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puffein · 9 months

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i'll be with you, someday

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: even though you and wanda are continually entangled by fate while being in two distinct worlds, life and the challenges of dating a superhero outweighed fate's favors. warnings: fluff, angst word count: 3722 a/n: kaowjwekakak i am so nervous posting this. help, but i hope u enjoy reading this!! my first ficcc post :D

general masterlist

The first time you had met Wanda Maximoff was in the harsh breezy air of Europe, particularly a country located in the central-southeast. A small eastern country called Sokovia, tucked between Slovakia and Czech Republic, despite the country being small, the remnants of the bombings that happened years ago, were big enough to make the country gain attention from different countries especially their loud voices and public outcry in the streets of the country's capital city Novi Grad.

The country was small but it gained the attention of every news network, particularly, yours. As a news reporter, life is not all about being shoved in a studio, making up a firm smile, and reading fast blurry lines on a small monitor. No, it's much more than that, it also means to get yourself shoved in dangerous matters.

You wouldn't call the protests dangerous but as time passed by the cries were getting heated, louder, and the smoke was getting thick.

However, you cannot be phased by this. Not when a camera is steadily situated right in front of your face.

"... organized protests on the streets of Novi Grad, the capital city of the country, Sokovia has been—"

A fast whirring object flies past your shoulders as you flinch hard enough to toss yourself to the side. The object steadily launches itself on the big camera, glasses flying everywhere. Biting your lip to cut off whatever scream is bubbling in your chest, a gasp makes out of your trembling lips as a hand clasp tightly on your wrist.

A girl–no, definitely a woman. The woman walks fast and hurriedly, she shoves you into an alleyway so far away from the crowd, the loud bearing of your chest was indescribable and suffocating.

"Why are Westerners so idiotic." her accented voice made your form straightened.

Your brows furrowed rightfully at hers, "I am not—"

She puts up a hand, her brown hair tightly secured and gathered away from the curves of her face, you can see the sharp arches of her features, the prominent cheekbones sitting right on her cheeks going downwards. She glowers at you, "Get you and your camera away from here. If you want news, do it from a distance."

You didn't know the woman you had met in Sokovia would stick up on your being for so long, but she did save you even after her blatant insults of you being careless and idiotic, which by the way is true.

You didn't know that woman would shake the world with a much bigger coverage.

Years later, you found yourself again in the country of Sokovia. A tip was passed by at your news network that something big will happen in the country and as the ever-loving favorite of your boss. He tossed you again in Europe, not caring if this tip was something like throwing you as a snack in a cage full of hungry wolves or in a simpler thought if it was even real.

But oh boy, you were wrong.

The tip was real.

You would rather have yourself as a snack in a cage full of wolves than see yourself meters away from the ground.

The capital city of Sokovia lifted itself off from the ground, screaming citizens blur the panic settling in your loud beating chest and the microphone you held against your chest trembles as it falls below you. A mistake was made when you looked down, the remaining parts of the city were no longer visible as clouds cleared off any vision of the city from below, the slight shaking of the ground pushed your weakened knees, shoving you face-front in the blue sky.

Your voice reverberates loudly throughout the flying city, before you could fully fall and meet the end of your life, a wisping red smoke wraps itself on your hips pulling you far away from the edge of the city.

The woman huffs out a breath, "You again?"

"I don't —"

And off she goes, running towards the panicking crowds, leaving your heaving chest and the shaking bones of your being in an alleyway.

You thought that was the end of it all.

It was the second time you have met her, and it was the second time you have come to learn her name. The name Wanda Maximoff.

The major event in Sokovia prompted you to shove a resignation letter to your fuming boss. Just a year after the traumatic event you had endured and the abuse you had experienced in your workplace, you are now a diligent owner of a small coffee shop.

Tucked between the nicely scented flower shop and an old apartment, your coffee shop was the only source of income you have. After resigning and possibly giving up the dream of becoming a news anchor, you had hoped this coffee shop would be enough to feed the starving energy of your impossible dream.

"Hello, what can I do—"

Green eyes stared right at your soul, her eyes darted away to read the menu placed at the top of your head, a tinge of red blossoms at her cheeks, "What can you recommend?"

Clearing your throat, you shoved down the squeal bubbling in the depth of your chest, "Our cinnamon coffee has well-received feedbacks."

It's been a year since she saved you for the second time, you badly want to say your gratitude to her. To form coherent thoughts with words full of appreciation for her works and her bravery.

She nods, the dark green cap she's wearing hides half of her face but you see the slight twitch of the corners of her mouth. Her hand full of rings taps lightly on her thighs as she awaits for the coffee to go.

When her coffee arrived, your breathing quickens at the brisk touch of her thumbs over the side of your fingers. She mutters a small thank you and you are faced with the fleeing form of a woman called Wanda Maximoff.

That should be the end, right? Meeting a superhero so frequently as you had met her is not normal.

Not when she frequently buys coffee in your coffee shop, the same order she had brought when she very first set foot on your small premises.

The frequent visit she had made you confused about the blossoming crush you are having with the Sokovian. Your interactions with her are no longer than 30 seconds, it consisted of asking what she wants, you would ask her how she was and she would curtly reply with a one-liner and it made you awkward. You are just doing your job. Why are you being awkward when it comes to her?

When she would come on her fifth visit, you promised yourself to take the courage to finally talk to her for longer than 30 seconds. So, when she comes in the early mornings of New York, wearing a cap over her head, and a coat that works wonders on her overall appearance, your courage wavers slightly.

And it wavers greatly when a redhead trails behind the brown-haired woman.

The black widow flickers her eyes on your gaping form, a slight twitch of a grin plasters on her face as she walks beside Wanda towards you, carrying an aura no one could top off.

"Hello," you cursed yourself for making your voice shake in a very obvious manner. "What can I get for you today?"

The redhead glances at the younger woman beside her, and a smirk beams out of the sharp edges of her face, "Oh, we are not here to order." the widow casually says.

Bumping the back of her hand to the sides of a silent woman beside her, the widow only gives you a smile as she shoves Wanda painfully close to the counter.

Wanda curses, "How are you?" she winces at the word.

You look between the grinning redhead and the woman who has a red face, you give out a confused smile, "I am good, Wanda. How are you?"

"Jesus." the widow curses under her breath, gliding her feet towards Wanda's as she kicks it in passion.

Knees wavering from the sudden kick, Wanda exclaims the words, "Fuc— Can I take you out on a date?"

And that's how you got yourself a superhero girlfriend.

It's been months since Wanda started dating you, you were everything she could have asked for, you bring out the radiant glow of the sun, your love is like a breeze tinged with the smell of the sea, and the touches you had made with her are anchors of her shaking boats. You calm the crashing waves of her life.

She knew what she was bringing to you after she had asked you out on a date. But she wants to have something, she wants to be selfish just this once.

"What are you cooking?" your voice made its way into her ears, a big grin plaster automatically on her face.

Wanda turns her head over her shoulders, lowering herself slightly to catch the height of your lips. She hears the humming of your voice as her tongue darts leisurely on your bottom lip.

You grin, pulling away to wrap your hands around her middle section, "Smells good by the way." you mutter, kissing her shoulder.

Wanda laughs, "I am only heating the food Nat brought last night, is that okay?"

She feels the nod of your head against her shoulder, your cheeks pressed up tightly against it as she sighs at the comforts of your warm body.

"How was the interview?" she finally asks.

You were silent for the first few seconds, "It was fine, I think."

Wanda can hear the doubt in your voice and the loud ringing of your thoughts, she fully turns herself to look at you. Her hands placed tenderly on your cheeks, "I just knew you rocked that interview."

After months of pondering if you should continue the dream you had thrown for the safety of your being, you had concluded that one bad news network is not equal to all of them. So, you prompted yourself in an interview to get the dreams you had let go.

"Rocked.." you ponder on the word, Wanda rolls her eyes with fondness pooling deep in her chest. "Definitely."

"But seriously, you will get this job. I just knew it. You are passionate and hardworking. Any news network would be lucky to have you, baby, you should know that." you beamed at her words, tiptoeing to kiss her properly.

"What would I do without you?" you quietly said between the kisses.

"Probably alone and starving, detka." she grins, biting playfully on your lip as you groan at the stinging pain.

Relationship with Wanda was beautiful, like the scenery out of a postcard. But not everything is beautiful, every relationship passes by a rocky road that will either tumble the couple down or help them grow.

So, when the absence of her presence in your life became more prominent as days passed by into months, you knew something was wrong.

You are clearly informed of her work, of how everything was confidential but that did not stop the constricting pain your heart felt when she would go like a ghost and would come back like nothing had happened. Like she didn't just leave you all alone with no words.

You do not know where you and Wanda are placed.

Are you two being tumbled down? or is this another thing that would help build the bonded relationship you two have?

When you woke up in the middle of the night only to have your eyes focused on a slumped form in the middle of the kitchen, the words came blaring down like an ambulance.

"Jesus, are you okay?" kneeling in front of her, you tuck your hands in her arms to pull her up.

Your hands go limp as she pushes you away, "Hurts, let me be here. It'll pass." she croaks out, eyes closed tightly.

Your eyes scan the heavy movement of her chest, the stained shirt she wore does not make your chest calm. You lean in again, your hands hovering over the blood pooling at the side of her body, she grabs your wrist tightly, "I told you, it will pass."

When she opened her eyes to see the glistening eyes of yours, filled with unshed tears, her heart broke. She forces herself to sit up, biting her tongue hard to keep the scream of pain for herself. "Detka, I promise. I will be fine. I had it checked before coming here, just forgot to change, okay?"

You nod at her words, blinking a few times to calm the beating of your heart.

"But you have to rest on the bed, not here."

"I know, baby. Just give me a few minutes, hm? And I'll be there beside you, go."

When you didn't move after her words, Wanda smiled at you, "I'll be with you, I promise. Please."

And you left her alone with her pain, just like every other night.

Wanda would rather suffer in silence than make you see the pain scattering all over her body. She does not want your eyes to scan her battered body, it will break her to see you sob just because she has been careless on a mission.

It was not worth it.

Her actions shouldn't weigh down on your stability and as every mission piles one after another, it becomes more dangerous, more eye-opening.

She didn't want to admit it but what she has been asking from you was unfair. Asking you to leave her alone after making you see the bruises on her face or the remnants of the mission was unfair to you. She cannot just let you see she's suffering and pushes you away.

But that was the only thing she could do. She would rather be choosing that option over and over again than choosing the choice of completely leaving you. No more sights of bruises, no more her and you.

Wanda lets herself be selfish once more.

When the light rays of the sun push itselves through the windows of your small apartment, you wake up with the soft lips of your significant other.

Peppering your face with soft kisses, Wanda kneels at the side of your bed, leaning down once more to kiss your forehead, "Wake up, detka. I made breakfast."

You stirred in your sleep, hands reaching out to touch the cheeks of Wanda but hovered on top of it, halting your movements.

Wanda frowns.

You opened your eyes, "Is it gonna hurt if I touch it?" you point out a bruise on her cheekbones, Wanda stills at your question. Her heart plummeted at your fragile quiet voice.

She nods slowly, "You can touch anywhere, sweetheart. I am fine now, I visited the med bay while you slept, everything is fine."

You sit up on your bed, shaking off the sleep in your eyes, you stare at her. "Can I kiss you?"

Wanda smiles, leaning in, "You don't have to ask."

Meeting your lips halfway with the warm feeling of the cascading sunlight on her back was something Wanda wants to have for the rest of her life. The soft feeling of your lips against her, the smell of coffee, you. Everything is perfect for her.

And she knows a perfect person like you wouldn't last with a person so imperfect like her.

The bruises on Wanda's face were not halfway cured when she was asked again to go on a mission. It was still purple and swollen when she heard the call from Steve. A mission to infiltrate a newly discovered base of Hydra. It was located somewhere in Europe, it was miles away from New York, miles away from you.

It was just another day of you and Wanda lounging in the walls of your apartment, the chilling icy-cold air of the night felt sharp on your skin, her face was still healing from her past mission when she suddenly excuses herself to answer the taunting ringing of her phone.

She had kissed your forehead before walking away to give herself privacy and the kiss that felt comforting before weighs down indescribably in the depths of your chest.

You watch the frowning of her brows, how she nibbles her bottom lip to how the muscle in her jaw twitches as her head bobs in something that was being discussed on her phone.

You look away, eyeing the show you two have been watching, the voices on it fading out. You knew what was coming and you should be accustomed to it by how frequently she leaves for her job but it did not make it easier for you, it just became harder.

Her presence came like a tidal wave, scooting herself closer to your form as her hand snaked around your waist pulling you flushed on her. She kisses the side of your head slowly, her lips lingering on your warm skin.

You sigh, leaden feelings set heavily on your chest, "You're leaving, again?"

Wanda gulps the remaining bitter taste in her mouth, nudging your cheeks with her nose, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." you snap. You didn't mean to make your voice let out the feelings you have thrust down on your chest. But it did and it's like the small crack of an incoming big wave from a dam that's been left too full.

Wanda grips your waist, resting her forehead on your shoulders, she breathes in the scent you had emitted, "I'll be back before you'll know it, baby."

"You always say that and yet, you always come home months after." you ground your jaw hard and painful as Wanda snapped her mouth shut.

She lets you hear the silence of her essence, the slow breathing from her lungs, the flowery scent she has. She lets you have it, for she knows the truth of your words.

"I'm sorry," she starts, smoothing the skin on your waist. "I'll be back."

"How long do I have to believe that?" your voice wavered, any control you have left for clutching your feelings in your grasp is now gone. The feelings you had been feeling ran out of your mouth fast and heavy.

"I'll always be back, when did I lie, Y/N?" Wanda replies.

"How long till you just finally don't? I have seen you hurt so many times, Wanda. I don't want to see your dead body or– or do I even have the right to see it if it happens or will it be confidential?" you moved away from her, hugging yourself as you felt the heavy material of her sweater, making you feel more miserable.

"Don't think that." Wanda's voice was firm and hardened.

"I always think that! What do you think my thoughts will be after you have walked away to offer yourself in such dangerous missions." your throat closes up instantly, a sob breaking out of your mouth,

"You– you, you can read minds, how come you have never known I was hurting?"

Wanda's green eyes gleamed with sadness at your outburst. Do you have to ask such an obvious question?

Of course, she had known. She had always known how much she was weighing you down, how these frequent absences of hers are taking a toll on you mentally and emotionally. She does not want to acknowledge how she's taking the life out of you, how day by day your eyes have lost their light, just because of her.

She turns a blind eye to all of that. She always did.

She deserves to be a little more selfish, right?

So, she cradles your cheeks tenderly, your eyes burning with grief at a loss that you know will happen.

"It's gonna be fine, I will be back, I promise. Please, stop crying." she wipes your tears gently, the padding of her thumbs gliding smoothly below your eyes. She leans in to kiss it, shuddering at the wetness she felt on her lips.

"I'll be with you, baby. Please, stop. I'll be—" Wanda's lips instantly pressed together as you yank your figure away from her tight grasp.

Pacing away from her, your brows creased in apprehension, "It's either be with me or le— work." the timbres of your voice falters.

"I can't be here, with you. You had lost everything, Wanda. Why do you want to lose yourself? You have saved many, it's okay to stop." your voice pleaded.

Wanda's eyes swam with tears as she finally felt the cracking of the ground, the awareness of the reality that was unfolding before her eyes didn't feel real.

She didn't want it to feel real yet as her eyes settled on your dishevelled state everything came crashing down on her hard and excruciatingly painful.

She took a step forward, and with her shaky hands, she took your cold ones and brought it to her trembling lips. "Everything will be fine, please don't do this," she begged.

"I am so tired of crying myself to sleep. I have forgotten what it's like to have a mind so peaceful, Wanda. But my mind is far from peace if you are away from me," the vision you had before is long gone, replaced by a blurry sight of tears and heartbreak. "I am just asking you to stay. To choose yourself, to choose us and stay."

"Please, don't make me choose."

"Then, leave."

The hands grasped tightly on yours stilled. Wanda froze in front of you, her wide eyes staring directly at yours, she looks for a sign that you're gonna take back the words you have sputtered, that everything is just a mistake on your part but when you remained grounded, and when you let her hear the loudness of your silence, her face contorted in pain at your words.

She felt the walls closing in on her.

"Baby, detka, I have no—"

"You have asked me to not let you choose. That is an answer, Wanda." your voice quivered, and you whisk your hands away from her hold.

"Leave, I'm sure Steve will appreciate your early arrival." you turned your back to the woman you will be mourning, chest leaden with grief-stricken feelings as you grieve for the loss of your love.

And you left her alone with her pain, just like every other night.

general masterlist

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu oneshot #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

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morgansplace · 4 months

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favorite lasko headcanon? 🩷

I wasn't expecting this ask, but thank you so much for it, anon. ♡

My favorite Lasko headcanon is definitely my ethnicity headcanon for him!

Little rant under the cut! I also want to point out that I don't mean to offend anyone with this headcanon. I don't know anything about the culture or the country, I just know little things about the language and how certain things work.

Lasko means "love" in Czech. The direct translation means honey, but overall, it's used to refer to love or as a word for endearment.

Czech is located in central Europe. The last name "Moore" originated in European countries such as Ireland, France, Scotland, and so on.

Doing research to strengthen this headcanon, I noticed that Czech is a really cool language, and I can see him speaking it when he's tired, mad, or frustrated. The people I've seen speaking Czech, I noticed that have an accent really soft and warm.

Now, for it to make sense, he was born in the US, but both his parents are from the Czech Republic. Growing up, Lasko learned how to speak English, and both his parents spoke to him in Czech, which led to him learning it and earning a Czech accent, just like theirs.

In middle school, his classmates used to mock him because of his accent, specially when it mixed up with his stuttering, which was constantly, so he started to force himself to earn an "American accent" to avoid being bullied by it.

Now, as an adult, it's really hard to tell he has an accent because he learned how to hide it with almost every word. Still, when he's tired or really mad, it slips up a bit. I still think that with certain words, it shows up, especially when he's stuttering.

His brain also switches to Czech when he's really fucking tired and most of the time he doesn't realize he's not speaking English until someone points it out.

This headcanon started because I wanted to see if the word Lasko had a meaning because looking for meanings of other names from other characters, I wanted to find one for Lasko's. When I found out that Lasko meant love, and I heard the language for the first time, I fell in love with the idea.

This is definitely not for everyone, but it's mine, and I'm happy with it. Thank you so much again for asking this. I'd love to share more headcanons, but this one is really long on its own, so maybe in another post, another time.

#redacted asmr #redacted lasko #redacted audio #redacted headcanons #i wasnt expecting this ask but i got so so so so excited #thank you so much #anon asks #asks

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tealviscaria · 5 months

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Okay, so I will make my own post as not to derail the poor op's one :D

Some things about RRRrrrr!!! It is definitely famous in the Czech Republic (or at least I think it's veeery likely a Czech person will know it).

Here is a link to one Czech tumblr post with the "ça va être tout noir! - ta gueule" joke, written in Czech.

And below you can watch the scene :D

youtube

@pigeonneaux yeah, the Pierre joke doesn't work that well :/ It's translated as "Kámen", which means stone, but we don't use this word as a name (but I mean... I still think it fits into that sort of absurd comedy :D) Again, you can have a look at that scene:

youtube

What I really love is that one scene in which the healer is wishing them good luck with the hunt in his made up language. I'm not exactly sure what they are going for in French, but in Czech when he says that he still has some accent left, he's speaking (kind of :D) in Slovak :D

youtube

Anyway, I really love the movie and I quote the "začíná noc" and "Já jsem Kámen, Kámen, B-L-O-N-D" on a regular basis :D

#RRRrrrr!!!#czech #french #upthebaguette #a proč ne klidně tagnu i #čumblr #Youtube

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djuvlipen · 3 months

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According to a new Eurobarometer survey on the attitudes of Europeans toward discrimination, harassment, equality of the sexes and LGBTIQ rights, more than half of respondents are of the opinion that discrimination on the basis of being Romani, of having a different skin color, on the basis of ethnic origin, gender identity or sexual orientation is widespread in their countries. Slightly more than one-fifth of respondents stated that they had personally felt discriminated against or experienced harassment during the previous 12 months.

The survey, which was undertaken among 26,404 citizens of the European Union, focused on their attitudes toward and their experiences of discrimination, equality of the sexes, harassment, the integration of Roma, LGBTIQ rights and social inclusion. The survey is one component of the monitoring of EU public opinion regularly undertaken by the European Commission.

According to the survey, 65 % of respondents said discrimination against Romani people is widespread, 61 % said discrimination based on skin color is widespread, 60 % said discrimination based on ethnicity is widespread, 57 % said that discrimination based on gender identity (being transgender) is widespread, and 54 % said discrimination based on sexual orientation is widespread. The sole exception among the categories investigated was discrimination based on faith or religion, which is less likely to be perceived as widespread (just 42 % of respondents said it is) compared to 2019 (five percentage points lower).

Roughly one-fifth (21 %) of respondents said that they had personally experienced harassment or felt discriminated against during the last 12 months (four percentage points higher than in 2019). The kinds of discrimination or harassment which were mentioned most were based on age, sex, “political opinions”, “socioeconomic situation” and “general physical appearance”.

Public places and workplaces are the main places where discrimination or harassment happens. The survey also indicates that more efforts are necessary to integrate the Romani population in the EU.

Just about one-fourth of respondents said they believe the efforts in their country to integrate the Romani population are effective. However, the results differ significantly from country to country.

In the Czech Republic, for example, just 19 % of respondents consider the integration of Romani people to be working. When respondents were asked which criteria they think could disqualify an applicant from being employed, they most frequently mentioned age (52 %) and clothing or presentation style (50 %).

Other criteria disqualifying jobseekers were mentioned by at least one-third of respondents as follows: general physical appearance (44 %), disability (43%), being Romani (42 %), skin color (39 %), accent (35 %) and ethnic origin (34 %). The Eurobarometer survey is one of the biggest, most comprehensive public opinion surveys in Europe.

The aim of the survey is to provide evidence and information to aid lawmakers and policy makers in the EU and its Member States with protecting and promoting the fundamental rights of all EU citizens.

#Anti-Roma racism

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audioletter · 3 months

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Fluffbruary #5: Secret Kiss (Miko/Radek, SGA)

The list of prompts can be found here.

New Year's for her was about family. Making Osechi with her mother, the clatter of her sister's kids' feet on the floor of her parent's old house and Miko suddenly misses it all like an ache.

She knows she was never meant to stay put in Japan - her parents had tried to push back on her studying overseas when in high school, her time in New Zealand a reprieve as she found the sounds of English more comfortable in her mouth. Then, MIT after escaping Kansai for Todai, her confidence growing day by day until New Year's, when she missed the traditions and cacophany of her family.

It was an easy choice to join the Atlantis mission, her life long being fixated on her work, and the chance to join like-minded people was too good of an offer to pass on. Sure, in the great scheme of things, in face of people like Drs Zelenka and McKay her work was small potatoes; but she knows she fits, her contributions helping to lead them forward as they discovered a new universe, side by side.

Dr. McKay still scared the living daylights out of her - she wasn't going to rest on lies and deny she was shy, but Dr. Zelenka was kind; always going out of his way to help her, answer questions in his quirked accent that made her feel better about her own, and it's not long until she realises she's madly, ridiculously in love with him.

Don't let it distract you, she berates herself when his proximity is close, explaining some Ancient tech she can barely even imagine exists, and she wraps it up inside her for five years because he never really truly blinks in her direction in that way.

Miko flies back to Osaka when Atlantis is grounded, just in time for New Year's. Her family welcomes her, and she almost drops her phone mid-cooking with her mother when a text comes through from Dr. Zelenka wishing her a Happy New Year - cutely in Romaji Japanese. Akemashite omedetou, Dr. Kusanagi. See you soon, and Miko smiles to herself, a world of happiness swirling around her until her mother snaps her to with a "Mi-chan! What are you doing?"

Somethings never change, but her life does again when Atlantis is cleared to fly again and she's on board. Nothing seems changed in Dr. Zelenka, either - he never mentions the text and she doesn't dare to, back to their dual mutterings and subsequent giggles when Dr. McKay flies through like a whirlwind to berate them and their shoulders touching, side by side.

"Dr. Zelenka -" she begins one day, and he chuckles.

"It's been six years, Miko, Radek, please."

A movement forward, and Miko inwardly preens a little at the sound of his accent around her name. "Rad..Radek. Okay. Um…" she flounders a bit, and he holds up the mysterious sphere AR1 had deposited on their desks the day before and waves it a little, smiling. "Yes! I ran diagnostics and…"

The rest is moot, to her, because he's Radek now, and before she knows it, New Year's rolls around again by the Earth calendar.

Every year they had a party, and every year Miko didn't kiss anyone at the time they hit midnight - at first, she blamed her culture, her shyness; but as time went on she realised there was no-one but one that she wanted to kiss. It's impossible, really - so she drinks champagne, speaks with Teyla in fits of giggles and girlish glee (it had been Teyla who helped her dress and put on some makeup for the evening, their relationship also growing over the year into a friendship Miko treasured) and she even manages an awkward but fun dance with Dr. McKay.

But it's Dr. Zelen - Radek who she spends most of the night with; he speaks to her of the Czech Republic and asks her of Japan, and she's suddenly well aware of a new tension between them as their knees touch and their heads are bent together in order to be able to hear each other over the din of the bad music Miko's sure Chuck is in charge of.

Then - "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!" Miko's heart begins to pound, and, with a brazen grab of Radek's collar, she drags him behind a partition where no-one can see them. "Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

She leans forward without thinking and presses her lips to his, shocking both of them for a moment before he returns the pressure. It's chaste, sure, but a start - they break apart and Miko's smile matches Radek's own.

"Šťastný nový rok," she whispers, no doubt butchering it, and he laughs.

"Akemashite omedetou, Miko."

#fluffbruary #stargate atlantis #miko kusunagi #radek zelenka #i just love them both #any spelling errors ignore because i'm typing this with gloves on because i have frostbite #no joke lmao #MOAR MIKO CONTENT MOAR #and zelenka tbh

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eirxair · 4 months

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why i hate countries in europe

(this is a shitpost)

portugal🇵🇹- brazillian portuguese 🔛🔝 (or so ive been told)

spain🇪🇸-odio españa porque comí tostadas yo no sé🤷

france🇫🇷- FRENCH PEOPLE AHHHHHH

belgium🇧🇪- reminds me of belgium so i dont like it

germany🇩🇪- i have a german friend and shes mean to me smh 😔😔✊✊

poland🇵🇱-i have a polish friend and theyre very mean to me smh😔😔✊✊

czech republic 🇨🇿 - defenestration+ that stupid goat

bulgaria🇧🇬-flag colours remind me of italy

italy🇮🇹-italian AHHHHHH (someone thought i was italian on tiktok this one time and im not forgetting it)

austria🇦🇹-i keep accidentally saying australia when i say it smh😔✊

hungary🇭🇺 - flag reminds me of italy😰😰

lithuania🇱🇹 - if i get another lithuanian meme sent to me i am going to combust

latvia🇱🇻-hello

ukraine🇺🇦- i keep accidentally getting it confused with that one flag thats for the german city thing yk the one its yellow then blue smh

slovakia🇸🇰- idk tbh, falg has the same colour as france ig😡

scotland🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 - “i love eye r land” *starts playing flower of scotland on the bagpipes*-🇺🇸

wales🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 - your flag is a NIGHTMARE to draw and i hate you so much for it

ireland🇮🇪 - “im actualy eye r ish!” *holds up 🇨🇮* -🇺🇸

england🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿- tories🤢

romania🇷🇴 - forgotten romance language smh (best one tbh)

greece🇬🇷 - please tell me youre as sick of americans as i am

norway🇳🇴 - WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME NO WAY IN AN AUSTRALIAN ACCENT.

sweden🇸🇪 - hi

finland🇫🇮 - i know someone from finland and he is very emo (dont tell him i told u im scared of him icl)

denmark🇩🇰 - if i see another cross on a flag im gonna sob

switzerland 🇨🇭- OH MY FUCKGIN GODV

the netherlands 🇳🇱- “thaats not a real place thaats where peter pan lives!” -🇺🇸

belarus🇧🇾 -hi

serbia🇷🇸 -french colours😰😰😰

moldova🇲🇩 -hi :)

albania🇦🇱 - your flag is also a NIGHTMARE TO DRAW YOU DONT HAVE TO BE WELSH PLEASE TURN TOWARDS THE LIGHT.

croatia🇭🇷 - one time i was playing that one guess draw game on roblox w my friend and they said they got croatia and i typed it in chat and everyone thought we were teaming and vote kicked me from drawing </3

bosnia🇧🇦- hi

macedonia🇲🇰-your flag isnt a NIGHTMARE to draw but its still a nightmare to draw

thats all for now bc im not writing out 44 different countries (since app theres 44 countries in europe i googled it)

#europe #european #shitpost

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 1) Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Beauty Queen

After they alerted Lestrade to the next mystery, John, Sherlock, and (Y/N) met him at the Morgue. Connie Prince’s body lay on a table with a deep cut in her hand with webbing between the thumb and pointer finger.

“Connie Prince, forty-eight. She had one of those makeover shows on the telly,” said Lestrade. “Did you see it?”

“No,” said Sherlock, shaking his head.

“Very popular,” commented Lestrade. “She was going places.”

“Not anymore,” remarked (Y/N).

“So, dead two days,” said Sherlock, examining the body. “According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound.”

“Tetanus bacteria enters her bloodstream, and, well…” (Y/N) shrugged and sighed. “But…we wouldn’t be directed towards this case if there wasn’t something amiss.” They leaned closer to the body and examined the multiple scratches on her arms. Claw marks, likely owns a cat. Tiny pinpricks could be seen on her forehead and nose, too. Probably Botox.

“John,” said Sherlock. “The cut on her hand, it’s deep—would have bled a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” said John in agreement.

“But the wound is very clean, very fresh,” observed Sherlock.

“How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?” asked (Y/N).

“Eight, ten days,” offered John.

Sherlock gave a lopsided grin. “The cut was made later.”

“After she was dead?” wondered John aloud.

“But her cause of death was still tetanus, so it must’ve gotten in her some other way,” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow and twiddling with their lollipop contemplatively.

Sherlock looked to John. “You want to help, right?”

“Of course,” said John.

“Get me Connie Prince’s background—family, history, everything. Give me data,” said Sherlock.

“Right.” John nodded and left the room.

“There’s something we haven’t thought of,” said Lestrade.

“Is there?” asked Sherlock, casually, tossing (Y/N)’s sweater back to them as the pair went to leave.

“Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?” questioned Lestrade. Sherlock stopped, and his jaw tensed as the thousands of theories and possibilities for why Moriarty was targeting (Y/N). “If this woman’s death was suspicious, why point it out?” continued Lestrade.

“Good Samaritan,” offered Sherlock, playing his frustration off coolly.

“Who press-gangs suicide bombers?” asked Lestrade.

�� “Bad Samaritan,” said (Y/N).

“I’m serious, you two. Listen, Sherlock, (Y/N), I’m cutting you slack here; I’m trusting you. But out there somewhere, some poor bastard’s covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve the puzzle,” said Lestrade harshly. “So tell me: what are we dealing with?”

“Something new,” said Sherlock softly, glancing at (Y/N), who was frowning in thought.

Eight hours to go…

On the walls and mirrors of 221B’s living room, pictures of Connie Prince, her body, and press cuttings were strung up next to the same photos about Carl Powers. Even as Sherlock and (Y/N) were trying to solve Connie Prince’s case, they were trying to find a connection between her and Carl Powers to try to find a pattern in the cases Moriarty was choosing.

“There must be a connection,” muttered Sherlock.

“Even if the victim’s themselves aren’t connected, Moriarty must have been involved with them,” said (Y/N).

Sherlock nodded. “The bomber admitted he knew Carl Powers. The iPhone was in stationary from the Czech Republic. First hostage was from Cornwall, second from London, and third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What’s he doing, working his way around the world?”

At that moment, the pink phone rang, and (Y/N) answered. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” said the shaky voice of the hostage. Joining the…dots. Three hours: boom…boom…” The line went dead.

(Y/N) looked up in alarm. “They’ve cut it to three hours.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in frustration as he answered a message from a fan off Connie Prince’s, who they were using to get the gossip about her. Gossip was often rooted in a tiny bit of fact, so they might find some good answers for why she would be killed if they gathered all the theories surrounding her.

“Apparently, she and her brother, Kenny, didn’t get along,” said Sherlock after hanging up.

“Oh, I can believe that,” said Mrs. Hudson, nodding as she placed some biscuits down before leaving the room again. “No love lost there.”

(Y/N) glanced at their phone as a message appeared. John believed he was onto something at the house of Connie Prince where he was disguised as a reporter to get information from Kenny and Raoul. “We need to go to Connie Prince’s estate and grab some camera equipment. John thinks he’s onto something.”

At Connie Prince’s house, Kenny was primping in front of the mirror as John led them in under the guise of being photographers for the newspaper he worked at.

“Ah, little young, aren’t they?” remarked Kenny as he saw (Y/N).

“I just have a babyface. I’m very fortunate in the skin department,” said (Y/N), pretending they were just a really young-looking adult. The idiot bought it and nodded.

“Mr. Prince, isn’t it?” said Sherlock, shaking Kenny’s hand. “Very good to meet you. Sorry to hear about—”

“Yes, yes, very kind,” interrupted Kenny.

“Shall we get to it then?” said John. Kenny nodded while Sherlock and (Y/N) took out a camera. As they “worked” and Kenny was distracted by deciding how to pose, John murmured to them, “You were right. The bacteria got into her another way.”

“Oh, yes?” Sherlock smirked at the confirmation.

“Yes,” said John.

“We all set?” asked Kenny, ready to start his photoshoot.

“Um, yes,” said John.

Sherlock held up the flashbulb as he took a closeup of Kenny, who jolted back from the bright flash of light that went right into his eyes.

“Not too close!” ordered Kenny indignantly. “I’m raw from crying.”

A cat meowed by (Y/N)’s feet, and they decided to use it as a distraction in case Sherlock needed to look around at anything. “Who is that?”

“Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess,” said Kenny proudly, picking the cat up.

“Was she Connie’s or yours?” they continued as Sherlock glanced around the room and at Kenny without him noticing.

“Yes,” said Kenny haughtily. “Little present from yours truly.”

“Sherlock, uh, light reading?” asked John.

“Oh, um…” Sherlock used the flash in Kenny’s face again.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Kenny, covering his eyes as they tried to adjust back to the normal light of the sitting room. “What do you think you’re playing at?” As he spoke angrily, John reached out, felt the cat’s paws, and then sniffed his fingers. “You’re like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you three! What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Actually, I think we got what we came here for,” said John hurriedly. “Excuse us. Come on, Sherlock, (Y/N). We’ve got, um, deadlines.”

(Y/N) shrugged and followed John out. Sherlock packed up the equipment and caught up to them before Kenny demanded more of an explanation. John was positively ecstatic as they walked down the street.

“You think it was the cat,” observed (Y/N).

“What? Oh, yeah, only thing that makes sense, right?” said John.

(Y/N) unwrapped a lollipop and shook their head. “It wasn’t the cat.”

“But that must’ve been how they got tetanus in her system,” argued John. “The cat’s paws smell of disinfectant. He coated it onto the paws of her cat. It’s a new pet, probably jumpy, a scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn’t have…” He trailed off seeing their amused faces.

“It was a possibility,” admitted (Y/N). “She did have a scratch on her arm. But it’s too random and clever for her brother.”

“He murdered his sister for money,” realized John.

“Nope,” negated Sherlock once again.

“No?”

“No, it was revenge,” said (Y/N).

“Who wanted revenge?”

“Raoul, the houseboy. He and Kenny were together, but Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister’s jokes every show, a real bullying campaign,” began (Y/N). “He had a big falling out with her over it. It is all over the gossip sites. She threatened to disinherit him. Raoul was used to a certain lifestyle now that he was dating Kenny, so he killed her.” Sherlock nodded proudly towards (Y/N), and they ducked their head in embarrassed happiness.

“Hang on, wait. What about the disinfectant?” asked John, furrowing his brow in confusion.

(Y/N) shrugged and took out their lollipop to answer clearly. “All the floors are heavily disinfected to keep them clean. The bottoms of our shoes smell like that cat’s paws. Cat doesn’t come into it.”

“But Raoul’s search history does,” said Sherlock. He grinned. “Home Office got me his recent purchases. Lots of Botox.”

One hour to go…

At Scotland Yard, with no time to spare, Sherlock, (Y/N), and John walked urgently into Lestrade’s office.

“Raoul de Santos is your killer, Kenny Prince’s houseboy and boyfriend,” said (Y/N), taking charge since they didn’t want to wait at all. “Second autopsy revealed that botulinum toxic killed Connie Prince, not tetanus.”

Sherlock shook his head mockingly. “Tut, tut, the killer is repeating themself.”

“How’d they get it in her?” asked Lestrade.

“Botox injection,” explained (Y/N). “Botox is just a diluted form of botulinum, and Raoul gave Connie Prince regular facial injections, so it was very easy to poison her.”

“My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul’s internet purchases. He’s been bulk ordering for months. Bided his time, the upped the strength to a fata dose,” Sherlock finished putting the pieces together in the proper order.

“You sure about this?” asked Lestrade. He sighed. “Then I need to make some calls. Excuse me.” He left the office.

“Hey, Sherlock. How long?” demanded John, glaring at him.

“What?” asked Sherlock, acting oblivious, but (Y/N) turned to him too and furrowed their brow questioningly.

“How long have you known the answer? I can tell you did,” snapped John.

“Well, this one was quite simple, actually. And like I said, the murderer repeated himself,” said Sherlock. “That was a mistake.”

“Sherlock, you should have told me,” said (Y/N). “I’m not as smart as you yet. It took me until the second autopsy finished and then I just needed to see the houseboy when we went in as photographers, but if you had the answers, you should have told me.”

Sherlock sighed. “I know, I know, but I needed time to think about other things. If we had gotten close to the deadline, I would have told you, but I could tell you had figured it out.”

(Y/N) bit their lip in frustration. “Next time just tell me straight away, okay?”

Sherlock softened, and he put a hand on their shoulder. “I just needed to see if I could figure anything else out before we moved on to a harder case.”

John was not blind and smiled slightly to himself as he saw (Y/N) relax at Sherlock’s touch. He found it amusing how the two “disconnected from emotions” detectives were so familial with one another. It was endearing.

“I’ll send the message,” said (Y/N), going back to business. They opened Lestrade’s computer (they had figured out his passwords ages ago) and went to Sherlock’s website. In the chat, they wrote, “Raoul de Santos, the houseboy Botox.” The moment they sent the message, the pink phone rang. (Y/N) answered, “Hello?”

“Help me,” said the tearful old woman’s voice.

“Tell us where you are,” said (Y/N).

“He was so…His voice…” began the woman shakily.

(Y/N) gripped the phone tighter. “No, no, stop. Don’t tell me anything about him. Nothing.”

Sherlock’s head jerked up towards them in alarm as he heard them attach a new fact to Moriaty: he was a man. Another mostly unhelpful clue, but Sherlock was more worried for the fact the woman was revealing something about Moriarty, describing at least his voice (the most likely attribute since she was blind and wouldn’t be able to read from pager). Sherlock knew with certainty Moriarty would not like that.

“He sounded so…soft.”

And as the words left her mouth, the line cut out with a crackle. (Y/N) froze as they processed what had just happened. Moriarty had blown the woman up for describing his voice.

A hand landed on their shoulder, and (Y/N) jumped at the suddenness. But it was just Sherlock, pulling them to him. He understood what had happened and was enraged that Moriarty had just further scarred (Y/N), an already traumatized teenager. Sherlock’s teenager. All the more reason to put Moriarty behind bars, beat him in his game so that he’d stop stalking (Y/N) and leave them alone. They were handling his cases well, but Sherlock could see the stress and frustration in them. They had talent, yes, but they were still young and being pushed too far could do actual harm.

Sherlock would protect them from that.

#a study of the heart and brain #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x teen reader #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock #bbc #bbc sherlock #x reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #teen reader #gn reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #found family #found family trope

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