, he'd really rather just. Run away from it as much as possible. What animal represents them best? Somehow he is both a golden retriever and a cat... though I'd say he's either got Orange Boy Cat energy or Ragdoll energy. What is a smell that they dislike? Super strong perfume. Especially the ones that smell more... chemical-y than natural. How would a stranger likely describe them? Weird, but... endearing? A little awkward, but in a shameless sort of way. What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Ian hates anything too bitter. Super dark chocolate? No. Black coffee? No. Brussels sprouts? Ick. But he loves sweet and spicy. Korean food comes to mind. Though his favourite food is pizza. Do they have any hobbies? Drawing... He did it more as a kid, but he still dabbles in it occasionally. He also is pretty good at coding and could probably create his own video game too, but hasn't tried... Apart from that. Uh. Smoking weed? Eating? 😂 Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Ian loves surprises... so long as they're good ones. But more than that, he loves surprising other people more. Do they like to wear jewelry? He does. He typically wears rings and bracelets. Sometimes he'll wear a necklace or two. Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Slightly messy... but still completely legible. What are two emotions they feel the most? Does devotion count as an emotion...? I'd say playful and devoted. Do they have a favorite fabric? Not really... Ian gets a lot of his stuff second hand. He does have a lot of cotton and denim though. What kind of accent do they have? Slight New York Bronx accent, but nothing super strong.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims #ian knox

7 notes · View notes

opalsrose · 1 year

Text

The Ionian Mage

??? x gn! reader

Summary: In an attempt to return to your home, you escape from your captors, only to end up in Piltover, where you are requested to help two scientists improve their magic oriented inventions.

a/n: this has been a year in the making sjdbdjsj. i watched arcane last year and absolutely fell in love with the characters (minus silco) and have been reading up on league of legends lore. a shit ton of research has gone into this, which somehow made this a lot more fun. i hope you enjoy!

cw: mage reader, reader is gender neutral and uses they/them pronouns, reader is not described with any gender specific language and (most) physical characteristics are kept vague, reader will be described with tanner/darker skin in future chapters, mentions of violence, slight canon divergence, potential suggestive content (i haven’t decided yet), slight discrimination (not necessarily racism but definitely some bigotry), let me know if there’s anything i missed

C.1- Sentencing

Piltover was a suffocating place. The concrete and metal of its buildings and streets were daunting and stuffy, lacking the life and passion that you were used to.

“Keep moving,” the enforcer commanded, yanking the robe covering your body.

You huffed through your nose, the sound quiet as you continued shuffling along with the group of guards guiding you through the city, the cuffs on your wrist clinking with every step. Still, you proceeded to take in your surroundings, observing the near mechanical city that you were traveling through. The cement of the street felt hot under your feet as you walked, the sun beaming down particularly hard at this time of day. Your eyes traveled along to gaze at the people on the sidewalk, looking on at you with either curious or distasteful eyes.

‘How stuffy they look,’ you thought, your orbs falling onto the tight clothing adorning each of their bodies. ‘It must be difficult to breathe in that.’

Your attention was brought elsewhere upon the enforcer in front of you stopping abruptly, your head turning to gawk at the large building in front of you. It looked regal, the golden accents and door glowing in the sunlight. The walls were a creamy white, like many of the other buildings there, but the building itself seemed to have an air of professionalism and reeked of politics.

Your wonder didn’t last for long however, as you were once again pulled forward, your captors not quite the patient types. You stumbled up the stairs, your feet scrambling to catch yourself from the fall you surely would’ve suffered. You were led into the building, the halls silent save for the soft sound of your feet smacking the ground as you padded through the building and the chains of your cuffs bumping against each other. After a series of twists and turns, you're faced with two large doors, accented with gold and painted white, much like the rest of the facility. On either side of the entrance stood two enforcers, their eyes regarding you with cold, calculating eyes. From the other side of the doors you could hear individuals talking, seemingly discussing something. Suddenly, a call sounded from inside the room, signaling the enforcers to open the doors, revealing nine people sitting at a long surface, curved in a crescent shape.

The enforcers that escorted you here pushed you in, causing you to trip over yourself as you moved further into the room. Once you stilled, the doors closed, a resounding thud echoing through the lofty space. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the windows scattered around the room.

“Mage of Ionia,” a nasally voice called out, your gaze turning to the owner of it. Your eyes met those of a small creature– a yordle, you realized–, his body covered in fur and most of his face being obscured by a comically oversized mustache with eyebrows to match. His eyes, crinkled with age, regarded you with kindness but held caution underneath. “I am Heimerdinger and this is the council. Please state your name so that we may proceed with your hearing,” he demanded.

“Are we even sure they can understand us? Seeing as Ionia separated itself from the rest of the world,” another council member called. His frame was long and skinny, blond hair slicked back as he peered at you with an unimpressed frown. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even receive a proper education, what with the Ionians and their hippie-flower-magic nonsense–”

“I can understand you just fine,” you cut him off, your statement making him freeze in his seat, “And my people’s teachings are not to be mocked by those who lack the intelligence to comprehend them.”

His eyebrow twitched as he opened his mouth to retort when he was stopped by a different council member. “Stop it Salo. We have no time for your childish remarks,” a woman voiced. Her skin was fair and she had short, dark hair with a streak of white in the front.

Salo cleared his throat, straightening his coat and sitting back in his chair, but not before throwing a bitter glare your way.

“I apologize for my comrade’s comment, he is quite nervous seeing as you are a mage,” Heimerdinger stated, a tinge of hesitancy in his voice. That left a sour taste in your mouth. You forced yourself to hold back the angry comment that lied at the tip of your tongue, swallowing down the bitter frustration. “Now, your name please,” Heimerdinger asked once again.

“I am Y/N,” you voiced, your tone firm as you stared at the small yordle.

“Y/N,” he nodded, reaching forward to open a file that was sitting in front of him, “You were found on the outskirts of Piltover, performing magic, which is an illegal offense,” he droned on, any kindness within his eyes gone, having been replaced by disappointment and fear.

Your eyes narrowed at him, barely concealing your annoyance. “I performed magic when your guards attacked me. I was defending myself,” you grunted, eyeing the enforcer in the corner who had moved for the baton on their hip. You gulped. “Surely, you can see that I have done nothing wrong–”

“Nothing wro–! Three enforcers are in critical condition because of your uncontrollable Ionian blasphemy!” an old man with a thick, bushy beard shouted, “Magic is illegal for this exact reason! It’s too dangerous to be harnessed.”

You fingers twitched from within your bindings, wanting to shut the old man up. You refrained, however, giving him a menacing glare instead. It seemed to have worked, seeing as his face morphed from anger to fearful.

“Hoskel, please. Let’s at least be civilized and calm enough to come to a rational decision,” another woman spoke.

Your gaze darted to her, your breath catching in your throat. She was stunning, dark skin, telling of her Noxii heritage, accented by her gold makeup and jewelry. Her hair was a mass of twists held together with gold cuffs, pulled into an intricate bun at the top of her head. Her eyes met your own, a warm smile pulling at her plump lips as she regarded you. You quickly dropped your eyes to the floor, the cool tile suddenly much more interesting.

“Now, now,” Heimerdinger chimed, “This is a trial, everyone. Let us treat it as such,” he chastised. “While I am sure you are much more used to openly using your magic in Ionia, we in Piltover find it far too volatile to allow it to be used so freely without proper consequences.” His eyes were trained on your form, watching as you shook with what he assumed to be fury.

“He is right,” a muffled voice added. You turned your head to look at the owner, only to be met with the holes of some kind of mechanical person. “My people were nearly destroyed because of arcane magic. We cannot become lax with our laws because of an Ionian stowaway.”

“I say we put them in Stillwater with the rest of the miscreants,” Salo declared, a smug grin sweeping across his face.

“Now let’s not be too hasty. We still haven’t heard from our newly minted council member,” the Noxii council member spoke, her gaze turned to the young man sitting next to her.

His olive skin shone with sweat, his expression nervous as he surveyed you with curious eyes. He cleared his throat, fidgeting with his fingers before finally speaking. “I think it would be beneficial to the Hextech Project if we were to have a mage to advise us about arcane magic.”

Your gaze shot up at him as your orbs widened. A cacophony of disapproval rang throughout the room.

“You can’t possibly be serious–”

“They’re too dangerous to be walking around the city freely–”

“You’ve gotten on fine without a mage! Why would you need one now–”

“Enough!” the Noxii councilor shouted, her face stern. “We will hear Jayce out, seeing as Hextech has been what’s making our city thrive in recent years.” That seemed to have gotten the rest of the council to simmer down, most of them begrudgingly shutting their mouths.

“If we were to have a mage advising us, we could finally figure out the Hex Core. As well as, properly decipher the runes. We could improve Hextech immensely!” Jayce exclaimed, a bright smile on his face.

“While that is very brilliant, we must think of the safety of the people of Piltover. In my hundreds of years of life, I have seen the destruction magic has caused. It isn’t something to be played with,” Heimerdinger lamented, a deep frown painting his features. “We mustn’t let the want for progress blind us to the real dangers of the arcane–”

“You fail to see that magic is a natural order,” you grunted, lifting your head to face the yordle. “The reason you believe the arcane is dangerous is because people like you seek to control it. I have seen the wonders magic has done for me, for my people. All because we have chosen to live with it, not fight it or use it. You wish to punish me for being a mage, when you yourselves are wielding it for your own gain,” you asserted, your eyes catching the way Heimerdinger looked down in shame. “People like you are the reason why magic is seen as a threat,” you concluded bitterly.

“That’s exactly why we’re creating Hextech,” Jayce proclaimed, looking to you with a hopeful gaze, “We want to show people that magic isn’t evil, and that it could be extremely helpful in the lives of common folk.”

“Allowing those who have not been blessed by the arcane themselves to wield it is exactly why the “dangers” of magic exist. If the arcane wanted to gift magic to all, then it would have,” you vetoed.

“Y/N,” your focus on Jayce is broken when you turn to the Noxii councilor, “I understand your concerns about civilians using magic—,”

“No, you do not—,” you combat swiftly.

“But,” she stressed, her eyes narrowing, daring you to cut her off again. “Times have changed. And you would agree that change is a natural order, yes,” she smiled, her brown orbs holding a sly glint when she saw your gaze turn to the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she continued, “We are in the middle of an age of progress. The incorporation of arcane magic into people’s everyday lives might be exactly what we need to rid any fear of mages.” You looked to her, your eyes searching for anything insincere, anything untrustworthy, but you found nothing. She grinned hopefully, her eyes bright. “If you help us, we’ll be a step closer to making the world a better place for everyone. Including mages.”

You pondered on her words, letting them circle your brain as you searched for an answer.

Seeing your hesitancy, Jayce spoke up. “You’ll receive a full pardon if you agree to help us!” he rushed out, inciting another round of chaos amongst the council.

“Quiet!” shouted the yordle from the head of the table, effectively silencing everyone.

He turned to Jayce. “If you truly believe that they will be of great service to Hextech, then I am willing to put aside my beliefs to pursue this new age of science you’ve brought about.”

Jayce’s grin lit up the room, his excitement palpable. The rest of the council had reactions of varying types, most of which were anger and disappointment.

Your jaw was clenched as your eyes scanned the room before landing on the woman who put you in this position. Her own gaze met yours as a smirk spread across her lips.

Great.

#gender neutral reader #arcane fic #mel medarda x reader #jayce talis x reader #ekko x reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #x gender neutral reader

94 notes · View notes

vampireghostlawyer · 7 months

Note

Any Daan headcanons?

omg

-he doesn't genuinely smile much but when he does, his smile is off putting.

-kind of related to that but daan having subtle fangs is one of my personal favorite hcs for him. just the barely noticeable sign of cat like features

-his accent isn't real and slips when he's genuinely upset

-permanent bedroom eyes

-doesn't like cats at all but they love him (this goes for animals in general actually, but especially cats)

-has expensive taste in food. started out as a conscious choice to seem wealthier and then turned into him being a picky eater who only likes things that cost way more than they should

-daan watching movies is cute to me. also, i think it makes sense considering how much of his facade is similar to male hollywood stars of the same time period. also because he says he doesn't like reading much, so i could see him preferring movies or radio shows.

-taught himself to read, but not very well. he improved a lot when he started studying under the baron BUT it still is not as easy for him as other people and so he prefers to either not read, or read really pulpy easy stuff in his free time.

-i know i always draw him this way anyway, but i really like daan with earrings and painted nails, even if it is a little bit historically inaccurate woops

-surprisingly very good at teachings things because he's more patient when it comes to other people and because he had to start learning medicine completely from scratch, he knows how to explain it all in layman's terms really well.

-idk if this counts but daan having moral scrupulosity OCD is so real to me. painfully real. like i doubt he would have been diagnosed in the 40s, but i always write him as having it and just being unaware of it. pocketcat is also sort of the ocd manifestation monster. i've seen daan autism hcs that i really like too

#clem.txt #faht #ask #anon

12 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 2 years

Note

I don’t know if you’ve covered this before, but what kind of voices do the boys have? Like tones, accents, that kind of stuff. I keep hearing Fasma with a Jersey accent.

[I suck ass at this, so be patient. Also, if I do find good voice claims, I will add them to this ask later.]

Bregory has a pretty soft and mildly low voice. In spite of him looking and behaving in a creepy way, his voice is one of the features that almost comes off as relaxing, even boyish in some moments. He has no set accent, though since he learns words from hearing different people speak, he may end up mimicking yours (if you have one).

Fasma has a pretty thick New York accent, and I've always pictured him to be a bit nasally, like a slightly more gruff Oswald the rabbit. His voice does get a bit deeper in the second form, but it's still a little odd.

Morell has a bit of a Texan ring to his voice, though some of that influence has been lost due to his extended stay at The Clergy, wherein he makes an effort to muffle some of that raw, near incomprehensible speech pattern. He's unintentionally always loud.

Gallon has a smooth and quiet tone, with a bit of a purring lilt at the end. He tends to accentuate the "r"s in sentences. Although not entirely monotonous, the pitch of his voice doesn't vary much under normal circumstances.

Vinnel's real voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, though the mask greatly helps in evening his scratchy, broken voice. Either he sounds like a chronic wheezing smoker, or a drowning, constipated man. Pitch varies significantly, though he doesn't appear to be in total control of it.

Nebul has the softest tone imaginable, for the most part. A very flat, low and relaxing frequency that tends to bounce off the walls of most rooms. He's capable of taking on thunderous, loud tones, but doesn't find it necessary the vast majority of time.

Sybastian, the rare times in which he does speak, has a very gruff, hiss-like quality to his voice, which is naturally kind of quiet from disuse.

Santi has a deep purr of a voice, something that resonates, that you feel in your chest. I recall I said somewhere that it was a somewhat lighter version of Darkness, from the movie Legend. Voice claim

Grimbly has a very light voice that falls squarely on an androgynous zone. You cannot tell, just by listening to it, what gender he is. It's cute and sweet and also kind of fake sometimes.

Patches has just a touch of a nasal undertone, and his pitch is average for a man, though it can rise significantly and even break when he gets nervous. In certain instances, he's capable of achieving a very low and frightening tone, seen best when he shouts a victim's name during one of his dullahan fits. Generally, he sounds like a dork.

Fank-e features a synthesized bubbly tone which is maybe a little higher-pitched than it should be, given his size. Sometimes it crackles a little, mostly due to his visor damage. Being that it's entirely artificial, Fank-e can mimic a plethora of other voices, male and female. He can sound like Windows Sam if he wants to.

Ludwig has a voice that's quite similar to Gallon's, though a little more lazy and slurred. He sounds high. He's usually quiet, usually. When he starts getting riled up, it sounds as if he's snarling his words out, which is typical of a wrath demon.

Belo (again, unsure if I'll keep him but might as well) has a typically melodic and pleasant voice, it features just a tiny bit of reverb, mostly because he's not using an actual mouth to speak. Just a tiny bit lower than average.

Krulu's voice is indescribable in the way it seems to pierce through most people's resolve, always confident and imposing, a low, scornful hiss for the most part. It's loud, jarring, and terrifying in a primal level- To those who aren't used to it, that is.

#Bregory #Fasma oc #Krulu oc #Morell oc #Vinnel oc #Gallon oc #Patches oc #Nebul oc #Sybastian oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Ludwig oc

106 notes · View notes

evilassistantbutnotmean · 5 months

Text

@sagehyperfixates @boredgoon @vaporeon2010317 @cats-and-confusion @asrielmerrymoon @sirlordevil @the-belle-sisters (idk who runs their blog-)

(Ooc) I have an announcement…

I MADE ANOTHER MINECRAFT BUILD!!!

This one is for Misras therapist, The Botanist! (Who will soon get a design but for now their an unidentified Eldridge non-humanoid being)

The outside wall! It’s a wall that was built up around an abandoned building that was used for.. certain illegal activities, which was since bought by the Botanist and later turned into its HQ

the hallway! After you pass through a fake wall behind the twisted roses, you’ll end up in this cramped hallway! (Note that it’s tall anough for 3-block tall entities)

The main office! Here is where most people make their appointments and set up one-on-ones with The Botanist, all who do sign wavers that magically bind them to never speak about what The Botanist looks like, the stairwell and door will not appear if not signed with full agreement

The main room! Here is where all one-on-one sessions happen, The Botanist prefers payment in interesting plants and fungi that are fit for propagation and studying, this is how it got the moon flower, twisted roses, and broken lavender outside the wall near the entrance :]

And that’s it! Here under the cut is some info on The Botanist as a character

The Botanist does not have a name and simply goes by either “Botanist” or “Doctor”

It uses it/its pronouns and has no biological or mental gender, and sees itself as an object that others can study if it so wishes.

The Botanist has Scopophobia, which is the fear of showing one’s face, so it wears a long cloak to hide its appearance in large crowds, loosing the cloaks after a patient signed the magic waver to never even hint at what it’s face looks like under the cloak in any way, shape or form.

The Botanist developed Scopophobia at a young age (30,000 years ago) when humans treated its kind as monsters shunning and burning its special until so few remain that only the Botanist knows where it’s last remaining beings reside, having no interest in hunting the last ones down.

The Botanist became a therapist to help those who were raised to be monsters or Belice that they’re monsters, to help those who were in the same spot it’s younger self was in.

The Botanist is highly secretive but adores children and making friends, having a secret circle of friends who it trusts enough to regularly show its face.

The Botanist highly values reusing items and places and as it doesn’t need to eat, it uses its spare time to disguise itself and help clean up the city

The Botanist befriended Alex from frequent one-on-ones and while Alex no longer needs frequent sessions, the two easily find time to hang out in between Sessions

The Botanist uses the same rules as (whatever school system Tumblrtown uses, which I assume is the US one) the public school system, working in the afternoon when most people are out of class, taking 2 week breaks every 5 weeks, and taking 2 season long breaks, one for summer and one for winter, in which The a botanist can decide if it’s open for sessions.

The Botanist as previously stated doesn’t eat or drink, but can do and enjoy doing both, it describes its experience as “always full and satisfied, atleast by what Alex describes “Hunger” and “Being full” as” but it does substitute these non-needed meals by loosing the cloak and sitting in its hidden garden (which not even Alex is allowed in) where it photosynthesizes

The Botanist always sounds like it’s whispering, with a kind, gentle, and warm tone, and a Canadian accent

#The Botanist #The Botanist lore

8 notes · View notes

rosebloodcat · 1 year

Text

The Things We Thought We Knew (But We Really Didn’t)

Wrote this on a lark after reading some stories that floated the au idea that (for one reason or another) Blinky and Jim were related. Either from him being James Lake Sr but not knowing it, or from Merlin's magic randomly choosing one of Jim's mentors be the "base" for Jim's half-troll form and Blinky was the one picked.

I know that, for one of those fics, the author had some interesting evidence they put forward on their tumblr for how Jim and Blinky resembled each other from the start and how it was just MORE OBVIOUS when the two were the same species.

I thought it was fun and decided to throw my own hat in the ring, but with my own twist.

In 1995, around the start of spring, Blinkous Galadrigal went missing.

He had gone to the surface to help the current trollhunter, Kanjigar the Courageous, by collecting some more research material that had been dropped by traveling trolls that came to visit Trollmarket. He didn’t return before dawn or in the following days. The only hope that the worst hadn’t come to pass, was that his remains had not been found.

Something that Arrrgh, his closest friend, would point out each time he left to search for him again. He refused to give up hope.

The same morning that the scholarly troll vanished, a man was found unconscious in a back alley wearing nothing but a set of ill-fitting, brown overalls and rushed to the Arcadia Oaks Hospital.

He’s unconscious for several weeks and the doctors can’t find any records for him. They dub their patient “James Doe”, and wait patiently for him to come around and hopefully give them insight into who he is and where he came from.

When James finally awakens, he can’t answer them. He can’t remember where he came from, how he ended up in the alley, or even what his name is.

He’s a man that doesn’t exist and, while the staff can theorize for hours based on speech patterns and accent (a middle-american scholar that may have spent some time in England? Apparently the way one speaks can tell a lot about where they came from), they still have no answers.

All he can do is climb to his feet and move forward.

After James is cleared to leave the hospital (and stumbles on the surname “Lake” to use for his paperwork), he gets new clothing in his size and temporary residency in the Arcadia Homeless Shelter.

He also makes a friendly acquaintance with a kind volunteer by the name of Barbara O’Neil, who helped him find those options in the first place and gave him someone to chat with numerous times during his hospital stay.

Several Months later, and a stronger friendship forged between the two, Barbara learns that a friend-of-a-friend was looking for an assistant for his job and hasn’t had much luck finding one. So she passes along the suggestion to James.

Norman Polk is a friendly, relaxed man despite his intimidating height and many scars. Most shockingly, he can wield magic as easily as he breathes and seems fairly sure James has some too.

Mr. Polk is a detective, who works to help the everyday person with his gifts as much as he can but has trouble keeping track of the many papers, books, and research that come with the work. And, for James, he’s willing to give him a chance even with his mysterious background.

The work comes easily to James, hunting for the truth and searching for answers is familiar in a way he can’t explain. Handling the paperwork and research is laughably easy.

He gets the job.

(When his new boss learns that he’s been living in a homeless shelter, he insists that James move into the spare room in Norman’s office/house.)

Two years pass, and James transitions from being Norman’s assistant to his business partner. The sharp-eyed researcher to Norman’s people-wise instincts. They work well together and have a reputation that can’t be sneezed at. It’s something both of them view with pride.

He’s also realized that he’s fallen for his friend Barbara. Hard.

With the encouragement of their mutual friends, they try dating. It works out better than either of them had expected.

James proposes at the end of 1998, their wedding the following summer of 1999.

In the Spring of 2000, they learn that Barbara’s pregnant and James Lake Jr. is born on October 10th.

The new parents are delighted with their baby boy, despite the anxiety and sleep deprivation throughout. He’s nicknamed “Jim” and he’s a healthy, active little boy with loving parents who work hard to care for him.

Life is good for the small family.

Until Jim’s 5th birthday, when James and Norman are called away for an emergency case. James Lake Sr. never comes home.

That night, the missing Blinkous Galadrigal is miraculously found by Kanjigar wandering the sewers of Arcadia in a daze, clutching a bag of assorted magical items in one hand and a minuscule bit of broken metal in another.

He has no memories of where he’d been for the past 10 years, what he’d been doing, or why he’d vanished.

Once he’s confirmed to be the real thing, he’s brought back to Trollmarket, where those lost 10 years remain a mystery. The strange possessions are tucked away in the back of his library, and teased at the back of his mind from that day forward.

On the surface, the disappearance of James Lake Sr becomes an unsolved mystery and a rampant story in the Arcadia rumor mill.

The rumor sting, weighing heavily on the remaining members of the family. Especially as those rumors spiral beyond control, becoming progressively more vicious as time goes on.

Norman tries to keep the hope alive, showing Barbara magic that shows that her lost husband is still alive even if they don’t know where he is. He keeps searching for clues, hints, anything to lead him to his missing friend. He reiterates, over and over, that James wouldn’t just abandon them. He loved Barbara and Jim far too much to do that to them.

Three years later, his search is cut tragically short because of an accident with a drunk driver that took his life. The accident hurts so much, and Barbara’s hope fades with each following year.

But her friend, Allison (and her husband, Thomas), pitch in where they can to help with the burden. And her neighbor, Nancy, gives her a place to go when her home is too much. With their help, she doesn’t fall apart, even when the rumors and snide remarks become too much.

When Jim turns 12, eight years after James went missing, she decides she can’t keep waiting.

She files for James Lake Sr to be declared legally dead.

(The rumors abruptly die at that. Something small and spiteful in her chest is pleased with that.)

She can feel her heart breaking throughout the process and she finally lets herself grieve at the end. The most she can gather herself together to say to Jim is that she’s not married to James anymore.

Now she’s a widow raising her son on her own, and the only route left is forward.

The year of Jim’s 15th birthday, Jim is chosen by the Amulet of Daylight to become the first-ever human Trollhunter and his life is turned upside down.

The following three years of his life are chaotic. Filled with magic and monsters, joy and fear, history making triumphs and soul crushing losses. There is so much happening he can barely handle it.

It’s surprising how comfortable he is with his new mentor, Blinkous “Blinky” Galadrigal. Something about the troll just- clicks with him and he can never seem to put it into words. Blinky puts those feelings into words for him, the day the troll calls him his son.

(A small, buried part of him wonders if this was what he could have had if his own father had stayed.)

Barbara finally opens her heart again and tries to build something new. Even as her mind whispers how similar Blinky sounds to James, how much his human form resembled her missing husband, how much he and Jim resemble each other no matter the form either of them were in.

There’s no way to test if a human and a troll were related, and she doesn’t think her heart could take being wrong if she let herself hope again. No matter how badly she wishes she could finally have an answer.

(James had built his life from amnesia that had been potentially caused by magic. Norman had warned them when they started dating that, if that magic broke or was reversed, he could lose his memories again. Blinky was a troll, but a troll could be turned human… No, she couldn’t let herself be wrapped up in theories.)

But, eventually, the losses became too great.

Loss of friends, loss of family, loss of home. One Pyrrhic victory after another that weighed them down.

When the true purpose of the Krohnisfere offers Jim the chance to go back and save the precious people they’ve lost, he takes it.

In the hearts of his surviving friends and family, they all hope it will work too.

It’s 1998 and James Lake bolts awake in the middle of the night with a strangled gasp, as if from a terrible nightmare.

Laying in the dark of his room at the house that he shares with Norman, his heart racing a mile-a-minute as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he remembers.

22 notes · View notes

ambiguouspuzuma · 7 months

Text

Type 3

As requested by @sleepyowlwrites, here's a little prequel to this story:

There are three permanent types of diabetes, he remembered from his training. The first you're born with, and have to manage using insulin. The second you pick up during your life, and can sometimes manage with changes to diet and exercise, or other medication. The third you contract upon your death. There's nothing you can do about that.

Dr Theodore 'Ted' Spong was a good-humoured man. As parish physician, he had to be. People only came to him with complaints, and he couldn't very well meet them with his own; if he had any grumbles or gripes, he'd long since learnt to tuck them away, like the good brandy he kept in a cabinet back home. He largely worked in the public eye, but some things were best mulled over in his own time.

He hadn't grown up in the sticks, but he liked it here. Outside of surgery hours, he enjoyed long walks across the moors, taking in the beauty of the mist-soaked landscape; within them, he met a range of fascinating characters, the sort of people you never got to meet in the city, each with their own idiosyncrasies and health complaints. He'd come across conditions he'd only read about, and patients who'd never learnt to read.

The people here led simple lives, divorced from the innovation and progress that drowned the city in smoke, but that meant his job had been anything but. They could be credulous at times, and a large part of his time was spent championing science over superstition, miracle cures and folk remedies. Unfortunately, they now had a champion as well.

There was a new doctor in town, by the name of Madame Silja, and she was undoing all of his hard work. To call her a doctor was a courtesy, for she had clearly never studied for a licence as he had, or read any book of medicine less than a century old. She was driving his parish backwards, towards the dark ages of draining bad humours away, although he never saw her wading for leeches on his walks. In fact, he'd barely seen her at all, until the night she showed up at his surgery door.

"I feel unwell," Silja said. She looked it, too. Her face was gaunt and drained, her body likewise emaciated underneath her clothes, visible even in the gloom. This was a woman at death's door as much as his.

Ted fought the temptation to gloat. Oh, and the leeches didn't hit the spot? Come crawling for some proper medicine, have we? That wouldn't be right. Nemesis or not, this woman lived in the parish, and that made her his patient. He was a good natured man, and a physician first of all. If he was to bring her out into the light, the best way would be to lead by example.

"What are your symptoms?" he asked, ushering her inside. She stood uncertain in the doorway, perhaps also having second thoughts about coming to him for help, but there was no time to lose. "Please, come in."

"I feel... tired," she told him, collapsing on a proffered armchair. The cushion barely sank under her weight.

"You're losing weight?"

Silja nodded. "I'm losing my appetite. But in its place there's this incessant thirst, a void no amount of water seems to sate."

"Any changes to your mood? Feeling suddenly irritable?

"What do you think?" she snapped. "I've just told you I'm thirsty all the time. Yes, it's irritating. Have you ever had an itch that you can't scratch?"

Ted usually told his patients not to scratch any itch, but he kept quiet and let her settle down. Madame Silja seemed so frail, but there was still something threatening about her - something unsettling and strange. It was a tingle at the back of his neck, like something primal, but he forced it down again. He wouldn't scratch that itch either.

He had no room for prejudice in his work, nor outside of it, and that was probably all this was. He didn't often see people with her kind of ancestry, not since he'd left the city. Whatever ancestry that was. Her skin was dark, although it seemed that it had since grown paler. She reminded him of a colleague from his studies, an Ottoman doctor by the name of Şefik. Was her name similar? Perhaps he could try to build a bridge between them.

"Tell me - you wouldn't happen to have any Turkish blood in you, by any chance?"

"Oh, I dare say I might," Silja replied. The question had served its purpose, for she flashed a smile for the first time, but Ted found himself more unsettled than ever. "Why do you ask? Is it something to do with my illness?"

"No, no, I was just curious," he said, increasingly nervous. "I know it isn't my place to guess, but I thought I'd take a stab in the dark."

"I'm not a fan of those, as a rule," she said. "But thank you for taking an interest. My patients are... rarely conversational. I don't often get to talk about myself. Do you find the same? Do you live nearby?"

"The good news is that I think I recognise your symptoms." Ted moved back onto steadier ground. "Although I'll need to take a blood sample."

"Oh, of course."

"For testing," he clarified. Anxiety or not, he wouldn't tolerate any of that nonsense here, in his temple of modern medicine. "Then we'll move on to treatment."

It was diabetes, he was sure, but he didn't know which strand. Was this a late diagnosis of type one? She didn't look much like a typical case for type two. There were others, he knew: gestational diabetes, picked up in pregnancy to meet the additional demands on the body. Perhaps it was something like that. A change, as if the whole body was gestating, metamorphosing into something... no, there was no medical basis for that. What was he saying?

"You might need to start taking medicine," he told her. "But mostly I suspect you'll need to make some changes to your diet."

"That's fine by me," she said, flashing another awful smile. "I'd figured that part out myself."

#writing #short story #writeblr #vampires #original writing

7 notes · View notes

boowhumps · 25 days

Text

Whumpril 2024

Day 4 - Swaying

⚠TW⚠

- Swearing

- Mentions of Trauma

- Slightly Suggestive (NO NSFW)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Amne brushed her hair, glancing at the mirror ever so often.

A birthday party, Lua had said, but this seems more important.. more extravagant.

Maybe Lua just liked big parties.. or this was forced on them..

Either way, Amne was pretty much forced into it too, since she was sitting in a dress far too fancy for a simple party.

However, she wasn't exactly complaining. The dress was gorgeous, far more than anything she had ever worn before. The black base with the red accents was beautiful, but she was still dreading this party.

Even if Celestial managed to be a place where nothing could harm you, Anne's anxiety somehow surpassed that. The amount of people that would be there.. people that she didn't know.

Amne finishes brushing her hair, and sets the brush down. Looking at herself in the mirror is surreal. She doesn't look like herself, but she hasn't really since she got here.

Amne proceeded to wait patiently. The only good thing was that Silas would be there with her. He always managed to make things less scary, less stressful..

That boy was truly an angel. He was so sweet, caring, understanding.. it almost caused her nostalgia every time they interacted, or maybe more a sense of deja vu..

Amne perks up suddenly as she hears a knock on the door.

"It's open." She calls out a bit.

The door opens silently, and Silas pops his head in, looking a bit flushed as he states at her.

"Y-you ready.?" He asks, stuttering a bit at the beginning.

Amne manages a small smile and a nod. She stands up and exits the comfort of her room, joining Silas I'm the hallway.

Finally seeing him makes her own face flush. She can't deny that along with his amazing personality, he's also very attractive, especially in a suit matching her dress..

Fuck, no Amne, no relationships, none of that, not anymore..

Amne breathes deeply, composing her racing mind.

"You uh, look great.!" Silas says, smiling awkwardly.

Amne widens her eyes a bit. "Thanks.. so do you."

Silas nods, and extends his arm.

"What are you-" Amne asks before Silas interrupts.

"It's called being a gentlemen," He says. "No, but seriously, it's just to help you walk, I can't imagine it's easy to walk in such a long dress."

Amne nods, feeling silly. "Right.." She says as she links her arm with his, letting him guide her away..

~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching the main ballroom takes almost no time, and it suddenly reminds Amne of why she never was a party kind of person.

Even with how big the place is, it seems packed to the brim. So many angels.. demons.. and even mixes of them pack up the room almost entirely.

Amne feels the suffocation in the room, and it's enough to make her feel uneasy. A squeeze from Silas brings her back to reality as he looks at her, his usually happy face vanishing for a second.

"It's pretty crowded.. will you be fine in here.?" He asks. "It's okay if you're not, I just-"

Amne sighs. "I don't know.." She says, looking around. "I'll have to test it out for a bit first."

Silas nods. "Yeah, we can do that, just.. don't wander off."

Amne gives him a look. "I'm not a child, Silas."

"Your Uncle told me, in very unagressive words that I had to keep you comfortable all night, so that's what I'll do." Silas replies staring straight ahead.

"Of course he did.." Amne grumbles. "Don't let Zaaron scare you, he wouldn't hurt you."

Silas raises an eyebrow. "It wasn't him, it was Roman."

Amne perks up. "Oh, I just assumed-"

"No no, it's alright, I get it, you're not used to, uh.." Silas starts.

"Communicating with my dead uncle?" Amne asks.

"Not.. that wording, but basically, yeah." Silas responds.

Amne nods. "Wanna.." She stops, sighing in frustration. "Oh for fucks sake, what the hell are we doing?"

Silas raises his eyebrows in surprise. "What do you-?"

"This isn't me, hell, this is not us." Amne remarks. "We aren't party people.. not at all."

Silas frowns. "Yeah, I guess we really aren't.."

Amne taps her foot before getting an idea.

"Hey, you don't still happen to have the key to the old ballroom, do you?" Amne asks Silas.

Silas nods slowly. "Yeah.. I do, why.?"

"Well, there's our escape." Amne states, beginning to walk away as Silas scurried behind her.

The old ballroom wasn't used anymore, for some odd reason, but somehow, Silas has access to it. Amne recalls him telling her about it a while back, how he would go there when things got too overwhelming.. An outlet of sorts.

Even if Amne couldn't imagine a day where Silas wasn't.. Silas, she was glad that at least there was some place in the castle unoccupied..

And maybe the idea of being alone in a room with him excited her more than she would admit.

Amne cleared her head as Silas opened the door to the ballroom, and immediately Amne was caught off guard.

The ballroom was gorgeous, yes, but that wasn't the reason. Even with all the shades of blue and gold, the thing that stood out to Amne the most was the stained glass portraits.

There were eight of them, all along the walls. Amne could point out the ones that looked like Lua, and Silas..

But the one that stood out the most looked exactly like her.

'Uh, how long has that been there.?" Amne asks, pointing at the portrait with a concerned look.

Silas smiles. "Oh yeah, that got here a little bit after you did!"

Amne deadpans. "Right.."

Silas laughs. "I get it, this all must be really weird and new for you."

Amne nods slowly. "Weird is an understatement.."

Silas urges Amne over to a door, opening it to reveal a balcony. As they both step out onto it, Amne feels her heart flutter.

"So.. I don't mean to push you or anything, but you never told me about your life.. before Celestial.." Silas tarts, sounding unsure.

Amne sighs. "Yeah.. I guess I haven't." She looks at Silas. "I can't remember much.. honestly.."

Silas nods in acknowledgment. "I figured.. but I think you do remember something.. or someone."

Amne raises an eyebrow. "What-?"

Silas shrugs. "Sorry, that came out wrong, it's just.. when I was with you for the first couple of nights after you got here.. you were always mumbling about people in your sleep.."

Amne feels her heart stop momentarily. "I-I was..?"

Silas nods. "I didn't want to say anything.. I figured you were already dealing with a lot of new adjustments.. I just.. can't forget what you said.."

Amne turns to him. "What did I say.."

Silas sighs. "Mostly incoherent things, little bits here and there.. but you constantly said a name.."

Amne stops, looking down. "Kaiden, I said Kaiden, didn't I.?"

Silas looks over at her. "You did, how did you-"

Amne's face pales, and she takes a deep breath. "He's-.. someone I was close with.."

Silas frowns. "Like a partner?"

Amne nods, her hands shaking. "For a while, yeah, but we ended a bit before my.. accident." She closes her eyes. "I remember dreaming a lot about him when I first got here, he was always.. so sad, so.. empty.." Amne opens her eyes, looking up at the dark sky. "I miss him sometimes.. but he's also the reason I'm here.."

Silas nods silently, just listening. Amne works up the courage to continue speaking.

"Actually.. you remind me a lot of him.. or, who I thought he was.." She says. "When we first met, he was like you, happy-go-lucky.. sweet.. loving.. the whole gist.." Amne sighs. "But you two aren't the same, I know that, I know he isn't here.." Amne turns to Silas once again. "But you are."

Silas perks up, surprised. "Amne, I-"

Amne seems to get closer to Silas. "You've been here with me through every challenge so far, and you did it because you wanted to."

Silas hands slightly hover over Amne's waist, the temptation to pull her in strong. "I had to help you, I just had the urge.."

Amne looks up at him. "But why.?"

Silas lets out a breath. "I think it's because.. I love you.."

Amne gives a subtle smile. "Then what are you waiting for..?"

Those words are the last thing spoken as the two finally push past their own hesitation. Silas pulls Amne in, kissing her as if she would disappear at any moment. His hands keep a firm hold on her waist as Amne's hands automatically travel into his hair, the way they always have.

Amne is backed up against the wall, helplessly trapped by someone she always claimed was only a friend.

In reality, how could they ever just be friends.?

The once passionate kisses turn sloppy as things begin to get heated. They both feel the desperation to be closer.. to be up against one another, without an inch of space between them. They could only go so long without love, starved to the point of ravishing the smallest amount of love they could get their hands on.

They were meant to find each other, that was for sure, and nothing could separate them.

"AHEM."

Amne freezes up at the sound, feeling Silas tense up as well. They both turn to the door, the one they'd forgotten to lock, but to be fair, neither of them expected the night to go this way.

Lua stood in the doorway, looking a mix of disappointment, anger, but most of all, disgusted.

Amne slightly nudges Silas away from her as they both straighten themselves out awkwardly.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me.." Lua groans. "She just got here a few weeks ago, Silas!"

Silas gets flushed. "What, no, we weren't-"

Lua stomps up to him. "Are you going to lie to my face and tell me you weren't trying to fuck Mrs. Sain-Santos, daughter of psychopathy, over here?!" They yell, pointing at Amne.

"Hey!" Amne shouts back. "Watch it!"

Lua glares at Amne. "Don't even get me started on you!" They turn back to Silas, who still looks incredibly embarrassed. "You, come with me."

Amne crosses her arms. "What about me?"

Lua sighs. "You stay here, and fucking pull yourself together, you look like a mess." With that, they march out of the room, Silas trailing behind looking like a sad puppy.

As soon as the door shuts, Amne loses it.

"Oh Selyna, what did I just do, did I just make-out with a high-rank Angel?! Shit.. What if Zaaron finds out.. or Roman.. oh fuck, I'm so fucked, what was I thinking?!" Amne panics as she paces around the room, pulling her hair from the stress.

She continues to spiral until she hears a commotion start up outside the room. Amne looks at the door, wondering if she should even bother leaving-

The commotion then turns to screams. Amne reacts quickly, rushing out of the room as people run past her in fury. She spots Lua and Silas in the main room, and rushes over to them.

"What the hell's going on?!" She shouts.

Silas looks at her in fear as Lua scans the room.

"Briar and Brennan, that's who." Lua states.

"Am I supposed to know who those people are?!" Amne shouts back as Silas tries to calm her.

Lua turns to Amne. "Did your psycho family at least teach you how to fight?!" They ask.

Amne barely musters up a nod as Lua sighs.

"Good, because we're in for a fucking battle."

~~~~~~~~~~

2 notes · View notes