#i only really speak english and half french so this was the first time i actually got to watch any aldo and understand more than every like

[svtskneecaps]

i should be sleeping but i do want to reiterate how much i love that our collective fan community and also the streamers are constantly like, so new members when? new language when? a teaser drops and we're all like germans???? german time????? asiatic language time??????? new faces??? new friends?? new communities????

i've said this before but it just constantly makes me feel all warm n fuzzy to see it. i'm really happy we're all so excited and united in this.

[secretwritingspot]

Conjugate The Ways

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: R/18+ content but again no actually doing the do - I do actually write smut I swear but these first two are tame comparatively - sexual content, excessive dirty talking (and excessive bad French), maybe sexual harassment if you squint but it's not really creepy tho because she doesn't notice? It's hard to explain but basically just Sanji saying all the raunchy shit he thinks to reader in French so she doesn't understand so. Yeah whatever that counts as. Implied AFAB femme presenting reader but not too much, just a few lines here and there.

Summary: Sanji runs out of new ways to call reader pretty, so he comes up with a...new strategy. Approx. 1.3k words.

Disclaimer(s): I absolutely do not speak French (unless you count the one and a half years I took back in highschool, which I DEFINITELY don't 💀) and, ironically to the title, the conjugation is probably terribly off here, since it's a mix of Google translate and language AI chatbots. But I thought the concept was silly and hot and I would rather die than hand this off to someone who actually speaks French to proofread because shit gets NASTY. Also there's one line at the end implying reader is American but feel free to ignore that if you're not lmfao.

The day Sanji found out you were easily flustered was the best day of his life.

There was no one else on the crew to really appreciate his efforts, not in any interesting ways, at least. Nami’s exasperation and Zoro’s disdain were amusing in their way, but neither was the reaction he was looking for.

You, however- well, you were just a masterpiece. As soon as you'd joined the crew of the Going Merry, you were a bright little ray of sunshine lighting up the constant angst aboard the ship. You were truly pleasant to flirt with, too. You'd stumble over your words and mumble sheepish thanks at his compliments and go pink at his pet names. Not even a week into joining, the name “mon cœur” had stuck, because of how much the term of endearment made you blush.

He asked why that in particular got to you, and you confessed that something about it being in French made it seem more intimate coming from him, which he supposed made sense. He also made it a point to speak French to you more often, even if you had no idea what he was saying.

After a few weeks, though, he ran into the same problem he often ran into in English- there are only so many ways to say the same things twice.

Eventually, he'd run out of synonyms for beautiful, his compliments would grow stale and repetitive. Not that you minded, of course, angel that you were. But the hobby lost a bit of it's appeal. That was, until he figured out the loophole:

No one else aboard the Going Merry spoke French.

Unlike in English, if he ran out of new compliments and sweet flattery, he could just say exactly what he was thinking with the same soft, gentle lilt to his voice that he used when delivering one of his many declarations of love and you'd never know the difference.

He'd tested his theory a few times when you helped him prep in the kitchen and it worked like a charm, you receiving his declarations that “j'adorerais voir tes jambes écartées”, and “j'aimerais te faire mendier pour moi”, as if they were glowing performance reviews- which you probably thought they were, given that the only commonly understood part of either statement was “j’taime”.

It became easy to fall into the habit after that.

“Je veux t'ouvrir sur mon queue, mon cœur.”

“Hmm?”

You looked up at him like you always did, with those big doe eyes full of curiosity and fondness, and he almost felt bad.

Almost.

Instead, he brings a hand down to ruffle your hair gently with a lovesick smile on his face.

“Oh, nothing to worry your pretty head about. Just how gorgeous you are. Je t'emmènerais sous tes draps, comme une pute, et te ferais jouir encore et encore, ruiner ta petite chatte.”

Like always, a pretty pink flush bloomed high on your cheeks, the color somehow making you look more naive. He wondered how dark your blush would be if you knew what he was really saying.

“Y'know, if you ever want me to actually be able to respond to you, you're gonna have to teach me French.”

You tease lightly, and now it's his turn to blush, though for a much more incriminating reason.

“Sure, mon cœur. Someday."

You hum softly in response and he studies you in the moment’s silence, peaceful and calm and comfortable in a way silence could only be between two people as close as you. Pretty eyes with long lashes, soft skin, full lips. What a sight you were.

“Y'know, sometimes I can guess. Not much, but a few words here and there.”

His heart stops beating.

“…oh, can you?”

You look away shyly, an endearingly sheepish look of pride crossing your face.

“Well, y'know- words that sound similar in English. Universel and pour and en."

Sigh of relief, breath out. Respond before you look too suspicious.

“Well, it'll get a lot more complicated than that if you ever really want to learn.”

You pout at that, posture slumping a bit in disappointment as you switch on your intentional puppy dog eyes.

"C'mon, please Sanji? At least teach me a few words?" You bargain, batting your lashes up at him. "I promise not to completely butcher them."

He just rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath to himself.

"Mon cœur, je pourrais dire n'importe quoi que je veulent, et tu n'en devinerais rien."

He brushes a hand through his hair for a moment absently, sighing to himself. Damn your persuasiveness.

"...fine, love."

Your face lights up. Maybe this isn't the worst idea in the world.

"To start, I'm sure you want to know what your name means, hm?"

"I mean-" You huff slightly at his words, folding your arms across your chest in an endearingly flustered sort of defiance. "I already know what that means!"

He raises a brow teasingly and paces slowly to the wall, leaning up against it with crossed arms and a smirk. The sudden attitude amuses him.

"Oh, do you? Enlighten me then, mon cœur: what have I been calling you this whole time?"

Proving his point, you go silent for a moment, flushing sheepishly.

"I...get the gist of it is what I'm saying!"

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth in mock-surprise, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

"Ah. You "get the gist", do you?"

You huff, annoyed at his teasing, and look away.

"Fine. I don't know what the stupid nickname means, Sanji. Happy? I swear, you're such a-"

"Ah ah ah- no. No, mon cœur, this...is a learning opportunity," he cuts you off, voice growing soft as he walks back to you, gently grabbing your arms to uncross them. He coaxes you back to a more relaxed state, rubbing your shoulders soothingly.

"No need to get upset, hey? I'm only teasing."

You roll your eyes but accept his apologetic soothing nonetheless. Yes, he's an ass sometimes, but he's yours.

"Besides, love-"

He leans in teasingly close and all of a sudden you find yourself boxed in against the wall, framed by a hand planted next to your head that he uses to lean in, tilting your chin to the side gently to whisper in your ear.

"French is the language of love, not something you "get the gist" of."

He leans back with a satisfied smirk and you must be blushing to your ears at this point, trying and failing to laugh it off with a nervous shake of your head.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Got it. You can't "get the gist" of French."

"Glad we're in agreement, then," he grins, striding casually back to his seat as if nothing had just happened. He stops mid way for a moment, tossing over his shoulder-

"It means 'my heart'. Meaning-wise it's closer to 'sweetheart' or 'love', but literally translated...'my heart'."

He sits back down lazily and you swallow, trying to remember your words as your brain starts up again.

"Oh. Right, that- that makes sense."

You clear your throat awkwardly and pull out your compact mirror as discreetly as possible to check if you look as flushed as you are. It's not too bad, thankfully, but you have the feeling he knows anyway.

"To use it in a sentence: je vais te putain jusqu'à ce que tu supplies et que tu appelles mon nom en ce joli accent américain, mon cœur."

You can't help but smile at the soft, lilting voice he says the words in, the little nickname feeling even more special now that you understand it.

"What does the rest of the sentence mean?"

He just chuckles and shakes his head, though you're not quite sure what's so funny.

"I'll teach you later, sweetheart."

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Mockingbird

Synopsis: Charles Leclerc as always been a family man, so it makes perfect sense to everyone when he chooses to adopt a child. Specifically, you.

adopted monegasque daughter reader x charles leclerc

A/N: for this one; charles will adopt y/n when he’s 28, for the most part, the grid will be the same as the 2023, everyone’s just older, and because charles’ relationships are unpredictable, he chooses to adopt and raise y/n mostly on his own.

. okay so

. again, charles has always wanted a family

. small, big, when he’s young, when he’s old

. doesn’t care, just wants a family

. specifically, a child

. but after many not-so serious and semi-serious relationships

. he realizes that he’ll have to wait a few years until he can have one of his own

. unless

. “what if I just adopt a child?”

. “I won’t have to wait any longer, I can just have one and raise them on my own terms”

. charles decides he likes this idea very much

. so he thinks it over and talks about it with his own family

. then after many conversations with his mother

. he visits a few adoption centers

. talks to a lot of social workers and child protective service workers

. finds one wide-eyed, adorable, 3 year old girl

. and falls absolutely in love

. the directors of the adoption center tell him all about you

. your birth parents, your story, your situation

. his heart was set

. the adoption process takes a few months

. so charles take that time to get ready for you

. but nothing could prepare him for the day the adoption agency called and told him you were his

. he swears it was the best day of his life

. he was beaming the entire drive to the adoption center with pascale

. had tears in his eyes when he finally got to hold you in his arms

. so then

. charles leclerc is a father

. the first two years of living with charles was definitely an experience

. you don’t remember much but he tells you how chaotic ages 3-5 were

. about how he basically lived with his mother in his childhood home for those years so she could help him take care of her granddaughter

. how much he loved getting to know you

. finding your favorite foods, toys, shows, ect

. how he loved teaching you his languages

. (he raises you in french, italian, and english, particularly in that order)

. how he cried when he dropped you off for day care and kindergarten the first time

. how he loved helping you know him

. like playing songs on his piano for you

. teaching you how to play different sports

. or watching old formula 1 races together

. speaking of formula 1

. you were raised racing

. charles bought you your first kart when you were six

. brought you to your first f1 race when you were five

. actually, charles had a love-hate relationship with bringing you to races with him during the early years of having you

. because on one hand

. there’s thousands of cameras around during a race weekend, and charles doesn’t want you televised 24/7

. and there’s also hundreds of people around him while he’s in the paddock, and he wants none of them near you

. it’s also hard to give you his full attention during race weekends

. which is something he always wants to do

. so he’s against the idea at first

. but on the other hand

. he can’t bear being apart from you for a few hours, nonetheless a few days or sometimes weeks

. and he knows you don’t really understand what’s going on, only that your dad puts on a red suit and drives a very fast car for a hour and half

. but he loves coming back to the garage to see you sitting with andrea, clad in ferrari merch and big headphones with a happy grin on your face

. it cheers him up no matter what happened on track

. and he knows he has lots of people willing to look out for you while he’s busy

. because you instantly became beloved by the grid the moment charles walked in with you in his arms

. who’s carlos sainz and pierre gasly?

. you only know uncle carlo and uncle pear

. uncle lew, uncle max, the list goes on

. although charles never lets you out of the ferrari garage

. his closest friends come in and visit you often

. sometimes because your dad asked, sometimes just because they want to

. also, speaking of max

. you met penelope during the winter break when you were five

. and even though she’s three years older than you

. she instantly became like your older sister

. and suddenly charles and max hang out a lot more often for the sake of their daughters

. anyway, the early years of living with charles were still chaotic, but he says that those years contain some of his favorite memories

. he loved watching you grow up

. sending you to primary school

. watching you kart on the same track he drove on when he was your age

. spending many afternoons at his mother’s house with his brothers

. (arthur and lorenzo are the best uncles by the way)

. watching you discover your own passions, whether that be racing or not

. traveling around the world with you, both to race and to explore

. watching you become independent, speaking up for yourself and what you believe in

. it all goes by very fast for charles

. and suddenly you’re a teenager

. by now charles is close to/about to retire

. so you don’t spend that much time in the paddock as a teenager

. but the times that you do are very fun

. instead of staying in charles’s team garage, you explore the paddock with penelope, who’s still an older sister to you

. you befriend all the newer drivers

. and hang out with whichever drivers are left from the grid when you first got adopted

. however, the drivers that charles has been friends with and have retired by now

. lewis, daniel, carlos, pierre, max, george, alex, lando

. you’ve formed your own big family with them and their kids

. because almost all of you live in monaco, you see each other often

. you guys go on vacations together when you don’t have school

. holidays on private beaches and expensive yachts

. or at booked-out ski resorts and mountain lodges

. you and penelope are the oldest, and are mostly in charge of looking after the youngest kids

. but you don’t mind, you love them

. it’s your own little f1 community

. but this is barely the beginning of having charles as a father

. he loves embarrassing you, for one

. at first glance, it might seem cool to have your dad come pick you up from school in a ferrari

. until he gets out in strangely pattered pants and a shirt that will never match

. “papa, do you not have anything else in your closet?”

. “what do you mean? you don’t like?”

. he says it keeps you humble

. you say he should just stay in the car next time

. charles does make sure you’re humble and grateful for everything you have

. but he doesn’t help by spoiling you to death

. you like something from the new gucci collection? it’s yours

. new dior bracelet you said is pretty? your birthday gift

. you think aruba looks nice? where do you think you two spend your next summer vacation

. “papa, when I said I wanted a break from school, I didn’t mean in italy”

. “but mon petit soleil, you are relaxed now, non? you’ll be back by monday, don’t worry”

. whether it be italy or not, wherever you go, charles tries to keep you as safe as possible

. he’s always been cautious of fans and paparazzi around you, no matter how old you are

. making sure you’re holding on to him when a crowd comes out from no where and gets too close for comfort

. keeping you by his side when there’s paparazzi around

. and doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe and happy at home/school/in the paddock

. anyway

. I could go on and on about being charles’ daughter

. but the point is that he loves you

. you’re y/n jules leclerc

. his petit soleil

. he couldn’t imagine his life without you

[i-am-church-the-cat]

I have a flower shop/tattoo parlor maxiel + loscar AU building from a tropical storm into a hurricane in my head so here are some thoughts

+ When Max hires him, this is what he says to Logan’s arrangement: “It is not the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I can make it better.” What he really meant was that Max could make Logan better, but he wouldn’t come to understand that until later.

+ There’s a phone that sits on the back wall of Max’s shop. The first time it rang while Logan was working, he’d mistakenly answered it. He’d watched Max’s face go bleach white from across the shop as Logan answered “Hello, this is Verstappen’s Floral, how can I help you?” The barrage of angry Dutch he’d gotten back in return had shocked Logan into silence, making it easier for Max to steal the receiver from his hand. Now, Logan knows to just let it ring.

+ Oscar is pretty sure Daniel only gave him an interview because their moms are in a book club together. The owner of Honey Badger Tattoos was always friendly and outgoing but he was notoriously possessive about his art. In the ten years the shop has been open, it’s had four employees. Daniel Ricciardo, the founder, Daniel Kvyat, Daniel’s partner who he bought out after the first year, Lando Norris who worked part-time at the front desk, and now Oscar.

“I’ve never had an apprentice before, I probably wouldn’t be very good at it,” Daniel says during his interview. He’d said he liked Oscar’s work and already showed an interest in teaching Oscar more of his signature American style. But the guy was still hesitant, fidgeting with excess nerves. “Just ask Lando.

Lando nods from his seat at the front desk which Oscar can see from the open door of Daniel’s office. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time, I wouldn’t trust him to teach other people.”

Daniel does not look like that’s the support he was going for, wincing at the dry criticism but not arguing.

“That’s fine,” Oscar confirms with a shrug. He’s already done the majority of his apprenticeship under Mark Webber. But when the man decided he’d had enough of the South of France and was selling the shop and moving back to Australia, Oscar had to look for somewhere else to work. “I only have six months left before I can get my certification.”

Daniel doesn’t look very reassured. Oscar can take a hint so he decides to get out before he’s kicked out.

“Hey, it’s cool, mate, thanks for meeting with me anyway-”

“Can you start next week?” Daniel asks, leg bouncing up and down and rocking the desk he’s sitting behind. He sees Oscar’s confused expression and sighs. “I really need more help here.”

“Yeah,” Oscar decides, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll text you my schedule.”

And that’s how he starts working for the Honey Badger.

+ “This is a tulip,” Max is saying in French, word draw out and pointing at the multi-colored bulbs. Logan has tried telling him that he’s lived in Europe for the majority of his life at this point and can do his job in English, French, and Spanish but Max doesn’t believe him. At least Logan’s starting to pick up more Dutch.

Logan is rescued from his impromptu language lesson by the bell on the door ringing. He turns towards the sound, customer service smile already in place.

“Hi, welcome to Verstappen Floral, how can I-”

“Oh, it is you again.”

Logan stops and looks at Max who is frowning at the guy who just came in. The man is curly-haired and tanned, with tattoos scrawled over the majority of visible skin. His grin is big and toothy when he shoots it at Max.

“Hey, Maxy, aren’t you happy to see me?”

Logan blinks in shock at the nickname. Even their regular customers don’t get to act that familiar with Max. Logan doesn’t get to act that familiar with Max.

Max crosses his arms, lips pursing. “For the last time, I do not know what these flowers mean. I speak four languages and plant is not one of them.”

“Always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, Max?” The man asks, unphased by Max’s grouchy demeanor. He leans forward onto the glass counter, certainly leaving smudges behind, but Max surprisingly doesn’t yell at him about it. “Lando sent me to pick up his order.”

Lando is someone Logan knows. He comes in about every other week and talks to Max about streaming and video games that partly goes over Logan’s head. He always leaves with a red and white bouquet, though the flowers change each time.

“Why could he not come get them himself?” Max grumbles, heading in the direction of the cooler where they kept to-go orders. Daniel shrugs and wraps his knuckles against the glass.

"He was late for a meeting or something, you know I don’t ask about his other job,” Daniel supplies. He changes his focus to Logan and the blond is met with the full force of the man’s mega-watt smile. Logan blames his mom’s genes for how easily he blushes. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Logan opens his mouth to answer but Max is suddenly im between them, Lando’s bouquet in his hands.

“Yes, this is Logan, no, he does not want any of your garish tattoos.”

Daniel pouts at Logan’s boss. He wonders how it doesn’t look strange for a guy who’s at least 30 to be pouting.

“Don’t be mean, Maxy. I wasn’t even going to mention the tattoos.”

Logan racks his brain for tattoo shops nearby. They obviously have a close relationship outside of just Lando. And Lando did say he worked for an artist…

“Oh hey, are you the Honey Badger?” Logan asks, moving his head to be seen around Max’s wider frame. Daniel jerks his eyes away from Max’s, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I pass by there all the time. Not a lot of shops do American style out here.”

Daniel’s face lights up, looking between Logan and Max. “Max, you hired an American?”

Max sighs, more long-suffering than Logan thinks is necessary. “This is why I did not want you to speak with him. I knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird!” Daniel argues. “I’m just surprised!”

Max and Daniel have another weird silent staring contest. Logan clears his throat reluctantly and they both snap to him.

“Um, where’d you learn to do that style?”

Daniel looks ready to excitedly burst into the story of his tattooing style and his interest in America, but Max cuts him off by pushing the bouquet into his chest.

“We do not have time for that, these are going to wilt. Take these to Lando.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Daniel murmurs, picking up the bouquet gently. He doesn’t sound annoyed by Max’s demands. Rather amused, actually. He shoots Logan another grin over Max’s shoulder. “I don’t envy you, mate. But hey if you want to talk tattoos, come by the shop sometime.”

“Definitely!” Logan agrees before Max can say anything else on his behalf. Daniel shoots him a one-handed finger gun before turning back to Max. His smile becomes a lot less joking and more sincere.

“See you later, Maximus”

Max loses some of his prickliness, voice soft when he says, “Goodbye, Daniel.”

+ There’s a man talking to Lando at the front desk when Oscar comes in that day. It’s neither of the two Oscar is used to seeing who come talk to Lando pretty regularly. Oscar’s pretty sure one of them’s his boyfriend and the other is his business partner but he can never tell which is which.

“Did you leave Logan alone at the shop?” Lando is asking while Oscar sets his station up.

“Well, I had to do it at some point,” the guy says, his accent reminiscent of German or Dutch. “What is the point of hiring another employee if I cannot leave for a few minutes?"

“Daniel never leaves me alone here,” Lando points out, a tad resentful. Oscar snorts.

“That’s because he has control issues,” Oscar claims. Both of the men look at him, one in amusement and one in confusion.

“Who are you?” The mystery guy asks. Weird, Oscar was going to ask him the same thing. He looks to Lando who makes the introductions.

"Max, this is Oscar, Daniel's new apprentice. Oscar, this is Max, one of our neighbors."

Oscar frowns. "I thought Max was your..." he trails off, leaving space for Lando to fill in the blank. He waves his hand.

"Different Max. This is Max Verstappen, he run's Verstappen Floral."

The new Max is still looking at him strangely. "Daniel does not take apprentices. He says he is a bad teacher."

Oscar shrugs, not sure what to tell him. He doesn't know how he got the job either. Luckily, he's saved from having to respond by Daniel coming out of the back office.

"Oscar, good, you're here, I wanted to talk about-" Daniel stops abruptly when he sees Max standing in the lobby. His entire demeanor shifts when he says, "Max, hey! What are you doing here?"

Daniel is normally a friendly guy, sometimes too much in Oscar's opinion, but he's practically glowing as he bounds over to Max. While Max's expression doesn't shift, his body language opens up to Daniel like one of his blooming flowers.

"I am talking to Lando about our stream tonight," Max answers. "He has not been very forthcoming with the details."

Lando tries to protest but even Oscar can see that it's a lost cause. This new guy showed up and suddenly it's like nothing else exists to Daniel. His boss giggles at nothing and that's when Oscar decides to get back to work.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

AAA I really love your alastor movie night story! Any chance you can make a part 3 ? 🥺

Absolutely! so sorry i got to you late but i wasn’t ignoring just preparing! i hope you enjoy this one too, although it’s not movie centred this time, rather a continuation of the last!

Part [1] [2] (although technically it could be read as a stand alone)

Summary: Alastor wasn’t proud of his admission during the movie night, instead he decided to treat you to a surprise date, one where he can get a better feeling on what his emotions are.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol drinking, Alastor who’s not pleased with romantic emotions, possibly ooc?, alastor mentions knowing french, homie manipulates the surroundings with his magic, no bodytype/hairtype/skin colour mentions, i think that’s it! lmk!

word count: 2.4k

Alastor wasn’t too familiar with the current feeling he was experiencing, but he knew it was related to romance. The way his heart thumped, and his mind always seemed to fall back to thought of you that night. You seemed to be highly interested in him, not only as a powerful overlord, but as his less interesting mortal self, and that made not only his ego kick start but his heart. After the stunt he pulled, telling you he loved you, and kissing you softly, he knew he was in trouble.

He thanked all the unholy that the next day you didn’t seem to spread the news like wildfire around the hotel, however he did speak to Rosie about such affairs, as she would be the one to know best. The trip was like any others he took to Rosie’s but this time he got plentiful advice concerning love, romance, dates and the other unsavoury aspects he mentioned he’d rather hear little of.

That brought him to tonight, in his room was a make up of land that was much like the foliage he had back in his home in New Orleans. Since you seemed very interested in his home life, he decided to set up a date around it, show you a little of what his home was like. It made him feel sickeningly domestic, preparing to show you something near and dear to his heart, like opening up his memories and displaying them just for you. He set up nice wood table for the two of you to eat at, with some of his favourite dishes set out, even the deserts he wasn’t a fan of he laid out just in case you wanted to try some.

Around his room sprung up some weeping willow trees, the wooden floor turned to dirt as well as grass, and the forest that was once there became a bayou, what you were so curious about during the movie. He decided to share some of his other past, voodoo artifacts he replicated from his past life, some old songs he was a big fan of, as well as one of his old dictionaries that had both French and English. Alastor made some other arrangements, his shadows were forced to play jazz, he magicked some fireflies to light up the false sky above, he essentially created an illusion of the woods near his home, aside from the bayou.

Closing the door to his bedroom he materialised his microphone tossing it up once before taking a confident stride. It was time to put on the southern charm he knew he could effortlessly woo you with. As he sauntered down the hall he began to get more nervous, after all that night was all about the movie, what if it wasn’t true what you had said?

He didn’t have time to dwell, lifting his hand he knocked rhythmically on your door, waiting patiently as you shuffled around. Opening the door, you were shocked to trail your eyes across the radio demon, you half expected to see Angel, as he’s been pestering you ever since he picked up on you eyeing Alastor more often. Fixing your posture you smiled at him, feeling a little self conscious that he caught you at a time you looked, well, not great. You were in leisure clothes, relaxed and had been laying in bed all day.

“How’re you Alastor, can I help ya?” You ask, quirking your head to the side. Alastor barged into your room pushing past you, perhaps when you first met him you’d be unsettled but you’ve come to love Alastor’s presence and the way he carried himself; even the tad bit annoying aspects like barging in uninvited. “Oh my dear I am just fantastical! And I was oh so hoping you’d join me for dinner tonight?” Your eyebrows raised as you shut the bedroom door, Alastor had been in your room before but he noted little upgrades like a record player, some photos of you and the group plastered against a mirror.

You looked down at your attire, and looked to the clock. “Uhm, like how soon is dinner? I look a mess Al.” You sighed softly not wanting to reject him but also immediately feeling pressure to be and look your best. Alastor flicked his wrist, tossing his head back in disbelief. “Please my dear don’t think of me so lowly.” Before you can respond to his random comment he snapped his fingers and suddenly you body felt hugged by new fabrics. Gazing down at yourself you were greeted by formal garments that were clearly from the late nineteen twenties.

Smiling softly at the gesture you looked up at Al who was already looking at you through lidded eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. “You look wonderful darling, truly.” Although still boisterous sounding, it was a lot more tame and meaningful than his prior theatrics. Alastor couldn’t deny the way he felt looking at you doused in clothes from his time, it made him feel something firey within him. Slowly he offered his hand to you, a charming smile upon his face. “Shall we dear?”

Now you both stood at Alastor’s bedroom door, he was tense and nervous about how you’d react. Regardless of how he presented himself with his suit and his pious demeanour, he was still that louisiana man who had a big heart for his home and the culture surrounding it and didn’t want judgement surrounding some of his favourite aspects about home like the cricket noises, swamp, and of course the food. It was a new and interesting worry since being in hell as he didn’t really worry about his past life since, but the night you two shared opened his eyes.

Finally pulling himself together Alastor pushed opened the bedroom door, stepping aside with a ‘ladies first’. It was gorgeous, the moment you walked it you were hypnotized. Obviously, Alastor grew up in the more outback of New Orleans since his entire aesthetic was mossy forests and obviously the deer hunting, however this was a beauty beyond compare. There was a mock up night sky above, firefly’s lit the way to a small table displayed with foods. There was tall and short grass all around, as well as willow trees that sagged low dusting the ground with their leaves. On the furthest side of the room, on the other side of the table, there was a bayou you could see as you walked in. On the mossy murky water there were lilipads with frogs croaking out, that paired with the crickets gave a soothing camp like ambiance.

Grinning widely, Alastor smiled, pulling your chair out for you to sit. Once seated he sat across from you, you were glad it wasn’t one of those long tables but something closer and personal, where you could still reach over and touch him. “I thought since you seemed to enjoy that movie so much, y’know, I can’t show you my home but i can show you parts of it.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, you had no idea how he did it, and you took another sweep around the room soaking up all that you could see. “Alastor, this is amazing! I can’t express my gratitude and also excitement that you were willing to do all this.” You admit getting shyer as the sentence went on; the weight of the act dawning on you. Alastor hummed, eyes closed as well as his smile, and to you it seemed like his typical indifference he was keen on displaying, however the truth was Alastor had no clue how to properly respond to it. You had inadvertently pointed out the fact he went out of his way for you, with his magic on top of that, and that wasn’t something he was proud of.

Snapping his fingers, the shadows he’d forced into musicians began their strumming, and singing. You jumped a bit at the sound, although you did recognize the song being played, which surprised you. “So Al, can I ask what possessed you to pull this together?” Alastor, who was in the middle of serving the two of you some red wine, paused briefly, if you looked close enough at his smile and his eyes you’d be able to see the hesitancy behind them.

Closing the bottle he placed it back on the table, and took a sip, stalling his response. “My dear, we had quite the night together didn’t we? That movie opened up some interesting doors.” The non answer-answer Alastor gave you made you a tad bit nervous. Saying nothing you sipped your wine, and took in his appearance. Despite the date being a formal situation, he was dressed more relaxed, not by much this was Alastor. However he did have his suit jacket set aside, he wore a washed out looking red button up, with his red vest and he still had his tie on. It was quite the rare sight, you’ve barely seen him look normal, he’s always playing that character that’s immune to everything others aren’t; no matter if it were demons or humans.

Deciding that it was better to enjoy your time with him then pester about his intentions; you knew who Alastor was and the horrific things he could do, and you still chose to ignore it. It’s more fun that way. Digging into your food the two of you made small talk, mainly Alastor as he explained certain dishes and tid bits on his mothers version of the cooking, as well as certain voodoo topics and misconceptions. The longer the wine set in, the more you flirted, and although Alastor wasn’t as affected by the wine as you were, he still returned the gestures with a soft smile.

“I didn’t know you spoke french, what?” You leaned on the table resting the side of your head on your palm, the food that was once on the table gone. “Yes my dear! New Orleans is bilingual.” The deer laughed cheerily at the awe and wonder in your eyes, as if it was such a spectacular thing. “That’s pretty hot, y'know laddies n lads love the french language.” Taking another sip of your wine, Alastor followed in suit, sipping his wine smile relaxed. “I really only care for what you think.” With the deep hushed tone he said the sentence in, made heat crawl from your neck to the pit of your stomach. “Well I think it’s pretty hot.”

You bit your nail watching Alastor’s ears twitch at your words. “Such gamy words dear, couldn’t you express yourself through more appropriate terms?” Alastor chided playfully, wiggling his figure at you. You grinned, biting your lip with mischief in mind. Tapping your lip, you looked up, giving an exaggerated impression that you were in a contemplative state. Then, perking up, finger in the air with a ‘light bulb’ expression you sarcastically spoke. “My dearest Alastor, your ability to converse in French, seduces me. Better?”

Alastor hummed gently, shaking his head side to side. “I’m afraid that’s still rather forward of you dear.” After speaking Alastor tipped his glass finishing his wine. “I hope that wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” You say cautiously worried that he may be serious, embarrassed you leaned back in your seat distancing yourself just slightly. Alastor felt a ping of distaste hit him when you retracted your body, and he had to refrain himself from pulling or beckoning you back in. “Not at all, if i was you’d surely know.” The ominous grit he got when threatening people made an appearance, but didn’t last long before he relaxed. Deciding to push forward, he stood, ushering his shadows away from playing songs, he walked over to you offering his arm. “Would you like to see the bayou you were so enthralled with? The real deal?”

Alastor looked down at you through lidded eyes, his tone silken. As you looked up at him you could get a peek of his tail flicking back and forth methodically. Taking him by the arm you stood, and so he guided you away from the table as the room morphed with hazy black shadows into a different scene. The two of you now stood on a dock, looking out on the bayou, fireflies flickered by, crickets and cicadas made their ambient noises, the water would occasionally splash with a fish, it was beautiful. “So Al,” You start nervously, looking at the demon who still held you close via your interlocked arms.

Alastor hummed a static sounding hum looking down at you. “Uh, I, well remember what you said the night we split from the movie?” Alastor’s brow quirked, smirked down at you he strung out a yes that sounded teasing, of course he knew where this conversation was going, but at this point in the night he’d gotten more comfortable with the idea of it. “I was wondering, if you still meant it?” Alastor nodded slowly looking into the murky waters of the bayou, looking a little zoned out. “Yes, I do think so. I’m certain if you’d ask me to kill for you I would, if you needed my help I’d help, if you’d ask for my advice I’d give it. I'm not familiar with many aspects of love but I'm definitely fond enough of you to do a laundry list of things I wouldn't do for others.”

Alastor turned his body to you, gently willing your own to do the same with both his hands on your shoulders. With his head lifted high he looked down at you through his lashes, a coy smile appearing on his lips at the sight of your sudden bashfulness. With a soft hand, he lifted your chin to gaze at him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something addictive in the way you made him feel and the way you were so responsive to him, be it his touch or his words. Oh he knew he liked you now, unfortunate state of events for him.

Watching your eyes blink up at him patiently made him solidify what he was going to do. Bending to your level, he looked into your eyes making sure you fully understood what he was planning on doing, briefly your eyes bounced around his face making sure you were reading him correctly and when you were certain your eyes fluttered he closed the window of space between you. Compared to the chaste kiss he gave you the night of the movie, this one could’ve been considered ravenous, he pulled you close almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your torso and neck. Your hands cautiously came up around his waist and up to his back pulling him nearer.

Alastor’s movements were slow and thought through, and when he pulled away from the passionate kiss, he immediately pulled you into a hug to hide the emotion he knew would be in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be that vulnerable yet, but in due time, perhaps he’d try.

[strbry-shortcakes]

taking some extra anatomy classes this year, here are some of my notes in case they could help someone. should be updated every weekend (aside from october 28th and november 4th which are free days) with the following lesson's notes. (further explanations at the end)

anyway. here goes:

SCENE 0-1: LEARNING HOW TO LOOK/OBSERVE

when drawing, we each more or less have our own methods when approaching certain subjects, with multiple tools at our disposal in order to achieve the desired results. 

but generally, when drawing a model (or most things from life, actually) we can in some sort of way define a general order as to when to draw what: 

Looking / Observing

Blocking In

Correcting

Details

for today i’ll focus on the first one of the list, looking / observing.

the existing nuance between “seeing” and “looking” exists in the sense that “seeing” is more passive than “looking”. when you say “i can see a cat”, you aren’t paying too much attention to the cat. but when you say “i am looking at a cat’, you are actively paying attention to the cat and what they’re doing. 

(given the class is in French, the nuance was similar, using the words “voir” and “regarder”. but due to French not having a close equivalent to “watch” i cannot make more parallels about this, as my knowledge of English and French-to-English translation is still fairly limited)

when looking at a subject, the primary objective should be to understand what you’re looking at. you can look at a subject (or the world as a whole) under multiple filters: values, hues, proportions, in 2D or 3D, and so on. you need to define how you want to look at a subject following these filters of vision. what do you want to look at first? what do you want the viewer to look at first? this is important to define before you put your tool to your support. 

generally when drawing from life, it’s a bit reckless to rush to draw the model without actually observing them a minimum. you should take the time to observe, you are allowed to take your time to observe. no amount of limited time should paralyze you from examining the model the best you can before you put your tool to use. 

getting this more precise vision of your model can give you a better vision of their body, which is often hidden under detail. when drawing them, you should ask yourself “how is the model posing?” 

why look/observe? (probably like the most given piece of advice by pros and art youtubers who aren’t pros but still get called pros cause they have 1 million subscribers on youtube) 

this question is very easily asked but also very easily answered: 

to know how and what you’re going to draw 

to time yourself correctly and have a good time management (drawing a pose in 2 minutes is completely different to drawing a 10 minutes one), thus,

to avoid rushing to draw the subject. as said previously, take your time. start slow, but stay accurate to the model. (teacher compared it to a musician rehearsing a piece, first slowly, then speeding it up progressively as he gets to know the piece itself better and better. unfortunately as someone who is as farthest from a musician as can be, i cannot honestly attest to if this is accurate). 

but really, there is actually no such thing as a “finished” drawing. a graphite drawing could always have color added afterwards, a painting could always get more and more detailed. a piece is “finished” only when you deem it is finished. the French Académie des Beaux Arts didn’t like the Impressionists because to them, what the impressionists were doing were half assed jobs, since the idea of “transmitting a vague feeling, or an emotion through a specific style of very visible strokes” was absolute fuckery to them. speaking of, 

to transmit an emotion, or a feeling through the posing of the model. the more technical and controlled the strokes will be, the finer the wanted sensation will be felt by the viewer. this also ties in the physical aspect of the model. ideally, in order to achieve this, you can try posing the same way the model does. it may be a bit awkward but it works (depending on your learning type, of course.) 

to understand how the whole “body system” works. “i know the rules of the human body, therefore i make little to no mistakes.” 

adding a whole context to the pose helps: adding a situation in which the pose could work in gives some meaning to your drawing, as well as helping you remember it better. it also adds a narrative element to your drawing(s), which are absolutely always a plus. (memorization is also an important tool!)

now let me play devil’s advocate and ask: why not look/observe?

well, uh, there are two reasons my teach told us: 

to let your instinct and imagination go wild and free, trust your gut and have fun!! 

and, tying back, 

to let yourself be surprised by what you’ve done.

form synthesis (or just different types of approaches to draw form)

when drawing a model, there’s a few things that can be mentioned: 

multiple types of lines exist with different purposes within the drawing: the action line(s), structural lines, and contour lines. 

action lines define the overall movement of the pose. the principal one is the one you see when giving a better look at how dynamic the pose is. the secondary ones are the ones you can find in secondary rhythms when examining the pose a little longer. 

(here's a better example, actually:)

structural lines are pretty much the “stickman skeleton” you sometimes see in certain how to draw books (specifically the more advanced manga themed ones).

contour lines surround the form in a way as to draw all of the outer body without using inside shapes or lines. (it is also the basis for the Bargue method which will be slightly discussed below. there unfortunately won’t be any talk about cross-contour lines, as it hasn’t been talked about in class (yet?)) 

generally, lines take either an I shape, a C shape or an S shape. (teach said it’s preferable to mostly use I and C type lines when drawing live models. probably due to the fact that S shapes are much trickier to use “effectively” within a piece (effectively not meaning much in this context, if nothing at all. again, have fun.)). using these lines tell a lot about the model and the pose, telling a sort of dynamic storytelling which varies depending on what type of line you choose to represent your model. 

we can mostly talk about 2D shapes when three or more points have been linked by lines. sometimes, lines can skip articulations for the sake of dynamism. shapes should be thought about in their entirety, the difficulty that can be encountered usually being remaining vague but accurate with your form. 

now, a quick word about: 

the Bargue method (or, the fuck do you mean the Americans used it in art schools before us, Bargue was literally born in Paris, i fucking hate the Académie des Beaux-Arts)

the Bargue method is probably fairly well known among certain art schools or artistic communities. if i do recall correctly; it originated with Bargue noticing the low level of the students of the Académie des Beaux-Arts de Paris (or some other place basing itself solely on academic style art and paintings located in the city of Paris in the country of France on the continent of Europe) and devising a simple way to learn how to draw accurately from life (or plaster casts, depending on what you prefer). it solely based itself on straight, contour lines, forming a base around which to slowly add details to. apparently, a lot of art schools in america base their teaching of life drawing on this method, but given i do not feel like getting over $200k in debt without even mentioning living and travel costs, i cannot say if that is actually true. 

here's an example of it:

it’s pretty much basing yourself on simplifications of the form to attain absolute accuracy. no curves here to distract you, only straights. somehow, when pulled off correctly, it gives a very neat impression of realism.

anyway, that’s all i wrote down. hope teach won’t see this anytime soon, and hope this kinda helped a little bit. next week’s notes should be about blocking in shapes, so we’re starting to be a little more concrete with the actual drawing process. 

these classes were taught by Mr Francis Buchet at a class given at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière, so most of the things i’m saying here are taken from him and his class. if you live in/close to Paris and are interested in learning artistic anatomy, i suggest you look up where he is giving public classes, since they’re infinitely more engaging than these notes. his instagram is be linked below. (hoping he doesn’t get mad at me for sharing these notes… in any case i will use my own example sheets to avoid getting in any more trouble.)

and, may i remind you: these notes are only here to showcase one approach among many others, so they don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. i myself am in absolutely no way a professional, so please, take all of this with a grain of salt (or a spoonful, even). draw how you enjoy drawing, and find happiness in the way you want to draw. 

Francis Buchet's instagram: x

so, seeyou next weekend! (or earlier, if i draw something i want to show here.)

[splatooshy]

tvdu headcanons

yes these are completely correct, no i do not take criticism. either compliment me and my clever thoughts or walk away.

damon

- pretends his initials stand for ‘damon fucking salvatore.’

- Humanity isn’t something Damon lacks. He ignores it sometimes, but he did that when he was human too

- shy. so PAINFULLY shy. that didn’t change until post 70s.

- fav colour is jade green.

- born in italy, then lily had multiple miscarriages over 5 years and giuseppe decided they would move to america for better prospects, and stefan was born in mf.

- giuseppe despised anything ‘foreign’, and would lock damon in the cellar when he slipped up. never mind that damon didn’t really know any english.

- named his first horse (a shetland pony) sir handsome. loved his horses. hated people, loved animals.

- bibliophile. brains over brawn.

- gets banned from new orleans every few decades. marcel HATES him. also was in nola in 1914, freya and kol both took pity on him/ befriended damon after he managed to piss off the witches AND marcel in one day.

- always had the most inconvenient crushes as a human. the first was the daughter of some middle class storekeeper when he was eight. the second was emily bennett (his secret bff) and the third was a dude with a horse when he was a teenager. stablehand/riding instructor/ young gent passing through, named sebastian. giuseppe caught the boys fooling around one day and promptly shot sebastian in the head, before beating damon within an inch of his life (WOAH I WROTE THIS SO CASUALLY). damon never fully recovered.

- finds grimoires to bring to his favourite witch at the time. often the spells are super wacky and mostly useless.

- chatty and clingy drunk.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

- in the 30s, he became a professional dancer.

stefan

- fav colour is an icy, glacial blue.

- nobody knows what his first language is. His first few words were either Italian or French, but it’s not certain which one. of course, giuseppe locked damon in the cellar for that.

- first horse was sir handsome, a hand-me-down from damon. loved both people and animals, but most of all loved when damon was introducing him to the animals.

- actually the cutest little child ever. big green eyes and floppy blonde-ish hair. looked like a five-year-old until he was 13? 14? and then suddenly shot up really quick.

- bull in a china shop. brawn over brains.

- the ‘ripper’ was created by lexi. she isolated and abused stefan, manipulating him into whatever she wanted.

- chronic migraine sufferer.

- as a human, he physically could not eat when nervous, which just so happened to be 80% of the time.

- rarely gets drunk but is a very outgoing and slutty drunk.

- lizard brain blood lusty ripper stefan only speaks italian.

- model aeroplane / train / car kind of guy.

- tumbled down into a well twice as a human.

- built the engine for the first automobile, passed it onto henry ford.

enzo

- likes the challenge of getting his way without resorting to compulsion (which is cheating.)

- has the stickiest fingers. he didn’t become a little street urchin in london without picking up some skills.

- turned by jack the ripper in 1888. approached him mid-murder.

- physically incapable of hating damon. and believe me, he’s tried.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

klaus

- went to college a few times to study art. ended up stabbing the teacher [with a paintbrush] because they critiqued his work.

- was tsar nicholas 2 as a joke, purposely ended the dynasty.

elijah

- slipped ecstasy into klaus’ drink in the 80s just to see what would happen.

rebekah

- had a habit of accidentally wandering as a kid.

- clairvoyant / clairsentient.

- very partial to throwing knives.

kol

- bffs with charles 2, gets knighted (inspired by that episode of parks and rec where ben and andy meet the rich british guy)

- refers to stefan as klaus’ estranged paramour

- mixes vervain and wolfsbane into joints and such to get klaus to chill the fuck out. and mixing vervain into other drugs and stuff so that they’d affect him - damon joins the operation in 1914.

- was jack the ripper in 1888, saw a man drowning in his own blood in an alleyway, just watching as kol disemboweled a prostitute, before approaching him like ‘please sir, can you spare any change?’ and kol was delighted.

- damon pissed off marcel in 1914 and kol decided at that moment they were best friends.

- BIG fan of the ottoman empire. it only collapsed because kol was daggered.

- has grimoires full of odd spells.

alaric

- owns vervain coated knuckle dusters

- basically begs damon to talk history with him.

elena

- pre-accident: queen bee and she knew it. at her core, she is self-centred and used to getting her way. this only changes with her parents’ accident, but eventually elena reverts back into her old self.

- refers to katherine as her identical grandmother

[ - bitchy stares. not even an rbf, her face is just super expressive and you can tell when she’s judging you ]

caroline

- was second to elena all her life, and elena knew how to fuel that envy of caroline’s. but then elena’s parents died and caroline was finally #1, except stefan shows up and it’s back to the elena show again.

[ - well-meaning but tone deaf ]

both elena and caroline are just those bitchy popular girls.

[ bonnie ]

[ i have so many for her but a lot are completely against canon so here’s the ones that could be ]

[ - best cheerleader on the squad // the older girls adopted her as their flyer from day 1 ]

[ - because she’s tiny, yanno? ]

[ - known as the ‘i dunno her but she seems nice’ one, the ‘quiet, seems really sweet but i think she hates me’ one and ‘elena’s minion’ ]

[ - but she’s actually more popular overall ‘cause she does all the volunteering / xtra curricular stuff with caroline and she’s not in your face about it ]

[ - has very weirdly specific daily rituals as to what she eats and when on which day (waffle wednesday), what pyjamas she wears, how her pillows are arranged, etc. ]

[ - she didn’t even notice she did all of that until she was at a sleepover and the other kid’s mum made a different breakfast to what she would usually have on that day and bonnie was like ‘hmm. i seem to be uncomfortable with this. why is that?’ but sucked it up and ate her breakfast without saying anything ]

[buffporcupine]

death note headcanons

because i know my death note mutuals aren’t getting what they wanted from me

light

-can crack his elbows the way one would crack their knuckles

-probably had to do a musical elective in his first year of middle school and chose guitar cause he thought it would be easy but it wasn’t.

-the type of song he really enjoys is very specific. going to hell yet i tried so so hard to please god song. i missed my only chance song. why wasn’t i like the other kids song. thrones playlist. i could elaborate but i won’t

-as for sexuality, i see him as not wanting to put a label on whatever he is in theory but in practice being some type of bispec (probably berriromantic) for romantic attraction and then somewhere on the asexual spectrum for sexual attraction.

-as for gender i see him as agender whose not really in labeling himself as anything when it comes to sexuality and gender.

-agender but probably 100% fine with being super male presenting. he just wants to keep out of gender as a convo and that’s great. good for him

-no!!!!! i refuse to say this mf is aromantic (because it’s not accurate and it’d be an insult to aromantic people to say he’s aro)!!!!!

-just because he manipulated misa and kiyomi into doing his bidding and didn’t love them doesn’t immediately make him aro. i’m sure he could have found someone if he wanted to, and he could have loved them if he was with them to love them, but he wasn’t with them to love them he was with them to use them.

misa

-half belgian half japanese. her parents met in belgium while her father was on vacation.

-also im torn bcos i wanna write an au where misa is mexican and that’s it everything else is the same as canon but i’m pretty sure that’s just me wanting her to be even more Like Me (tm)

-speaks a little bit of english, way more french, and obvi japanese. finds linguistics interesting but doesn’t have enough time to research it that thoroughly

-likes being short and “small” small girl aesthetic i guess but sometimes wishes she had longer legs so she could wear skirts w/o looking silly and short

-panromantic does not see gender at all when becoming attracted to someone. i see her as def on the ace spectrum, maybe something like demisexual or aegosexual. could be me projecting dunno.

-she’s probably dated both girls and boys before

-would NOT break up with someone in a rude way or just dump them. she’d put a lot of effort into an apology and explanation into why.

-if she met miu iruma they’d be best friends. sorry i bring danganronpa into everything guys

-can we please just appeciate mexican misa for a second. she’s cooking sopa de fideo for the task and being the bilingual hot girl we all needed

-mexican misa

-as for her music taste she probably listens to upbeat english language music and sappy love songs. “there is a light that never goes out” and “melt with you” sound like go-tos for her sorry. i could also see her being a bimbo pop ayesha + britney manson girlie though

-tbh whatever your race/ethnicity is you could project it onto misa and it’d work. i love it. anyway d d d d d d d did i say m m m mexican misa

-i think she’d love love love getting her hair done!!! sensitive scalp mf but she’d still love getting her hair done

-mexican misa visiting mexico and getting braids and cute clothes and her fave candy

-was not a theatre kid. sorry guys but her middle and high school didn’t offer theatre 😔😔

lawliet

-chronically dehydrated just because he forgets to drink water. he tries to drink water and always gets afraid of developing kidney / liver problems but he just keeps forgetting. what the fuck L

-soup stan i think he’d love some good soup. soup stan x soup cooker (lawmane)

-i think you could have a really deep convo about anything with L. if you’re passionate about anything he’ll just listen and he’ll talk to you about what he’s passionate about to. he loves to think and would def entertain you with a convo about whether a hot dog is a sandwich or something dumb like that you know.

-he’s a thinker he just loves discussions

-has a british accent when speaking english bcos watari and lived in england you know. he thinks british accents in english sound good tho and LOVES making fun of how silly new york accents are (me too bro. me too)

-if he went to middle school or the japanese/british equivalent of it, he’d def be the type to choose some weird ass elective fucking creative writing instead of the “normal” guitar, choir, band, orchestra and shit

[wordsbyrian]

Polyglot - USWNT x Reader

Summary: After one odd interview, Kelley, Sonny, and some others stop at nothing to figure out what Y/N has been (not) hiding.

A/N: I’ve been lurking for a while and finally decided to post something. Hope you enjoy it.

It's not unusual for you to find yourself in situations where the team has just found out something about you and then they proceed to act like you had been hiding it from them.

In fact, that is the exact situation you find yourself in right now, the whole team staring at you as walk into the locker room after you finish a post-game interview with a Spanish-speaking outlet.

"Why didn't you tell us that you could speak Spanish," Kelley asks the moment the locker room door closes behind you.

"You didn't ask. Besides, it's not like it's a secret, Ashley and Sophia have known for a while now."

Kelley's head immediately turns to stare at the two women across the locker room, who are just trying to mind their own business.

"You guys knew and didn't say anything," she whines, beginning to stomp her way across the space.

Before she can reach them though, Alex calmly blocks her path and leads Kelley to her own locker, whispering in hushed tones, presumably something about leaving you guys alone so everyone can get back to the hotel.

You think it works because she doesn't bring it up again until dinner later that night.

"So are you going to tell me why none of you ever mentioned that the baby can speak Spanish," she asks, plopping into a seat directly in front of the three of you, Sonnett taking the seat immediately to her left.

At the same time that you mumble about not being a baby, Ashley answers her.

"Once again, no one was hiding it. In fact, we thought that you all knew already, she's been on the team for like two years."

"Of course we didn't know," Sonnett says, "The only times we've ever seen her sit still for more than five minutes, she was asleep!"

"You're one to talk," you say, "The first time I met you, you were wrestling Kelley and Rose in the hotel lobby."

"Whatever, that doesn't explain how you know Spanish," she snarks.

"If you must know, my childhood babysitter didn't speak much English and I spent six days a week with her from the ages of one to 12. Also, I'm not sure if you remember this but I've been living in Barcelona for almost four years."

"Wait, so when did you learn English?"

Kelley mirrors the confused look on Sonnett's face and much to your surprise a few others sat close enough to hear the conversation.

"At the same time," you say, finally looking at them. "It's called simultaneous bilingualism and it's actually really prevalent. It's estimated that half of the world is functionally bilingual and that a majority of that number consider themselves to be native speakers of two languages."

"Sonny, I think the baby just called us stupid," Kelley says, shellshocked.

"She did," Ashley and Sophia speak at the same time and you watch as both Kelley and Sonnett deflate at the plain way they say it.

You thought that was the end of the entire situation until during the next camp a video surfaced online of you speaking French with the media after Barcelona's loss to Lyon in the Champions League final last season.

You had been tagged in the clip what felt like a million times, so it's not surprising that Kelley and Sonentt managed to get their hands on it.

This is how you found yourself hiding in Alex and Kelley's hotel room playing with Charlie, it was the last place the Frat Daddies would think to check. Hopefully, they wouldn't think of it until it's time to leave for the weightlifting session.

"Do you really think that you can avoid them forever," Alex asks, watching as you catch Charlie when she flings her little body off the bed at you.

"No, but I only need to avoid them until we get on the bus because then they'll have to deal with Christen and Sanchez when they try to mess with me."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You're right for the most part, the only time it falters is when Kelley comes back to grab her things before training. That results in the team being treated to the sight of her chasing you down the hallway with Charlie thrown over your shoulder and Alex yelling behind you about making sure not to drop her child.

Outside of that though, it goes off without a hitch with both your best friend and your team mom taking turns glaring at Kelley and Sonnett when they attempt to bother you.

That might be why it's so surprising when Lindsey is the one who brings it up during movie night as you wait for Sam and Kristie to finish arguing about what movie to watch.

"Y/N, truth or dare?"

"Uh, truth," you answer, not bothering to lift your head from its place smushed into a pillow. You’re comfortably lying between Christen and Tobin, with Mal sprawled over the three of you and moving would definitely ruin that.

"How many languages are you fluent in," she asks.

"Fluency is an arbitrary scale that varies from person to person," is the answer you give, even though you know it won't be enough for them to leave you alone.

“For the love of god, would you please just answer the question so they stop bothering both you and me,” Sanchez groans from her place on the other bed.

“Fine. I speak and read English, Spanish and French. I can read German,” you say, struggling to sit up from under Mal’s body weight. “I can only flirt in Dutch but I’m working on learning to read it. Also, Rolfö is teaching me Swedish.”

The line about flirting earns you multiple pinches from the women in the bed with you, but for the most part, everyone is stunned into silence.

The first person to make any sound is Sophia laughing so hard that she can barely get out her words, “Of course, Y/N/N is learning Dutch to talk to girls, it’s like U17s and U20s all over again.”

While you roll your eyes and wish that the conversation would end there, it doesn’t because Kristie says what everyone is thinking.

“So you, the person who dropped out of high school to play in Spain, speak three languages and are actively learning three more?”

“Yes, but can we stop telling people I dropped out of high school because I didn’t.”

“You being a genius really explains why your people skills are so severely lacking with anyone who doesn’t play soccer,” Lindsey says, ignoring you.

“All in favor of changing the baby’s nickname from ‘the baby’ to ‘baby genius’ raise your hands.” Kelley laughs when she sees you're the only one to keep your hand down. “ Motion passes, Y/N shall henceforth be known as 'Baby Genius'.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” you beg.

“Sorry Baby Genius, I’ve already changed your name in the group chat.” Her statement is backed up by the synchronized vibrating of everyone’s phones.

All you can do is let out another groan and sink back into the bed while everyone laughs.

But the night goes on and the subject ends up being dropped permanently. At least that’s what you think until somehow you find yourself, alongside Mal, being called over to do a post-game interview with ESPN at the end of the game later that week.

Most of the questions are directed at her, unsurprisingly, but eventually, the reporter turns her attention to you.

“Y/N, you guys had your hands full defensively tonight and there was even a moment where you had to track back and clear a ball off the goal line after a mishandling by Naeher. What was going through your mind at that moment?”

“Uhm, mostly a lot of inappropriate language but also the fact that I kinda caused Lys to mishandle the ball and it’d really suck if it went in because of my mistake, so I had to make sure that didn’t happen,” you say, wiping some of your sweat away.

“One more question, Y/N,” she says. “Recently, a ton of videos of you speaking both French and Spanish have surfaced online, is this a new development or have you been hiding this talent?”

“I’ve not been hiding it, most of my interviews since going to Barcelona have been in Spanish but no one in America really asks about it. I’ve been speaking both Spanish and French for a long time now, it’s not that impressive,” you say, unsure if the heat in your cheeks is leftover from the game or because of the spotlight you find yourself forced into.

It only gets worse because Mal takes it upon herself to brag on your behalf.

“She’s just being humble, Y/N spends all of her free time studying languages and is working on three others right now.”

The reporter looks shocked, “Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“A skilled soccer player and a natural born polyglot, you can really do it all. Y/N, Mal thank you for your time.” She turns back to the camera before sending the broadcast back to whoever happens to be in the studio.

As you walk away, Ashley walks over to you, slinging her arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t look so grumpy. We won and now the world knows you’re a genius,” she says.

“She called me a polyglot,” you grumble.

“Ok?”

“I’m not, I only speak three languages.”

Sanchez just sighs and shakes her head, continuing to lead you toward the sidelines where fans are waiting for photos and autographs.

“Don’t worry Baby Genius, we’ll work on your people skills.”

[lyralit]

writing characters who speak other languages

> similar sounding words.

if it sounds the same (table in french and table in english) or similar, the speakers of the other language often interject the word in that other accent into the phrase. 

> grammar

grammar isn’t the same in all languages! it’s very easy to translate something literally and have the words completely switch up to make no sense. adjectives often switch sides—so you can go from “run fast” to “fast run”.

> accents

[this is my personal experience] but I’ve never meet a French person speak with a sterotypical “ze toilettes iz zat way” accent. actually a lot of them speak with faint British accents, with a lilt toward more French-sounding words. and just because you speak another language doesn’t immediately equal have a thick accent.

> accents (ii)

also another note: if you speak spanish and french, for example, a lot of people will speak french with the spanish accent on certain words, or vice versa: whichever you know better. if your tongue is used to pronouncing a word that looks exactly the same a certain way, it’s easy to forget to switch accents.

> limits

maybe the character understands Mandarin, but can’t speak it for the life of them. knowing a language isn’t always having every base down! a lot of the time, especially if it’s not your first language, you tend to be stronger in certain areas: understanding, reading, writing, speaking.

> searching for a word

another thing would be forgetting a word in their weaker language: they’ll probably interject the word they know in their strong language with an (as an example) english-sounding accent. or, they run through a really absurd list of words to find the right one: it involves a lot of muttering, one seconds, and held up fingers.

> switching languages (i)

I don’t see people do this often. or at all. unless it’s expressed, or they give up speaking in their weak language and convert entirely to their stronger one. there’s no switching back and forth, half sentences in each language.

> switching languages (ii)

I do this. personally. I know a bunch of languages—english, french, mandarin, spanish—and when I’m writing, or occasionally speaking, in a weaker language, sometimes I will mix them up in the middle of the phrase. this is more for writing, and speaking I can usually manage. I have turned in more than one fremanglish test. (also when I’m speaking, I’m more likely to call my spanish teacher 老师 instead of señora, rather than switch languages completely)

> education

my first language is english, but I had a french education: so many subjects, such as maths and science, I only know the french terms for—even though I know english better. and they don’t always add up. (a triangle (?? I think that’s what it’s called in english) in geometry is an equère. and don’t ask me what a rapporteur is in english.)

other fun things that I too often suffer from ! :

very stupid-sound descriptions for the simplest object because the word FLIES from your brain

freaking grammar again. it was on the list, but french grammar is KILLER and it confuses me so much in english. chinese grammar is almost nonexistent, as far as I know.

jokes! they don’t translate well. my science teacher made a joke about a poisson pané and no one laughed.

slang. you don’t often run around speaking how you do at school. (something that confused other language speakers, I found is that “what’s up” is used to say “hello”, and the speaker doesn’t usually truly mean it)

swear words often convert back to their mother tongue

[copperbadge]

I am here in Rome!

Took a little longer than anticipated to get to my lodgings last night -- for one, I almost got off at Rome Airport instead of Rome Termini, but I caught that in time. Once we disembarked at Termini, which is the major train station and a bus hub, I was supposed to go catch my bus, but it took a hot minute because the first thing I saw happen in Rome was someone getting their phone snatched.

It was insanely fast and too far away for me to intervene -- the guy basically walked up to the woman at the next bus island over, said something, and then when she looked up from her phone at him he grabbed it and bolted like an olympic fuckin' sprinter.

There were quite a few police in the bus hub, so she had immediate attention for it, and unfortunately as the nearest human facing that direction so did I. At least one went haring off after the thief, a couple clustered around her, and two stopped and asked me something in Italian. My Italian is not quite as nonexistent as my French so I said sorry, I'm American, English only, and they looked (as everyone has) faintly exasperated, but one of them had enough English and I had enough Italian to confirm that yes I saw it, the man looked like this. During which time a woman who apparently saw the commotion but not the theft rocked up to the guys questioning me and fucking lit into them.

I don't know what all she said but she definitely was at least yelling that there were five of them and they were standing around like idiots while this woman got robbed, so of course now the cop that doesn't speak English is trying to deal with her, and the one who does is trying to clarify some stuff with me, and the woman whose phone was stolen (who clearly isn't Italian but spoke the language) is like, crying on the cops helping her out, and it's midnight.

So finally I could SEE my bus coming, and I said to the officer, look, I'm really sorry about her phone but I can't help you more than I have, I'll be in Rome until Monday morning, can I just give you my cell number? And he took my number down and let me get on the bus and the driver gave me a Deeply Unimpressed Look but I did bop my card for fare so he took me, eventually, to my new home in Rome, which is in the base of a medieval tower and has a door 2/3 the width of a normal door, so that was fun.

Crucially it also has a large, soft bed and a washer-dryer, so I put a load of laundry in at like half past midnight and then passed the fuck out. But now I have clean clothes and at least some sleep under my belt, and I'm known to the Police of Rome, for whatever that means.

I'm off this morning to see some sights while wearing clean warm underwear, and I still have my phone, so my day's starting out pretty OK.

[tainted-liquor]

this was specifically requested BY Bree, so here we go🤷🏽‍♀️

“Hood Princess” bree

For starters, I wanna just get a little background info out the way before I do anything. Bree is Bahamian, says she doesn’t experience racism, and its v likely that she has never lived outside of the Bahamas. The official language of the Bahamas is English and Haitian Creole, as many people of Haitian decent LIVE on the island. Haitian Creole derived from FRENCH, lets keep this in mind.

so first I wanna address Bree’s ignorance/marginalization of Caribbean people.

In the DC server I said “maldito mamaguevo” right after having a disagreement over…this message

I thought it was obvious this was in a playful/joking manner, but maybe she took this as a personal attack/accusation. I would just like to say that if I suspected Bree abt this anon (which I didn’t because she had Honey BLOCKED for some reason during this), I wouldn’t have made a joke abt it. Not sent the SS to her. I would’ve made a mental note of it and kept it pushing.

When Bree first sent this message I was confused, because as you know I have Dominican family. I speak Dominican Spanish, and generally only rlly know Dominican slang that I’ve learned from my brother and his side of the family. So obvi I was confused because Bree makes it known she’s very much Bahamian, so I googled what language the Bahamas speaks and if it’s anything like Dominican Spanish !

As you can see, they don’t speak Spanish…so what was the point of saying “I’m Caribbean I know what this means?” Anyone can be Caribbean…White black Asian Latino. If you’re born in the Caribbean you’re Caribbean…so why does this equate to her speaking spanish?

so naturally i went to Dalia abt it cuz even tho I myself could feel this was iffy, I wanted to ask someone else who is more submerged in Dominican culture. And Dalia said this felt iffy, because she has marginalized the Caribbean before and hopped between different dialects that are…not her own! Like Jamaican patois

But besides that, lets address another issue w Bree before we dive into her history of supporting a miles smut writer.

As some of you may know, Bree used to refer to herself as a “hood princess” and used PLENTYYYYY of AAVE and african american culture in her works…lets break this down rq

Bree has earned herself a reputation as a rather aggressive and obnoxious blogger, doing absolutely nothing but fighting w gwiles Stans and “speaking her mind” abt things nobody really paid any attention to. She said she was a pale “natural blonde” girl (I haven’t seen shawty so idk wtf she looks like)

So why does she run around claiming the title of a “hood princess” when she 1, did not grow up in an American hood, and 2, is probably white passing from her own mouth?

for black children who grew up in the hood, you know it’s nothing to brag about. It’s a low income neighborhood, a “bootleg” version of a neighborHOOD. Hence the name. It’s an incomplete neighborhood.

When I had a general discussion w her about the fetishization of African American culture a week ago, she seemed mad avid to defend making the hood be your whole personality..trying to justify it by saying it “makes you think and act a certain way” which is v true! However I’ve never once tried to make myself into a sexxyred “hood princess” js cuz I grew up in a low income area. She even agreed that african american culture was fetishized, so I’m so confused as to why she was offended by my post yesterday?

So as to why she’s mad…idk. When I’ve talked to her abt this issue before, and I’ve literally just taken the issue online this time as a black creator

now let’s move on to Bree’s ableism☠️

I got her so mad she tried to tell me I was “half a chromosome away from a learning disability”…ok!!

But besides that, lets talk about her defending Anika!

So this summer, a popular creator by the name Anikaluv made a fic where miles had readers…nudes in his phone😭

Children should not be sending, keeping, or taking nudes of themselves or anyone else. Wether that’s 14, 15, 16, 17. Just DON’T! It’s illegal, and this fic glosses over the fact that it’s a disgusting crime. Not only that, but miles mother SEES the readers nudes…so😭

Bree immediately took to defend Anika, showing her support for her and saying if we keep complaining we won’t have anything to read☠️☠️

When this is Anika…and Bree DEFENDING Anika

Anika also wrote about the reader buying miles a thong?? At 15?? You don’t “read miles smut” but you sure read anikas work !

FYI…Anika was going to write about Reader and miles GRINDING in said lingerie. And Anika said she despises miles smut, and so did you! But at the end of the day that doesn’t change what you said

Here’s the screenshot you wanted ms. “People are gonna do what they do”

mouthful, but there we go

[ipegchangbin]

“stalling time” — sub ! dj ! bang chan snippet

i wanted to pay tribute to my first ever sub!skz au (and my first real post), so here’s a little spoiler for something i’ve worked on since the dawn of time — stalling time !

It didn’t take long for the fruit cocktail to be all swished down your throat, leaving the addicting taste of sweeter citrus on your lips and tongue. The scents you invested in stuck to your clothes and skin, only making you stand out further in the open-air beach club.

Chan looked entranced by you. Enveloped in nothing but the sight of you, hugged by your scent, pierced through the heart by how stunning you looked in your clubbing outfit. It was simple and airy, much like the cool night breeze from the shoreline. His eyes glanced at the empty glass that held your drink, refraining from licking his lips and wondering what yours probably tasted like.

He wanted to kiss you again.

You turned to Chan. “Speak any languages?”

“Yes—hey, why are you asking this now?” Chan asked back. “That’s so random.”

“Sorry, I speak small talk,” you replied with a wink.

Chan bowed his head and chuckled hard, his eyelids turning into crescents. Only then did you notice the hint of glittery eyeshadow he put on, his favorite accessory when it came to his gigs.

“Really, I want to know you better, Channie.”

The nickname left him dizzy. The alcohol in his system suddenly felt like nothing compared to how drunk he got in the way you said it. He didn’t know what you were planning but it felt addicting. Nobody had ever called him something so affectionately, bordering on both hot and cute.

“English, Korean, a bit of French, and I’m a little fluent in Sexyguytalk.”

You blinked at his last statement. “Sexy-guy-talk…?”

“Oui, mon amour.”

It took you half a second to properly process the joke, but the laugh you let out was all that Chan needed to fall even harder. Even if you slapped his thigh in the process — why did he really enjoy that? — the sound of your confused yet amused laughter became his favorite song to listen to.

He rubbed the mark you left on his thigh. He knew you did it out of habit but he got flustered.

He decided to distract himself. “Again, why’d you ask?”

“Can’t I be curious?” You simply responded.

“Trying to get close, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know, I think I warrant a little bit more after getting a free kiss from the cutie music man.” You pushed an elbow against his arm.

“Oh.” He sat up and scratched the back of his neck.

The way he looked, blushing and shy all of a sudden, made him even more irresistibly adorable. Seeing him like this gave you the urge to pet him.

Your hand made its way up to his, gracing the nape of his neck, and you petted his head. Your fingers intertwined with his hair. He straightened it earlier but it seemed to wave out in the wind; his naturally curly locks coiled incredibly loosely around your fingers.

“…Ah.”

The softest, lightest, and most subtle hint of a whimper betrayed Chan’s throat, but you heard it. Chan immediately tried to hide his reaction but you could see the panic in his eyes as he scanned your face, hoping you didn’t notice his squeak.

You did, though, and let him know it with blinks of disbelief. Chan felt like burying himself in the sand or diving back into the pool out of embarrassment.

“…You like that?” A gentle smile graced your lips. Chan subconsciously leaned further into your palm.

He was rendered speechless but you knew.

Now you knew he liked getting his hair pulled; what he didn’t know was that you enjoyed the thought of indulging in it.

this isn’t final but lmk if you want to be in the taglist :D

[magicalmanhattanproject]

MCC Teams for QSMP Guys

Disclaimer: These aren't official teams or even official predictions or anything. I have no idea if the QSMP guys who aren't in MCC already want to play or even know it exists. I'm just autistic.

RED RABBITS: HBomb94, Philza, Forever, Cellbit

This was the first team that came to me and it all spiraled out of control from here. H is the master of teaching new players, which is good if it's not a whole event of new people (spoiler alert: it is). Philza is also a solid player who knows the Brazilians well enough to teach them how to do MCC and also hold his own just fine. I expect Forever would hold his own just fine. A lot of the games that are hard for newcomers are hard because a lot of MCC guests aren't Minecrafters. I expect Forever to be able to handle himself with an elytra, for example, and H is the SOT king and also a Buildmart enjoyer so he can pick up the slack for the rest. Cellbit may be an unexpected popoff in Parkour Tag with his Esconde-Esconde experience. I'm not sure if he's ever touched an elytra.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Cellbit. He can have red puzzle too though, as a treat. And the rest of the spawn puzzles will actually get solved for once!

ORANGE OCELOTS: Roier, Tubbo, Quackity, Punz

Roier is Good At Minecraft but he's also shy about the fact that he's good at Minecraft and not particularly interested in tryharding. He would most likely be looking for a team that isn't throwing on purpose, but also doesn't mind if he's not doing homework for the video game. Pairing him with known goofball Tubbo and good buddy Quackity makes sense for that. Punz is a very versatile S tier. He's fully capable of being a sweaty little bastard, but he's good at not being toxic about it and especially at not getting toxic towards his teammates. I think he could do well with just hanging out with a couple old friends and making sure a new one has a good time.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Quackity is the best choice as the full bilingual and least likely to survive in the tunnels.

YELLOW YAKS: Shadoune, Etoiles, Aypierre, Baghera

The French Team. Frankly, I think the chance of Etoiles getting into MCC is pretty slim. He is simply too powerful. Scott has talked before about having enough S tiers and needing more mid and lower tier players and Etoiles would Not help with that. Adding Shadoune and Aypierre to that is honestly a bit ridiculous. Baghera is not a nerf to this team either. She doesn't have nearly as much Minecraft experience as the others but she is learning very quickly. I did nearly switch her out to try and balance this obscenely powerful team. Their big weakness though is their MCC inexperience. Shadoune is the only one who has played MCC before and he hasn't even been in a handful of events yet. Late games with high learning curves could seriously hamstring them.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Pierre. I was super super impressed with Pierre's comms with Foolish when they broke into the Federation and I want to see him do comms more.

LIME LLAMAS: Illumina, Spreen, Slimecicle, Mariana

Yeah, okay, this is Pink17 with a twist. This is the only chance we're gonna have to pair Spreen with another S tier though so we gotta take it. To be fair, I don't actually know how good Mariana is at Minecraft. That being said, I do know he's not super comfortable in his English abilities. This is essentially two teams speaking two languages wearing a giant trenchcoat, so I figured it would be best to give them Illumina, king of minding his own business and showing up at the end of the game with half his team's coins.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Slime. The Spanish speakers know more English than the English speakers know Spanish and asking someone to sandkeep in their second language in their first MCC is cruel.

GREEN GECKOS: Jojo, Vegetta, Maximus, OllieGamerz

The Spanish Team. I really tried so hard to pair Vegetta with Foolish, but ultimately I think he would just be most comfortable with people who all speak his own language. This is another scary powerful team, by the way. Jojo and Ollie were half the team that got the first canon team with two new players a win since MCC 6 and Vegetta is widely considered to be a Minecraft god. I'm not sure his skills transfer to MCC, but it can't hurt! Maxo is here instead of Mariana despite being more comfortable with English because I couldn't deprive the people of their Slimeriana crumbs, however he's another one whose MCC skill I'm not sure of. He's known mostly for his RP like Quackity Slime and Wilbur, but he also has an extremely dope Create mod house so he's definitely more cracked at the craft than them.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Ollie. He's trained for it and studied for it before his first MCC and Vegetta and Maximus should both be able to at least survive dungeon conditions.

CYAN COYOTES: Mike, Pac, Fruitberries, Cubfan

Obviously, Tazercraft come as a duo. Do not separate. For them, I wanted people who matched their energy. Specifically, strange, bewildering, and staggeringly competent, while still making the most baffling decisions you've ever seen in your life. Fruitberries was an obvious choice. I think introducing them to Cubfan might be dangerous lest they give each other ideas for projects, but hopefully they'll be too focused on the games for any old projects to come up. I sure hope none of the games resemble any games Tazercraft have previously designed!

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Cubfan. He is like the Only guy in MCC who I trust equally as a runner and a sandkeeper which means that I trust him to sandkeep here.

AQUA AXOLOTLS: PeteZahHutt, Jaiden, Fit, CPK

This is just a pretty regular MCC team. Pete and CPK is a very strong combination and I don't expect Fit to be bad at Minecraft, but given the absolute powerhouses that are the French and Spanish teams, I think this is probably fine.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Fit. Pete has a habit of making risky plays that don't always pay off. I think the scary teacher voice could check that impulse.

BLUE BATS: Badboyhalo, Krtzyy, Smallishbeans, Grian

Here's a PG team for you, king. You've earned it. Yes, Dave can be PG when they need to be. For the record, I'm deeply curious about what Bad puts down on his sign up sheet for his PGness preference. Either way, this is a team of all around strong players without a standout star. We're looking at a repeat of Aqua29 here.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Krtzyy. Everyone on this team can run but Dave enjoys it the least and actually had their first decent time ever playing Sands of Time as a sandkeeper for Aqua29. They've been playing since MCC1 by the way.

PURPLE PANDAS: Scott, Shubble, Foolish, Purpled

This is the part of the teams list when I went "okay I guess I'm making a full ten teams now, so I have to get the guys with standing invitations in". For the record, that's Scott (it's his event), Shubble (she's Scott's bestie), and Wilbur (he was one of the earliest believers). Purpled is here instead of Wilbur because he's Ever So Slightly More Cracked At The Craft, however this team is actually impossible and would never happen in canon. Scott Smajor has made it very clear that he would never put Purpled on the Purple team. Anyway, Foolish is also here!

Sorrel Assigned Sanddaddy: Scott.

PINK PARROTS: FireBreathMan, Felps, AntoineDaniel, Wilbur Soot

Y'all remember everyone wailing and gnashing their teeth about Blue29 because FBM was being unfairly nerfed by being saddled with three "bad" players and it was so incredibly mean to those players he was with and also like they got 6th overall and did Literally Fine? No? Only me carrying that grudge? Anyway, here's a perfectly fair and balanced team that no one would complain about at all. No but for real, this is the team I couldn't switch Antoine and Baghera on because that would break it.

Sorrel Assigned Sandkeeper: Wilbur. Sorry Scott got to the daddy joke first.

[wardenparker]

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila. 💖✨  

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always18+ Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.**  Summary: Paris may be tumultuous at first, but it’s the City of Love for a very good reason. Guys, I have no defense for this one. I just really love Paris and want to go there so fucking badly... Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who came along for this wonderful ride with us! Next week we’ll be posting the epilogue for this story and then rolling right into something new immediately. The wheels of chaos in our minds never stop rolling so the fics just keep on coming. 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Thanks to the overnight flight and the comfort of being able to sleep in first class, when you and Marcus touch down in Paris at 8:30 the next morning, you pretty much manage to avoid the fuzzy feeling of jetlag. It's been years since you've been back here but everything feels just the same, giving you a satisfying feeling of homecoming as you set out through the airport toward the taxi stand to ride out to his colleague's office.

"Sorry." Marcus tosses you a small, apologetic look as the taxi drives erratically through the city. "I'll see what's up and then if you want to go to the hotel, we can see about checking in." He knows you might not be up for hitting the ground running and he can carry this alone if he needs to.

“No, no, it’s okay.” As the city passes by the taxi windows you sink back and allow yourself an indulgent smile. You might be working, but it’s nice to be back. “Let’s go and be briefed for the case and all of that. Find out what we’re working with.”

“Thank you.” Marcus picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “For coming with me. Saves me from having to choose an agent to bring with me.”

“I hope I’m half as effective as any of your team members are.” You kiss the back of his hand in turn and give it a supportive squeeze. The people you’ve met from his department have all been friendly and kind, and his stories paint them to be very good at their jobs on top of being nice people. “Plus, I’m infinitely more fun to play dress up with.”

“And I won’t feel exceedingly guilty if I had to pretend to be romantic with a co-worker.” Marcus knows there will be a time, but he doesn’t want to do that so early in your renewed relationship.

“Work is work.” Of all the problems you ever did have, jealousy or worry about infidelity was never one of them. You and Marcus are both loyal people to the core.

“I know.” The fact that your belief in him doesn’t waver is incredible. “But right now, work has you playing my wife.” He winks at you. “You might be good at that role.”

"It's almost like method acting," you tease, briefly sticking your tongue out at him as the taxi winds its way toward the nondescript office where his colleagues are waiting.

Marcus helps you out and tips the driver, hauling the luggage up the stairs after shooting you a dirty look when you protest that you can get your own bag. “Get the door.” He huffs at you.

“Stubborn.” You chide him teasingly, and slip past him to open the door. The woman at the desk seems pleasantly surprised that you speak much better French than Marcus, but switches to English for ease. She directs you to the second floor and gives you an office number, assuring Marcus that he is expected.

“Monsieur Pike.” The Interpol agent immediately greets you at the elevator, obviously being given a heads up about your arrival. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Marcus nods, adjusting bags so he can shake hands. “Happy to help, this is Dr. Pike. She is a director at the Smithsonian.” He introduces you, looking at you with quiet pride.

“Pike?” Ducasse looks between you, at the suitcases Marcus won’t let you carry and how you stand close together, keeping each other in your line of sight despite not always being focused on the same thing. Confident but not showing off. “I did not know you had gotten married. Welcome, Madame. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

Marcus catches your eye, tilting his head to communicate that he will follow your lead on how to explain your relationship to these people. Not wanting to embarrass you or to make you feel as if you are pressed to answer dozens of questions.

“We are divorced, but reconciled. A story for another time, perhaps.” Honesty, above all, especially when dealing with his colleagues, and you shake the man’s hand politely before allowing yourself to be ushered into a nearby office. “I am happy to extend my expertise to the FBI and to INTERPOL.”

“That will be a story to hear.” Ducasse’s brows shoot up in intrigue but he doesn’t press, instead motioning to you towards a seat and taking one of the bags from Marcus to stack the luggage in the corner of a cluttered office.

“What can you tell us about this case?” Marcus ask, shifting the conversation to the matter at hand. “How did you come to know about the art and this auction?”

"We had a tip that one of the warehouses that the local police were monitoring has seen some substantial movement and pursued several leads before finding the location of the auction. There is a mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain currently owned by an alias of Jean-Luc Poitiers." The quick-speaking INTERPOL agent begins to point out photographs on the pin board lining one wall of the crowded room. "Poitiers has been underground long enough for any of the heat from his competition to die down, and it appears that this is where he has been suffering his isolation." Ducasse rolls his eyes as though considering a mansion in the gorgeous Seventh Arrdonissement a place to suffer is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "The auction is extremely exclusive, by invitation only, but we have taken care of that while you were in the air."

“You got us an invite.” Marcus grins. “Who are we pretending to be?”

"A married couple, conveniently." Ducasse pulls a file out from under several other things on the desk beside him and hands it to Marcus to peruse. "Mr. and Mrs. Luke Martinez of New York City. Second house in the Hamptons, eight figure annual income from real estate holdings and investments. You will be asked to submit banking details upon your arrival, we will supply you with the numbers and the false funds." He leans back, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. "We will surround the building, ready to lock it down for arrests and to seize the stolen art, but we need you to actually put eyes on those paintings."

“What I wouldn’t give to have that be our lives.” Marcus jokes as he flips through the files and skims the background on the couple. “We will need to buy some clothes that reflect this.”

"You can attend to that this afternoon. There is some budget to be spared for it." Ducasse had made sure of it, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

"Does Mrs. Martinez have a listed career or am I a housewife?" You don't peak over Marcus's arm at the file in case there are things that aren't meant to be shared with civilians. You just want to have your story straight. "Or, um...a first name?"

“There’s nothing here you can’t see as a consultant on this case.” Marcus provides and grins at you. “Your name is Penelope.” He explains as he hands the file over.

"Well of course, why wouldn't it be?" The file has pages of background information and numbers that you hope you can memorize, but as you start to flip through the pages you practically feel your heart stop. There is a photograph of two men walking down the street side by side, one talking into a cell phone and the other checking his watch. The man on his phone is tall and lean, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, and a jawline only slightly less defined than Marcus's. The crisp, blue suit is nothing like you remember, but his face is unmistakable. "Wh—who is this?" You ask, pointing at the image like you're afraid the man might jump out of the photograph and attack.

“That—” Ducasse snorts and taps the photo. “Is Henri Aubel.” He informs you. “He has been in Interpol’s sights for a long time, but we have been unable to pinpoint the crimes on him, unfortunately.”

"I..." Looking between Marcus and Ducasse, you can feel your stomach drop and a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. "I know him," you murmur, reaching for Marcus's hand like a security blanket. "I mean...we—we dated. While I was living here...years ago." The man you had known then was bright and seemingly sincere. Incredibly charming, yes, but you had never had any kind of inclination whatsoever that he was a criminal.

“Shit.” Marcus immediately frowns, aware that your cover won’t work. “Then we need a new game plan. Because if he recognizes her, ‘Penelope Martinez’ will be in danger.” The last thing he wants or is willing to do, it put you in danger for a case.

“Was it a close relationship?” Typically not a man to pry for personal information from new acquaintances, the rules have just changed for Ducasse since this is related to his case. He flies around to the other side of his desk to sit down, immediately tapping away at his keyboard to bring up the file on Henri Aubel. “What did you know of him then?”

The irony isn’t lost on you. To have just left a case with Marcus’s ex-fiancée behind only last night and for this one to now include your ex-boyfriend? The universe is having a nice laugh at your expense. “I met him at a gallery opening while I was a student at the Sorbonne. We…we were on and off for about two years, but I never had any idea that what he was involved in was criminal. I just thought he was an artist with a wealthy family.” Although, now that you know that he is wanted by INTERPOL, you’ll be combing back through every memory you have of him to see what you can glean. You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, feeling like a child who has been caught being naughty. “I’m sorry,” you murmur under your breath, knowing that you have made this all incredibly awkward.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “It was ten years ago.” He reminds you. “It’s hard to know who people will become when you are a college student.” The only thing he’s worried about is your safety. “But maybe this is better.” He offers. “We don’t go in as the Martinez’s, did— did Henri know about me? Or that Pike was your married name?”

“Yes.” Swallowing is harsh and almost painful, like the lump in your throat is very real. “But back then you were going to be in marketing. I never had any idea you would go into law enforcement.”

“Good.” Marcus flashes you a supportive smile, aware that your guilt is amplified right now. He turns towards Ducasse. “So we pose as ourselves, just— fictional images of them. Is that doable with the invitations?” He asks seriously. Neither one of you are on social media, so it wasn’t like accounts would have to be modified.

“It should be.” Ducasse is nodding as types rather furiously. “At the risk of being indelicate, Madame, this may work to our advantage. A surprise like this can throw off even the most careful of men.” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and tilts his head. “Henri Aubel is a dangerous man. If you did not know that about him, then you did not know the real him.”

“Then I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” There is an empty chair nearby, and you sit down in it with the case file still in your hands. “I think it will surprise him, though, to see me. We were…well, I thought we were very close. But obviously he was never entirely honest with me.”

Marcus takes the file from your hand, turning towards you and giving you his full attention. “Listen to me, baby,” he begs you softly, seeing the hurt and turmoil in your eyes. “Men like Aubel have been taught from a young age to hide who they truly are. He never had any intention of you finding out who he is. Took advantage of you being unfamiliar with his family, with France. That makes him manipulative, you did nothing wrong.”

“Thank you.” Even though your voice is quiet it’s clear, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze tightly and murmur a soft “I love you” in his ear. It feels heavy, and wrong, and like you’re in trouble, but you know that’s just the shock of discovery.

“So we say that I’m— fuck, I was a hedge fund manager who made it big and wants to indulge in art?” Marcus tosses out, looking over at Ducasse. “How does that sound? New money, and my wife knows art?”

“That will work.” The INTERPOL agent nods, looking back at his screen before looking over at Marcus again. “Use New York City as your base, but use whatever details of your past suit you. The banking details are an offshore account in order not to raise any red flags, and I will simply change the name on the false account to reflect your real name. There is jewelry in the evidence lock up that you can use as props.” He sees nothing on either of your fingers now, so obviously it will be needed. “When you are out today getting your clothing for tomorrow night, please be as obviously affectionate as you feel comfortable with. On the off chance that Aubel has been watching to see if Dr. Pike will come back to Paris, we want your cover to hold up.”

Marcus nods, looking back at you again. “Are you okay with this?” He asks softly. “I can still find someone else if you don’t want to see him again.”

“It would be slightly hypocritical to back out when you just had to spend three weeks with a case with your ex.” You remind him. “And…and Monsieur Ducasse seems to think it could help.” You shake your head, offering Marcus a smile when you can summon it up. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay.”

"I won't leave your side." Marcus promises, sure that he will stick to you like glue in the first undercover op you've ever participated in. His own need to make sure you are safe wouldn't allow it, even if he thought this Aubel wouldn't hurt you.

“We will do everything in our power to make sure no harm comes to you.” Ducasse assures you earnestly. “If I thought this would be more dangerous for you for knowing Aubel, I would not send you in. But I must ask, Madame. Do you know how to use a gun?”

The question makes you shiver a little, not being a big fan of firearms, but you nod. “Marcus has taken me to the firing range. We have one in the house, so I’ve learned.”

Ducasse nods and his eyes flicker over towards the FBI agent. He can tell that the man who had previously worked on a case with INTERPOL isn't exactly comfortable with his wife being in harm’s way. Not that he blames him, but this is a fortuitous situation and he will use everything in his power to get Aubel behind bars. He's wasted too many hours on chasing him to give up because your ex is the suspect. "I doubt you will need to, but we always send in our operatives armed." He allows.

“Why don’t you tell us more of what we’ll need to know for tomorrow?” With a whole day and night to prepare, you know that there will be plenty to learn and plenty of time to ask questions, but also plenty of time to build an alibi by being seen in the city. If what Ducasse says is true, people may be watching.

******

Hours later, Marcus sighs in relief when you are able to get to your rooms. With the knowledge that people might be watching, the bags had been delivered and you along with Marcus had started a very loving shopping trip along some of the more upscale stores in Paris. Now he's happy to just be alone with you and not worry about someone photographing you or approaching.

“I never thought shopping on the Champs-Élysées would be stressful.” Wrapped up in his arms in the exquisite suite, you and Marcus both sigh heavily and absorb the calm of being alone for a little while.

"It doesn't help when you are wondering when your ex is going to pop out from behind a bush." Marcus pulls you into his arms and sighs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I wouldn't have put you in the middle of this if I had."

“You didn’t know?” You huff at him, perching your chin on his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t know! I feel like such an idiot never realizing he was lying to me for two whole years. And honey…” Fingers gently tracing his face, you cup his cheek in your palm and offer him a smile. “I would never let you face this alone if there is even the tiniest possibility that I can help.”

“I appreciate that.” He sighs softly. “So much for romance in Paris.” He can’t help but chuckle. “Not exactly turning out how I wanted.”

“René suggested we spend some of tomorrow doing romantic or touristy things, so we can still have some fun.” The INTERPOL agent had turned out to be a very kind and likable man, and by the time lunch came you and he had been joking together over tartine. “I know it’s not perfect, but maybe we can squeeze an extra day of paperwork,” you say the word in air quotes, “out after this is over and have a day to ourselves?”

“That would work.” Marcus admits, “taking in the sights before we buy stolen artwork.”

“I could take you to my old neighborhood?” It’s something you wanted to do anyway, and might feel a little less like being on display. “Walk around, grab lunch, maybe go in and out of some shops?”

"Whatever you want to do." Marcus promises. Despite the curve ball, he wants this trip to be one of fond memories when you look back on it years from now. Especially since he will be able to propose in the city that you had always loved.

“I had a couple of places that I always thought you would love.” And that just makes you hug him a little tighter, knowing that something good will come out of this trip no matter what happens with the case - although you know Marcus will see it through to the best possible outcome.

"I will love them." Marcus promises. "Because I will be with you."

“I love you, too.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a kiss and let it linger in the privacy of your quiet suite of rooms. “What do you want to do before dinner?” Ducasse had suggested a visible night on the town just in case Henri or his people were having you watched - either as his ex or as an attendee of the auction.

"I will leave it up to you." Marcus leans back and shoots you a grin. "This is your city, baby." He sends you a wink. "Show me the sights."

“Then we’re going to Harry’s after dinner.” Harry’s New York Bar is a legendary hangout of the Lost Generation, and given his love of all things F Scott Fitzgerald, it will be the perfect place for celebrating tonight. “You’ll love it. I mean, I hope you will.”

"Harry's?" Marcus looks at you skeptically. "That sounds like a nice place to drink." He hums and slides his hands down to caress your ass. "You want to get ready to go out?"

"You just want to get me into one of those slinky dresses we bought today." You wiggle your ass in his hand and grin, giggling when he raises an eyebrow at you like that should have been obvious. "Should we eat dinner someplace swanky to keep up appearances?"

"What is the swankiest place we can get reservations at the last minute?" He asks, smirking at you because there is nothing he wants more than you to put on a slinky dress and go have a fabulous meal before he proposes in one of the most romantic cities in the world. The ring in his pocket is burning a hole in it and he wants to see it on your finger.

“I bet if we had the concierge call it would do better than if one of us tried.” Your eyes flick up to his with mischief shining in them, wondering if you could even pull this idea off. “Madame Brasserie or Jules Verne? À la Tour Eiffel?”

"Whichever one you've never been too and always wanted to try." He tells you indulgently.

"Madame Brasserie is the newer of the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, so it might be harder. But I wouldn't mind eating at either one." There's something altogether too indulgent about the idea and you sigh a little dreamily. "I'll call down to the front desk and see what they can do."

"I'm going to jump in the shower." Marcus offers. "We've been going nonstop since we got here and I at least want to wash off the travel before dinner tonight."

"That sounds like a plan." You reach up to kiss him again before letting him out of your arms. "I'll shower after you. Otherwise we'll be having room service because we can't keep our hands off each other."

"You know that's exactly what would happen." Marcus winks at you and grabs his bag so he can get his toiletry kit out. "Make your calls and I'll be getting sudsy in there."

******

About an hour and a half later you're both finally ready and barely keeping your hands off of each other despite showering separately. The blue velvet dress you chose for tonight hugs all of Marcus's favourite parts of your body and the perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit he settled on is elegant and easy, making him look even more effortlessly handsome than usual. "The concierge said he would have a car waiting for us." You tell him, taking one step toward the door of your suite before he can pounce and trying to swallow down your nerves over the little blue box in the bottom of your purse. "Jules Verne had one reservation left for tonight and we got in just in time." And because you told the concierge about your plans, he had made sure to arrange for a few things to be waiting for you in your room when you returned tonight.

"Perfect." Marcus has heard of the restaurant and he wants nothing more than for this to be the perfect night. Regardless of what happens on the case, he wants you to have a night you can look back at dreamily. His first proposal had been sweet and earnest, not exactly fancy, but now the need for a grand gesture is almost compulsory. "We still have the elevator ride down to be handsy."

"Let's hope we get it to ourselves then." You throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading out the door, knowing Marcus will be close on your heels.

"Jesus, Paris you is saucy" Marcus chuckles as he hustles after you. "I like it."

"I've decided to enjoy the trip and make the most of it." The door clicks shut behind him and his arm slips around your waist as you walk down the hallway together, just a few feet to the corner and then the elevators, but still far enough for you to get cozy while you walk. "My favourite city in the world with my favourite person is not something to waste."

“Favorite person huh?” The proud grin stretches across his face and he edges closer when you reach the elevator, then he leans forward to call the car to your floor. “I am honored. Especially since you’re my favorite person.”

"I think honoured might be a stretch," you tease, leaning against the wall while you wait for the elevator together. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby. To be the one that makes you happy."

“Baby – you’ve always made me happy.” That is something that he can promise. Right up until you wanted out, Marcus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. He reaches up and caresses your neck. “Always.”

"I love you so much." Wishing you could go back and erase the years apart won't change anything, but you lean up to kiss him now without hesitation. The future is what matters now. Your future together.

“I love you too.” The promise is simple, heartfelt and the look in your eyes has him wanting to drop down to his knee right now, but he knows it’s not time.

"Come on, love." The soft ding of the elevator interrupts you, but it doesn't matter. There will be plenty more sweet moments before the night is over.

Marcus allows you to pull him into the elevator and hums when he finds the car empty. “Should I wait to kiss you?” He asks, smirking slightly. “Don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”

The eyebrow you raise at him is incredulous, and you shake your head at him as the door closes to leave you alone for at least another minute. "Kiss proof," you inform him, as though it were ridiculous that you would wear anything else around him.

Thank God for whoever invented 'kiss proof' lipstick. Marcus has always loved you without makeup, straight out of the bed, but there is something so sexy when you are dressed up. Even if it's not technically for him, he feels like it is. Just like you love when he puts on cologne. Tugging you closer, he grins at you. "Well, we need to test that." He hums, "we haven't kissed with this lipstick color on."

“It’s a new brand, too.” He’s drawing you into him so easily you feel like a moth going to a spectacularly handsome flame. “How will know they’re telling the truth unless we test it?”

“Indeed.” Marcus makes it slow, gentle. Taking his time like the car isn’t slowing down as it reaches the ground floor.

It’s so easy to wrap up in each other. To let yourselves get carried away with affection and the romance of being in Paris together. The passionate kiss is intentionally and immediately intense – deep and luxurious and would probably be borderline pornographic if anyone was watching.

The doors open and there is a discreet cough before Marcus pulls away. Smiling apologetically as he finds a couple waiting to come onto the car. “Désolé pour ça.” Sorry about that. The apology is perfunctory, because he’s not sorry at all.

You can hear the woman muttering about Americans as you and Marcus stroll out through the lobby and it’s all you can do to contain your giggles. “Sorry not sorry.” You whisper, beaming at him. The concierge is waiting to load you into the car that he has ordered on your behalf, and you swear you feel like you’re in a movie. It might be a crime thriller, but it’s still elegant and passionate, and you love it.

"I'm not sorry either." Marcus keeps his hand on your back until you are sliding into the car and he is slipping in beside you. Allowing you to tell the driver where you are going since you are better familiar with the area.

Fortunately for tonight’s plans, you aren’t far from the Eiffel Tour. It’s an easy sight from the windows of your suite and a straightforward drive that only takes a few minutes - though the walk would be uncomfortable in heels. You’re grateful to have the driver and will certainly be tipping him at the end of the night even though it isn’t a necessity here the way it is in the US. When he lets you out at the edge of the park that surrounds the monument, Marcus slips out first and you happily accept his hand to maintain a little propriety while climbing out of the car in a skirt much shorter than your usual. “Now we go up,” you tell Marcus, practically sighing as you look up through the layers and layers of metal that compose the Eiffel Tower. Some people say they’re disappointed the first time they see it, but you’ve never understood why. It’s remarkable - an architectural triumph that stands out in the Paris skyline like a beacon.

“Did you know that the tower only took two years, two months and five days to build?” Marcus asks, nearly giddy as he climbs out of the car and offers you his hand. “Not bad for something that’s stood for over one hundred years.”

“I thought you might like to see it up close.” Yes, he has been to Paris for work, but you doubt he’s taken any extra leisure time for himself in all of that. “I came here my very first night in the city. I dropped off my bags at my little student apartment, and started walking across the city. Bought a crepe from a vendor on the street and sat on…” It takes you a second to find it, but as your eyes comb the area, they land on a bench a few yards away. “That bench, and looked up at the Tour Eiffel as I ate my dinner.”

“What did you think about while you were looking up at her?” Marcus asks curiously, wanting to know about your time here. Even if he wasn’t a part of it, you had history here.

"That she made me feel less lonely." You thread your fingers through his gently and give them a soft squeeze. It might sound like a sentimental answer, but you know that Marcus will understand. "If I was sitting here looking up at her, surely I wasn't the only one. So...it sort of became tradition. Any time I felt lonely I would come sit and spend time with her. And I knew that she was keeping other lonely people company. So I was automatically less alone."

“I understand that.” Marcus does, he had found plenty of little parks or monuments where he had been living to visit. Wanting to feel surrounded. It had always been that way since you had left.

"Come on, love." A small tug on his hand has both of you smiling at each other, but you nod toward the monument. "There's a special elevator for people having dinner at Jules Verne."

“How touristy is it that we are having dinner here?” He asks as you drag him closer to you. It might be incredibly cliché, but he’s thinking about proposing after dinner. Asking you if you will go up to the observation deck with him.

“Extremely.” And it doesn’t bother you in the least. In fact, it’s sweet. Sharing the city with Marcus means playing tourist in the best way possible. “But I think that’s a good thing. It’s a first for both of us and it’s going to be a beautiful meal.”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” Marcus admits, staring at you like you hung the moon. “The last time I was here, I—I couldn’t make myself come here.”

You turn back to him after hitting the button for the elevator, a soft but serious expression drawn on your face as you reach to touch his cheek. “Neither of us ever has to face anything along again, Marc.” You can promise him that. Wholeheartedly and without hesitation. “From now on, each chapter of our lives will have two main characters.”

“I love you.” Marcus whispers, knowing that down to the very fiber of his being. He’s never stopped, never. Not even when he convinced himself that he had moved on. You were just ingrained in his being like the hair color on his head or the way he has to lay on his right side to really sleep.

“I love you too.” Through all the ups and downs, the hardest struggles and the clearest days, it’s always been him. “Always.”

The ride up to the restaurant is shared with a young couple who are obviously on their honeymoon, making Marcus grin at the display of young love. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly how we are,” you murmur under your breath to him once the other couple has moved ahead of you to the maître’d stand. The couple are probably barely older than you were the first time you got married and you’re all the exact same level of handsy.

“Exactly.” Marcus steps up to the maître’d stand once they are being led off to be seat. “The couple in front of us?” He gestures towards the couple. “Champagne? To their table? And I will pay their bill.” He decides, wanting them to have a magical night.

“Oui, monsieur…” The gentleman provides ample space for Marcus to say his last name, and smiles in polite acknowledgment at the name Pike. He knows this reservation. Took it himself barely two hours ago. “Right this way,” he says in clear English, gracefully motioning for you to follow.

“After you.” Marcus lets you walk in front of him, so he can help you sit and so he can glance down at your ass in the gorgeous dress you are wearing. Reminding himself of exactly what is underneath.

The indulgent mood you’re both in extends to deciding on the seven-course menu with all the recommended wine pairings, and settling in at your table in the corner with a perfect view of Paris below from the window beside you.

“This is probably better than anything we could have imagined when we were their age.” Marcus had seen the surprise and delight in the younger couple’s faces when the champagne had been delivered. Looking around to see who had gifted them such a thing, Marcus hadn’t let them know. Hoping that one day, they would do the same to another young couple starting out.

“I hope they’re so excited for everything to come.” You reach across the table to link your fingers together and run your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “They’re starting a whole new chapter of their lives.”

“Yes, they are.” Marcus looks down at your joined hands and smiles. Fully aware that the same can be said for you. The ring in his pocket is making him eager for the dinner to be over. You are wearing a ring that is a part of the mission tomorrow, but tonight, he wants you to wear his.

“Speaking of which.” The smile you flash him is bright and bubbly, and you hang onto his hand like a lifeline. “I want to talk to you about a dream I had on the flight over last night.” It’s just a silly thing, but it’s about sharing those silly thoughts and future plans with him. Something that you had trouble with years ago.

“Oh?” Marcus ticks his brow up in curiosity. “What kind of dream is this? I promise I didn’t leave the toilet seat up or cheat on you with your non-existent cousin.”

“No, it was nothing like that.” Although the idea of being cross with him over a dream about leaving the toilet seat up makes you laugh. “It was a coming-home-from-work dream.”

“Oh yeah?” He shuffles closer, getting the hint that this is one of those ‘want to make this happen’ dreams. “Coming home to me, I hope?”

“And the kids.” When you nod it’s with heated cheeks and a shy smile. “In the dream it was some kind of holiday? I couldn’t tell what, but I came home and you had been decorating the house with the kids all day to surprise me.”

“Halloween.” Marcus guesses, knowing how much you love the spooky holiday.

“Maybe.” The fact that he’s playing along has you lighting up as you smile at him. “But I came home, and you told me that before we had dinner, that the kids had a surprise for me.” In the dream you remember being incredulous until Marcus had supported this surprise - a fact which reassured you that it wasn’t a brand new crayon mural on the living wall or something like that. “And that surprise was a very cute and tiny little kitten.”

“A kitten, huh?” Marcus grins and shakes his head in amusement. He’s had a mild cat allergy but luckily the medications had improved since he was a child. “A smokey grey one or a black cat?”

“I was thinking one of the breeds that’s kinder to allergies,” you admit sheepishly, knowing he would probably be a little extra sneezy when the dear cat sheds seasonally. “In the dream it was a Siamese, but I don’t know how they are for shedding.”

“We can always look into that. I think they are better?” He tilts his head. “But honestly...” he twists his fingers around and pulls your hand closer. “I like the idea of having to introduce the baby to the cat when we bring them home from the hospital? Give them a little guardian from the start?”

“So you’d rather have the cat first?” For some reason that thrills you - as if it were a validation that the steps you’ve been taking to solidify your relationship ship are working. “We can do that.” You’re practically squeaking at the idea, so it’s fairly obvious that you like it. “Have our first baby be the fur baby?”

“Practice, right?” Marcus laughs. “If we can keep a cat alive, we graduate to a miniature human?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” Though you both laugh easily together, you’re practically vibrating with excitement in your seat. “I just think we aren’t home enough for a puppy. And cats are so sweet.”

“Cats are more…independent.” Marcus allows, grinning softly. “Maybe after we get back, we could visit a shelter. See if it’s kitten season? Or maybe even an older, sweet soul who wants a home for their twilight years?”

“We can absolutely start looking around shelters.” It was really just an idea that you were throwing out there - something that made you smile and gave you that feeling of making your house into more of a home. But in true Marcus fashion, he has turned it into something sweet and spectacular. “Although I insist that if we get a kitten, they have a silly name.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus grins, nodding in agreement. “Something that will sound adorable and be completely opposite the personality.”

“Bonus points if it is something will sound completely bizarre being called out at the vet’s office.” It absolutely tickles you that he’s going with you on this, knowing that his childhood dog was innocuously named Buddy. “Something long and elaborate that will be extremely silly when scolding them. We need to get all the comical naming impulses out of us before the kids are born.”

“Mr. Fuzzlesworth.” Marcus tosses out with a grin, enjoying the idea of planning with you. Obviously you would need to get home before choosing a pet, but this is what relationships are about, planning.

“Sir Fuzzbutt de Fluffington.” You nearly double over, giggling at the table. “Although, Mr. Fuzzlesworth kind of sounds like a Dickens character and I love it.”

Marcus chuckles, enchanted by your enthusiasm for this. Hating that the two of you have to break apart when the first course is served. It looks delicious and it's obvious that the waitstaff tries to make this an experience for those who dine with them.

"Cheers." Raising your glass to him when the plates have been set down and the wine has been poured, you have nothing but love in your eyes when you look across the table at Marcus. This is a far more eventful night than just this same time yesterday, and hopefully the food will be just as exquisite - if not even more so. "To us."

"To us." He will never not toast to that. "I think we are getting spoiled with nice dinners." He hums as he taps his glass to yours softly. "How will we go back to eating Thai takeout or Chinese on our couch?"

"Easy." You waggle your eyebrows at him salaciously and lower your voice. "The incentive is that we can do that naked."

"You got me there." Marcus smirks and nods. "That's a good incentive."

The courses are exquisite. Crab, scallops with caviar, langoustine ravioli, cod poached in consommé with fennel. Every plate is like a dance, and it genuinely might be the best meal you've ever had in your entire life. "We're coming back here," you tell Marcus when he groans happily at the chicken course that's been cooked with black truffles and wine you know for sure is too expensive for weeknight drinking. "The first night of our honeymoon, we have to come back."

"I have no objections to that." Marcus takes another bite and closes his eyes in pure bliss. "None."

Hopefully there will be a more sentimental reason to come back to this place on your honeymoon, but you have to keep that close to you for just a little while longer. Instead you just smirk and tilt your head at him. "Although the hotel might be a bit of a stretch. I'm enjoying that for what it's worth on this trip."

"That hotel room is a dream." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "I never get rooms that good on cases. We are stuck in something like a Days Inn. Not that they are bad, but it's not...this."

"Maybe I'm magic?" You tease, knowing that dealing with your former flame on a case isn't exactly magical. But at least it's come with something positive for him. "Like a flashy good luck charm you can keep on your arm."

"I'd keep you in my pocket if I could." He chuckles, winking at you playfully. "But on my arm is okay too. I guess."

"That would be a very big pocket to whole a whole adult person." Although the image is fairly adorable, you'll give him that. "But I'll tell you what. If you ever find one big enough, I'll hop right in."

"You know they make huge pocket blankets for being lazy on a couch all weekend, right?" Marcus grins at you, knowing he will order you one for Christmas now.

"I actually did not know that." You grin at him over the last few bites of this fifth course. "Sounds great for cuddling."

Chuckling softly, Marcus manages to get through the rest of the dinner without giving away that every course makes him even more jittery. Eager to get to the best part of the night in his opinion. Getting to propose to you and show you how much he loves you and wants to make this forever.

The last two courses are sweet - lemon and then chocolate - leaving both you and Marcus feeling more full than you've felt in ages but independently anxious and excited without the other having any clue. If you had known in that moment that you had the very same plan in mind it might have made you laugh or even rethink the occasion to try to surprise the other one all over again. But as it is, when you step out of the restaurant after your sensational dinner, you look up at Marcus and smile softly. "Do you want to see the best view of Paris you'll ever have in your life?"

"You read my mind, baby." Marcus answers with an indulgent smile of his own and he couldn't get closer to you if he tried as he leans in. Wanting to keep the moment as intimate as possible.

"Come here." There is almost no one on the observation deck at this time of night, and you've never been so grateful for coincidences in your entire life. The last two people looking out over the city in this area wander away toward the restaurant to enjoy their dinner as you and Marcus choose a place to stand, and for a moment you're sure that the strangers bolted from the scene because they could hear how hard your heart is beating. Surely if the pounding in your ears is as loud as your heart, then the whole world around you can hear it, too.

"It's a perfect night." Marcus has done this before and yet his heart still beats wildly and he can feel the slight moisture of nerves dampening the shirt under his suit jacket. Coming over to you and taking your hand gently as he turns to make a show of looking out over the city of Paris under the gorgeously full moon.

"It's the perfect view." Paris is secondary to everything, right now, although it's the perfect backdrop for what you're about to do. While Marcus is looking out over the city, and despite how hard you're shaking, you manage to hold his hand while carefully extracting the ring box from your purse and exhaling deeply. Kneeling down in heels is an exacting task, but your dress cooperates, and you manage to not make a sound as you do.

Sighing softly, Marcus knows that this is the moment. Sure there have been thousands of proposals right here, or on the ground below, but he wants to add one more. “I need to ask you some—” Turning, Marcus stops mid word when he sees you kneeling in front of him. “—thing. What—” he can’t even ask you what is going on, eyes wide and focused on you and the small box in your hand.

"Here's the thing, Marc." You're already on the verge of tears as soon as you open your mouth, but that's okay. This is the first time you've ever done this and hopefully it will be the last, and Marcus knows that feeling all too well. "I know this is...nontraditional. And you're a traditionalist in a lot of ways. But I need to ask you something. Because for ten years, anytime something big happened in my life, the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Whenever something bad happened, I wanted to find the doorstep of whatever house you were living in and make sure that you were okay. I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and now that we're together again I just can't..." you sniffle, breaking out into a smile at the overwhelming joy in your heart. "I can't help but be excited that I won't have to call you if something good happens. Or worry about you when something goes wrong as things inevitably do in life. Because you’ll be right there with me. I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, Marcus Pike. And there is nothing more that I want than to come home to you. To share our joys and sorrows with each other and to build the life of our dreams together." The little box in your hand is slightly damp with the nervous sweat from your palm but neither of you notice, too focused on the way the lid snaps back to reveal the stunning rung that you picked out just yesterday. "Would you do me the immense honour of marrying me again?"

He stares for a moment, the shock and warmth of you proposing to him curling into his chest and making his heart burst. Choking out a laugh, a happy one, Marcus hits his knees in front of you, staring at the little blue box that he certainly recognizes. “I— can’t— of course I’m going to marry you again.” He manages, reaching for your hand and digging into his jacket pocket with the other to pull out an identical box.

With both of you crying and laughing you would have looked slightly hysterical to anyone around, but you lean forward to kiss Marcus as he digs in his jacket. Nothing else matters except the fact that he said yes, and for a moment everything in the world stands perfectly still. It isn't until you pull away again that you see him holding an identical Tiffany ring box and you burst out into another round of sobbing giggles. "Of course we both did," you laugh, pulling the platinum band out of the box in your hand to hold out to him. "Can I, love?"

“Yes.” He can’t help the giddy, bubbly laugh that rumbles out of his chest. Watching as you start to slide the band on his finger. “I can’t believe this is what you were buying yesterday.”

"You didn't buy the 'lunch with Angie' story, huh?" The ring fits him perfectly and you can't help but stare at it a little. The last time you put a ring on his finger was years ago, and as wonderful as your first wedding was, this feels so incredibly right tonight.

“I saw you.” Marcus admits with a grin, his thumb rubbing the underside of the band. “I had decided to look for your new ring.”

"You saw us?" It takes a second to refocus, but your eyes flick up to his and you reach to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah. I thought you were looking at something like a necklace or whatever.” He admits. “The associate kept bringing me rings so I didn’t have to turn around in case you saw me.”

"I was too focused. Although, the store manager now knows our entire love story." You lay kisses on both of his cheeks before you look down again, seeing the ring he's holding out to you in that same, now familiar, blue box. "Marc." The gasp that escapes you almost takes all of your breath with it. "Honey, it's absolutely gorgeous."

“I still have your other rings.” Of course he does and he’s pretty sure you know that too. “But I wanted to give you a new one, one for our new beginning.”

"Your parents will love this." As he slips that new ring onto your finger, it feels like your sense of balance has been missing that fine tuning for years. Without Marc's ring on your finger, you've been missing something this whole time. "I love you so much, baby. So much. And I can't wait to have our cat and our kids and our life full of dreams."

Marcus’s smile is full of all the love he has to give you. Bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the skin just above the new symbol of his commitment to you. “And tequila.” He adds, smirking at you as he reaches out to cup your face and draw you in for another kiss. “We can’t forget the tequila.”

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My Masterlist!

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I have finished reading the first volume of the war memoirs of Charles de Gaulle (The Call: 1939-1942).

As I have said before, I was pleasantly surprised by how easily it reads, and how interesting a storyteller De Gaulle is (specially when compared to Churchill's memoirs of the same period).

I went in looking for a different perspective of people and events I was familiar with from English speaking side of documentaries and narratives, but fully assuming I was going to arrive to a "the truth is in the middle" conclusion. So far, I have not, and that is surprising.

De Gaulle is often painted as a guy who identified with and cared for France and its reputation and GloryTM above everything else, and was therefore constantly putting the petty claims of France over the pressing needs of the war with the axis. What he presents is a Britain, and then to an even greater extent, a USA that is putting their petty dislike of him personally, their preconceived notions about France, and the economical and political greed of their governments above the pressing needs of the war with the axis.

And when one turns to Churchill's accounts of the same events, he either confirms De Gaulle's information, or keeps silence on it; he does not offer an alternative interpretation of events. Which is something I very much did not expect at all.

Both Roosevelt and Churchill are playing this game where they cannot really publicly reject De Gaulle and the Free French because their very concept is romantic and widely supported/accepted by the common people both in France and in the US/UK... but they don't like that they have their own agenda and are inflexible about things like French sovereignty. Their blind hope that somehow the US will be able to press Vichy into rejoining the war can only be reasonably explained by their thinking that France surrendered because the French are easily impressionable cowards: the same way they were subjugated by Germany, they could be subjugated by the US/UK and their resources used at leisure by them. The reality that De Gaulle, as a French man who had been in the French Army his whole life, saw in Vichy, was one of tiredness, defeatism, AND antisemitism fueled nazi sympathies. They didn't sign the armistice because they were weak, they signed the armistice because they wanted to not fight or not fight the nazis. History proved De Gaulle right. Vichy was not persuaded to rejoin the allies.

This attempt to appease and persuade Vichy explains the recruitment sabotage: you give De Gaulle 5 minutes on the BBC to talk and rally the French, but on the other hand you undermine his authority and ability to recruit. You attempt to turn him into a romantic, quixotic figure, useful to you but not to French interests.

The documentaries tell you of all the French soldiers that were rescued at Dunkirk, but they don't tell you that the Free French were sometimes prevented from ever interacting with them, and sometimes, when allowed, British officers would then afterwards impress upon French soldiers that if they joined the Free French they would be betraying the authorities of their country and subjected to court martial if the enterprise failed; that most of them were sent back to France. They don't tell you of the times the UK allowed ships deporting degaullists from the French colonies to the metropoli to pass, and therefore weakening De Gaulle's chances of taking those colonies over -because they had an eye on taking at least part of those for the UK. Or how when they did try to take over, they stopped the Free French from recruiting between French forces, took the armament and resources left behind for themselves, and also took over native battallions and absorbed them into the British armed forces. Suddenly the "this cute, endearing figure who only managed to command about 70.000 men" narrative turns into "this man managed to recruit about 70.000 men despite being on exile, his country being half occupied half ruled by colaborationists that had put a price to his head, and his allies constantly sabotaging him. He also managed to take over several colonies, organize the scattered resistance on French soil, and put the Free French on every front of the war."

So. Hm. Yeah. I went in expecting to better understand the conflicts between Churchill and De Gaulle, FDR and De Gaulle as a matter of "both sides had reasonable and unreasonable reasons" and so far I think by the end I will come around to think De Gaulle was actually the less petty and most honest of the three. Stay tuned XD