#however its not like i enjoy using the french language

[theromaboo]

Me: *searching for sources on a thing I'm interested in about ancient Rome*

All the sources I can find: *literally always in French or German*

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Alastor watching the princess and the frog by Disney ? It’s in lousiana in the 1920s so it would be perfect for him

absolutelyyyyyyy the princess and the frog is one of my fav disney movies from characters to soundtrack, so this one’s a bit longer. also kind of a part two but also not exactly

history ramble below

also i did some light research on new orleans history because if im gonna write alastor i should know. doggy i love me some history and this history is rich, depressing at times but also rich and meanful to know so i thought id share a little. from talking about the free the peoples movement, to the way women got their rights to their hair back that they didn’t have when enslaved only to have a law banning natural hair and hair wraps and so they decorated the wraps and used coloured fabrics effectively rendering the law useless, to the wealthiest black man of the 1870s for being a prospering business owner, the origins of how voodoo and other spiritual practices mingled perfectly with the pre established voodoo and how voodoo was predominantly black women who were highly respected, the first black man to be govoner in the united states in only 1871, a black woman named Rose Nicaud who opened the first coffee stand in 1800 and made enough to escape being ensalved. then there’s lighter topics like some of the jazz history and how it made various black stars like louie armstrong, and also how the language mingled to make the cajun french that’s sadly dying out, to the architecture that flourished through the varying clashes in culture between african, european, native and haitian peoples. if it’s not too upsetting to read i definitely suggest this page to have an insight on some of the quick history on new orleans, i enjoyed learning about the strength that many had during this time.

United teachers of new orleans < page i was reading

Warnings: jealous Al teehee, reader crushes on naveen and dr facilier (don’t mind me just projecting), cuddling, swearing, alastor doesn’t really know emotions good, fluffy banter, just some ushy gushy mushy tushy

Word count: 2k

The movie Bambi didn't even finish playing before the patrons started to filter out of the room heading to bed. First to go was Vaggie carrying a sleeping Charlie, Sir pentious promptly following along telling his fussy egg boys it was long past their bed time. Then it was Niftys turn to disappear, however she never said a goodnight only sped off leaving behind her vacant swishing rocking chair.

Then once Angel and Husk left, you had decided to just call it quits on Bambi, Alastor hadn't moved much or objected to you turning off the movie, only watching the projector as you scrolled through the app.

You stopped on the princess and the frog, grinning toward Alastor he sighed, getting a glimpse of your mischief from the corner of his eye. "Now what's this about darling?" Turning your body towards his fully facing him, you waited for his gaze to finally meet yours, and reluctantly it did. "Allow me to introduce you to one of, if not, thee best disney movies of all time; the princess and the frog," Alastor's finger rose as he took a breath to speak, but before he could say a word you interrupted him.

"Yes I know princess yuck, whatever Al. It takes place in New Orleans, its main focus is actually in the poorer area with the shotgun houses, and throughout the movie Tiana, the princess, travels through the bayou, oh! With Naveen one of the hottest princes, also it takes place in the twenties, oh!-" Before you could continue Alastor gently gripped your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily as he did so."What did you just?"

"Takes place in the nineteen twenties?" You asked, voice muffled from Alastors grip on your cheeks. "Before that dear." Your eyebrows raised looking at Alastor not trying to hide your confusion. "Naveen? One of the hottest princes?" Alastor hummed, booping your nose. "Yes dear, that."

"Yeah. duh dude he's one of the few princes that deserve the princess, he changes for Tiana, he's charismatic, funny, but nevermind that back to what i was saying. There's varying New Orleans culture littered through that might make you feel closer to home, all the music is jazz obviously." Opening your mouth readying to rant on about the Voodoo man that you adored, Alastor hushed you with his finger up to your lips.

"My sweet dear, I will watch this silly picture show so long as you stop rambling about it." Alastor wasn't truly done with hearing your rambling, he was enjoying hearing that you were such a fan of something that centred so close to home when it came to him however if he was going to watch it he rather not have it spoiled.

Giddily you clasped your hands together and hit play, your love for the film and excitement to see Alastors reaction may have made you slightly over enthusiastic just a bit. As the movie began you curled your feet up onto the couch, inching yourself closer to Alastor looking up to his face and back to the movie.

When Naveen got introduced on screen you accidentally gripped Alastors arm tightly shaking him. "My mannn~" You squealed happily, letting go of Alastor once you heard the unmistakable rattle come from him, a growl sounding out of his chest. You didn't pay much attention to him though, instead turning back to the projector and backing off Al. However Alastor wasn't too frustrated with the fact you touched him, but because you were being so ushy gushy over some fake man.

He was easily the same if not better than Naveen. Alastor was charismatic, charming, he could sing, play instruments, he didn't quite understand why you were so particularly interested in this Naveen. Hell, even Alastor had a similar outfit back when he was alive, he could've been Naveen when he was alive.

You didn’t notice Alastor having a mini tantrum in his own world, you were too engrossed in the movie. Suddenly you’ve gripped him again, pointing at the screen. "The shadow man, Al this is your kin!" You egged laughing maniacally at your own words.

Alastor’s face however brightened at the display of the voodoo man. "One of my fav songs." You whispered as Dr. Facilier began singing on screen. Cocking his head to the side Alastor looked down to you bouncing along to the song. "This fellow sounds similar to Husk." Alastor mentioned, watching intently at the shadows that crawled around Dr. Faciliers room, much like Alastors own shadows. "Yeah it really does sound like Husk. Strange, anyways, Dr. Voodoos hot too." Alastors static buzzed around the room and you had to hold back a giggle at the frustrated look on his face, despite the smile it was obvious he wasn't too happy.

"What's up Al, not liking the movie?" Static crackled around the two of you as you questioned him a little slyly as you could tell he wasn’t hating the movie. “No dear, it’s pleasant in comparison to some things i’ve grit myself through, however,” He paused watching you ogle at both the Dr and Naveen. “I can’t understand what’s so great about this Naveen you like. He’s a fool,” You scoffed at Alastors distaste for Naveen, you didn’t mean to make him feel frustrated at your adoration for the characters but it was endearing to see.

“What’s not to like about the man?” You state confidently but Alastor simply shrugged while humming indifferently. A beat of silence passed, the ending of the song playing out of the projector. “It’s just that,” Alastor started up again after a moment of silence, turning his body to face you hands folded in his lap politely. “You clearly have the odd reaction towards these gentlemen and I can't see why,” To give him credit he did look genuinely confused, and just as you were going to speak up he interrupted.

“And please do not say it’s because he is funny, charismatic, musically talented or sweet because I happen to hold all those same qualities!” He finished, hands thrown in the air like he said something especially spectacular. You had a soft smile present on your face watching him work through the sentence theatrically. “Well, Al you are, maybe i think the same about you?” Record scratch.

You cackled at his frozen state, patting his arm gently, cooing that you were only kidding, you turned back to the TV and the two of you decided to leave it at that.

Later on in the movie, when Tiana and Naveen are with the alligator going down the bayou singing about being human, you stared over at Alastor, your heart thumping at the sight of him. His arms were resting along the back of the couch, legs splayed out comfortably, posture sunken in, and his eyes lidded with a closed calm smile. His ear twitched and soon his eyes moved from the movie to you, quirking a questionable eyebrow at you.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for eyeing him up you tried to play it off by asking him a question. “Is there bayous in New Orleans, is that real?” You ask kinda dumbly, of course they were, you scolded yourself. Alastor didn’t seem to mind though he smiled widely, a chuckle reverberating out of him. “Why yes dear! Of course, I personally never lived close to the bayou, but it surrounds New Orleans, and I have been. It’s quite beautiful during a sunset but there’s tons of alligators.”

You leaned forward interested, but it seemed he’d stopped to refocus on the screen which you wouldn’t complain about. You not so discreetly leaned into his torso, arm still on the back of the sofa behind you, and thankfully he didn’t move when you leaned your body into him, instantly decompressing into his side.

They got to the scene where the gang is on the boat going through the bayou, the crocodile fitting in and playing jazz, when you turned to look up at Alastor seeing him already looking down at you. “What’s up?” You asked, watching as he scanned your face. “Well dear you’re just reminding me of home tonight, it would’ve been interesting to be able to show you where I lived, where I worked. Y’know when i did radio, most people didn’t know what I looked like so it came as quite a shock to some that I wasn’t what they imagined. Some were cruel, but my mother always taught me to be respectable if not respectful, so I managed to keep my grace.”

You giggle at his explanation watching him move his hand in all different directions, the radio host coming into play just at the mention of his job. “I’m flattered you would’ve wanted to show me your home n stuff, i wish it were possible.”

On the projector in front of you two, was the scene between Naveen and Tiana’s first date, where Naveen was going to propose. “They always get married so fast in these movies, you spend three days as a frog and suddenly it’s eternity!” You exclaimed humorously, Alastor scoffed an array of instrumental sounds electronically sounding out from him. “My dear it was common back in the day to get married quick, none of this lollygagging.”

You rolled your eyes blowing out air. “Would you get married to someone you knew for three days?” Alastor hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in exaggerated thought. “If it were you, perhaps, otherwise i’d attempt to lengthen it just a bit.” He reviled in the sight of you bashfully turning your head away, shy at his broad flirt. “You’d marry me, after only three days?” You questioned in disbelief, he hummed wrapping the arm he once had behind you, around you pulling you into him.

“Well I found you to be quite a treat the first day i met you, and decided i wanted to be around you for many days on. Is that not marriage worthy?” This confession shocked you slightly. You never expected him to say that he preemptively planned your blooming friendship nevermind that he equated that to being worth marriage. The movie played on in the background as you both watched each other’s faces.

“To me, dear,” Alastor started a smug smile stretching across his cheeks replacing the calm smile that stayed for so long. “It seems like you may unconsciously feel something towards me too.” Jaw dropping you stared at him confused. “What?” You scoff but Alastor only looked smugger.

“Come now, New Orleans centred movie? Jazz, cooking, even that dumbo man Naveen speaks french loves jazz music and dancing, oh and of course the ever so obvious voodoo, it’s almost like this movie is me, haha.” He laughed manically, eyes crossing as his body shook. It was quite the egotistical assumption on his part, but he wasn’t wrong.

You put it on for him but it seems for you too, you paid more attention to him half the movie, and you’ve been more interested in knowing real life facts about his home during his time then what story the movie was trying to tell. Maybe he was right, but even so what did him pointing it out accomplish? “Well that’s why i wanted to show you it, it’s got many aspects you’re involved with in it.”

You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for such a good save, however Alastor was keen and knew you long enough to catch your lies. “Sure dear, sure.” Al gave you a condescending pat on the head and you speedily swatted at him. The movie played on you once more captivated by Alastor’s reactions more than the movie itself, you’ve already watched it enough to know.

Tucked under Alastor’s arm, warm and comfy, you barely caught the sound of Alastor huffing out chuckles, gazing up towards the projection you playfully hit him. “Don’t laugh at his death!” That only made Alastor properly laugh, dropping his head back, neck cracking grossly. “My dear it was a lightning bug in love with a star! He got stepped on that was hilarious!”

Sounds of prerecorded laughter sounded out with his natural laugh, you didn’t actually care that he found it funny, only pretended too as you gave him a disapproving glare. As the movie closed in you felt a weird gloom wash over you, it was nice being alone with him by his side while you two relaxed. You didn’t want it ending, but alas Tiana and Naveen kissed turning them human, with the reveal that with marrying Naveen, she became a princess effectively breaking the curse, and the movie started with the end song.

“Well dear I did enjoy that, the voodoo was pretty boringly unrealistic, but it’s for children. I did enjoy the mentioning of foods, very common dishes even I enjoy, like gumbo. But alas it was still a pathetic little movie about mortal love.” Standing to his feet when he finished speaking, Alastor dusted himself off and snapped his fingers making all around you revert to what it was before movie night.

“Do you not want to be in love?” You ask softly partly hoping he didn’t hear you as by the time you stood from your spot, you regret saying it. “Well I certainly haven’t looked. Why disappointed?” Alastor bent himself backwards to look at you since you stood behind him readying to exit. Looking down into his eyes you felt hazy, maybe a little drunk on desire as you gently caressed his cheek. “Maybe I am,”

“Darling.” Alastor said sternly as he cracked himself upward, he bent down facing you this time and before he could talk you once again interrupted. “Can’t blame me can you?” Alastor seemed momentarily taken aback, gazing around lazily trying to collect his thoughts. “My dear, I'm uncertain with emotions like this as well as expressing them, love is foolish, however… if you were to tell me ‘i love you’ i would say it back.”

It confused you, what Alastor said, you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you and telling you he was going to lie about his emotions to spare you, or if he was egging you on attempting to get you to tell him your true feelings. Regardless you swallowed down any worries for the future instead focusing only on the now, and looked deeply into the soft red glow of his eyes.

“I love you Al,” With a cheeky smile you watched him stutter, the visible shock was clear, and you wondered if he actually expected you to say that. Just as you began to worry you fucked up, he bent down to your height. “I love you too my dear,” And with that he gave you the chastised kiss on the lips, before standing to his full height materialising his microphone. “Got to go dear! Duty calls!” And with that he seemingly disappeared into the shadows, leaving you to waddle tiredly to your room. Little did you know that Alastor whisked himself away to have a minor panic attack in the safety of his radio tower, not believing himself and his broad actions, nor could he believe the pounding in his chest and flutter in his heart.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

A collection of spicy Mitsuru + Akihiko thoughts. I'm weak for these two, what can I say? 😌

Contains: Male!reader, dom and sub reader bits, polyamory, college AU/adult AU, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, simp reader, AkiMitsu

Being pinned in between Aki and Mitsuru though... mmph. They're flustering you to hell and back, and the only thing you can do is take it. They're groping you and rubbing up against your body, not-so-subtly grinding on you while you're in heaven. 🤤

Another way to be pinned between them is with Akihiko behind you; he's fucking you from behind while you're buried in Mitsuru. Aki's thrusts cause you to thrust inside of her, controlling how you fuck her with his movement 🥴

-

Mitsuru pushing you down onto the bed (not being rough but not exactly being gentle either), removing your clothes and riding you for the first time!! When she finally sinks all the way down and you're balls deep in her pussy, just so pussydrunk that all you can do is grip her hips and fuck up into her. She's so beautiful on top of you like this; with her hair framing her face nicely and her tits bouncing with every thrust.

-

Mitsuru prefers to be on top, though not necessarily being A Top. She likes riding you and Aki (and riding your faces 👀). Of course the queen is on top, it's where she belongs 💅

-

I think these two have a lot in common when it comes to sex-related characteristics.

They're both extremely vocal during. Nonstop grunts, groans, moans, panting, etc etc

Very gutteral groans when it feels good

S tier bottoms 👌

S tier tops too though 👌

If you bend them over something and just start fucking them, they won't complain unless you'll more than likely get caught

Bisexual switch/vers king and queen ❤️❤️

They're both obsessed with heavy make out sessions. Pressed together tightly, desperately grasping at clothes, lips becoming sore, dry humping each other type of make outs 🥴

The only difference that I really noted is their opinions on quickies; Akihiko kind of likes them, Mitsuru isn't as enthusiastic. I mean, she will, if the opportunity presents itself at a time when she's pent up/desperately needs relief. But she's not going to be the one who suggests a quickie. She'd rather wait until you can spend more time together.

-

At first, neither of them can wrap their head around the fact that you're not exactly joking when you say “Please beat me up.” or “I wish Akihiko/Mitsuru would do that to me.” when you're literally in the midst of battle... (Rip teammates who have to hear you simping)

However, if you sit down and explain what you mean, they will eventually oblige. Every once in a while Mitsuru will use you as her personal furniture or step on you. Just the same, Aki will step on you and choke you if you ask nicely 👉👈

-

Despite its dangers, Akihiko is very into shower sex. There have been multiple occasions where the two of you fucked in the showers at the gym after a joint workout. Just pressing one another against the wall; hearts pounding and bodies sweaty as your adrenaline drives you to not give a shit about getting caught.

Or maybe he just enjoys it when you pin him against the wall... Well, whatever. He just wants you to take what belongs to you really. It doesn't matter where you are, take him doggy style and tell him how much you love fucking him against things~

-

Soooo... You know how Mitsuru slips a bit of French into her sentences? Yeeeaaahh Akihiko loves that. Hearing the language fall so effortlessly from her pretty lips makes the poor guy melt. Especially when she whispers in his ears all of the pet names that he likes ❤️

-

Hearing Aki call Koromaru a 'good boy' every night while I explore Tartarus has been uh... An Interesting Experience, to put it mildly. 😳

Anyways... Akihiko calling you "good boy" randomly because he knows you're embarrassed by how turned on you get. That's all.

[babecoups]

rodeo || johnny suh

⇝ title: Rodeo ⇝ pairing: rapper!johnny x manager!reader ⇝ genre: coworkers with benefits sort of | secret relationship | smut ⇝ summary: After Johnny sees you showing off on one of the set’s mechanical bulls, he can’t help but pull you into his trailer and put your riding skills to the test. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 2.1k ⇝ warnings: unedited (i’m so sorry) | strong language | johnny wears a grill… warning you now | cowgirl duh | reverse cowgirl because we lit | rope play (not really sexual) | spanking/ass grabbing | them chains are staying on girlfriend | dom but bottom!johnny (like she’s fucking him) | spitting/spit play (sorry not sorry) | pet names | scratching | protected sex | gagging/choking on fingers | controlled orgasm | light obedience play | cum shots | the cheesy ending we all deserve | i think that’s all... enjoy!! ⇝ author’s note: Happy Birthday to my sis Beezy @hobeemin​ !! I love you and I wanted to write you something for your birthday. I did not expect it to get this filthy because I just cannot write Johnny in this way but the minute I thought about this look… I knew it was the one. Anyway, I hope you like it! I wrote it with love. 

⇝ playlist: Rodeo by Juvenile | Handstand by French Montana, Doja Cat, & Saweetie | Distraction by Kehlani

masterlist | join my permanent tag list? | mail box | read on ao3 | banner credits

“She is so going to fall. How many seconds are you giving her?”

Johnny leans against the railing, glancing at your assistant as he ponders in his thoughts.

“I give her about two seconds.”

“Bullshit. Both of you are going to be buying me lunch when this is over,” you chime in.

The two men share a laugh, and the rest of the staff join in as they prepare to watch you fail. Your eyes shift to Johnny when the lights reflect off the diamond-encrusted plate temporarily attached to his front bottom row of teeth. His tongue rolls over his top lip before he bites his lip absentmindedly, watching you as attentively as you are him. It’s a distraction you cannot indulge in due to the multiple people around you and the sudden jerk your body feels when the bull begins to move.

“Thirty seconds, motherfuckers! Pay attention.”

Your thighs clench, and you put on your game face, letting the snickers and side comments travel through your ears and disappear into the air. Your dominant hand holds on with all its strength while your other hand extends outward. You’re devoted to staying balanced because that’s going to be the key to lasting the entire time.

“Look at her only using one hand,” your assistant comments.

“That’s all I need.”

You hear Johnny fake a cough after your reply, and you squint your eyes at him just before the bull begins to spin. The ride starts to get rough quickly but you hang in there. Thirty seconds feel like hours when you’re being tossed around. Once you have a strong grip and a feel of what the bull can do, you’re about fifteen seconds in and ready to knock them out.

For show, you arch your back and smile at the people filming on their phones. The teasing is replaced with praises as everyone starts cheering you on. Everyone except one, who’s looking on with an unreadable expression. 

Suddenly, the ride switches gears, and you almost slip off. You struggle as you’re leaning toward one side, and you almost allow yourself to fall, forfeiting the last few seconds before a voice sways your decision. 

“Keep going, baby girl.”

You don’t even need to look to know who it belongs to. A switch flips on, and you regain control. The countdown begins, and your burning muscles work overtime to keep you on the bull. When time’s up, you make a victorious but not-so-graceful landing.

You lie there relishing in the cheers, but when your eyes open, you only want to see one person’s smile. However, he’s nowhere in sight. You get and dust yourself off before climbing out of the ring, receiving nothing but high-fives as you descend the stairs.

“Let’s go celebrate girl! You did that shit,” someone calls out.

You agree, but only to get them off your back while you seek out the man you’ve been waiting to talk to all day. “Yeah, I’m just going to go grab my stuff, and I’ll be back.”

It’s partly the truth. 

You will be back, but your purse is in the sprinter, on the other side of the set.

Still, you make your way past several trailers, looking for the one belonging to the star of the music video. Unfortunately, every trailer looks the same, and you can only pinpoint a general area of where he is.

As you peek into one trailer’s window, the door to the one behind you opens. When you turn around, you see Johnny standing on the threshold, wearing one of his signature smirks.

“Looking for someone?” he questions.

“Maybe.”

Johnny nods, his cowboy hat still covering his dark eyes. He’s probably waiting for the stylists to undress him since there’s one more shoot tomorrow, but since you’re here, you might be able to help with that.

“I see you don’t have time for me today. But it’s cool.”

You roll your eyes. He knows he can’t let himself get jealous; it’s too risky. 

The first time was supposed to be the last time, but a year later you still can’t keep your hands off each other. The industry isn’t kind to artists who sleep with their managers. No one wants to work with them out of fear of messy situations. The things you do to each other must remain a secret if you want it all to last. However, some days are more difficult than others.

“Whatever. I’m going to lunch,” you sigh. “Do you want anything?”

You start walking away before he responds, and once you’re about three feet away, something flies over your head and you feel it tighten around your midsection.

“What the–”

You look down and notice that you’re caught up in a rope. Before you can ask any questions, you’re pulled back until you run into something, or someone.

“You aren’t the only one who’s learned some tricks.”

Johnny spins you around, making you face him.

“Don’t be like that. You know I like teasing you,” he reasons, but you don’t want to hear it.

He knows you’re sensitive about this stuff, seeing many of your colleagues' reputations ruined for the same thing you’re doing with him. 

“It’s not funny, though.”

Noticing the small pout on your lips, Johnny gives the rope enough slack for it to fall and he pulls you in for a hug. His chin rests on your forehead, keeping an eye out for anyone and listening carefully for footsteps. 

“You’re so worrisome,” he sighs, caressing your back. “I was just trying to have a little fun with you.”

“Fuck off,” you murmur into his jacket. 

Your cheek presses against his bare pecs, and you find comfort in the warmth of his sun-kissed skin.

“Woah. You’re so mean. I just figured since you liked riding that bull so much, maybe you’d want to go for a real ride.”

Your head lifts and moves away from his chest so you can look at him. “What?”

“Oh, now I have your attention, hm?”

His smirk grows into a smile and reveals his mouthpiece. It shines even brighter when he takes off his hat and places it on your head. Johnny gestures towards his trailer and winks at you.

“Let’s get it, cowgirl.”

Seated on Johnny’s lap, your hand grasps the gold links around his neck while you grind against him. Both of you panting and sweating, the world doesn’t even exist at this moment.

“So good for me,” he growls. “How am I supposed to leave you alone?”

His nails dig into your flesh as he holds your globes within his grasp, wanting to be as close to you as he physically can.

“You don’t. Problem solved.”

You start to move more swiftly, feeling a familiar sensation creeping inside your gut. Johnny’s dick enters your womb each time you land on his hips, leaving you gasping and moaning louder than you should be.

“Yeah? So that means you’re mine, right?”

“Fuck. Johnny.”

The way his lips curl into a grin when you cry his name leaves you shivering and begging him.

For what, is unclear to you, but all you know is that you want him badly.

“Yeah, you’re mine,” he states confidently. “Open your mouth.”

He’s right about that. You are.

Whatever he wants, he gets it—because he never holds back when pleasing you.

Your lips part enough for you to stick out your tongue. He wastes no time shoving his fingers deep inside and spitting into your crevice. Two of his digits push his saliva deep into your throat, making you gag around them. You stare at him through your watery eyes, your damp lashes, and fresh tears blurring your vision. However, you can still make out the pleased expression on his face.

You purposely clench around him, and his hips buck off the couch. Johnny then grabs your waist, halting your movements while he speaks.

“I see how you wanna play. Turn around.” You lift yourself slightly, keeping him inside while you turn in the opposite direction. As you find the right position, Johnny slaps your ass, making you squeak in surprise. He kneads the flesh tenderly, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze of appreciation. “Let’s see how long you can stay on this ride.”

As soon as you start to ride his cock, Johnny begins to thrust into you, nearly bouncing you off of his lap. His toned thighs make it difficult for you to control the pace, but with a hand holding onto his leg, you’re saved from falling on the floor. 

Once you’ve gotten accustomed to the way he’s slamming into you, you’re able to regain control. You arch your back and place your free hand on top of his hat sitting on your head. The sounds that begin to leave your lips become feral, and you can hear Johnny’s grunts turn into moans and gasps. He’s close, and so are you. You decide to make the last seconds count.

“You feel so good,” you purr. “Do I feel good, Johnny?”

He throws back his head and whispers a few expletives. 

“You feel like heaven, baby. You already know.”

You whimper in response, his deep voice soothing to your ears.

“So wet, so tight. You know how much I love this pussy.”

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? Need to come?” he quizzes. 

“Can I? Please.”

Your raspy cries fill the room just like the lewd noises produced by your arousal squelching between your thighs. Johnny ceases his movements and allows you to chase your own release while he watches in awe. He holds your waist to support you and guide you because your body is moving faster than your mind can keep up with.

“Get you one, cowgirl. You deserve it.”

When those words leave his lips, your sense of reality disappears. Everything grows white, and you have no control over your body. Your orgasm takes your breath away, leaving you struggling to catch your breath. A shockwave ripples through you, and the sensation is intoxicating. 

You can hear Johnny’s groans as he tries to hold on, but the warm feeling of your walls pulsing around his cock is almost unbearable. His cock twitches inside of you as you ride out your high, but he hangs on until you’re flopping forward on your face.

Johnny quickly gets up, and removes the condom, so he can shoot his load all over your ass. Hot ropes of his cum paint your skin, but you’re too out of it to complain about being sticky.

“Are you okay, baby?”

You sigh. “I am.”

“Alright, well you should probably–”

Johnny's phone rings, and he walks across the room to check it. He answers it and puts it on speaker, so you assume it’s important.

“Yeah?”

Fuck. It’s your assistant looking for you. 

“She’s in my trailer,” Johnny explains.

You immediately sit up and look at him with wide eyes. Why would he say that?

“She’s embarrassed because she got sick from that bull ride. You’ll have to take lunch without her.”

You exhale and relax your body, sinking into the couch.

“That was too close,” you whisper.

Johnny throws you a wink, and you respond with a small smile. They’d probably have a million questions had he not thought of that response so quickly.

“Yeah, she’s going to get back to the hotel in the sprinter with me, but I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

When the call ends, Johnny joins you on the couch. He wipes the cum off of your skin and tosses the shirt on the floor before he speaks.

“So,” he begins. You turn so you can see his face. “We have the rest of the day together. What are we doing?”

You shrug.

“I don’t know. Maybe we can…”

You grab his arm and pull him on top of you. Your lips graze his ear, and he shudders.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

Smirking, your fingers dance up his biceps.

“Maybe we can take a nap?”

“Now, that’s hot.”

“I know, right?” you giggle.

When silence takes over, you play in Johnny’s hair as he hums.

“You think they’ll notice if that hat goes missing?”

His question makes you roll your eyes. 

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” you respond. “But, no. They have several because they know how you are.”

You return to twirling his strands between your fingers, enjoying the post-orgasm quality time until he ruins it once again.

“Good. I wonder if it’ll stay on while I’m fucking you from the back.”

Honestly, as long as he shows you what other trick he’s learned with that rope, he can do anything he wants with you.

[marie-swriting]

I Cannot Afford To Lose You - Bucky Barnes

Marvel Masterlist

Summary : You get shot on a mission, resulting in you almost dying in Bucky's arms.

Warnings : gunshot, gunshot wound, reader almost dies, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, John Walker, Bucky being protective, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3k

French version

A/N : this one shot was based on this request made by @tieddown-withbattleshipchains hope you'll like it ! Personally, I enjoyed writing it, your idea was really inspirational :)

You enter a dark room, your senses on alert, lying in wait for a potential threat with your batons in hands. You look at every side of the place when you see a shadow coming towards you. Just in time, you block the punch of the Flag Smasher with your weapon. Then, follow a fight between you and the masked woman. Despite the Supersoldier serum running in her veins, you can get through it pretty easily. Thanks to your training with Bucky, you can easily adapt to a fight with someone who has super strength. You succeed to hit her but not enough to knock her out. Your hits only made her lose her mask, allowing you to see she’s a woman in her early twenties. You keep fighting when a gunshot can be heard. Lowering your gaze on your stomach, you see blood. The Flag Smasher pushes you before running away while you fall on the ground. You bring your hand to your wound and try to put pressure on it, despite the pain.

“Y/N ? What was that ? You’re okay ?” Bucky’s worried voice asks in your earpiece. “Y/N !” he screams as he doesn’t hear an answer from you.

“I lost the target.” you articulate after a few seconds.

“I’ll handle it.” Sam informs, “Everything is good for you ?”

You don’t have the strength to answer him, too focused to not bleed out. You sweep the area with your eyes, hoping to find the shooter yet you see no one. You keep looking around, searching for something to help you, in vain. Your breath quickens when Buckys appears. A worried expression takes its place on his face when he runs to you. Before reaching you, you can hear him ordering Sam to call paramedics. Bucky kneels next to you, takes your hands away and puts pressure on your wound. Gradually, your eyelids are getting heavier so Bucky shakes you with one hand to keep you awake.

“I forbid you to fall sleep, you hear me ? Stay focused, Sam called for help, they’ll get there soon.”

“I’m tired.” you stutter, looking at him with difficulty.

“I know but you can’t close your eyes, okay ? You’re gonna make it out alive so stay awake.”

“Bucky, I-” you start putting your hand on his.

“No, shh,” he cuts you off softly, “focus on not closing your eyes. You’ll tell me what you want to say later. Hold on, Y/N, you’re gonna make it out alive.” he repeats whilst his hands are getting dirty with your blood.

You try to listen to Buky and do everything to not fall asleep however the more the time passes, the harder it gets. You slowly start to give up when the paramedics come to you. Distantly, you can hear Bucky screaming your name while you sink into darkness.

When you open your eyes, you feel attacked by the lightness of the place. You close them for a second before opening them again slowlier. When you’re finally used to the brightness, you analyse your environment and realise you’re in a hospital room. Your eyes fall on Bucky who is sitting next to you, his hands holding your right one and he’s lost in his thoughts. You lightly move your fingers to catch his attention. Feeling you moving, Bucky’s head instantly turns on his left. When he sees you awake, he sighs in relief before getting closer to you. With his left hand, he strokes your cheeks. 

“Hey, how are you feeling ?” he whispers.

“Like I got shot.” you say, trying to smile.

“At least, we know for sure we haven’t lost her.” Sam intervenes, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“Are you hurting somewhere ? Do you want me to call a nurse ? I should call a nurse to let her know you’re awake.”

“No need. The IV is still working.”

“It’d be safer and maybe they need to check something as you’re awake now.” your boyfriend insists while pressing the button to call the nurse.

“Worse than a mother hen.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” you order as you feel a pain in your belly even though you only laugh a little at their bickering.

“Sorry.” Sam apologises.

Bucky keeps looking at you as if he was afraid that if he looks away you’ll disappear. You look at him lovingly, hoping it’ll reassure him, confirming to him he hasn’t lost you. Meanwhile, Sam feels a little bit left out yet he can’t help but look at the scene tenderly, knowing very well what you mean to Bucky. 

Indeed, since you met the former Winter Soldier, you’ve always made sure he never misses anything. You helped, and still help him sometimes, to get used to the modern world and you’re one of the few shoulders he can cry on without feeling ashamed. Your feelings for each other got stronger gently and your relationship evolved at the same pace. Your bond is strong and indescribable. All that you both know is you can’t live without the other. Bucky in particular cannot lose you, not only because he loves you but also because you’re one of the rare constants in his life since he got his memory back. 

Someone knocks on your door, breaking your bubble by doing so. You get ready to greet a nurse when you find John Walker in his Captain America outfit and his helmet in hands. You frown, not expecting to see him here.

“John, what a pleasure !” Bucky starts, sarcastically, “Are you here to give the Shield back ?”

“Buck !” you reprimand him and he fakes an innocent expression.

“I just wanted to know how you were feeling.” John asks you, avoiding your gaze for a second.

“I’ll get by, considering I almost died.”

“About that, I wanted to apologise.”

“What are you talking about ?” you question, frowning. 

Although if you didn’t see who shot you, you guessed it was a Flag Smasher as your wound allowed your enemy to escape, until Sam caught her, so you don’t understand John's apology.

“I… I was targeting the Flag Smasher,” explain John, playing with his helmet, “but while you were fighting, you moved and I shot you by accident.”

Upon hearing the end of John’s sentence, Bucky sees red and lets go of your hand before trying to get to John. Sam barely holds him, preventing Bucky from breaking his therapist’s rule number two. John moves back to the door in case Sam wouldn’t be able to hold Bucky back anymore. Your boyfriend forces himself to not use all of his strength against Sam, he knows he’d be able to get away from his grip if he really wants to but he also knows it’s not the thing to do. Bucky finally got his pardon, he can’t ruin everything now. However, it doesn’t mean John didn’t almost ruin the most precious relationship to his eyes. As if it’s enough that Bucky can’t for the life of him like the new Captain America, now he has only one urge : hurt him real bad or go back in time and force Sam to keep this damn Shield like this, you wouldn’t be in this hospital bed.

“It was an accident, I promise.” John states, “I really am sorry.”

“They don’t teach you how to shoot in the army anymore or what ?” Bucky spits as Sam tightens his grip on him. “Come on, if you don’t have a clear view, you don’t shoot, that’s common sense ! Because of you, Y/N almost fucking lost her life and we almost didn’t catch the Flag Smasher. You can’t be that stupid !”

“Bucky, he didn’t do it on purpose.” you intervene, hoping it’ll ease the tension.

Even if you hate John as much as Bucky does, you can’t have your boyfriend rearranging his face. You can’t have Bucky being the US government’s number one enemy again.

“I don’t care about that,” Bucky retorts to you, “You almost died in my arms because of his incompetence.” he keeps saying as he points at John with his chin, “What a good Captain America ! Just for that reason alone, you should give the Shield back.”

“It was a mistake. Besides, I just got promoted as Captain America, I still have a lot to learn.” John tries to defend himself, irritating Bucky a bit more.

“Shooting innocents shouldn’t be a part of it ! You’re supposed to have learned this at the beginning of your training in the army. It was more than a mistake. You better leave now before I make you a permanent resident in this hospital.”

“You should go, John.” you confirm, knowing well Bucky’s anger won’t cool off now, “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

“It was the least I could do. Again, sorry, Y/N.”

When John finally leaves the room, Sam slowly lets Bucky go, though he stays at the ready to hold Bucky back just in case. Your boyfriend takes a deep breath before setting his attention on you. He might seem calmer, you can see in his eyes his anger is still there. He sits back down whilst Sam gets settled at the end of your bed.

“All of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t given up the Shield.” Bucky exclaims, making both yours and Sam’s eyes roll. 

“Still with that.”

“How can you not be mad at him when he almost killed you ?” he questions, confused.

“Look, you know my opinion on him as Captain America and today proves us a bit more, it shouldn’t be him, but the fact is, he didn’t hurt me intentionally.”

“Intentionally or not, I could have lost you.”

“And it’s not the case. I’m still here.” you assure him, stroking his cheek.

Bucky is about to add something when the nurse he called earlier enters your accommodation. She checks your vital signs, asks you some questions and informs you your doctor will come check on you later before letting you rest. Thanks to her appearance, Bucky finally gives up the ‘John’ subject, however he’s still fulminating. To lighten up the mood, Sam changes the subject by talking about his house in Louisiana. He speaks about the weather, his family boat and the several activities his hometown has to offer until your doctor cuts him off. She explains to you they saved you just in time and you’ll have a scar on your belly. Finally, she informs you you’ll have to spare yourself for a while, strictly forbidding you to get back on the field until further notice. You can’t help but let go of a frustrated sigh at her last information. The last thing you needed was to be confined in your bed when you’re someone who is active. When she leaves, Bucky tries to make you see the bright side as he knows you’re annoyed by your current situation. However, no matter what he says, it doesn’t seem to make your pout go away. Sam finally proposes to do your recovery at his house in Louisiana, away from the city. You weigh the pros and cons before accepting, not without making Bucky roll his eyes. 

When you’re finally cleared to leave the hospital, you discover the State where Sam lives. The latter gave you and Bucky the guest room. You thanked him countless times for his kindness whilst Bucky only gave him a small smile to show his gratitude.

During your recovery, the two men pamper you. Sam makes you taste the traditional dish from Louisiana as well as his family recipes. You have to admit Sam is a good cook, something you wouldn’t have thought at first. Sam also brought you several things to keep you busy from your bed like board games or some manual activities. You now consider yourself a pro in the making of bracelets with plastic pearls. You’ve made some for Sam, his sister Sarah and her sons AJ and Cass but also for Bucky. AJ and Cass aside, Bucky is the one who has most of them, with cute or ridiculous names going from ‘my lover’ to ‘grumpy’. Some of your bracelets are in perfect contrast with his Vibranium arm.

As for Bucky, he’s always by your side and worries even when you assure him you’re not in pain. He helps you clean your wound, change your bandage and always makes sure you’re in a good sleeping position. Finally, during the night, when you’re asleep, Bucky is glued to you - while being careful about your wound - and delicately rests his head on your chest to hear your regular heartbeats. By hearing them, Bucky can breathe and sleep peacefully whilst saying to himself again and again you’re still alive, you’re still by his side, he hasn’t lost you.

After several weeks laying down, you can walk a longer distance than the one from your room to your bathroom. Sitting on your bed, you’re putting your shoes on when Bucky with his eyes wide open comes to you.

“What do you think you’re doing ? You need to rest.” he reminds you, stopping you from tying completely your left shoelace.

“The doctor told me I needed to walk to help with the healing.” you explain playing with the pearls of his bracelet making the word ‘oldman’.

“What kind of stupid advice is that ? You need to stay in bed.”

“Bucky, if I stay one more second on that damn bed, I’m gonna burn it down.” you inform with a serious face. “Besides, I’m not gonna run a marathon, I’m just gonna walk very slowly around the house. Come with me if it can make you feel any better.”

“What if you hurt yourself while walking ?�� he inquires and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Then, thank God my amazing and strong boyfriend will be next to me to help me. Bucky, I’m fine.” you comfort him, looking in his eyes. “I’m not in pain and I need to move. I can’t stand there and look good anymore in this house. I know every corner of this bedroom, I need to go out.”

Bucky seems to consider it for a second, mentally weighing his options before sighing and nodding.

“OK, but if you feel even the slightest pain, you better tell me and we go home.” he orders, untying your left shoelace to redo it, “and we’re not walking more than five minutes.” he adds.

“Fifteen.” you negotiate. 

“Ten.”

“Deal.” you accept with a childish look.

Bucky finishes tying your right shoelace before giving you his hand to help you get up from the bed and examine your face for any sign of hurt. To prove him you’re fine, you smile at him before pecking his lips. He takes your right arm and locks it with his to support you while you start leaving your temporary quarter. Upon - finally - leaving the house, you take your time to enjoy the sun’s heat on your face. You walk, sharing with Bucky all of your observations on the landscape in front of you. Since you arrived, you didn’t get the time to admire the outside beauty of Sam’s house so you look at every tree, flower and wave, enjoying the nature Brooklyn doesn’t have.

After a few minutes of walking, you ask Bucky to stop. Immediately, he questions you, worried you might pass out at any given time.

“I’m fine.” you reassure him though his worried expression doesn’t leave his face.

“Sorry I’m always on your back but I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I know.”

“Do you think I’m too much ?” he questions while touching the bracelet with the word ‘sweetheart’.

“No, I think it’s cute the way you’re always worried.” you say, lifting his head with your hand. “You’re a real mother hen but I like it.” you add, making him chuckle a little. 

“Can you hold it against me ? I really thought I’d lost you.” he says, reminiscing the moment where he got to you as you were bleeding out. “When you started closing your eyes, I was sure it was the end. And I cannot lose you.” Bucky affirms with a shaking voice, “I know I don’t tell you often but my therapist says I need to learn to communicate what I’m feeling so here I am saying it : you matter to me and I need you in order to keep moving on. I know it might sound selfish but I cannot afford to lose you and if it were ever to happen… i don't know what I’d become.” he keeps saying with teary eyes, “I need you close to me. I love you so much.”

As you see a tear rolling down his cheeks, you take him in your arms and stroke his back. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and breathes in your smell. A part of Bucky feels bad for being the one getting comforted when you’re the one who got wounded notwithstanding he needs it. Losing you is his worst fear and since John shot you, he became aware his fear could become real in a second. You keep hugging him, proving to him it doesn't bother you to comfort him because you understand him.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you murmur in his ear, “so much.”

You stay in each other’s arms for a few minutes until your anxiety vanishes away. When you break the embrace, one of your hands finds its way to Bucky’s cheek and the second one strokes the bracelet with the pearls ‘forever’ before taking his left hand.

“I can’t promise you I’ll always be safe considering what we do for a living but I can promise you one thing : I will always do in my power everything to stay by your side and I want you to promise me the same because I need you as much as you need me.”

“I promise.”

Like to seal your promise, you delicately kiss each other with the Sun as a witness. Bucky doesn’t put his hand on your waist, worried he’ll hurt you involuntarily, so his hands find their way to your cheeks while yours get lost in his hair.

Marvel Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[mistydeyes]

tuberose and rose tinted glasses

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summary: A work trip to France lands you in a bar in Grasse. But it's the actions of a masked British man that puts him next to you with brandy in your hands.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, harassment

a/n: literally writing this on my lunch break, pining over the idea of taking a trip to grasse and submerging myself in their fields of jasmine

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Grasse, France the world's capital of perfume. As you walked the late-night streets filled with fragrant, floral air, you couldn't help but feel melancholy that you were here on business and not for pleasure. Your head flooded with the smells of the city as you noted the various notes of tuberose and jasmine as you walked. Despite your frequent trips here, you still fell in love with the rows of flowers in peak bloom.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you saw a red awning with the letterings of a bar on it. You sought refuge after a long day of discussing new fragrances with your colleagues and creating the perfect blend for another company.

You pushed the doors open and sat at one of the velvet cushioned seats in the dimly lit place. As you patted the soft fabric with your fingertips, you admired how the bar was lit with a warm rose light. You noted only a small amount of patrons in the place. It looked to be only you, the bartender, and maybe three other men in this entire pink atmosphere. However, you paid them no mind as the bartender approached you.

"Qu’est-ce que je vous sers?” ("What can I get you?") He said, giving you a moment to comprehend what he was saying. You couldn't blame him, you were far from a stereotypical French woman. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or just looked so typically American that tipped him off to your presence. However, your years working with your company and traveling from the US to France made you thankfully bilingual in the romantic language.

Just as he was about to ask the answer in English, you responded, "Je prends un un verre d'Armagnac Aristocrat, s’il vous plaît." ("I'll have a glass of Armagnac Aristocrat please.") Your clientele had refined your tastes. Never one for wine, you preferred a strong drink to accompany you.

"Fille chanceuse, je viens d'ouvrir une bouteille pour le monsieur là-bas," ("Lucky girl, I just opened a bottle for the gentleman over there") he replied and signaled to a man also sitting alone on the far side of the bar. Unknowingly, this man had luckily ordered a bottle of the spirit and allowed for your drink to be served immediately, the Armagnac being perfectly oxidized in the French air. The man in question was broad and had his head down. As the rose light illuminated his figure, he seemed more interested in his drink than the atmosphere around him. His eyes looked concentrated on the caramel liquid in his glass. You wondered what his full expression was as, despite his eyes, his face was primarily obstructed by a black mask.

Your eyes left the man as the bartender gently set your drink down on a scarlet napkin. "Merci," you said gently and he left you to enjoy your purchase. As you sipped on your drink, you savored the smokiness of the brandy coupled with the sharp bitterness of the Lillet. You swallowed the liquid, enjoying the subtle sweetness of the ginger ale. This was a drink to be sipped, not greedily drank as you enjoyed how the flavors came together to create a perfect beverage. You gently traced your fingers on the edge of the glass and smeared your reddened lipstick on its rim.

However, your moment of solace would soon be interrupted by a man who took an abrupt seat next to you. You could tell by the way he was swaying and leaning on the counter that he had one too many. He smelled like cheap cologne, probably something he bought as a souvenir and beer.

"Ma chérie, tu es very sexy" ("My darling, you are very sexy") the man leered over you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. His poor mixing of French and English made you feel embarrassed for him. He acted like this was the epitome of flirtation and almost expected you to throw yourself on him.

You attempted to ignore the man, turning your body away and protectively hovering over your drink. He was determined, grabbing your shoulder to face him. "You smell expensive, tell me do you put your perfume where you want to be kissed?" he spoke sultry in another crude attempt at flirting.

"Not interested," you said, waving your arm in a dismissive motion. You just wanted to enjoy a night with some liquor and the smells of the town. Your gold bracelets clanked as you brushed him away. However, they soon clattered together as he aggressively grabbed your wrist.

"Oh so you speak English, sweetheart," he began, breathing his hot alcohol-laced breath in your face. "Lucky for you, I can speak French between your legs," he finished as you tried to free yourself from his grip. You pushed against his chest and elbowed him but he was relentless. Your eyes looked wildly around as you tried to receive any help, but seemingly the bar had emptied and the bartender was nowhere to be found. "C'mon sweetheart, let me show you a good time," he said and pressed harder on your wrist. Your arm pricked with pain from his grip. Suddenly his hands were pried off of you and he was thrown back.

You turned to see it was the man from across the bar, now standing next to you and glaring at the downed man. "She politely said 'fuck off, asshole', do you understand that?" he barked at him in a deep voice. The drunk man looked ready for a fight as he stood up. But something about the masked man's aura made him rescind. As quick as he came, the drunkard left. He ceremoniously flipped him off and with a string of profanities, exited the bar in a huff.

"Thank you," you said and motioned for the man to take a seat, "I think I owe you a drink." He briefly glanced over to where he sat and you both saw the empty glass. "Looks like you need a refill, anyways," you remarked. It seemed like he agreed as he took a seat to your right.

You signaled to the bartender, who for some reason had not acknowledged the entire fiasco that just occurred. He came over and you asked, "Un autre de ceux-ci pour moi et le monsieur," ("Another one of these for myself and the gentleman") and pointed to your dwindling glass. He nodded and went behind the counter to prepare both your liquid vices.

"So what brings you to Grasse? You don't seem like a Frenchman to me," you asked turning to face your new companion. In the bar's lighting, you could see him slightly better than before. His light eyelashes glistened in the light and contrasted with his amber eyes. You also noticed how his face mask had some kind of skull design painted on it.

"Business," he answered plainly, a man of few words you presumed. Somehow when he spoke, you were comforted by the smell of cigarettes on his lips and hints of brandy as they mixed in the air. "Me as well, but I always love coming here," you sighed. The bartender quietly came back with your drinks and you cheered the mysterious man next to you.

After savoring the liquor for a few moments he sparked up another conversation. "What is this? It's strong but good," he asked. "An Armagnac Aristocrat, bitter orange Lillet Blanc, and smokey Armagnac topped with a refreshing, crisp serving of ginger ale. C'est manifique" ("It's magnificent") you finished and gently placed the chill crystal glass on your bruised wrist.

"Well that is quite a description, I would guess you have these a lot," he joked and you could see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiled. "I'm a perfumer, my whole life is based on knowing the key elements to an ingredient and being able to illustrate it for others," you replied, practically telling your life story to this stranger.

After another long string of minutes, he spoke up again. "Makes sense why you're here, beautiful city," he said quietly. "Yes, it is. If you ever get a chance, a perfume tour would be worth your while." With that, he shook his head slightly and you knew this was a way of saying he was on his way out of the town.

"Next time, love, I appreciate the recommendation though." Maybe it was the inclusion of the nickname but you picked up on his British accent. London you thought, maybe Manchester, regardless it was as intoxicating as the liquor that was warming your insides.

As the time waned on, you ordered another drink. This time it was his recommendation, a Brandy Smash. Feeling slightly tipsy you joked, "Mhmm, I can taste the smokiness of the Armagnac with a subtle hint of cooling mint leaves and the sweet tang of sugar and lemon."

"And I would've thought perfumers are only good for the sense of smell," he replied. With his mask pulled up to his nose, you could see how beautiful his smile was. As you talked, his rosy lips formed into a calming curve and you could see some silvery scars dance in the bar's overhead light.

"I'm much more than that-" you stopped short. You realized after two hours of talking about yourself, you had not even asked his name. He noticed your hesitation and replied, "It's Simon."

Simon, meaning 'to listen' you thought to yourself, what a perfect name for a man who let you occupy his time with botanicals and knowledge of scents. "I'm Y/N," you said, "And thank you, Simon. This has been a perfect evening," you smiled gently.

"Yes it has, a perfect evening with perfect drinks," he replied and clinked his glass with yours. As he finished his drink, he slowly prepared to leave. He signaled the bartender over and you both paid your respective tabs. As he adjusted his jacket, something about Simon made you want to see him again. Maybe it was his chiseled features or his attentiveness to your words but whatever it was, it made you gently place a hand on his arm.

"I know this is a little forward but mind if I give you my number? Maybe I'll run into you here again or stateside?" you asked, preparing for rejection. This chance encounter was a plot device in movies, almost too good to be true. "Sure, love. Let's find you a pen," he said and pushed a napkin toward you.

"Puis-je avoir un stylo s'il vous plaît?" ("Can I have a pen, please?") you asked to the bartender who was polishing glasses. He slid one over to you and you wrote on the small red napkin you had been given. As you wrote on the napkin, you could feel Simon's eyes on you. He knew you were writing more than just a number based on the various lines written on the cloth.

You finished writing and leaned forward towards him, gently tucking the red item into his jacket pocket. If you had been any closer, you might have heard his rapid heartbeats and quickened breath. "Au revoir, Simon," you said and saw yourself to your hotel for the night, savoring the smell of jasmine and lavender in the air.

Simon took the napkin out of his pocket, the color reminding him of your sanguine cheeks and burgundy lipstick. His calloused fingers gently held the note as he read, "Pleasure to meet you, Simon. Thank you for listening and sharing a drink. Just a recommendation but a refined man like you should try, Gentleman by Givenchy. Until we meet again," followed by your number. He too walked out of the bar to embrace the late-night air. But as he walked the quiet streets, he now had a new appreciation for the intoxicating scents of Grasse.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Trois Surprises

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6719

Summary: Aramis and the reader are changed forever by three joyous surprises. 

Notes: I write a lot of angst for him, but dammit, this man deserves to be happy. And I wanted to write him actually being able to spend time with his kids. Also, the title is ‘Three Surprises’ in French, I just didn’t know ‘surprises’ is spelled the same way. At least that’s what translate said. Please don’t come for me. This also doesn’t follow any plots from the show,  so ignore the timeline haha. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

I 

The garrison greeted you with metal clashing and the smell of sweat. Men shouted at each other across the way with language that was far from proper.  It didn’t bother you, of course. In your time frequenting the training area, you’d grown used to its oddities and eccentricities. 

A few of the men cheered to greet you and asked how you were or what brought you to the garrison, though they already had an idea. You were here for Aramis. You were always here for Aramis. Or for shooting lessons, which the captain had approved since you lived alone and association with the musketeers often led to trouble. 

“Y/N!” A boisterous voice called. Porthos hopped up from the table he sat at and crossed the courtyard. Not one for propriety, he pulled you into a hug without a second thought. You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “What brings you here?” 

He led you back to the table and brushed off the bench for you to sit. 

Athos tilted his hat. Unlike his companion, he enjoyed upholding some of the rules of society. “Mademoiselle Y/L/N.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Y/N?” You teased. 

“If I did, you wouldn’t have to tell me any more,” he smirked. “I assume you’re looking for Aramis.” 

You nodded. “I have important matters to discuss with him and Captain Treville.” 

The two exchanged a look. 

“Sounds serious,” Porthos said. “Anything we should know about?”

“All in good time, boys,” you beamed. “I promise I won’t leave you in the dark for too long.” 

D'Artagnan eyed you curiously. Perhaps your closest friend among Aramis’ companions, it was unusual for you not to share something with him. You gave him a reassuring nod and he trusted he’d find out what all this was about in due time. It didn’t stop his mind from searching the possibilities, though. 

The imploring silence only lasted a moment longer. 

“Y/N?” 

And just like that, at the sound of his voice, your knees turned soft and your heart stopped beating. Every nerve in your body seemed to bunch and twist in your belly. You turned, Aramis’s eyes sparkling at you in the morning light as a smile crept onto his face. 

“I had no idea you’d be here,” he grinned, kissing your cheek. 

“I had something I wanted to share with you before you galavanted off into danger somewhere.” The tremble in your voice made his face darken with worry. His gaze flicked to his companions and they took the hint, hurrying off to the side to give the two of you some privacy. You began to fidget with your cloak. “I hope my coming on short notice isn’t a nuisance.” 

“No, please.” He took your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “You are my favorite kind of surprise, darling.” His dark eyes looked deeply into yours. “Is something the matter?” 

“Not exactly…” You’d rehearsed the words numerous times and it was completely in vain. You might as well have been mute, standing before him with a blank, panicked expression, which of course only made him look more concerned. 

“My love, you’re starting to frighten me,” he laughed nervously and tucked a hair behind your ear. “You can tell me anything.” 

You took a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Porthos whispered. The three, having been observing from afar, watched on as you stared down at the dirt and Aramis lifted your chin with his finger. 

“That’s between the two of them,” Athos said. “It’s none of our business.” However, he did not, nor did the other two, turn away.

You said something none of them could hear. Aramis’s arms fell to his sides, face turned white as a sheet. His mouth floundered open and closed, unable to say anything. 

“You don’t think she’s broken things off, do you?” D’Artagnan asked. 

After a moment of this awkward, anxious tension that even they could feel from across the courtyard, Aramis seemed to snap to his senses. He lifted you off the ground and spun around, a smile as wide as the Seine spread across his face. Your laugh rang throughout the space and when he set you down, your arms hooked around his neck, lips locking together for longer than what was probably publicly acceptable. 

Athos turned to the youngest member of their group. “I take that as a no.” 

Aramis kissed you one… two… three… more times before you said something about going to the market and left, holding his hand until the last possible moment. 

When the marksman returned, his friends stood with brows raised and curious smiles. Porthos patted him on the back. 

“What to share what that was all about?” 

Still, with a starstruck grin, Aramis gazed around in a daze. Like before, his mouth fell open and nothing came out. He was sure his heart had stopped beating. Or perhaps it wasn’t there anymore. It was with you, as it always had been. Now more than ever. 

He looked up at his companions- his friends- the men he trusted with his life and the words simply fell from his lips. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

-

“I don’t know if I can wait much longer,” you whined, breathing slowly and deeply as you took a seat at the table. 

Constance smiled. “You only have, what, a month or so to go?”

“Yes, and I feel like I’m the size of Notre Dame.” You laid a hand on your bulbous belly and laughed. “I look the size of Notre Dame.” 

“Nonsense,” she chuckled along with you, setting a plate of bread and bowl of stew in front of you. Constance peeked out the door and shook her head. “They’re late. Again.” Despite the playful annoyance in her voice, there was a sparkle in her eye. One you recognized well. 

“You know… D’Artagnan has been speaking of you more and more since I became pregnant. I dare say he even sounds hopeful.”

“Don’t start,” she swallowed. She took a rag and started to wipe down the table in order to avoid your gaze. “I, in case you’ve forgotten, am married to the man who supplies your fabrics. D’Artagnan and I are merely friends.” The younger woman glanced up at you with a kind of admiration. “It isn’t like what you and Aramis have.” 

You scoffed. “I’m his mistress.”

Her eyes softened with sincerity. She put a hand on your arm. “You’re a great deal more than that.” 

You averted your eyes, feeling the hint of tears begin in them and focused on the meal before you. Despite his adoration and his devotion, you knew not to hope for more than what you were given. And you had no complaints, of course, Aramis was the light of your life and to have his child was more than you ever imagined. But he was a hero. You were a seamstress. 

As if summoned by your brief sorrow, the door to the cottage opened and you heard two pairs of thundering steps coming down the hall. While not banished completely, your doubts were pushed to the back of your mind upon the sight of Aramis’s grinning face. 

“Sorry we’re late, ladies,” he said, removing his hat with a smug flare. “Paris needed saving.” 

“When doesn’t it?” You laughed. He leaned to place a kiss on your forehead, hand falling lovingly to your belly. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. Aramis basked at the sight of you in the setting sun, golden rays streaming through the window. “Like an angel in heaven’s light.” 

A lovely pink color crept onto your cheeks. “You flatter me too much.” 

“My love, my words will never be enough.” Aramis brought your lips to his with passion and sweetness, despite the other two in the room. He set his weapons aside, his coat along with them, and sat next to you. Seeing the billowing sleeves of his shirt reminded you of your work earlier in the day. 

“I almost forgot, I repaired the tear in your shirt. I’ll have to go fetch it.” You started to stand- with more than a little effort- and he laid a hand on your shoulder to set you back down. 

“Please, don’t trouble yourself, darling.” He kissed you again. “I’ll get it.” As he sauntered into the other room, Constance gave you a knowing look you did your best to ignore. 

“Any news on the Red Guard?” D’Artagnan asked. You were glad of the change in subject, though Constance rolled her eyes at his abruptness. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be the favorite to stitch their uniforms ever since-” You motioned to the rather obvious reason at your middle. 

“Ah,” D’Artagnan nodded. “Right.”

Having made a reputation as having the most reliable repairs of any affordable seamstress in Paris, you’d often had members of the Red Guard come to you, as they were ‘too above’ mending anything themselves. It did, however, allow you to overhear things here and there, which you took to the musketeers. But keeping your relationship with Aramis a secret was hard enough. Now, with such a drastic change in your appearance, they’d kept their distance, though whether it was because you were unmarried or if they suspected you to be somewhat of a spy for your child’s father, you couldn’t tell. 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you couldn’t contain your laughter. D’Artagnan sat beside you and asked you questions of a lighter variety while you pleaded to hear of the day’s adventures. Aramis always worried he’d distress you, so you received all the juicy details from the youngest musketeer. Through your friendship with Constance, D’Artagnan had become one of your closest friends as well. 

A lull fell upon your conversation and you couldn't help but note how his eyes drifted back to your mutual companion by the fire. 

One day, you thought…

A sudden movement within you forced a gasp from your lips. Aramis returned to the room in seconds.

“Love, what is it? Did something happen?” He knelt by your side with loving, concerned eyes. 

“Yes,” you beamed, placing a hand where the movement was. You looked into his beautiful gaze and felt yourself overtaken by the excitement. “I believe he just kicked.” Gently, you took his hand and guided it to where you’d felt it. 

“He?” Aramis awed, raising a brow. 

You shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

Another motion fluttered against Aramis’s hand, this one stronger and almost more aggressive than the last. Aramis chuckled. 

“I think she may disagree with your feeling.” 

“Oh, a girl then, is it?” You smirked. 

He shrugged, mocking you affectionately. “Just a feeling.” 

-

II

He’d come as soon as he heard. All of them had. The four musketeers stood in the lobby of your shop, none of them able to sit down. Athos leaned against the wall, he and Porthos watching the windows as if for some dastardly foe. D’Artagnan tried to distract himself by sharpening his sword. Aramis paced at the foot of the stairs leading up to your rooms. 

The midwife wouldn’t allow him to be with you, despite his protests. Only Constance was permitted to accompany her in tending to you. It took all three men to hold him back when your screaming began. 

Hours of this hell passed. He paced until he was sure the soles of his boots would scuff clean off. 

“Can I ask you something?” Porthos asked. He hoped to distract his friend from his pain but, in truth, it was something they’d all been wondering for months. Aramis stopped his hurried steps and turned with a nod. Porthos swallowed. “Why haven’t you married her?” 

“Porthos now is hardly the occasion,” Athos scolded. 

“We have to talk about something, else we’ll all go mad with her up there.” 

Aramis held up a hand to silence them both. The three waited with bated breath as he looked up, wishing to float through the ceiling and be by your side. 

“Because she doubts me,” he said with an unexpected sadness in his voice. He looked back at them. “She doesn’t believe that my love for her is genuine. I can feel it when her smile falters or when her hand falls from mine.” He turned away. “To ask her for her hand because of the child… it would only prove what she believes.” Aramis clenched his fist at his side, then relaxed it again. This idleness would destroy him if this was not soon over. “I could not force her to marry a man that she doubts.” 

The others nodded in understanding, though none of them truly understood, especially D’Artagnan.

 He’d never seen two people who loved each other more than you and Aramis. He wanted to scream at both of them until his throat was sore if he thought it would help. Seeing the two of you so clouded with your own doubts hurt him more than he could say. The younger man just couldn’t fathom it. He’d give anything to have the opportunity to marry the woman he loved.

The matter of your reputation, of course, had already been discussed. You told anyone who discovered your condition that you’d married while away in Gascony and that your husband was a merchant who traveled often and you always met with him back in Gascony. Most people didn’t care enough to gossip about an orphaned woman with little prospects to begin with. It’d been your idea to lie and Aramis accepted it as you being as unsure of him as you thought he was of you. 

What killed him the most, despite his charming demeanor and always knowing the right words for the right people, was that he had no idea how to convey to you how he truly felt. He reminded you of his love every moment he had with you, and yet he knew you didn’t fully believe it. What else could he do but keep trying? 

Another aching shriek echoed through the chamber, followed by a silence, and then… cries. An infant’s wailing filled the house. 

Aramis raced up the stairs before the others could stop him. 

The door to your bedroom opened and Constance stepped out, quickly closing it behind her. She had a bundle in her arms. The auburn-haired woman beamed at him. 

“Would you like to meet your son?” 

Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He just stared at Constance, stunned, as the baby continued to cry. It was as if he’d forgotten how to use his limbs, everything numb with a strange mix of disbelief and utter joy. 

A son. 

He stepped forward and spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-yes.” He felt like a child himself, standing before her with arms outstretched. 

Constance, still grinning, gently placed the wriggling bundle into his awaiting embrace. 

He couldn’t believe how small he was. His son. A tiny fist reached out. Aramis gave him his pinky to grasp onto, his little fingers not even able to wrap all the way around the digit. He rocked the baby in his arms, cooing slightly. The boy stopped crying. 

“I have a son,” he gasped. He turned to the stairs, where his three friends had gathered at the bottom. His tone raised to a cheer. “I have a son!” 

A chorus of joyous hollers and applause filled the stairwell. 

The celebration, however, was cut short as another round of your screaming cries The boy in his arms began wailing again. He held him a little closer to soothe him, but Aramis had gone white. 

“What’s happening?” He asked. 

Constance shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I thought everything was fine.” 

A guttural grunt. Another scream. 

Aramis passed his son back to Constance and started toward your door. The three men had already climbed the stairs with worried expressions.

“You aren’t supposed to-” Constance started, but she stopped as soon as she saw Aramis’s look of absolute panic. 

He burst through the door.  

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Aramis rushed to your side, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair away from your cheek. 

“Aramis?” You muttered, almost dreamily. 

“You shouldn’t be in here monsieur,” the midwife scolded. 

Your knees were pulled up before her. He tried not to look, for the bed sheets were slick with blood and it only made him panic even more. He, instead, looked into your eyes and you looked into his, the comfort of those dark brown irises grounding you through the pain. 

“Something’s… happening…” You took heaving breaths in between your words. His hand found yours and you held onto it with a near-crushing grip. 

“There’s another,” the midwife said. 

Both of your heads snapped up to look at her and you spoke at the same time. 

“What?!” 

She peered up at you, cast a disapproving look at the father, but decided it was too late to force him out of the room. 

“Just as we did before,” she instructed. “Ready? Three… two…” 

-

For the first time, there was quiet. 

The midwife had gone, having gathered the soiled blankets and bowls of water. Aramis sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders, your son blinking up at both of you from your embrace. With the other arm, he held your daughter. 

“I doubt I’ll ever understand what I’ve done in my life,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, “to deserve all of this.” 

You turned your head to kiss his lips lightly, reaching a hand to caress your daughter’s soft cheek. 

“It seems impossible for two things so perfect to come into my life at once,” you mused, bringing your hand up to his face. “And you… to have you for as long as I have. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to be so blessed.” 

Aramis leaned into your touch, the hair of his beard tickling your palm as he nuzzled your skin. Those near-ebony eyes looked into yours with a love more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He wanted, right there, to ask you to marry him. 

A knock at the door was followed by Constance peeking her head into the room with an excited, but exasperated expression. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off,” she laughed. “I haven’t told them anything, like you asked, other than that everything is alright, but I don’t think they’ll believe me until they see you.” 

Aramis chuckled, the vibration rumbling against you. Your daughter stirred against his chest, stretching her tiny arms toward him. He leaned to kiss her forehead. 

You beamed. “Let them in.” 

Constance nodded, smile growing, and turned back to the door.

“Be quiet, all of you,” she ordered. “I don’t want you scaring them.”

D’Artagnan’s brows drew together as he stepped in first. 

“Them?”  

As the two others piled in behind him, all halted abruptly, their eyes darting between you and Aramis and the not one, but two infants in your arms. Confusion turned to shock and finally to unbridled excitement. 

“Twins!” Athos exclaimed with one of the first real smiles you’d ever seen on his face. 

Porthos was still glancing between the two. “Twins?” 

It was D’Artagnan who stepped forward first and placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his joy for you clear in his dark eyes. 

“It’s incredible,” he said. He glanced up at Aramis with the same warm kinship. “I can’t begin to say how happy I am. For both of you.” 

The other two gathered on Aramis’s side of the bed and shared similar congratulations. 

“Have you thought of names?” Porthos asked. 

“Actually, we thought we’d get your thoughts,” Aramis said, glancing over at you with a smirk. He touched a finger to your daughter’s nose. “For her, we were thinking of Christine.” She swatted at his finger lightly, making her father laugh again. “She’s quite the fighter already, hm?” 

“I wonder where she gets that from,” Porthos smiled and patted him on the back. 

“For our son,” you took a deep breath and looked up at your friend beside you. “We thought Charles would be fitting.” 

D’Artagnan’s mouth fell open and his eyes filled with even more admiration and feeling than before, which didn’t seem possible. 

“C-Charles?” He asked, as if he’d heard you wrong. 

Aramis nodded. “Charles.” 

“But only if you’ll allow it,” you said, reaching for his hand. “You’ve just been such a good friend to me- to us- and I hoped you would be his godfather as well, but if-”

He took your hand and brought it to his lips. “I would be honored.” His voice was heavy with emotion, tears of joy welling in his eyes. 

“We’ve already asked Constance to be godmother to them both,” Aramis said. He turned to his best friend. “I was hoping, Porthos, that-”

“Do you even have to ask?” Porthos chuckled. He leaned over your daughter and made a face. 

She started to cry. 

“Congratulations,” Aramis sighed. “You’ve already frightened off your goddaughter.” 

Porthos made another face and she stopped. He raised a brow at Aramis, beaming. You snickered at their antics. 

“They are beautiful children,” Athos said, leaning against the dresser. “I can’t say enough how happy I am for the two of you.” 

“Oh don’t feel left out, Athos,” Porthos teased. “I’m sure you can be godfather to the next one.” 

You snorted. “I think he may have to wait a while for that.” Everyone in the room laughed. D’Artagnan gazed down at your son, still trying to hold back tears. 

“Would you like to hold him?” 

He gulped. “Can I?” 

You smiled and carefully handed your son to his namesake. Aramis did the same with your daughter, slowly putting her in Porthos’s arms. And just like that, you watched the two grown men turn to puppies, all wide eyes and cooing smiles. 

A happy tear rolled down your cheek. Aramis pulled you closed and kissed it away. You knew, more than anything in the world, that your children would be safe. And they would be loved. 

III

He rocked the child in his arms with the whispers of a lullaby on his lips. 

“Lullay, thou little tiny child,” he sang softly, “bye, bye, lully, lullay. Thou little tiny child, bye, bye, lully, lullay…” Aramis smiled and kissed his sleeping son’s forehead before laying him gently in his crib. Charles’s nose twitched and he stretched his tiny arms but didn’t stir. 

Aramis watched him in wonder. Ten months and he still couldn’t quite believe all of this was real. His heart ached from being so full. 

A small clattering sound drew his attention away and he felt his heart stop in a panic. Aramis rushed across the nursery and plucked his daughter from the floor before she could pull another one of his swords off of the table where he’d placed them. 

“Christine d’Herblay, how many times must I tell you to leave Papa’s things alone?” He scolded, nuzzling her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hurt yourself, darling.” 

She leaned into his embrace, looking up at him with those big eyes with a perfectly innocent expression. Quite cunning, he thought, for a toddler. Of course, he melted instantly and began bouncing her up and down. Her bell-like laughter filled the room, as well as his chest. 

The door to the nursery opened and you stepped in with messy hair stuck down by sweat from your exhaustive day and a harrowed expression. Your eyes fell upon the sheathed weapon on the floor. 

“I tell her to leave them,” Aramis said. “But she doesn’t listen to me.” He tickled her side, earning more laughter. “Just like your mother, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t laugh. Instead, you sighed and stooped to pick up his sword from the ground. From there, you began picking up everything you could find, tidying up the room in a flustered hurry. Aramis placed Christine in her crib beside Charles’s and took your hands in his to stop your anxious movements. 

“What’s happened?” 

You bowed your head. “Nothing.” 

“Y/N…” He sighed, laying a hand on your cheek. You pulled away. 

“It’s this Rocheforte.” You ran your fingers through your hair, more aware than ever of their lack of ring. “He isn’t like the cardinal- which I thought would be a good thing- but he’s somehow worse. He’s suspicious and- and cunning, and his men are asking more and more questions when I’m called there to repair uniforms.” Your rambling caught in your throat, paired with tired tears. 

“What can I do?” Aramis asked. “You know it pains me to see you in distress. Just say the word, and I’ll have the heads of half of the Red Guard by sundown.” 

“It isn’t just them.” You shook your head. “I’m just… so tired of lying, Aramis.” 

Christine made a cooing sound. Charles yawned. 

Aramis stepped toward you. “Then let us make it the truth.” 

You paused, making sure you’d heard him correctly. Aramis continued. 

“Marry me and none of this will matter. You can stop spying for Treville and the Red Guards will have the whole of the musketeers to face if they bother you again.” 

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you wiped them hastily away. At first, he thought they were tears of joy, but the closer Aramis looked, he knew he was wrong. 

“I will handle Rochefortes prying myself. He’s likely figured out you are the true father and is just trying to frighten me into admitting it.” 

“Y/N, I don’t understand. The solution for this is simple-”

“I will not doom you to a life you don’t want simply because it is the simplest answer!” you said, louder than you’d meant to. Charles awoke with shrieking cries. 

“A life I don’t want?” Aramis scoffed, trying to hide his hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“My answer is no, Aramis.” You moved to pick up your screaming son. “Marrying is clearly something you’ve never wanted and I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice anything for me when the children and I have done just fine in the current situation.”

Aramis reached for both of you. 

Christine started to cry as well. 

“Y/N-”

“I think you should leave.” You didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on your children in order to hide your sorrow from their father. “I’ll watch them now.” 

Aramis didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to kick himself for his insensitivity. He’d known of your doubts for so long and yet he sprung marriage on you as if it were nothing more than a way to fix a problem. 

“If that is what you wish,” he sighed and left, closing the door behind him while the children’s crying followed him out. 

He knew how he felt. He just needed to prove it to you.  

-

You saw no one else for the remainder of the evening. Only your children kept you company, and even they seemed more interested in empty spools rolling around on the floor. Not that you minded. With them so distracted, you found it easier to let yourself cry. 

He asked you to marry him. 

How many times had you dreamt of Aramis saying those words and yet now they felt like musket shots to your heart. He saw you as a burden. A duty to fulfill. You could never live like that, even if it meant being free of the jeers of the Red Guard. 

You only wished you could regret ever involving yourself with the musketeer, but your heart forbade it. Whether or not he felt the same, your love for Aramis had given you the world. The proof sat before you with their carefree laughter. Your son and daughter with their smiles just like their father’s. The time you’d gotten with them, with him, was worth all of the heartache. 

It was late when you finally got them both to go to sleep. One was always waking the other, but eventually, Charles and Christine laid in their cribs and soundly drifted off. 

You tried to finish up some work on a dress order at the table in the nursery,, but found your eyes unable to stay open. You must have fallen asleep as well, for the next time you opened them, the morning sun greeted you.

And the children were gone. 

You were awake in an instant, tearing through your small apartment, but finding nothing. It wasn’t until you could hear Charles’ laughter that you hurried down the stairs, finding your son in the lap of his namesake and Christine grasping at a flower that Athos held over her playfully. 

“Morning,” Porthos greeted. 

You smacked the back of his head. “Don’t do that,” you exasperated, “I thought they’d been taken by miscreants or something.” 

“We just didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” D’Artagnan smiled. 

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems we are replacing you, for the day,” Athos explained, picking up Christine to give her to you. “The three of us are to deliver your finished orders.” 

“While the four of us spend this beautiful day out, as a family,” Aramis said, having appeared in the doorway with a basket in hand and dressed in a casual tunic rather than his uniform. 

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but your mind refused to give in so easily. After all, it was only the night before that you’d nearly cried yourself to sleep over the discussion you’d had with the man before you. But the charming smile on his face and the look in his eye made it awfully difficult to argue. 

“I don’t know.” You made a point not to look at him. “I have so much still to do and-”

D’Artagnan stood, picking up your son and raising his brow at you. “Take the day, Y/N,” he said. “You deserve to rest.” 

“Plus, he’s been going mad all night, which has driven all of us mad, as well,” Porthos muttered, motioning to his nervous friend in the doorway. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What trouble could we get into delivering a bunch of dresses and coats?” 

“I don’t really like to think about it,” you frowned. 

“I will make sure that everything gets to its proper place,” Athos assured you, making you feel a little bit better. 

Aramis stepped inside, taking Charles from D’Artagnan and giving you a pleading glance. 

“It’s a beautiful day, my love,” he said. “Let us spend it as a family.” 

Any lingering frustration you’d felt from the night before was no match for his soft, wanting tone. And beneath his charisma, you knew that there was something else. Something far more serious. Whatever it was, you knew it was better to talk now than dance around it while the two of you buried yourselves in your work. 

“I suppose I can spare one day,” you said. 

Porthos and D’Artagnan cheered but were silenced by a look of annoyance from Athos. Aramis just lit up, kissing your cheek. 

“You won’t regret it,” he whispered against your skin. But when he turned back to the door, son in his arms and his two girls behind him, he muttered to himself, “I hope.”

-

It was the first moment of peace you’d experienced in months. The only sound- other than the occasional cheer or coo from one of the children- was the slight breeze through the meadow flowers. The morning passed like dandelion seeds floating through the air. 

Charles and Christine crawled around and explored the small plot of grass you’d found for them. Christine chased a butterfly and Charles plucked a light blue flower from its stem and brought it back to your lap. 

“I see he’s inherited your charm,” you said, taking in the blossom’s sweet scent. 

“And she your spirit,” Aramis pointed out, gesturing to the feisty toddler who was nearing the edge of the grass. He rolled onto his side and caught her in his arms before she could get too far. She whined, but only for a moment, before settling against his chest. 

Despite the wonder of the morning, there was the crawling under your skin, whispers of your doubts reminding you of the hopes you’d felt had been dashed by your own fear. The fear that all of this would be gone in an instant. That he would finally tire of you and the life you’ve built and he would galavant off into the arms of another woman, into another battle, another fight he could not win. 

You understood, then, looking at him under the swaying shadows of the willow tree above you, perhaps that was why you allowed your doubts to persist. Though you cared so deeply for him, you kept him at arm's length because the idea of him leaving of his own will was easier to take than a musket ball piercing his heart or a dagger across his throat.

The realization brought tears to your eyes. You bit your lip to hide the trembling, but Aramis knew in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, my love,” he sighed. He set Christine beside her brother, both of whom had fallen asleep on the blanket. Aramis laid a hand on your cheek. “I fear I’ve made a grave mistake in the years we’ve spent together.” 

You sucked in a breath and bowed your head, preparing for his regrets, his change of heart, and his announcement he was going to leave. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your face back to his. 

“I have known you believe me to be with you out of a sense of duty. I have allowed you to believe that you are little more than a distraction grown into an obligation.” Taking your hands in his, his voice softened due to the overwhelming emotion in his tone. Now it was him trying to hide his tears. “I have wished my words of devotion were enough to convince you, but my actions last night have done just the opposite and for that, I deeply apologize.”

“Aramis-” You started, but he stopped you with a squeeze of your hand. 

“I love you,” he said. He kissed the inside of your wrist, dark eyes watching you, so full of adoration and care that you held back a sob. Aramis held your palm to his cheek. “Every breath of every day belongs to you. Every beat of my heart is devoted to our family. Not out of any sense of duty. In fact, you’ve tangled my senses all together.” He chuckled, the lovely sound vibrating up your arm. “I can’t tell sunset from sunrise because you are my new sun. I don’t know which way is south because you are my north star.”

You found yourself leaning into him until you were but a few shallow breaths apart. Aramis turned his gaze to the sleeping children beside you. 

“You have made me a father,” he beamed. “A dream I’d forgotten I had. You have made me a better man. Better than I thought I was capable of being. You are not an obligation, Y/N.” His eyes returned to yours and he drew even closer to you. “You are everything.”

His fingers laced into your hair and pulled your lips to his, silencing any of your cries. You kissed him with a passion like no other, but mostly you kissed him with belief. 

When you parted, you both smiled tearfully. 

Aramis continued. 

“Which is why-” He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but it was no use. You left him completely breathless. “I ask you once more, to do me the honor of making me your husband.” He kissed the trail of tears on your cheek. “Y/N, will you marry me?” 

“Aramis, I-” Your mind searched your heart for a reason to say no. It warned of loss and heartbreak. But you found that, no matter what, your guarded feelings would only be in vain. Your heart could not be protected by you alone because it did not belong to you. You pressed your lips to Aramis’s and whispered against them. “Yes. My answer is yes.” 

-

You spent the rest of the day taking Christine and Charles around the city, proudly walking side by side. A few people whispered as you went by and several Red Guards glared, but quickly looked away with one deadly glance from your fiance. 

The sun began to dip in the sky by the time you returned to the shop. 

To your surprise- and much to your relief- the other men managed to get through a day without destroying anything, which was a fair accomplishment for them. Any conversation between them ceased when the four of you entered. 

“Welcome back,” Athos said. 

Three pairs of eyes stared expectantly. 

“So…” D’Artagnan needn’t voice his question. He could tell from the light in your eyes what the answer would be. 

You merely gave them all a simple nod and they practically leapt with joy. 

With the children placed in their chairs, Porthos pulled Aramis into a crushing hug, D’Artagnan kissed your cheek, and Athos smiled brightly at you both, all voicing their congratulations. 

“I take it the final part of the plan is still in motion?” Porthos asked with a wink. 

“What final part?” You asked. 

Aramis ran a hand through his hair, nerves returning. 

“Well, now that everything is settled and you haven’t decided that you’ve had enough of me,” he said. “These fine gentlemen have agreed to watch Christine and Charles while you and I partake in a romantic evening together.”

“The picnic in the meadow wasn’t romantic enough for you?” You snickered. “I don’t want to take any more of their time.” 

“It’s no trouble, at all,” D’Artagnan said. “Constance will be joining us as well.” 

You gave him a suggestive smile. “I see.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think you’d better just find out what your last surprise is for today and let us take care of everything else.” 

“We’ll take very good care of them,” Athos promised. “And I’ll make sure these two don’t get into any trouble while you’re gone.” 

“As if you’re one to talk.” Porthos slapped him on the back. He quirked a brow at the couple before him. “Go enjoy your evening. We’ll drop them off in the morning.”

“But I still don’t understand.” You looked in between the four of them. “You all speak as if we have somewhere else to go. Unless you’re suggesting the garrison…”

Aramis reached for your hand with a smirk. “Just follow me.” 

You kissed the children goodnight and thanked the men one more time before allowing Armis to lead you back down the street in the direction of the garrison. He stopped, however, at a building he’d made a point to admire earlier in the day. 

“As much as I find the apartment above your shop charming, I thought this may be better suited to fit a family,” he said. 

It was a small structure, but there was a cozy feeling to its appearance as well. The potential to become a home. 

“It’s the perfect distance between the shop and the garrison, so neither of us would have to travel very far. I know it isn’t much, but Treville gave me an advance on my commission and the others chipped in as well. And I figured I could spend time fixing it up for us in between missions. I think, given some time and effort, it could be-”

You stopped him with a kiss. 

“I love it,” you smiled. “And I love you.” 

Aramis’s face split with a grin and he scooped you into his arms, kissing you deeply, despite the people passing you by. 

“Wait,” you said, putting a hand on his chest. You raised a brow in amusement. “You bought this before you asked me to marry you. What if…” 

He chuckled. “I was just really hoping you’d say yes.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. With your hearts full and the first evening you’d had to yourselves since the children were born, he wasted little time carrying you inside and kicking the door shut behind you. 

[aquatark]

Can I ask your opinion on Endless Ocean Luminous?

Thanks for the ask anon! :D

I've been trying to get my thoughts on this game together into something that makes sense for a while now, but no better time than the present!

tldr: I seem to like it more than most people! I think this game is alright though it's still very flawed, and I'm still enjoying myself with it, but it seems very clearly rushed and it shows. I'm still very happy that the series has a third entry at all, and am looking forward to the future of the series after this game!

...okay, now I'm gonna aimlessly ramble for wayyy too long lmao (spoilers under the cut if you haven't played)

So, to get a few of my biggest gripes out of the way:

Having completed it... the plot is god awful (esp the ending, iykyk). I think I would have preferred having none at all, but Daniel is cool

The English voice of Sera isn't ideal, though this is an issue other languages (like Japanese, French) don't seem to have

The setting, character development, and lore is much more shallow, uninteresting, and poorly-explored through gameplay than any other diving game Arika has made, which is saying a lot bc EO1's plot was invented pretty close to release, and is known for also not being great

The game doesn't run as smoothly as I'd like. maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I remember a time when devs didn't feel like they could release their game if it crashes as often online as this game does

Some of this game's creature textures are far less polished than they ought to be for a Switch game. Surprisingly, most of the ones ported from Arika's defunct mobile fishing game are fine! It's stuff like the megamouth shark and bigfin reef squid that really stand out to me as sub-par

I'm not as bothered about this as some ppl seem to be, but I would have liked a little more customization freedom, ala EO2's suit cuts

Many creature descriptions are copied verbatim from EO2, which I really dislike. wasted a perfect opportunity to highlight different aspects of creatures, not rehash the same tired and basic facts

Though I love the concept of dynamic time of day underwater, it's executed very poorly imo. Could have done with some more fine-tuning (something that could be said abt... a lot of this game lol)

All of this however only detracts a little from my enjoyment of the game overall.

The fact that something like the story can be shipped in the final product with a dev team that shares many many people with the original EO games (seriously, compare the staff lists on the wiki, I genuinely teared up seeing so many familiar faces again)... suggests to me that this game was subjected to crazy time constraints, though I don't have any concrete proof. Nintendo has been known recently to be anti-crunch with some of its biggest IPs, so maybe an Arika problem? Regardless, this game shouldn't have released in the condition it's in, and definitely should not be the price it is.

I really don't like being too negative though, so I won't be! After all, and this may be controversial coming from an EO blog... but the various flaws of Arika's previous diving games made this not be the biggest surprise to me. I mean, I 100%ed EO1, including collecting every salvage and getting all gear/hairstyles! Do you have any idea how hellish that is? I eat slop for breakfast!!

I've still been playing a lot of this game with my dear friend MDB (us pictured below), and there are a lot of things I like about it!

I will, for example, drool all over this game's sound design till the day my son "dies" in a tragic submarine accident. Ayako Saso (main talent behind Everblue 1/2, EO1/2, and Luminous' original compositions and sound in general) knocked it out of the park as usual, with the menu sfx feeling really Everblue reminiscent in a way I adore, and the music easily being some of the best in the series. I know many fans are disappointed by there being no vocal tracks, but honestly? While I like the fact EO1 and 2 had them, they simply wouldn't have fit in this game. So I'm chill about it.

I think the random generation and focus on multiplayer are fun and fresh for the series! I have EO1 and 2 when I want polished singleplayer gameplay, and this game when I feel like something else. EO1 and 2's multiplayer objectively sucked, so it's a really interesting angle to take. The gameplay loop is entertaining enough for me - I like salvaging, scanning creatures, collecting tags, and hunting orbs, both in solo and shared dives. The framework is solid, but could use a little more meat.

The fact they were finally able to realize the "Ancient Sea" concept that had been thrown around during development since EO1 is lovely. Despite having been a dinosaur kid, I'm not really knowledgeable on any of the species depicted in-game, so their designs don't bother me... I'm just a sucker for human ruins overrun by prehistoric life!

Though there are some categories of sea creature that I'm a little sad not to see anymore, like seadragons, sea slugs, and many marine mammals... I don't mind this game's different roster. I like the creature variety, because imo, it would have been a little boring and predictable to have the roster just be every creature that was previously in EO, plus some new ones. This system avoids the kind of problem Pokémon games are currently having, where they have so many critters that they can't possibly put them all in one game, but fans are upset not to have the entire dex ported, y'know? It's like playing EO for the first time again!

I've seen several people theorize that the series was "intentionally sabotaged with a bad new game, so that they have an excuse not to make any more EO games", and... I mean... all I'll say about that is that there's no use killing something that's already dead lol. There'd been no games for over a decade, and very little demand for one - why would a game company looking to make money put so much effort and money into marketing, development, pre-order bonuses, and My Nintendo rewards in order to create hype for a game that's bad on purpose... when they could have kept the series dead for free? Nintendo clearly believe the concept of diving games has legs (or fins ig), with a staff team who love the ocean and dive irl, and are trying new things to see if it sticks better than the previous four games they've made, which collectively sold worse than Luminous did.

It may not all be great, or even good, but experimentation and trying unconventional things is what made EO such a special series in the first place baybee! We just remember the parts of it we liked, and forget the really dumb stuff. The EO team has never been perfect, and I can see their smudgy fingerprints all over this game... I mean, these are the same devs who didn't notice a crash so bad it had their game recalled, and repeatedly yoinked copyrighted material without permission to use in their games... but that's a long post for another day lol.

Soooo yeah! Those are some of my thoughts! Feel free to express your own thoughts on the game here - I'd be curious what other people think, and I'd be more than happy to answer more asks on specific elements of the game, or just getting me talkin' about this game, or any other game in the series for that matter! Any EO questions at all, ask away~!

Thanks for reading, hehe! >( ')

[longagoitwastuesday]

So so indebted to u for posting those lovely illustrations from Cyrano <333 & even more so for yr tags!! I'm completely in love w yr analysis, please feel free to ramble as long as u wish! Browsing through yr Cyrano de Bergerac tag has given me glimpses of so many adaptations & translations I'd never heard of before! I'll be watching the Solès version next, which I have only discovered today through u ^_^ As for translations, have u read many/all of them? I've only encountered the Renauld & Burgess translations in the wild, & I was curious to hear yr translation thoughts that they might guide my decision on which one I buy first (not necessarily Renauld or Burgess ofc). Have a splendid day & sorry for the likespam! 💙

Sorry for the delay. Don't mind the likespam, I'm glad you enjoyed my tags about Cyrano, and that they could contribute a bit to a further appreciation of the play. I loved it a lot, I got obsessed with it for months. It's always nice to know other people deeply love too that which is loved haha I hope you enjoy the Solès version, it may well be my favourite one!

About translations, I'm touched you're asking me, but I don't really know whether mine is the best opinion to ask. I have read... four or five English translations iirc, the ones I could find online, and I do (and especially did, back when I was reading them) have a lot of opinions about them. However, nor English nor French are my first languages (they are third and fourth respectively, so not even close). I just read and compare translations because that's one of my favourite things to do.

The fact is that no translation is perfect, of course. I barely remember Renauld's, but I think it was quite literal; that's good for understanding the basics of the text, concepts and characters, but form is subject, and there's always something that escapes too literal translations. Thomas and Guillemard's if I recall correctly is similar to Hooker's in cadence. It had some beautiful fragments, some I preferred over Hooker's, but overall I think to recall I liked Hooker's more. If memory serves, Hooker's was the most traditionally poetic and beautiful in my opinion. Burgess' is a whole different thing, with its perks and drawbacks.

Something noticeable in the other translations is that they are too... "epic". They do well the poetic, sorrowful, grief stricken, crushed by regrets aspects of Cyrano and the play in general, but they fall quite short in the funny and even pathetic aspects, and that too is key in Cyrano, both character and play. Given the characteristics of both languages, following the cadence of the French too literally, with those long verses, makes an English version sound far too solemn at times when the French text isn't. Thus Burgess changes the very cadence of the text, adapting it more to the English language. This translation is the one that best sets the different moods in the play, and as I said before form is subject, and that too is key: after all, the poetic aspect of Cyrano is as much true as his angry facet and his goofy one. If Cyrano isn't funny he isn't Cyrano, just as he wouldn't be Cyrano without his devotion to Roxane or his insecurities; Cyrano is who he is precisely because he has all these facets, because one side covers the other, because one trait is born from another, because one facet is used as weapon to protect the others, like a game of mirrors and smoke. We see them at different points through the play, often converging. Burgess' enhances that. He plays with the language itself in form and musicality, with words and absences, with truths masking other truths, with things stated but untold, much like Cyrano does. And the stage directions, poetic and with literary value in their own right in a way that reminded me of Valle Inclán and Oscar Wilde, interact with the text at times in an almost metatextual dimension that enhances that bond Cyrano has with words, giving them a sort of liminal air and strengthening that constant in the play: that words both conceal and unveil Cyrano, that in words he hides and words give him away.

But not all is good, at all. Unlike Hooker, Burgess reads to me as not entirely understanding every facet of the characters, and as if he didn't even like the play all that much, as if he had a bit of a disdainful attitude towards it, and found it too mushy. Which I can understand, but then why do you translate it? In my opinion the Burgess' translation does well bending English to transmit the different moods the French text does, and does pretty well understanding the more solemn, cool, funny, angry, poetic aspects of Cyrano, but less so his devotion, vulnerability, insecurities and his pathetism. It doesn't seem to get Roxane at all, how similar she is to Cyrano, nor why she has so many admirers. It does a very poor job at understanding Christian and his value, and writes him off as stupid imo. While I enjoyed the language aspect of the Burgess translation, I remember being quite angry at certain points reading it because of what it did to the characters and some changes he introduces. I think he did something very questionable with Le Bret and Castel-Jaloux, and I remember being incensed because of Roxane at times (for instance, she doesn't go to Arras in his version, which is a key scene to show just how much fire Roxane has, and that establishes several parallels with Cyrano, in attitude and words, but even in act since she does a bit what Cyrano later does with the nuns in the last act), and being very angry at several choices about Christian too. While not explicitly stated, I think the McAvoy production and the musical both follow this translation, because they too introduce these changes, and they make Christian as a character, and to an extent the entire play, not make sense.

For instance, once such change is that Christian is afraid that Roxane will be cultured (McAvoy's version has that infamous "shit"/"fuck" that I detest), when in the original French it's literally the opposite. He is not afraid she will be cultured, he is afraid she won't, because he does love and appreciate and admires those aspects of her, as he appreciates and admires them in Cyrano. That's key! Just as Cyrano longs to have what Christian has, Christian wants the same! That words escape him doesn't mean he doesn't understand or appreciate them. The dynamics make no sense without this aspect, and Burgess (and the productions that directly or indirectly follow him) constantly erases this core trait of Christian.

Another key moment of Christian Burgess butchers is the scene in Arras in which Christian discovers the truth. Burgess writes their discussion masterfully in form, it's both funny and poignant, but it falls short in concept: when Cyrano tells him the whole discussion about who does Roxane love and what will happen, what they'll do, is academic because they're both going to die, Christian states that dying is his role now. This destroys entirely the thing with Christian wanting Roxane to have the right to know, and the freedom to choose, or to refuse them both. As much as Cyrano proclaims his love for truth and not mincing words even in the face of authority, Cyrano is constantly drunk on lies and mirages, masks and metaphors. It's Christian who wants it all to end, the one who wants real things, the one who wants to risk his own happiness for the chance of his friend's, as well as for the woman he loves to stop living in a lie. That is a very interesting aspect of Christian, and another aspect in which he is written as both paralleling and contrasting Cyrano. It's interesting from a moral perspective and how that works with the characters, but it's also interesting from a conceptual point of view, both in text and metatextually: what they hold most dear, what they most want, what most fulfills them, what they most fear, their different approaches to life, but also metatextually another instance of that tears/blood motif and its ramifications constant through the whole text. Erasing that climatic decision and making him just simply suicidal erases those aspects of Christian and his place in the Christian/Cyrano/Roxane dynamic, all for plain superficial angst, that perhaps hits more in the moment, but holds less meaning.

Being more literal, and more solemn, Hooker's translation (or any of the others, but Hooker's seems to love the characters and understand them) doesn't make these conceptual mistakes. Now, would I not recommend reading Burgess' translation? I can't also say that. I had a lot of fun reading it, despite the occasional anger and indignation haha Would I recommend buying it? I recommend you give an eye to it first, if you're tempted and can initially only buy one.

You can read Burgess' translation entirely in archive.com. You can also find online the complete translations of Renauld, Hooker and Thomas and Guillemard. I also found a fifth one, iirc, but I can't recall it right now (I could give a look). You could read them before choosing, or read your favourite scenes and fragments in the different translations, and choose the one in which you like them better. That's often what I do.

Edit: I've checked to make sure and Roxane does appear in Arras in the translation. It's in the introduction in which it is stated that she doesn't appear in the production for which the translation was made. The conceptualisation of Roxane I criticise and that in my opinion is constant through the text does stay, though.

[wubblesred]

Ghoulcy week 2024 Day 6 SFW

Hello vaulties, back with the ghoulcy week. Day 6 prompt is in sickness and in health. It is also a bit linked to the previous days prompts. Hope you will enjoy it. English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes. This will also be post in French.

Cooper Howard had lost his entire family over two centuries ago, and he said to himself that day that it was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced and that nothing could beat it. However, seeing Lucy still pale despite the RadAway that was slowly flowing through her veins, he felt the same sensation as when he first woke up as a ghoul without knowing where Janey had gone. The latter was angry, he had dragged her in places where most of the population present were ghouls, he was not afraid of radiation so he did not pay attention to the radiation rate of the surroundings, his little killer was so strong that he had forgotten that she was only human. It was when he woke up to see Lucy so amorphous and her PipBoy in alert mode that he realized the problem, the radiation in his wife’s body was too high. Apparently a dose of RadAway was not enough, at this point the young woman probably needed a hospital to survive. Or something else... Something Cooper would rather not think about.

"Coop... Coop find Janey without me... Go ahead.» Lucy’s voice was weak and trembling, each sound seemed to give her intense pain which intensified the guilt her husband felt.

“No way. You thought I was the kind of husband who abandoned his wife on the first blow. I married you, I love you, and I refuse to let you die like a dog.”

“The RadAway doesn’t work...I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it....”

"The damn vaults they have doctors, don’t they? Your junk there, it can tell us where there is a nearby vault?" Throughout his speech his wife shook her head, she knew the deep and justified disgust he had for the places where she had grown up, she refused to impose this on him.

“They will never accept a ghoul.” Only one vault would surely accept the ghouls but she was afraid they would refuse her after the last time. They could probably treat her, but will they arrive in time.

The ghoul saw the face of his companion change, he understood that she had a place in mind but that she would refuse to speak, however the man was ready for everything, no matter the sacrifices. All that mattered at that moment was getting his wife back on her feet. So he began to blackmail her, if she didn’t disclose the information she had that could potentially save her life, he would kill himself right here right now. It didn’t take more for Lucy to talk about Vault 4 and its location, she put the route on her PipBoy and in less than no time, the man took her in his arms to begin their journey. Luckily, the place was only a few kilometers away, they would arrive before the end of the day and the ghoul hoped so, in time to save his wife.

Lucy kept collapsing along the way, wavering between a short period of consciousness and a long period of sleep. Her husband was more and more worried about her condition, if that damn vault 4 didn’t save her, he’d do a massacre before ending himself. Nothing mattered more than his wife and daughter, unfortunately not knowing if she was alive or not, the man does not think he can hold out without the support of his Lucy. He was even ready to set foot in this horrid vault 4, the one in which he had filmed one of the many Vault-Tec ads. But he didn’t care as long as his wife lived, he would even make peace with Henry if that was what she wanted.

Night began to fall when he finally saw it, vault 4 was there before his eyes. Although fatigue was greatly felt, as Lucy’s condition worsened, the ghoul ran toward the door. He saw an intercom on which he threw himself, pressing all the buttons until receiving an answer.

"Hello, what can we do for you, dear sir?" Were the words he heard through the crackling of the device.

“My wife...my wife is seriously ill, please save her.”

"Your... wife?"

"Yes! I know that I am completely eaten up by radiation, but that does not prevent me from saying that she is my wife and that we do not have the whole evening! She’s a damn vault dweller like you, so do me the pleasure of moving your ass to pick her up and take care of her, or I swear I will find a way to open your damn door and beat you up one after the other.”

Shit... It had surely gone too far and they would never come to open the door to them but Cooper was desperate, Lucy became paler and her breathing more laborious. Not to mention the damn thing that kept bleeping away. He was cut off in his thoughts by the opening of the huge door, several vault dwellers came out and advanced towards them, they all wore a white jumpsuit, surely to protect themselves from the disease that the woman could have. They took Lucy from his arms, the ghoul did not know if he could follow them but on the other hand he refused to leave his little killer, they had promised to always be there for each other, so screw it he would follow Lucy even to hell.

The vault dwellers had put them in a decontamination room and the doctors were treating Lucy so the ghoul didn’t care much where they were staying as long as his wife was being treated.

"She's not your wife isn't she." The voice that said that came from the brown haired woman who had been watching him for several minutes at the window.

“We don’t really have marriage certificate anymore, but she is my wife.”

“She showed up several weeks ago with another man in armor who doesn’t look like you at all. They seemed pretty close given the mess he started when he thought we were going after her so let me doubt what you said.”

“This moron wasn’t meant to be with her. He only brought her problems, moreover he liked the situation she could bring him, not who she really is. Since then she’s been traveling with me and we’re together. We’re looking for our family. You take care of her and then poof we go and it’ll be like we’ve never been here. We won’t even have to go anywhere else than this room.” Cooper was getting tired of having to justify his feelings for the young woman. Every damn person they ran into gave them a comment about their marriage. It was annoying.

“Unfortunately after she is treated, the overseer would like to question her so you will be with us for a while.”

After these words, the woman left without waiting for an answer. Cooper went to his wife, anger still present. He took her hand before sitting beside her. She regain some colors, she was off the hook and that was all that mattered to the man. Despite centuries past and the fact that he thought this part of him lost deep within himself, Lucy had been able to bring out his role as a husband that he thought he had lost forever. The young woman deserved a husband present and loving, no matter the trials and the ghoul would make it so. He laid a kiss on her forehead before laying his head next to hers to observe his beloved and wait for her awakening. Lucy was alive, she was going to be all right and he would make sure she stayed that way for a long time.

[buttercup-art]

Hiiii its meeee :] Could you tell us a bit about Noa ? How did she meet Hugo ? I've been thinking about her latelyyyy... Also, does she have a reference sheet of some kind ? For no particular reasonnn (<- planning on drawing her)

AAAAHHH HI FRIEND!!!! <3 I’d love to tell you about her!!

Noa Elizabeth Simmons (She/Her) is a powerhouse in Hyperion, having climbed her way to her position as President of Weapons Development through many forms of deception, manipulation, and overall perfectionism. She's an expert when it comes to all things related to weapons, and is one hell of a shot (her job is more managerial, but she enjoys it when she actually gets to shoot stuff lol). Like many in Hyperion, she’s always looking for ways to reach the top, wanting that control and power for herself. She’s known for being confident and narcissistic, believing she’s better than everyone and being critical of others, especially their intelligence and/or fashion choices. Having been born on Eden-5 was a big cause of that, as she was raised in a very wealthy and influential family who constantly worried about their image and pushed her to be the best. Her parents were often emotionally distant and cold, which caused her to have issues with processing emotions and things of that nature (talking about her feelings makes her uncomfortable). She doesn’t trust people easily, and has a very difficult time getting close to people. Being vulnerable around others makes her uncomfortable, because it feels like they have some sort of power over her. She likes being the one in control. She’s also French, and frequently switches between speaking English and French (or the equivalent of those languages in that world lol).

She's also a very logical thinker, often listening to her brain first instead of her heart. Overthinking is a pretty much a normal process for her; it's only natural to extensively work through things in order to reach a rational conclusion. But when things don't have a clear answer (like love), that's when she gets stuck and ties herself in a metaphorical knot. She's in her head most of the time, and that ends up doing her more harm than good.

And despite her cold exterior and bitterness, she's actually a pretty sensitive and compassionate person, secretly needing companionship (although she always tries to convince herself that she doesn't and/or it's not a good idea). When she does take a liking to someone, she gives them special treatment (giving them gifts, bringing them along with her whenever she has to do business/finding reasons to see them, giving them advice about things, protecting them, etc). She is also a good listener, and will happily listen to someone rant or gossip to her about anything they want. Just as long as she likes that person. She might tell them to "casse-toi" (piss off) if she doesn't know them that well lol

Another thing about her is that she's a lover of the arts, often painting in her free time and visiting art galleries/exhibitions every now and then. She always makes an effort to dress stylishly, even when she's alone, and takes a lot of pride in her appearance. Flowers and tea are also something she really likes (and is VERY particular about the quality of tea she drinks and how it's brewed. She wants it to be done right).

As for how Noa met Hugo, I imagine she'd meet him when he accidentally walks in on her having a meeting with Henderson, wanting to talk with his boss about his (not so) upcoming promotion. When they see each other again later on, when Henderson isn't around, he ends up lying to her about how important he is and what position he has to try to give himself a bit of a social advantage (he thought she was also middle management). However, she knew right off the bat that he wasn't telling the truth at all, because it takes a liar to know a liar. She decided to play along anyway, letting him dig himself deeper and deeper so he would have more trouble trying to get out of those lies. For funsies. And also to sort of manipulate him into killing Henderson for her. And it works out for both of them, in a way. Noa has Henderson dead, and Hugo gets to back up his claims of being Senior Vice President while also catching her attention. Seems like a win-win to her.

And she does have a reference sheet!! I initially designed her to be a sort of antagonistic character and for her to look Hyperion (and she works for them and likes what she does, so yeah, she's a bad guy) She's a snake and I love her for it! <3

[quincyhorst]

I really enjoy using this blog to share my favorite things from the Inazuma Fandom, and while I'm aware I still owe to talk about the ending of the Ina11 Champions League, I'd like to share something more recent instead.

Back on January 5th, the french fanbase had released its first Ina11 ROM Hack (I SUPPOSE), IE Ultimate. Pretty much a harder version of IE3 from what I've seen. Nonetheless, the moment I saw Pierre on the trailer I was HOOKED. What was that!? A stronger version of Rose Griffon for the story!?

...Turns out it was something more than that: A whole Euro B Team!

These screenshots come from a french Twitch streamer named Rems; I'll be using them to comment about what this team has to offer. The full stream seems to have been deleted unfortunately, but then again it wasn't a big loss. The dude not only sped up hissatsus at any chance, but he kept repeating the match everytime he feels like he's losing (Yes, that happens a lot here). Got boring at times :/

Here's the main team line up.

Because lack of RedoMata players, Slingshot brings up some sort of interesting combinations....

Wait a damn second....

WHAT!!!!!

...Anyways. Because this is a HARD IE3 mod, it means that everybody and their mother had to be buffed, including Ladji :') However instead of boosting his God Catch, they gave him... Maou The Hand? Okay? Not sure how to feel about Ladji abandoning god for the devil...

...Still neat.

Same thing with Fermín, I guess. Apparently they took Stinger from him (God Bless 🙏) and gave him something better.

"Tu Plot Armor no te va a salvar ahora, gilipollas."

...No comment on this specific screenshot, I just like to see Que and Juli cooperating together :D

Also presented without comment. Funfact, but this happened TWICE for the poor dude. Pain.

...Even if the playthrough itself was kinda boring, seeing this team was so good to me. Typically when seeing every single Euro B match vs the average IE player, it always ends with these teams getting steamrolled by 6 goals or something. For this ROM to take a different route and give them the justice they deserve, I love it!

Though there is few flaws, like that Jonas got excluded from the main team for some reason and some picked characters can be odd. But I'm very glad for this beautiful thing just to kick off 2024 🙏🥺 Shoutout to the creators of this ROM, @/Ytbrems and @/LacarpeM; please support them regardless of the language barrier :D

[marie-swriting]

I Like San Francisco - Kate Bishop

Marvel Masterlist

Romance Masterlist

Summary : You're in San Francisco with your best friend Kate and she made it her personal challenge to make you fall in love with the city.

Warnings : fluff, mutual pining, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2k

French version

Song inspiration : Used To This by Camila Cabello

You slowly open your eyes, the daylight preventing you from staying in the arms of Morpheus. Turning your head, you look at Kate tenderly. Her lips are parted, light snores are coming out of them. You think she’s cute. You’ll never tell her that.

You’ve been in love with her since your teenage years and you’ve always managed to ignore your feelings, you even dated other people. However, your feelings came back in an instant when your last relationship ended. You’ve been struggling for a month to not show it. You’ve been friends for too long, it’d be strange to confess your feelings now and you don’t know if you’d be able to get used to this new change in your relationship so you admire her in silence.

You completely turn yourself towards your best friend to have a better look of her face. Kate seems to have felt you because a few seconds later, her face is in front of yours, a strand of hair falling on her. Kate’s nose scrunches a bit, being tickled by the hairs. Still asleep, she tries to move her head, hoping to take away what’s bothering her in vain. You hold back a laugh before taking the strand of hair away. At the same time, you’re putting it back behind her ear, Kate slowly opens her eyes. Your hand finds its way back to your side, fearing you might have woken her up. You stay still until Kate completely opens her eyes and guilt takes over your body.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Your hair was bothering you so I wanted to help you.”

“Don’t worry. What time is it ?” she asks with a sleepy voice that could make you swoon.

“Nine am.”

“We should get up then.” Kate exclaims, leaving the bed.

“What ? Why ? We’re on vacation.” you sigh, putting your pillow on your head.

“We’re in San Francisco for only five days. You didn’t seriously think we’d stay in the hotel room doing nothing ?” she questions, taking your pillow.

“Huh, actually, I did. I’ve never liked San Francisco so-”

“You don’t like San Francisco ? You’re kidding me ?” Kate cuts you off, shocked.

“There’s nothing special here.” you affirm, shrugging.

“Why did you book this trip then ?”

“Because my ex absolutely wanted to come here and I wanted to please her. I mean, that was before she dumped me a month ago ‘cause ‘actually, she never loved me that much’.” you explain, irritated because of your ex, Sarah.

“It’s not a reason to not enjoy it ! You’re with your best friend in a new city and I know what we’re going to do, I did some research. You’ll see, by the end of our trip, you’ll be in love with San Francisco.”

“Is that a challenge ?”

“You could say that.” Kate smiles.

“Good luck.”

“Come on ! Get your cute little ass up from that bed and go shower.” she orders, hitting you with the pillow. “I’m gonna plan our itinerary for today.”

You laugh before giving her a salute and standing up. Kate points to the bathroom with her hand and not without groaning, you go get ready after taking your stuff.

Once you’re both ready, you take one of San Francisco’s famous cable cars to discover the city quickly before exploring different areas. During your ride, Kate is sitting next to the window and she’s looking at the landscape with amazement. At first, you don’t pay attention until she takes your hand and shows you the typical city’s houses. The sensation of her hand in yours gives you butterflies. It’s not the first time she’s doing this but now it’s different. Your feelings are stronger so this touch is both nice and weird. It means more than friendship. 

Kate reads some passages from a touristic book, hoping you’ll be interested in it and you listen to her, technically you’re more captivated by the sound of her voice rather than the information.

When you think you’ve stayed long enough in the cable car, you go to Pier 39. Kate drags you to the place where you can see Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge from afar before going where you can find sea lions. As soon as you see them, you have to admit this city is becoming more interesting. Kate tries to get closer to one of them and panics at the last minute when a sea lion moves and she runs to you. You laugh at her actions. You take a few pictures and continue to visit a bit more until it’s late.

The next days are quite similar. You’re discovering the city and Kate tries to find something that could make you like the city by any means. She finally manages the fourth day. That day, she brings you to the Beat Museum. You love this literary movement and the authors from it. Seeing the storefront of the museum, you turn to Kate who has a proud smile on her face.

“So, is there still nothing special in San Francisco ?” she questions rhetorically.

“You’re on the right path. I gotta admit, this museum is one of the only reasons why I had accepted to come here.”

“I knew it ! Come on, let’s go in there.” she says, locking her arm in yours. 

In the museum, you’re totally mesmerised. For once, you’re the one giving information to Kate who listens with joy. She asks you a lot of questions and you answer every one of them, even the most basic one. You even add some fun facts you’ve discovered over the years. Before leaving, you go to the gift shop and buy Lonesome Traveller. You know almost every Jack Kerouac’s works but you don’t own them all. You’ve mostly read them on your Kindle and coming to the museum is the perfect excuse to buy the physical copy of this particular book.

That night, you go eat at the restaurant not too far away from the hotel. On the way, you start reading the book out loud so Kate can discover the story. For your pleasure, she gets interested in it right away and she is sad when she realises you’ve arrived at the restaurant, wanting to know what happens next. You promise her to keep reading it to her later.

The ambiance in the place is relaxed thanks to the karaoke night. You laugh at the different groups of people singing while being extravagant. Whilst you’re eating, you sometimes sing with the people on the stage from your chairs. Your best friend has officially organised this day perfectly. 

Once you’ve finished eating, you don’t go home straight away, instead you prefer to keep watching people doing karaoke. An hour later, Kate turns her head to you with a big smile on her face. No need to think too hard to know what she has in mind.

“Kate, no.” you laugh.

“Come on ! We know no one, we don’t care if we sing badly. Besides, we’re here to have fun.” she tries to convince you with puppy dog eyes.

“You better choose a good song !”

“Yes !” she exclaims, victorious before standing up.

When she comes back, she tells you there are two groups of people before you. Kate refuses to give you the name of the song she’s chosen, wanting to keep the surprise. You have several ideas in mind of what she could’ve asked for. Normally, Kate spit it out quickly if you insist long enough and you do her forlorn puppy look, however when it’s a surprise which is happening in a few minutes or hours, she can resist. When you’re called, Kate takes your arm and brings you to the stage.

The first notes of Lay All Your Love On Me start and you stare at her laughing. Of course, she chose this song ! Mamma Mia ! is your favorite movie and you know all the songs like the back of your hand and you even created your own choreography when you were kids getting the inspiration from the ones in the movies.

Kate starts singing and you patiently wait, your mic in hand. Kate moves on the stage without looking where she’s walking. The moment she sings ‘I beg of you’, she focuses on you. Seeing her about to fall, you catch her on time meanwhile her voice is unstable on the last note she is supposed to hold. You start singing the chorus, keeping your hand on her arm to prevent another accident. You continue your part of the song, laughing at Kate’s antics. When she sings the chorus, Kate gets closer to you and puts her hand on your cheeks, singing dramatically. You try to hide your discomfort, seeing her near you, like every time you get to that part of the song. At that moment, you’d like to kiss her but you hold yourself back ; you spin her, hoping to create a small space between you two.

You keep having fun until the song ends. Like the other participants, you’re applauded while you’re going back to your table. You stay for a bit longer before going back to the hotel, tiredness getting stronger.

The last day, you visit more calmly, having already done the most famous spots, except the Golden Gate Bridge. You’ve saved San Francisco's famous bridge for last, wanting to admire it during the sunset.

Luckily, there aren't a lot of people with you. You find a bench to stare at it peacefully. Waiting for the sunset, you keep reading Lonesome Traveller to Kate, her head on your knees while you’re stroking her hair. When she gives you a sign it’s time, you put your book in your bag and Kate sits down correctly. You watch the sun going down in the sky silently, Kate’s hand has found its way back to yours in the meantime. Whilst you’re lost in your thoughts, your best friend’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“So have I successfully managed to change your mind ? Do you like the city ?”

“Good try but no. There are some interesting things but I’m still not convinced.” you admit with a smile.

“One day, I will make you change your mind !”

“Is that a threat ?”

“A promise.” Kate corrects, squeezing your hand lightly.

You stay silent again only this time, you’re not admiring the sky but Kate. Feeling your heart going faster, you try to calm yourself down. You keep staring at her before speaking again.

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

“You know I’m always happy to spend time with you.”

“And thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.”, you add, making her frown. “Don’t lie, you’ve been dreaming of saying it to me since Sarah dumped me. You were always saying she’d break my heart and I didn’t listen to you.”

“I didn’t tell you that because you were already suffering enough. You needed my support, not me bringing you down even more. One day, you’ll find someone who deserves you, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah.” you say, not convinced.

“Maybe you’ve even already found her.” Kate suggests with a soft voice.

Your confused look on Kate, you’re not sure you’ve understood what she’s implying. You’re scared you're reading in between the lines too much. Kate gets closer to you while giving you the time to move backwards if you want to. You don’t move and she takes this as a good sign. Delicately, she presses her lips on yours. At first, you don’t react, surprised. Kate breaks the kiss, her cheeks red from embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was weird.” she stutters, avoiding your gaze.

“No, I could get used to this.”

You take her hand, catching her attention. Her eyes go from your locked fingers to your face and finally to your lips. You break the space between you two and lean in to kiss her. Kate responds to the kiss instantly. You put your free hand on her neck and Kate puts her on your cheeks, deepening the kiss. You keep kissing each other, the sunset on the Golden Gate Bridge long forgotten. Once you’re out of air, you break the kiss and keep your face near to hers with a light smile.

“On second thought, I think I like San Francisco.”

Kate’s smile gets bigger at your sentence before she puts her lips back on yours, allowing both of you to get used to this new change in your relationship.

Marvel Masterlist

Romance Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[classicalshorts]

Paint it NERO!

No, nothing to do with the emperor who fiddled while Rome burnt. This is the final entry in the Cool Colours series on words that English derived from Latin and Greek colour words. So, tonight, you guessed it, we are going to PAINT IT BLACK! (yes, I am a Stones fan!).

Okay, we start with Latin. I am going to take a slightly different approach tonight and look at how the Latin for black (niger, nigra, nirgum) evolved into different modern European languages. These are all called the 'Romance' languages, but nothing to with love. It is because they derive from the language of the Romans. The most similar to the Latin original are the Poruguese, Spanish, and Romanian:

Spanish: negro, negra Portuguese: negro, negra Romanian: negru

The main change is that the 'i' in the Latin has changed to an 'e'. Note how Spanish and Portuguese have retained the masculine and feminine endings -o, and -a. The neuter (the '-um' in Latin) has disappeared.

Now, French and Italian represent interesting and slightly different example of linguistic evolution.

French: noir, noire Italian: nero, nera

Once again, we see the masculine and feminine endings remain, but slightly different. The 'g' of the Latin has disappeared. This is not unheard of ease of pronunciation or pleasure of sound may explain this; the harder sound is dropped over time to leave the more pleasant, gentler nero, for example. In French, nigro (Latin ablative) became noir, a word still visibly connected to it Latin roots, just altered.

However, there may be something a little more complicated, but very, very interesting. Now, Latin is not the only ancient Italian language. Some of its own words come from these, or have combined as language evolves. And there are even examples where these non-Latin Italian languages have bequeathed us fascinating derivatives in their own right.

One of these languages was Umbrian, spoken by the central Italian peoples and closely connected to Oscan (more about these in a later post). In Umbrian, the word for black or dark seems to have been niru, very similar to modern French and Italian. This leaves us with questions. Was the Umbrian word the principal parent word of the French and Latin for black? Or did it combine with Latin as it evolved? Latin and Umbrian were likely connected either by Umbrian bequesting to Latin or via a connection to a mutual parent.

Isn't language amazing? Such a rich legacy from a famous ancient language, and one that has almost been forgotten.

So, now to Greek. Are you feeling a little down or sad? If so, you may be said to be feeling melancholy, in other words (and rather less poetically), you have a touch of black bile. The word comes from Greek as follows:

μελας, μελαινα, μελαν - black, dark

χολή - bile

So how do we get from black bile to a feeling of sadness? This goes back to ancient Greek medical theory. The theory of the four humours, an early holistic approach to understanding the funcitoning of the body and disease, often attributed to medical writer and thinker Hippocrates (yep, author of the oath which doctors still pledge allegiance to). The 'humours' corresponded to the four fluids of the body, of which black bile was one, accounting for certain diseases, but also feeling low. What a rich cultural history finding its origins in the early days of science?

And so, this article brings my series on Cool Colours, modern words from ancient Latin and Greek (primarily) for colour. I hope you have enjoyed it.

If you would like more content like this (language related) or would like more stuff generally about the ancient world and how it relates to our own, please DM me.

See you in my next series, whatever that may be!

[pastriibunz]

KAI DREW FUN FACTS!

I wanna infodump Kai lore so enjoy my headcannons (that are actually cannon)!

Kai is canonically autistic (undiagnosed) and ADD (diagnosed)!

Kai is canonically panromantic and asexual!

Kai is an atheist despite being a god herself

Kai is a natural brunette, and she’s been getting gray hairs since she was 14!

Kai has a slight accent/twang (you’ll hear it in TKWDLM:V)! I’m not too sure how to describe it, but to me it most sounds like a mix of a 1920’s Brooklyn/Boston accent!

Kai’s special interest is mechanics! Before that, she was really into birds.

Whenever Kai kisses someone, she leaves lipstick stains, despite never wearing lipstick.

Kai’s favorite food is grilled cheese sandwiches!

Kai smells like strawberry lemonade!

Kai has TERRIBLE eyesight! She wears contacts in cannon (and in most AUs, the exception being NTK).

Kai is 4’11 due to the fact she didn’t sleep much when she was younger. If she had gotten the proper amount of sleep, she would’ve been 5’5!

Kai has a wattpad account, a character.ai account, and let’s be honest, she probably has tumblr too.

Kai had an emo phase when she was 12!

Kai sucks at typing (see ATUTH screenshots and Kai Drewniverse Twitter).

Kai has an undercut!

Kai’s head can pop off at will!

Her hair is so soft that its a viewed as a form of therapy!

Kai chews on things/people she likes!

Kai will steal clothes from her friends and family and claim they are hers, even if it is obvious they aren’t.

Kai’s hair is very expressive! It will spike up when she’s afraid and deflate when sad. Plus, her little ahoge will form different shapes depending on her mood.

Kai has separation anxiety!

Kai’s favorite love languages to receive are physical touch and words of affirmation!

Kai’s favorite love languages to give are acts of service and gifts!

Despite loving to work on cars, Kai is deathly afraid of driving them! She instead uses a motorcycle as her mode of transportation.

The reason Kai’s hair is the vibrant teal color it is today is because when she was younger, she wanted to dye her hair all pink. She bought the dye, but there was a labeling mishap at the manufacturer, and the dye was actually teal. She wasn’t too mad about it, and in her words, “I look like me more than I ever have before.”

Kai’s sneakers actually have metal under the sole so she can use them as tap shoes!

Kai’s hair is filled to the brim with a bunch of stuff! It’s like a mystery box.

Kai’s favorite show is Psych, and her favorite musical is Ride The Cyclone! (just like me fr)

Out of her friend group, Kai is closest with Mitsuba!

Kai’s really good at sleight of hand magic tricks!

Kai listens to Will Wood and Lemon Demon! Granted, she doesn’t have a favorite artist and will only listen to their music sporadically, as in her words, “I just listen to anything that makes my brain itch!”

Kai will keep anything you give her, no matter how good it is. She has an entire room dedicated to things she’s been given! She calls it “The Trinket Room”.

Kai says words like “documentary” and “supposedly” incorrectly. She refuses to admit she’s wrong, and insists she’s saying them correctly.

On the flip side, however, Kai uses words like raggabrash and zounderkite

Kai knows how to speak French! She learned it for no reason other than “I was bored.” (this one was made so I could help motivate myself to learn French!) (it did not work)

Let me know if you want more Kai headcannons! This lil goober has invaded my brain for 5 years straight, I got a lot more where that came from!

[fuh-saw-t]

I saw your post about neopronouns, so please explain: thou

(Btw, no need for this to be concise or anything. You just seem to really enjoy this subject so I wanted to give you an easy way to ramble. I love seeing people talk about the things they love!)

Where art thou, 'thou'?

All (bad) jokes aside, the linguistic timeline of 'thou'—or, more accurately, thou/thee/thy in the modern form of identifying pronouns—is one of my favorites I've ever looked into. I find it so fascinating. Thanks for the ask!

To best understand this, I think it'll be fun to make a timeline. So, here we go:

Old English

We're just getting started.

When modern speakers hear 'thou', we mainly associate it with religious texts or Shakespeare, which is understandable—the usage of 'thou' dates far back.

'Thou' was a singular pronoun, derived from Proto-Germanic, appearing as 'þu' (thu) in Old English (which, for the record, was over a thousand years ago—long before Shakespeare—and used between the years 450-1150). The fact that it was a singular pronoun is the important bit. Today, we see 'you' as being numerically ambiguous; we could be referring to a singular person, or many people, but in older forms of English the pronoun to refer to a singular person was for 'thou', leaving 'you' as a plural.

Middle English

Here come the French.

Then, as French continued to influence English, turning it to the much more readable Middle English (the language of Chaucer, for context), 'thou' was gradually pushed to the sidelines as the plural 'ye' and 'you' expanded to be used as a singular, too.

French's influence made the English 'you' the equivalent of the French 'vous': it is now formal—what you would use to address someone of high or equal social standing. In turn, 'thou' declined (in a process attributed to semantic derogation) to an informal pronoun used to address someone you were intimate with or, most notably, someone beneath you in the social rankings.

Early Modern English

Here's where things start to get bumpy.

In the mid-1600s, in comes George Fox who, in my words, would be described as a filthy prescriptivist. He was the founder of the Quakers, and a large part of early Quaker rhetoric was to avoid class distinction—something I could certainly get behind. Quaker speech, therefore, consciously avoided 'you', opting to use the more neutral thee/thou for everyone regardless of social standing. This extended to them sometimes getting into trouble for refusing to call judges 'your honour', and so forth. Thee/thou became associated with Quaker speech, and not many people liked the Quakers. However, this isn't the biggest impact on the usage—far from it, in fact.

The biggest reason, I believe, that 'thou' lost its popularity is because of developments in society—most notably travel and the industrial revolution, as well as the growing merchant class in the 17th century, which was when this pronoun really hit a decline. People stopped using 'thou' as often because it became harder to judge the class of whom you were speaking with. Social mobility disrupted the otherwise clear and stagnant order of British society. It would be a terrible insult to call someone above you 'thou' on accident, and so you would default to 'you'.

In fact, in Early and Late Modern English, 'thou' became an insult. Perhaps in one of the more surprising turns from something that was once a simple pronoun, to 'thou' someone (morphed into a verb) would insult them. As more people used the pronoun as a method of insulting others, it was favoured even less.

Rolling back to George Fox, a famous line of his goes as follows: "We were often beset and abused, and sometimes in danger of our lives for using these words to some proud men, who would say, 'What! You ill-bred clown, do you thou me?'"

-

From a simple, singular second-person pronoun, to a token of informality, to an insult, 'thou' has definitely had a ride. And, with its current association with religion, poetry, and the old classics, I earnestly hope it doesn't stop rolling.