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master-sass-blast · 2 years

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High as Hell.

Summary: In a reversal of the norm, you're in charge of caring for Piotr when he has his wisdom teeth pulled and has to recover from surgery and the drugs that accompany it.

Hilarity ensues.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 2.8k.

Set before "The Long Awaited Arrival" and after "Children of the Gods: Part Four."

Author's Note: This will be the last post for this series for a short while (not a permanent stop, I promise). My shoulder injury flared back up during NaNo, and I need to take time off from writing to let things heal and see a chiropractor. Once I'm doing better and have a lil stockpile to post from, I'll be back!

I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving and spent good quality time with your loved ones. See you again when I'm doing better.

“Thanks again for helping me with this.”

In the waiting room seat next to you, Alexandra Rasputin waves her hand dismissively. “Ne volnuysya. It is not a problem for me.”

The two of you are sitting in the waiting room of a local oral surgeon. On the figurative chopping block today are your respective husbands.

As it turns out, dental care wasn’t necessarily the best in pre-or-post Soviet Union Siberia. Nikolai –Alex’s husband—is going “under the knife” (or, in this case, the dental scalpel) today to take out his impacted wisdom teeth and clear out any infection.

Your husband, Piotr, is also undergoing a similar such surgery today. He’s not dealing with any impaction, but this is the only place willing to use the amount of anesthesia necessary to numb him up for the surgery. It’s not an opportunity either of you are willing to pass up on.

“Relax,” Alex says when you can’t stop shifting in your chair. She favors you with a slight smile when you look over at her. “Medvezhonok will be fine.”

“Shit goes wrong a lot with anesthetics,” you mutter, eyeing the door separating the waiting room from the surgical area of the clinic.

“They do,” Alex concedes with a nod, “but valium is not the same as actual anesthesia.”

“They’re using five times the normal dose.”

“To account for Piotr’s weight and resistance to drugs.”

“But—”

“Malen'kaya ptitsa.” Alex squeezes your hand gently and gives you a softer, warmer smile when you look over at her. “Relax.”

You exhale and slump down in your seat. “Sorry.”

“No apologies needed.” She releases your hand and pats it. “It’s more for you than anyone else.”

***

As fortune would happen, Nikolai’s surgery finishes right around when Piotr comes to from his high –no pun intended—dose of valium.

Nikolai walks out of the surgery suite on his own two feet, thanks to only needing local anesthetics.

Piotr, on the other hand, is wheeled out in a wheelchair about two sizes too small to him by no less than three dental assistants. He gives you a dopey, bleary smile when he sees you and holds his arm out for a hug. “Myshka!”

“Trade.” Alex shuffles Nick over to you –he’s far more coherent, if a little puffy and spacey—then strides over and takes Piotr’s chair from the struggling assistants. She coaxes him into putting his feet in the stirrups, then wheels him towards the door with ease (which makes the assistants stare after her in equal parts bewilderment and envy). “Home with you, sladkiy medved'.”

You follow her with Nikolai in tow.

Nikolai gets into the passenger seat of Alex’s truck with ease. He even manages to buckle himself in –though he misses the clip a couple of times. He waves and gives you a parting smile, bits of blood-soaked cotton sticking out past the edges of his lips.

Piotr, on the other hand…

Alex grunts as she tries to manhandle her son into the passenger seat of the SUV. She curses in Russian, arms locking around his waist when he tries to stumble over to you –again. “Vo imya lyubvi Gospoda –yes, she is very pretty. You lucked out. Sit your ass down.”

Piotr laughs and holds his hand out to you. “Krasivaya zhena ... davay potseluy menya ...”

Alex lets out an annoyed huff. “You couldn’t have smoked weed in high school, huh? Built up any tolerance to this kind of shit at all? Ty tozhe dolzhen byt' tyazhelym, kak tvoy otets… blyad.” She rolls her eyes when Piotr continues to fight getting in the SUV –giggling like a madman all the while, and, hey, at least he’s entertaining himself—and jerks her head towards the driver’s side. “Get in. Maybe we can incentivize him.”

You get in the driver’s seat of the SUV –and, sure enough, Piotr goes willingly on the next attempt.

Alex buckles her son in, shaking her head all the while (though a fond smile tugs at her lips). “I can help you get him home and inside, but he’s all yours from there.” She pats Piotr’s chest a few times, then kisses his forehead before closing the passenger side door and heading to her truck.

You chuckle and take Piotr’s hand in yours. You kiss his knuckles, then grin when he gives you an astounded look. “Ready to go home, baby?”

“Kak ya nashel takuyu krasivuyu zhenshchinu?”

“I’m taking that as a ‘yes.’” You turn over the ignition, then steer the car towards the parking lot exit.

***

True to her word, Alex tails you back to yours and Piotr’s home. She helps you get Piotr up the stairs, inside, and to the family room couch, then makes sure you’re set before leaving with Nikolai.

“Call me if you need something,” she says, giving you an affectionate, maternal hug. “Day or night.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.” She smiles and squeezes your shoulder when you nod, then takes one last glance at Piotr and shakes her head. “Good luck.”

You see her out the front door, then lock it before turning and assessing your situation.

Piotr’s slumped across the couch. He’s staring at the ceiling like it’s revealing the mysteries of the universe to him. He’s got some blood crusted on his lips and chin, his cheeks are pouched out from where he has cotton wadded up in his mouth, and his eyes are so dilated they don’t even look blue anymore.

Hopefully his trip won’t last long. You check the instructions on his antibiotics and pain meds, then double-check the delivery time of lunch –a chocolate milkshake for him and a burger and fries for you—before heading over to the couch. “How’re you doing, baby?”

Piotr beams up at you. “Myshka! Come sit me.”

You bite back a laugh as he clumsily motions to the space on the couch next to him (which isn’t much, given his size). “Maybe in a bit. How’re you feeling?”

“I feel great,” Piotr says, with such emphasis and conviction that you don’t doubt him in the least.

“I’m so glad, honey. Can you feel your lips and mouth yet?”

Piotr opens his mouth to reply, then frowns. “But… do we feel anything, truly?”

And then, as if to drive home how high he is, he starts making fish faces with his lips (though, with all the numbing agent in his system, they don’t look very fish-like).

You giggle when your husband starts crossing his eyes to try and see his lips. “Okay, easy there, champ.” You place your fingers against his temples, gently pressing to guide his gaze –and attention—back to you. “How about we start you on the ice pack routine the surgeon talked about, and then we get some pain meds in you once your milkshake arrives. Sound good?”

“And you sit me?” Piotr asks, pouting up at you.

You nod, not even bothering to hide your grin. “And I sit you,” you promise. “We can watch some TV together.”

“National Geographic?”

“So much National Geographic, baby. As much as you want.” You giggle when he grins –you suspect, in a few hours, the expression won’t be quite so painless—then plant a kiss on his forehead. “Just a second, sweetheart. I’m going to get the ice pack, and then I’ll be all yours.”

A soft “yay” emanates from your husband as you amble over to the freezer.

***

Caring for Piotr, fortunately, is easy. You follow the intervals for icing given to you by the surgeon –twenty minutes on, ten minutes off, repeat throughout the first day and then no ice after that—and sit next to him on the couch while the National Geographic channel plays on the TV. You set him up with his milkshake and a spoon when the drink arrives –no straws, surgeon’s orders—and eat your lunch while he slurps down his shake.

You wind up sending Alex a Snapchat picture that shows off Piotr’s chocolate ice cream coated chin (special thanks to Novocain) and wide, slightly glassy eyes.

She sends you back a short video of Nikolai sacked out on the couch, sawing logs, with King –Alex’s black Pitbull—sprawled across his chest.

Once Piotr downs his milkshake, you administer his pain medication (which is also a ridiculously high dose, but such are the perks of being a pure grade Russian beefcake with high resistance to drugs). You finish off your food, help him do a saltwater rinse and change his gauze, then get him settled back on the couch and get the ice packs back on his cheeks. Once you’re sure he’s good to go, you start cleaning up from lunch and get going on doing dishes.

Fortunately, since the worst of the valium is working its way out of his system, he’s settled from being a boisterous, intoxicated handful. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his head bobbing as he starts dozing off, then jerk back up when a dish clatters in the sink or something exciting happens on the TV.

You finish loading the dishwasher and swing the door shut—

“Myshka?”

You smile at the sound of your husband’s soft, sleepy voice. You amble over to the couch, leaning over the back of the sofa so you can run your fingers through Piotr’s thick, dark hair. “What’s up, baby? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

Piotr sighs and leans into your touch. His eyes are closed, face slack with drug-induced exhaustion. “You hold me?”

Your heart melts at the request. “Yeah, I can hold you for a little bit, baby.”

He pouts. “You stay with me.”

“For as long as I can, sweetheart,” you chuckle, brushing your fingers across his forehead, “but I have to keep doing your ice pack routine. I’ll need to get up for that.”

“Nyet,” he whines, drawing the word out.

“Yes,” you reply, drawing the response out in equal measure. You laugh softly when Piotr opens his eyes and stares up at you blearily. “I’ll have to get up to put the ice packs in the freezer and get fresh ones out, my love. But other than that, I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Pinky promise, even.” You interlock your pinkies, laugh when Piotr merely blinks at both your intertwined fingers, then pat his shoulder gently. “Make some room for me, big guy.”

He sits up so you can slide in behind him.

Most of the couch is already taking his weight, so being crushed isn’t an issue when he reclines back against you. You wrap your arms around his burly shoulders and kiss his temple when he rests his head on your shoulder.

Within minutes, he’s out like a light.

You giggle silent when Piotr lets out a massive snore. You wriggle your phone out of your pants pocket, then click onto your phone’s camera app and turn on the front facing camera. You take a picture of you and Piotr, add the caption ‘baby wanted snuggles,’ and send the message to Alex.

She replies two minutes later.

Russian_Mama: <3 <3 <3.

***

“Kak?”

You bite down on your fist to keep from laughing. Okay, so maybe hoping he’d sleep off the rest of his drugs was a bit audacious.

Piotr’s sitting at the dining room table, staring at a glass of milk like he’s seen the face of God. He gapes, blue eyes wide whilst he marvels at the beverage before him. He blinks, then looks up at you and points at his glass. “This is from korova, da?”

“Baby—” You burst into giggles, bracing yourself against the table as you try to regain your composure. “Baby –Piotr—I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Piotr moos –and, while it does clarify his question, it does little to help you remain composed.

“Yes,” you manage after a serious bout of laughter, “it’s cow’s milk, honey.”

“But… we do not have one.”

You snort. You can feel tears of mirth streaming down your cheeks. “What?”

“We do not have cow,” Piotr repeats, mooing again to try and drive his point home.

“I know, honey—”

“Then…” He stares down at his glass again, face alight with wonder. “How?”

“We got it from the grocery store, sweetheart,” you say, somewhat calmer. You wipe your cheeks dry, giggles leaving you in short, breathless bursts. “You can get milk at the store, baby.”

“But… we do not have korova.”

You nearly collapse from laughter all over again. “Piotr—”

“Is miracle milk!” Piotr exclaims, voice hushed. He stares at the cup with a certain ardor that only someone who was very high off their ass would be able to understand. “Ot Boga!”

It’s your turn to blink at him. “What, honey?”

“God,” Piotr whispers, as if there are conspirators trying to ascertain the secrets of the glass of milk. He points at his cup. “God sent us milk.”

Your ribs hurt. Your lungs burn. You’re pretty sure you’re going to die, and it’s going to be from laughing your ass off at your husband’s post-wisdom tooth removal high.

There are far worse ways to go.

***

Fortunately, the rest of the day progresses rather smoothly. You feed Piotr some mashed potatoes and warm soup for dinner –both blended to the point of not having any discernible chunks in them—and help him do a saltwater rinse before putting him to bed.

A good night’s sleep, fortunately, seems to finish putting Piotr’s screws back on properly. Come morning, he isn’t mixing Russian and English or attributing the work of grocery stores to that of an unseen deity.

This isn’t to say, however, that new complications haven’t arisen…

“No!” You laugh when Piotr pouts at you and –gently—press the tip of your index finger against his lips. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you saying you do not desire, moya dusha?” Piotr asks, feigning sorrow. “Does my wife no longer love me?”

“That’s not the issue and you know it, you little shit,” you retort, grinning when Piotr giggles and ducks his head. “The issue—” you smack his hand when he tries to take off your pajama pants again “—is that you are not going down on me with two fresh holes in your mouth.”

Piotr pouts again and lays his head against your stomach. He sighs –then peeks up at you, eyes pleading. “I could…”

“Not gonna happen,” you say sweetly, ruffling his morning bedhead with your fingers. “Pretty sure pubic hair counts as a ‘foreign object with the potential of causing infection.’”

Piotr scrunches up his face.

“Exactly.” You stroke your fingers through his hair and sigh lovingly. “I appreciate the offer, babe, but none of that is gonna happen until your mouth’s all healed up. I’m not consenting to it under any other circumstances.”

Piotr sighs, but relents. “Khorosho.” He looks back up at you. “Breakfast?”

“Absolutely, babe.” You pat his shoulder, then slide out of bed when he clambers off of you. “More applesauce and various lukewarm mushes for you, mister.”

…

Over the next couple weeks, Piotr recovers. He completes his course of antibiotics, stops needing the pain meds, and the holes in his mouth close without problem.

Once Nikolai recovers, too (the process was a little lengthier, given the infection he was dealing with), you and Piotr head out to Alex and Nick’s farm for a “we can finally eat normal food again” celebration.

Nick and Piotr are whirlwinds in the kitchen –and with Alex on “all things knife related” duty, you get the distinct pleasure of doting plenty of attention on King.

“Oh, you’re so handsome,” you coo from your barstool as King stands back on his hind legs so he can get his front legs into your lap. You rub his massive head, taking time to stroke his floppy, scarred ears. “Yes, you’re the handsomest baby, aren’t you?”

Alex chuckles as she expertly cubes a bowl of potato chunks. “He’s a good nursemaid, too. Took good care of papa while he was recovering.”

You praise King for his attentiveness –and then you remember something you’d been meaning to share with Alex. You giggle, then look over at Piotr. “Babe, you’re agnostic, right?”

Piotr looks up at you, expression confused. “Uh… da. Why?”

“I was just checking,” you say with an air of forced nonchalance. You wave your hand at him when he frowns. “You just had quite the ‘heavenly revelation’ about how we had milk during the first day of your recovery, is all.”

Alex snorts. “This should be good.”

“He couldn’t figure out how we had cow’s milk, since we didn’t have a cow,” you explain through your giggles. “And –even though I told him it was from a grocery store—he decided that God must have sent it to us.”

Piotr groans and drops his head in his hands while his parents laugh fondly.

You laugh with them, then grin and blow a kiss to your husband when he looks up at you.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #fluff fluff fluff #just some soft domestic shit #because i need it #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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derevosky · 7 years

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idk man i was thinking about the fma au rusame i mentioned and i have a lot to say about it but yeah what if state alchemist!alfred and automail mechanic!ivan

state alchemist alfred, a prodigy (who lost an arm and a leg because he tried to revive his mother with his bro matthew* who now lost his body so he's in an armor)

- his goal was to help people even from the start that’s why he wanted to be a state alchemist; he was scared that he might not be accepted because he broke the taboo

and automail mechanic ivan (who secretly is an alchemist as well -that can even do transmutations without a circle- but yeah that'd be a long back story haha)

- fun fact: he has a mechanical heart (because the truth took his real one so he stabbed himself while he transmuted the pipe he used to stab himself)

*always mistaken as alfred because of his title

#i'd write this but i need to finish vashe imya first hahahaha #my ideas for rusame #rusame #hetalia #aph russia #aph america #i tried art #and it's horrible hahaha

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

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Please ramble about your new Au? I like ramble.

And there goes my self control xD

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi, a high-profile officer on the research vessel The Negotiator, seeks out Anakin Skywalker, former General of the Imperial Army. Skywalker, being one of the few humans who survived imprisonment with the Hutts, was incredibly valuable to Obi-Wan’s goals at seeing a united and peaceful galaxy. If only the man weren’t so stubborn and dead-set on staying out of the powers at play in their galaxy.

“Ahsoka, trall.”

The young togruta shot Skywalker a suspicious look, opening her mouth in what would certainly be protest, but when he shook his head, she closed it again.

“Tritrokta, Anakin,” she muttered, but then did as told and left the room. Obi-Wan hadn’t known that Skywalker had a companion, never mind such a young non-human one. It wasn’t exactly the Empire’s style to team up with other species. Then again, Skywalker hadn��t been with the Empire for a while.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan said. “Moyo imya Obi-Wan Kenobi. Ya chlen Galatic Aliansa. Ty speak na Basike?”

The Empire’s officers usually knew Basic, though some of them preferred to speak the Angli-heavier variant of it. Obi-Wan didn’t expect Skywalker to be one of them, his files had made him out to be more of a polyglot, but it was polite to ask, and Obi-Wan had to make a good impression. That Skywalker had sent his companion out of the room already said enough about how much he trusted him.

Skywalker’s eyes narrowed and he set his spanner on his workbench. “Who ne speak Basic? What ty hochesh?”

Obi-Wan wanted a lot of things. He wanted the Empire to dissolve, he wanted the Alliance to loosen its hold on the F.O.R.C.E. users and allow them proper training and he wanted everyone in the galaxy to lay down their weapons and come together in peace.

He would likely get none of that anytime soon.

“I’d like for you to listen to my offer,” he said instead.

So @writing-is-thorapy and I were talking about a galaxy not so far away. And this aligned perfectly with me remembering the @lingthusiasm episodes about Space pidgin and how thanks to the Space Race, languages of space are English and Russianx which, over time, would develop into a creole so that the first language of space would be this creole.

That being said, if you look at a galaxy not so far away, Basic, as we know it, would be the end result of this pidgin. So what I’m now writing about is basically humanity still taking its first steps into the galaxy, learning its place as thousands of other species do it at the same time. And part of that, is learning how to communicate!

Sadly, I don’t have any audio bits of this Runglish and therefore have to make do by bothering my Russian friend for translating things for me and then checking whether I messed it up to much.

In this particular setting, Obi-Wan speaks the Russian heavier Basike while Anakin speaks the English heavier Basic. The grammar of both languages is fairly similar, though the distribution of how heavily the influence of either on the vocabulary is, differs.

This is the actual convo in both:

“Hello,” Obi-Wan said. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am a member of the Galactic Alliance. Do you speak Basic?”

“Who doesn’t speak Basic? What do you want?”

Obi-Wan: Privet. Moyo imya Obi-Wan Kenobi. Ya chlen Galakticheskogo Aliansa. Ty govorish na Basike?

Anakin: Kto ne govorit na Basike? Chego ty hochesh?

Additional linguistic rambles:

greeting words like hi/hello are english, but since they are used in more and more languages, so i decided to keep those for Basic

I like the fact that you drop the “to be” in russian when it's superfluous so i did that here as well.

I decided to go with "galactic" bc that's the shorter word and langauges tend to go for most efficient with least words.

I kept russian pronouns, but I think I'll stick to using nominative case and go with less case marking.

Since Obi-Wan uses the russian heavier Basike while Anakin uses the more anglicized Basic, Anakin drops the preposition while Obi-Wan keeps it.

And then, while not shown here, you have Anakin and Ahsoka, who communicate in a mix of Huttese, Togruti (language they use at the start), and Basic.

Of course, there’s a lot of work to be done - establish a usable grammar for the Basics, a sound bank, though nothing as extensive as I’m doing for Dai Bendu - but I think this is a fun project. Ideally, every dialogue would be written in the creole/slangs I’ll use, but I think people would riot when reading.

So, this is my new AU: Star Wars but before anything recognizeable exists and everything is Linguistics.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #linguistics #fanfic #ask #anon #a galaxy not so far away AU

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thedevilsruby · 3 years

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Scientist team lead Reader who is bilingual? Like, there's a team of scientists working with Arlo, and Reader is like second in command? And Reader's kinda like Blanche, very work-oriented. Most of the others... Are not. When they screw up, they don't worry about immediately fixing it, and it irks Reader to no end. One day they blow up and start cussing the idiots in her native language (English is the second). Arlo walks in on that. And it's kinda hot?

Arlo hummed silently to himself as he studied his paperwork. He noticed your name on it and smirked. “Y/n, you never let me down. This is brilliant.”

You had done it again. Your careful study and work is what made you his Second in Command scientist.

You were always focused when you worked, nothing else mattered. Arlo couldn’t help but compare you to Leader Blanche of Team Mystic. But he better not tell Cliff, unless he wanted to die by a slow strangulation.

But there was the fact you also spoke Russian, one of your parents being Russian and teaching you the art of the wonderful language. Arlo thought it was amazing how you were able to speak both languages fluently.

But what set you apart from your team of scientists was you actually panicked when you made a mistakes, you apologized profusely and quickly found a way to correct your mistake.

The others...didn’t bother fixing them right away. They shrugged their mistakes off and said “I’ll fix them later. It’s not the end of the world.”

But Team Rocket needed everything to be correct. What good was having a team when only you carried the burden of being the only competent one?

One day, Arlo had called you into the lab. You didn’t know why.

You knocked on the door and came in, you were surprised to your fellow scientists in the room. They all looked nervous to even look at you.

You were confused. Why were they nervous? What did Arlo do? Why were you all here?

“Arlo, may I ask what is the meaning of this meeting?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you entered.

“Y/n, I just got done reviewing some experiments your team was in charge of and I noticed a mistake on one for the Shadow Pokemon.” Arlo said, clasping his hands together and putting them under his chin. “I was asking your team here and they said it was your mistake. Care to explain?”

That’s when it hit you. They made a mistake they didn’t catch sooner and never bothered to check, now they were blaming you! The nerve of them!!

You stood up furiously, fire in your eyes as you glared daggers at all of them. “Vy chto, sovsem yebanulis'? S khuya li eto moya vina? Vy zhe, tosty nedozharennyye, menya nikhuya ne slushayete!”*

Arlo froze like a statue. Did you just go into your other tongue? In front of him?

“Khren tam eto moya vina! Vam zhe, pridurkam, odnoy khromosomy ne khvatayet do prevrashcheniya v yebuchuyu kartoshku!“* You screamed, starting to pace around the room. You clenched your fists tightly.

Arlo simply watched you pace, too shocked to do or say anything that would stop you. You looked...beautiful when you were angry.

Even more beautiful when you were angry and spoke Russian.

“Y/n, please-!” A scientist by the name of Antaneka tried to intervene but your growl was enough to make him back off.

“No neyeeyet, zachem menya slushat', ne to chtoby u menya IQ vyshe, chem u vas vsekh smeste vzyatykh!”! * You continued on, starting to punch and kick random objects that were in your way. Namely chairs and stools.

“Seychas YA govoryu! Yesli mne ponadobitsya mneniye bezmozglogo lenivogo kuska der'ma, ya razob'yu tebe tvoyu tupuyu bashku, dostanu ottuda mozg, kotorym ty vse ravno, gad, ne pol'zuyesh'sya, i zadam tebe parochku voprosov!” You screamed.

Arlo felt something in his stomach, he couldn’t specify whether it was hormones or Butterfree. But you speaking Russian seemed to set it off.

“Instinkt samosokhraneniya - eto bazovyy instinkt, zalozhennyy v lyubom organizme - kak zhe vy, debily, yego otklyuchit' umudrilis', kogda reshili skinut' vinu na menya?!” You demanded, no one really knew what but you were furious. The fire blazing in your eyes.

Arlo found himself wanting to kiss you.

“YA vas v takoy pazl narezhu, patalogoanatom vmesto vskrytiya budet sborku provodit'! Vo imya vsekh Legendarnykh, za chto mne eto? Gospodi blyat' bozhe, kak ya vso eto nenavizhu!“* You finished, panting hard, clenching a nearby table, staring at your colleagues, daring them to move an inch.

None of them knew what to say, not even how to approach you.

Only Arlo knew what to say.

“Care to repeat that in English?” He asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Yes! Are you out of your fucking minds?! How the fuck is it-wait, what?” You asked, now calm and processing what Arlo had just asked, a embarrassed blush now forming on your face.

“Everyone, please leave the room. I would like to talk to Y/n. Alone.” He said, a dangerous flash in his eyes.

Oh no.

You bit your lip, now regretting flying off the handle like that. Why couldn’t you keep your cool? Were you going to be fired now?

“Y/n.” Arlo said suddenly. You stood up straight, trying not to let your nerves show. “Yes?” You asked, trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“...That was amazing.” Was all Arlo said.

“Huh?” Was all you could ask. You weren’t fired? He was going to throw you out himself?

“Y/n, they all had that coming. None of them come even close to your brilliance. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only scientist I trust.” He said, shrugging casually. “Plus, the way you went off in Russian blows my mind.”

You blushed even harder, he was complimenting you. On your Russian no less!

“Thank you.” You said shyly, a far cry from the screaming mess you were just minutes earlier.

“Just...please make sure you find the mistake and show them how to fix it. Don’t actually fix it, show them how. Let them learn.” He said.

“Yes sir.” You sighed out in relief.

“Good, also...”

You looked up, now curious. “Arlo?”

He smirked at you. “Have dinner with me Friday night. And speak Russian.”

@whatsupwithjinx I had fun writing this one! Russian is a complex and beautiful languange! Thank you for your help on this!

* Everything Reader said translates to this: “ Are you out of your fucking mind? How the fuck is it my fault? You never fucking listen to me, you undercooked pieces of toast! Like fuck it's my fault! You assholes are one chromosome short of turning into a fucking potato! But nooooo, why listen to me, not like I have an IQ higher than all of yours combined! *Antaneka interferes* I'm the one talking now! If I need the opinion of a brainless lazy ass piece of shit, I'll break your stupid head, take out your brain, which you don't use anyway, you dingbat, and ask you a couple questions! The instinct of self-preservation is a basic instinct inherent in any organism - how did you morons even manage to turn it off when you decided to throw me under the bus?! I'll cut you up into such a jigsaw puzzle, the pathologist will have to conduct an assembly instead of an autopsy! In the name of all the Legendaries, why would I do that? God fucking damnit, I hate this!

#pokemon #pokemon go #leader arlo #team go rocket leader arlo #team rocket arlo #arlo x reader #bilingual!reader #whatsupwithjinx

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chicago-geniza · 4 years

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ok so this is an-sky's pass to galicia & bukovina from april 1917 (!) & what fascinates me is that passports / travel docs / biometrics came into being around WWI, but the system was...way more flexible w/r/t identity--for example, jews were not permitted to legally change their names to anything non-jewish in the russian empire by this point iirc, & per his ~*~birth registration he was still shloyme-zanvl aronovich, but he's able to write imya-otchestvo as "semyon akimovich" (rapoport) on an official document & have it remain viable; so i wonder when, aside from *surname*, it became necessary for first name (& patronymic) to correspond to a formally registered birth record, especially for ethnic minorities?

#shloymele

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enter-the-bear-circle · 4 years

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I was tagged by @technicallycleverdetective and I'm doing this centuries after, but oh well, I was never known for being fast

Zodiac sign: Capricorn or Aquarius (I have no idea, different horoscopes say different things, feel free to call me Aquacorn xD)

Nickname: gods, so many, but they are too hard to translate. My sister and dad often call me Lizoooooon though (yeah, that o needs to be really long)

Height: 168 cm (I think?)

Last thing googled: line-up for the Italian concert today, cause I'm that obsessed

Hogwarts House: not really familiar with the universe, but I think Ravenclaw

DND alignment: never played, so idk

Favourite musicians: there are too many, I can't. Oh well... Draconian, Ermal Meta, Fabrizio Moro, Motta, The Zen Circus, Seether, Nightwish, Ultimo, Giordana Angi, Pomni Imya Svoe, Disturbed, Halestorm, In This Moment, Midas Fall, Levante and many many others

Following: 113

Followers: 43

Lucky numbers: don't really have them, maybe 5?

Favourite songs: there is a huge list, but I'll name only the small part, cause tumblr made me rewrite this post freaking 3 times

Draconian - No Lonelier Star, No Greater Sorrow, Pale Tortured Blue, Rivers Between Us (actually all of their songs)

Disturbed - Haunted, Stricken, Overburdened

Seether - Fine Again, Plastic Man, Rise Above This, The Gift, I'll Survive

Nightwish - Beauty And The Beast, Two For Tragedy, Nemo

Ermal Meta - Voodoo Love, Vietato morire, Voce del verbo, Mi salvi chi può, 9 primavere

Fabrizio Moro - Pace, Figli di nessuno, La felicità, Fermi con le mani

Ultimo - Sabbia, Chiave, Sogni appesi, Racconterò di te, Ti dedico il silenzio, Rondini al guinzaglio, Fateme cantà

Motta - Chissa dove sarai, La nostra ultima canzone, Dov'è l'Italia, Del tempo che passa la felicità, La fine dei vent'anni

The Zen Circus - La festa, L'amore è una dittatura, L'anima non conta, Viva, Catene, Canta che ti passa

Daniele Silvestri - Argentovivo

Amount of sleep I get: 4 - 5 hours usually, about 8 on weekends (though I can easily sleep for 12 hours)

Dream job: writing and translating books

Instruments: none (if you don't count screwdrivers xD)

Wearing now: black shirt, brown baggy pants, black socks

Aesthetic: green forests, dark clothes, bears, owls, metal concerts, pizza, windy cloudy weather, cats, cacti

Random facts: metamoro coming into my life led to me choosing to become a translator from Italian, I have many cacti friends and one cat monster, I collect things related to owls

Won't tag anyone, cause I'm pretty sure everyone has done this already❤

#if you tag me in nice stuff i'll love you forever #even if it will take me years to respond #i've been battling with tumblr for the last three hours #ughh this hellsite

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rusame · 7 years

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Weekly RusAme FanFiction updates (Sep 10, 2017 - Sep 16, 2017)

Hello Friends! Here are this week's RusAme new FF.net, AO3, and WattPad fanfics.

If you find some of them to your liking, please be sure to read and review the fanfic since it will surely make the author's day

P.S. Don't forget to check the fanfic's maturity rate and warnings (if there's any) first before checking them out. Happy Read and Review! :)

FF.Net Updates (6 FanFics) :

1. Chemical - by Crowsnight66

2. America's bad day turns into worse (Chapter 5) - by GintokiLover01

3. Vashe Imya (Chapter 6) - by derevosky

4. A Bloody Case (Chapter 4) - by wolftrails of love

5. I always win - by Philia-Agape

6. The Wild Rose (Chapter 7) - by thegirlwhosaidhi

AO3 Updates (20 FanFics) :

1. Chemical - by Crowsnight66

2. The Cards of Cupid (Chapter 9) - by chiptease

3. End of Endings (Chapter 5) - by December Dragon, December Writing Dragon and StarlightOnInk

4. Have We Met Before? (Chapter 3) - by Trentkusuri

5. The Door is Open - by Teutoneko

6. Scarves don't stay on during sex - by SpunkySpaceCat

7. A Gentleman's Dilemma - by EmeraldSage

8. Cosseted [G] - by chiptease

9. Vashe Imya (Chapter 6) - by derevosky

10. The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions - by Reneia

11. Talk To Me - by Underestimated_amateur

12. Russian desires (Chapter 5) - by RiseForPrussia

13. HOW 2 DO DA HOT PHONE SMEX WITH 5 PEOPLES - by SpunkySpaceCat

14. Swing Me (Round and Round) - by EmeraldSage

15. Melody [M] - by chiptease

16. Comfort [G] - by chiptease

17. Eclipsed [T] - by chiptease

18. Clasp - by chiptease

19. I am... [T] - by chiptease

20. Captivity (Chapter 11) - by liebe_margarette

Wattpad Updates (11 FanFic) :

#hetalia #aph #rusame #aph russia #aph america #amerus #fics #fic updates #zia reads #AO3 #FFNet #WattPad

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sincerelyajar · 7 years

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Liberté. _____ Freedom.

Freedom.

I Write Your Name On The Attentive Lips Well Above The Silence I Write Your Name Freedom. I Write Your Name On All The Pages I read I Write Your Name on Stone I write your name in Blood I write your name on Paper I write your name is ASH I Write Your Name On The Walls Of My Boredom I Write Your Name On The Bare Solitude I Write Your Name On The Steps Of Death And By The Power Of A Word I Start My Life Again I Was Born To Know You Freedom.

En Español

Libertad.

Escribo tu nombre En los labios atentos Bien arriba del silencio Escribo tu nombre Libertad. Escribo tu nombre en todas las páginas que leo Escribo tu nombre en piedra Escribo tu nombre en Blood Escribo tu nombre en papel Escribo tu nombre es CENIZA Escribo tu nombre en las paredes de mi aburrimiento Escribo tu nombre en la desnuda soledad Escribo tu nombre en los pasos de la muerte Y por el poder de una palabra Comienzo mi vida otra vez Nací para conocerte Libertad.

FRENCH | français

Liberté.

J'écris ton nom Sur les lèvres attentives Bien au-dessus du silence J'écris ton nom Liberté. J'écris ton nom sur toutes les pages que j'ai lues J'écris ton nom sur la pierre J'écris ton nom dans Blood J'écris ton nom sur papier J'écris ton nom est ASH J'écris ton nom sur les murs de mon ennui J'écris ton nom sur la solitude nue J'écris ton nom sur les traces de la mort Et par la puissance d'un mot Je recommence ma vie Je suis née pour te connaître Liberté.

Português

Liberdade.

Escrevo seu nome Sobre os Lábios Atentos Bem acima do silêncio Escrevo seu nome Liberdade. Escrevo seu nome em todas as páginas que eu li Escrevo seu nome na pedra Eu escrevo seu nome em Blood Eu escrevo seu nome no papel Eu escrevo seu nome é ASH Escrevo seu nome nas paredes do meu tédio Eu Escrevo Seu Nome Na Solidão Nua Escrevo seu nome nos passos da morte E pelo poder de uma palavra Eu começo minha vida novamente Eu nasci para te conhecer Liberdade.

russkiy | русский

Свобода.

Я пишу свое имя На внимательных губах Ну, выше тишины Я пишу свое имя Свобода. Я пишу свое имя на всех страницах, которые я читал Я пишу свое имя на камне Я пишу ваше имя в Blood Я пишу ваше имя на бумаге Я пишу ваше имя ASH свобода Я пишу свое имя на стенах моей скуки Я пишу свое имя на голом одиночестве Я пишу свое имя на шагах от смерти И по силе слова свобода Я снова начал свою жизнь Я родился, чтобы знать тебя Свобода.

Svoboda.

YA pishu svoye imya Na vnimatel'nykh gubakh Nu, vyshe tishiny YA pishu svoye imya Svoboda. YA pishu svoye imya na vsekh stranitsakh, kotoryye ya chital YA pishu svoye imya na kamne YA pishu vashe imya v Blood YA pishu vashe imya na bumage YA pishu vashe imya ASH svoboda YA pishu svoye imya na stenakh moyey skuki YA pishu svoye imya na golom odinochestve YA pishu svoye imya na shagakh ot smerti I po sile slova svoboda YA snova nachal svoyu zhizn' YA rodilsya, chtoby znat' tebya Svoboda.

HINDI | hindee | आजादी।

आजादी।

मैं अपना नाम लिखें सावधानीपूर्वक होंठ पर मौन पर खैर मैं अपना नाम लिखें आजादी। मैंने पढ़ा सभी पृष्ठों पर अपना नाम लिखें मैं स्टोन पर अपना नाम लिखें मैं आपका नाम रक्त में लिखता हूं मैं पेपर पर अपना नाम लिखूंगा मैं तुम्हारा नाम ASH लिखता हूं आजादी मैं अपनी बोरीडम की दीवारों पर अपना नाम लिखें ब्रेड सॉलिट्यूड पर अपना नाम लिखें मैं मौत के कदमों पर अपना नाम लिखें और एक शब्द की शक्ति से आजादी मैं अपना जीवन फिर से शुरू मैं तुम्हें जानना पैदा हुआ था आजादी।

aajaadee. main apana naam likhen saavadhaaneepoorvak honth par maun par khair main apana naam likhen aajaadee. mainne padha sabhee prshthon par apana naam likhen main ston par apana naam likhen main aapaka naam rakt mein likhata hoon main pepar par apana naam likhoonga main tumhaara naam ash likhata hoon aajaadee main apanee boreedam kee deevaaron par apana naam likhen bred solityood par apana naam likhen main maut ke kadamon par apana naam likhen aur ek shabd kee shakti se aajaadee main apana jeevan phir se shuroo main tumhen jaanana paida hua tha aajaadee. huriya alhindia

arabic | عربى.

hariyat. akutab aismuk ealaa alshifah alyuqza hasanana fawq alsamt 'aktab aismuk hariyat. 'aktab aismak fi jmye alsafahat alty qaratuha 'aktab aismak ealaa alhajar 'uktib aismuk bialdm 'aktab aismak ealaa alwrq 'aktab aismak hu ash huriya 'aktab aismak ealaa judran millatay 'aktab aismak ealaa aleuzlat alearia 'aktab aismak ealaa khatawat almawt wabihukm quat kalima huriya 'ana 'abda hayati maratan 'ukhraa wulidat li 'an 'uerafak hariyat.

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