#please forgive me for the translations

[lackadaisicallizard]

hello! in tlg, there's a scene of reg learning hindi for james, but never one of james finding out; how do you think that went?

Ooh yes that! Them learning each other’s languages is so special to me.

Please bear with me because I don’t speak Hindi (or French), but this is how it went:

The Long Game

An additional scene

“Come on you bastard,” James shouts at the TV, his voice double the volume of any reasonable human in an enclosed area.

Regulus is sitting sideways on the sofa, leaning against the arm with his legs resting in James’ lap. He looks up from his book; even after eight months together, his boyfriend’s ability to be completely enraptured by people running up and down a field truly puzzles him.

Sure Regulus looks at the screen every now and then, but he’d be lying if he said it was for anything but the close ups of fit players in shorts.

“Are you wining?” Regulus asks.

“Not if Erling Haaland can’t kick a ball straight for once in his fucking life.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows, doing nothing to keep the smile off his face. James’ eyes are still glued to the screen, and quite frankly his whole energy right now is really rather attractive. There’s not a lot that can make James angry, and his set jaw and piercing eyes are a sight that makes Regulus want to make him forget there’s a game on at all.

He’d never do that though, he knows how much it means to the older boy, and so he makes himself content with just watching the emotions play across his face.

The other team scores a goal then and all hell breaks loose. Regulus is fairly sure he hasn’t heard that much profanity come out of one person’s mouth in his entire life.

Effie appears in the doorway then, her hands on her hips.

“James, dhang se bolo aur chillao mat. I know you’re an adult but this is still my house.”

James has the decency to look apologetic. Even with a game on, he can’t ignore his mum.

“Sorry, Mum. We’re losing.”

“Phir bhi, gaaliyan kam se kam honi chahiye, theekhe?”

James shrugs, “Main koshish karunga.”

She looks disapprovingly at her son.

“I’ll make sure he does more than try, Effie,” Regulus promises.

Effie smiles at that. “This is why you’re my favourite. Use shaitaani karne se rokna.”

“Ek namumkin kaam,” Regulus comments.

Effie laughs. “You’re not wrong there.” She gives James one last stern look before disappearing back down the hallway.

Regulus goes to read his book again but feels James’ eyes on him. He looks up to see a look of complete disbelief.

“What?”

“You just spoke to my mum.”

Regulus’ mouth twitches. “Is that not allowed?”

“Regulus.”

“Yes?”

“You understood and spoke to her in perfect Hindi.”

Regulus is properly smiling now. “Is that a problem?”

There’s a moment of silence and Regulus can almost see the whirring of James’ brain. He then splits into a wide grin, the warmth spreading to his eyes almost immediately.

“You learned Hindi for me?”

“You learned French for me.”

James shakes his head, his expression soft. “I love you so much, Regulus Black.”

The older boy puts his hands on Regulus’ knees before leaning in, waiting for him to lean forward and meet him halfway. Regulus does so gladly, his love for James warm on his lips.

“Say it in French,” Regulus says, voice low.

James’ smile is back. “Je t’aime chaque jour davantage.”

Regulus takes his hand as he speaks. “Mai tumse humesha pyaar karunga.”

“Only forever? That’s not nearly long enough.”

And Regulus kisses him, because how else is he supposed to respond to that? Especially when he agrees. Forever is not long enough to love James Potter.

As they pull apart again James speaks. “Regulus, I love you so much and you learning Hindi for me means the absolute world and we will definitely come back to this moment, but-“

“James-” Regulus interrupts and James pauses in his rambling. Regulus smiles. “You can get back to the game, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll have plenty of time later to seduce you in multiple languages.”

James takes an audible deep breath. “Fuck me, I’m so lucky.”

“Don’t forget it,” Regulus winks at him before picking up his book again, settling back down on the sofa as he does so.

“Regulus.” James asks just before his attention is once again consumed by football.

“Mm?”

“We can talk about Sirius while he’s in the room now.”

And oh, the French and the Hindi is sexy, but that suggestion? Well, that’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

[myeagleexpert]

A story about the director and Grim, who are very close friends <3

Translation from fan to fan, all credits go to the appropriate artist, see the source in the pin below:https://br.pinterest.com/pin/902690319055568233/

Who else wants to see Grim's final form? but…. What cost would this have?

[onigiriico]

Muu audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify / YT Music ]

Behold, the longest voice drama I’ve ever posted. This thing is almost 2.3k words long. I am in pain /lh

As always, feel free to head to my ask box or my Twitter (now actually with open DMs lmao) for any questions, potential mistranslations, etc.!

Also,, Trigger warning (aside from. well. the usual Milgram things): Towards the end, they discuss another character’s threat of suicide. It’s nothing super graphic, but there sure are... opinions on it, so please proceed with caution if that’s a touchy topic for you!

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

M: Ah, it’s been a while, Warden-san. – Things have gotten tough, haven’t they… Everyone seems to be struggling and the whole atmosphere feels tense because everyone’s struggling, it’s really troublesome.

E: Is that so?

M: But as for me, I think Milgram has become a lot more comfortable! I know now that I can get whatever I want if I ask for it, so I don’t need to be so on edge anymore.

E: …

M: You did say that you and Milgram are our allies, and maybe you were right all along!

E: …

M: Aww, it’s boring if it’s just me talking! We’re talking to each other for the first time in a while, so you tell me about something interesting too, Warden-san~

E: You’re in pretty high spirits.

M: Am I?

E: I feel like you’ve brightened up.

M: Maybe…

E: But following the judgment after your first trial, the situation in Milgram has changed. And in the aftermath, Kotoko has attacked people too… From how I remember you, I would have expected you to feel uneasier than this.

M: Huh? But that has nothing to do with me.

E: What?

M: The ones who are suffering are the ones who have done bad things, right? You know, like, what goes around comes around.

E: …

M: Besides, Kotoko hurt and was mean to the people who didn’t get forgiven by you, right?

E: …Yeah.

M: Wouldn’t it be weird for me to have any thoughts on that, then? After all, I didn’t do anything wrong. You forgave me!

E: …

M: Eh? Is something wrong? Those who didn’t get forgiven by you must be bad people, if you ask me! I believe in you, Warden-san, so I’d hope you feel happy!

E: …Thanks for that.

M: See, you said you forgave me and that’s part of your job, so it’s probably right! Come on, come on, have some confidence!

E: … Speaking of which, you seem to be pretty close to Haruka.

M: …? Yeah! He’s the one I get along with best in Milgram!

E: Do you have some kind of goal with that?

M: Huh? E: Haruka’s loyalty towards you is one thing, but with this kind of relationship, I think it’s only natural to wonder if you’re using him for something.

M: Ehh… Warden-san, do you not have any friends?

E: Huh?

M: Are there any?

E: None that I could think of.

M: Wow, poor thing,.. I’ll teach you! Friends aren’t like that, you know. Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we’re comfortable around each other. That’s all.

E: Well, I’m sorry about that.

M: Haruka-kun is really nice! He accepts anything I say, he listens to anything I tell him. For me, that’s really comfortable.

E: And that’s… “friendship”?

M: What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Haruka-kun is happy with it, so it only has benefits for both of us!

E: I, as someone who has no friends, can’t judge, of course, but isn’t that just exploitation?

M: Exploitation…? Um, I don’t really understand, but… I do help him pick out clothes [in return], and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn’t need anymore as a hand-me-down!

E: …

M: We also have in common that we’re both people who were forgiven by you, Warden-san, so I don’t think it’s a relationship that anyone could have a problem with! E: … I already said this to Haruka, but Milgram consists of three trials, and I have only forgiven you this once. I think it’s too early to feel completely safe.

M: Eh~ You already decided to forgive me. I think it’d be uncool to be like, “Oh, actually, nevermind” now.

E: This is just how it is.

M: It’s fine already, isn’t it? You saw me, didn’t you? And from that, you decided that I haven’t done anything wrong, didn’t you?

E: Yeah, that’s right. For the first trial, that is.

M: It’s the same no matter how many times we do this. I’m me, after all. That won’t change.

E: If I keep looking from now on, will I come across something that puts you in a less positive light?

M: Eh?

E: Milgram reveals the truth through videos and music. After deciding whether to forgive you or not in the first trial, I’ll continue to dig deeper, searching for the truth inside your hearts once again.

M: …

E: For example: Things that you hid. Things that you forgot about. Things that weren’t visible through the rest of your strong feelings. Those are things that I’ll be shedding light on.

M: Hmm…

E: Or at least it might be.

M: …I don’t get it, but whatever. I haven’t done anything wrong, after all.

E: Is that so? It’s true that I’ve forgiven you once… but I remember feeling uneasy about it the whole time. Was it really right to forgive you? Aren’t you still hiding something? Things like that.

M: …Why… would you think stuff like that? That’s mean, Warden-san… You saw me, didn’t you? All the awful things that were done to me, that I couldn’t have escaped from without killing someone! I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, after I’ve gone through all of that… Warden-san, you’re mean.

E: Maybe I am. Your pain and suffering has certainly reached me. Or should I call it bullying? One-sided violence and mistreatment… I’m sure it was difficult to handle. It’s not unreasonable to come to the conclusion that murder is the only way for a weak person to get out of that. That’s exactly why I forgave you.

M: Yeah… If I hadn’t done that, I could have died some day.

E: But – are you actually that weak, Muu?

M: Huh?

E: That’s the source of my unease. Are you really that weak? Were you really getting picked on for being a weakling?

M: What do you mean?

E: How did it come to that in the first place? What was the cause? That’s what I don’t know. You could say it was conveniently omitted.

M: …

E: Even you yourself refuse to go there. Is it a topic that you don’t want to touch upon?

M: … Warden-san, I think you’re really doing something bad. Isn’t it a bad thing to act like there has to be something wrong with someone for them to get bullied?

E: Oh?

M: No matter the circumstances, it’s always the bullies who are in the wrong! Isn’t that obvious? Warden-san, you’re so smart, but you don’t even know things like that? Maybe you should take some lessons on morals or something.

E: …

M: Besides, even if I’ve done something wrong, there’s nothing that could justify bullying someone. Warden-san, I thought you were a nicer person.

E: So sorry that I’m not living up to your expectations.

M: If you’re reflecting on it, I’m willing to forgive you, though…

E: Could I ask the generous Muu to spoil me by letting me ask one more question, then?

M: What is it? If it’s a boring question, I don’t wanna.

E: Let’s say you’ve done nothing wrong—

M: Not “let’s say”! I have done nothing wrong!

E: Got it, got it. So, even though you’ve done nothing wrong – you got bullied. Why do you think that is?

M: I don’t know that! I mean, my family is rich, and my appearance stands out [in a good way], too… they probably did it out of envy or prejudice or something, right?

E: Right, right. And here I was with the theory that you were originally in the opposite position…

M: (slams her hands down)

E: …!

M: What are you saying…?

E: Just that it could also be speculated that you bullied someone and the tables turned on you.

M: Do you know what an awful thing you’re saying right now?

E: What are you getting this angry for? You’ve done nothing wrong, right?

M: Warden-san… I hate you.

E: This is just speculation. Don’t get so mad.

M: …

E: So what? Can you not give me an answer?

M: I haven’t bullied anyone. I’d never do such a mean thing! I’ve never hit anyone or poured water over anyone’s head. I wouldn’t do something like that! I’m not lying! I’m not telling you lies! I really haven’t done anything!

E: I see. I’ll take note of that.

M: … Um… um, by the way, Warden-san! I don’t know about this, but…

E: What?

M: You forgave me because I just gave my bullies their payback, right?

E: …Well… I guess so.

M: What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge can be [an acceptable motivator], right? And if you don’t forgive me this time, that’d mean that it’s not. If we leave aside the thing you said earlier about me maybe having bullied someone before – not that I actually did that, of course!

E: Sure.

M: So if I paid back what my bullies did to me, that would be revenge, right? And if you feel like I had no other choice than that, then don’t you have to forgive me?

E: … Uh… I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say…

M: You see, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of events, then wouldn’t it be bad to bully me back again in return?

E: …

M: But if you were like, “I won’t forgive you, Muu! Revenge is bad!,” then wouldn’t that imply that it’s also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me? Since we’ve all done something bad anyway, doesn’t that mean that I’ve not done anything wrong in the end?

E: …I think I’m kinda… starting to get your point… maybe…

M: … Warden-san, are you maybe not that intelligent, after all…?

E: Well, sorry about that.

M: Well, I guess it’s to be expected. You talk to a rabbit, after all. (giggles) Either way, you’ve understood that I haven’t done anything wrong, so it’s okay!

E: I sure have understood that talking to you isn’t getting me anywhere. But I guess since you made this explanation, I’ll take it into consideration.

M: Ah, but if you don’t forgive me, Haruka-kun will die, so I think it’d be best to not do that.

E: …!

(bell rings, machinery whirrs)

E: So you’ve heard about that nonsense too?

M: Yeah. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy… It made me really feel our friendship!

E: You know about it and you’re not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

M: Why would I? Haruka-kun says he wants to do it, so there’s nothing I can do, right?

E: But you’re calling him your friend.

M: Isn’t it exactly because he’s my friend? Isn’t friendship about letting your friends do the things they want? … Are you about to tell me “that’s not what friendship is”? Then what is friendship? You’re together because it’s beneficial for everyone involved, aren’t you?

E: I don’t think Haruka is benefitting from that at all.

M: No way… It’s not like you could know what’s good for him.

E: …You sure are tough to beat.

M: I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Warden-san. It’s Haruka-kun’s personal freedom to decide what he wants to do, and I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s not like I’ve asked him to do it!

E: I see. That’s how it is, huh. You don’t say anything; just because you’re present, your surroundings’ wishes change to benefit you— Oh, so that’s it. Like a born queen. No, it’s like you’re influencing your surroundings not with words, but with pheromones… Just like a queen bee.

M: Pheromones…? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I don’t like that lewd-sounding stuff…

E: That’s not the nuance I was talking about.

M: Either way, there’s people who deserve to be unforgiven more than I do, so I think you should focus your efforts on them instead. Like, Kotoko-san has done something bad, for example. Ah, but what she did was approved by you, wasn’t it?

E: …You’re making my blood boil.

M: Anyway… I think you would do good to forgive me. Then Haruka-kun will be safe too. Ah, actually, couldn’t you just forgive everyone? Then Kotoko-san won’t run amok, and you won’t have to think about all the difficult stuff.

E: That is… a very attractive proposal.

M: Right? (giggles)

E: Abandoning all the thinking… How nice it would be if I could just do that.

M: … If you ask me, I don’t really get why you don’t do it…

E: Because this is the role I’m playing.

M: But the role was given to you, wasn’t it? You didn’t end up doing this because you wanted to, right? It’s not a dream you’ve had for a long time or anything, right, Warden-san? So there’s no need to let it tie you down. Couldn’t you just quit?

E: What are you…

M: Warden-san, we call you “Warden” because that’s what you are, right? I was assigned to be a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean my heart will become just that of a “prisoner” too. After all, I’m still me.

E: …!

M: Warden-san, are you okay? Are you feeling sick again?

E: (heavy breathing)

M: That’s because you keep thinking too much about difficult things. Just stop. Being the Warden, that is.

E: … Just— shut up, already! Prisoner no.4, Muu! Sing your sins!

[ask-megamanx]

エックスはどうして優しいの？

まあ、僕は他人を自分がされたいように扱うことが良いと思っています。みんなが同じように返してくれるわけではないけれど、自分自身に裏切りたくないし、それが僕の在り方なんです。 ___ English: ask: Why is X so kind? X: Well, I believe that it's good to treat others as you would like to be treated, although not everyone responds in the same way. I don't intend to betray myself, it's just… my way of being. --- Español: pregunta: ¿Por qué X es tan amable? X: Bueno, yo creo que es bueno tratar a los demás como te gustaría que te trataran, aunque no todos correspondan de la misma manera, no pienso fallarme a mí mismo, es solo… mi forma de ser.

[chocolatori]

contains: haikyuu timeskip spoilers

Your daughter is already around the age where children are quite... inquisitive. 

She’s at the age where she’s literally curious about everything and you already have lost count of how many questions she’s already asked you today. She’s a little bunch of curiosity and Tendou has always loved answering her questions.

He always answers her with enthusiasm and a smile on his face whenever his sweet daughter is asking him a question. And because of that she often runs to him whenever her little mind thought of something interesting (not that you are jealous or anything but your daughter is definitely a daddy’s girl). 

Since Tendou’s work is in Paris, you both decided to raise your little family there and move. And because of that, you had to learn French and your daughter has to learn too. 

You still have trouble speaking French but unlike you, your daughter is much more fluent. Ever since she was born you have decided that you are gonna teach her to be multilingual, you are in charge of conversing with her in your native language, and Tendou conversing with her in French and Japanese. Your daughter ended up being much more fluent in French than you, and sometimes you would ask her for word translations in French and she would gladly translate those words for you.

It’s a typical Sunday in the Tendou household, you’re currently washing the dishes and Tendou’s probably still sleeping in or just reading in your shared bedroom. It’s a dainty apartment, surrounded by cafes and one of them is the place where your husband works. 

Your daughter is scribbling beside you, sitting on the clean kitchen floor with a sketch pad and a crayon in her tiny hands. She’s humming a nursery rhyme as she draws and you can’t help but smile at how cute she was. 

After finishing the dishes, you have decided to unpack the groceries which caught your daughter’s attention. She puts down her crayon and sketch pad and stood up next to you on tippy toes trying to reach the kitchen sink.

“What’s that mommy?” she asks you, pointing out to a can of cherries you have just taken out of the bag.

“This one? These are cherries, sweetie,” you reply as you continue to unpack more groceries.

“Actually, mommy doesn’t know what cherries are called in French, do you know it sweetie?”

Your daughter ponders, “Uhm... I don’t know mommy, but I’ll go ask daddy.”

She’s quick to turn around and you watch her toddle her way on the wooden floors of your apartment to your shared bedroom. 

“Papa!” she calls out while walking towards the bedroom.

“C’est quoi le cherry en Français?” (What is cherry in French?)

“C’est quoi quoi?” (What is what?) Tendou who just got woken up from the calls of her daughter replied.

“C’est quoi cherry en Français?” she repeats.

“Cheese où cherry?” Tendou replied, unable to understand his daughter’s words at first.

“Cherry?”

“Oui,” your daughter nods.

“C’est les cerises,” (It’s cherries.) he tells her.

“Ah, oui.”

The kitchen isn’t too far from the bedroom and you actually already overheard their adorable conversation and you saw her finally rushing back towards you.

“Mama!”

“What did he say, sweetie?”

“Mum, dad says it’s cerises,” she quips.

“Thank you so much baby,” you smile, and you crouch down at her level.

“Can you ask one more thing to daddy?” you tug at her hand.

“What is it, mama?”

“Can you go ask daddy if he knows that mommy loves him?”

“Hm!”

And she goes back to your shared bedroom, slightly knocking at the door, and you witness once again their adorable conversation even though you hardly understand French.

“Papa?”

“Oui ma chérie,” (Yes my darling.) he replies.

“Mama demande si tu sais qu'elle t'aime papa?” (Mom asks if you know she loves you dad.)

“Je sais ma chérie,” (I know my darling) he replies.

“Je t'aime tellement papa,” (I love you so much too daddy.) she tells him as she tackles him into a hug.

And he gives his daughter a soft smile, “je vous aime beaucoup aussi tous les deux.” (I love you both very much too.)

[smimon]

Anyone fancy a cozy short AU story with platonic jesseguard? Good, because I just wrote one

[gggoldfinch]

Cherry Kisses

Alexei “Smirnoff” x GN!Reader

A/N: Knee deep into the new season, a lovely anon suggested I repost this after having deleted it a while ago. The new characters are great and all, but I think we’re all missing sweet Alexei right about now

Warnings: gn!reader, no usage of y/n or pronouns, angst & fluff, clumsy make-out sesh, kinda spicy but not really, references to past injury/ recovery, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,854

{AO3 Link}

Summary: Several months after saving the life of a charmingly goofy Soviet scientist who’d been left for dead at a carnival, you find yourself with a major crush. You’re afraid to act on it, lest your feelings be unrequited and your actions ruin your carefree friendship, so instead you resign yourself to suffer in silence. Fate has other plans, it seems.

Despite the occasional wince and hand pressed to his abdomen, Alexei’s healing process has come along quite nicely. Quicker than the doctors at the hospital had anticipated, too. In less than a month your new friend had bounced back, pacing bored circles in his hospital room until you'd finally caved and brought him back into the real world. You obliged only when the doctors said it was alright; you'd never seen a more thankful expression from anyone than when you'd tried your best to explain his release from the hospital. 

In all your time alive, you’d never seen anyone so eager and bright and curious as he— not even the most enthusiastic of children. Everything seems shiny and new to the man, his deep brown eyes twinkling with awe at any given moment. It's honestly the most endearing thing you've ever witnessed. Anything there is to explore he's there. His particular favorite spots consist of the Arcade, the Family Video (conveniently next door to it), and the radio store down on Main Street. He always receives odd stares from the kids, teens, and irritated parents at each location, but never seems to let it phase him. In fact, you always take more offense to it than he does, carefully trailing behind him and sending them bitter glares to ward them off. 

Sometimes, when you're not paying attention, his fingers intertwine with yours as he drags you to the next thing that piques his quick-to-wander interest. His warm hand in yours never fails to send the butterflies in your stomach wild. 

Granted, he can’t go many places. Not on his own, at least. Especially not with Cold War tensions running high and a potential hit on his back after valiantly defecting. No— everywhere he goes you go, and vise versa. He'd even become your impromptu roommate after being discharged from the hospital. Apparently, none of his "American friends" (a group consisting solely of Murray Bauman, recluse; Joyce Byers, moved away; and Jim Hopper, recently deceased) where willing or available to take him in. That left you, the guardian angel who'd found and saved him, to look after his fugitive self. Not that either of you ever really minded not going anywhere without the other, being practically attached at the hip from the get-go. However, due to the rather difficult language barrier and lack of proper translator, communication between the two of you is still a continuous struggle. You still don't really even have the full story on what led up to the events of last Independence Day. On the bright side, though, you’ve both come a long way in understanding each other since you'd first dragged him into the hospital that fateful day. Admittedly, he’s advanced far further than you have in the language department— not that you haven’t been giving it your all, of course. It just seems to come much more easily for him. 

Now, you sit together on a park bench beside the sidewalk, shaded by an oak tree overhead, people-watching the early afternoon small-town rush. A half empty lemonade cup sits beside your thigh, where drops of water bead on the sides and seep into the wood of the bench as they accumulate and trickle down. Alexei’s arm is slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently drawing circles on your shoulder. You wonder if he realizes how intimate such a gesture is. 

He stares off at the pedestrians, cheeks pinched in a small smile as he sips his cherry slurpee through its red straw. Upon hovering at his bedside for weeks, you’d quickly discovered it's his favorite beverage behind Coca-Cola. Nothing can compare the way the colored dye stains his lips bright red, making his grin all the more perfect your eyes. It is a bit of a hassle having to drive all the way out to the far-removed gas station to get him one every time, considering it's the only place nearby that has one of the machines to make the beverage, but you put up with it for the sake of his contagious jubilation. 

You observe him observing the people. He'd blatantly ignored your fashion advice and chosen the most outlandish articles in the stores you'd taken him to, favoring loud patterns and bold, clashing colors. It's actually rather cute, and suits him well. His hair is a little longer than when you’d first met a few months ago, dark curls grown shaggy and even more voluminous. He’s insisted on keeping his face regularly shaven and sideburns well-groomed, though. Your fingers twitch in your lap, imagining how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair and ruffle his curls. Before you know it, you’re lost in another fantasy (a daily occurrence by now)— vividly picturing yourself clinging to him like a lover rather than a friend, holding him, touching him.

You blink back to reality when he tilts his head to look at you, stained lips pulling into a broad smile that illuminates the whole of his handsome face. His wire-frame glasses are slipped down the bridge of his narrow nose, and he swiftly pushes them back in place with his index finger to gaze at you properly. You love it when he does that. 

“You enjoying your slurpee?” you ask with a chuckle, gesturing towards the mostly-empty novelty cup. He fervently nods, offering it out to you for a sip. You laugh and shake your head, gently pushing it back towards him. “You finish it, I have my lemonade.” 

He shrugs, contently mutters an “Okay” and returns to peacefully watching the Hawkins residents pass by. You return to watching him, genuinely pondering what could be going on in that brilliant mind of his as he stares off.

A young couple pass by, no older than high schoolers; you'd heard them coming up from behind before you'd seen them. They giggle and mutter sweet nothings to each other as they stroll along. The girl walks with her arms hugged around the boy's waist, tucked snugly against his side under his protective arm. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, the pair looking joyous as can be and plainly expressing their love for each other to the world. Chancing a glance at Alexei, he seems enthralled— curiously observant of their affectionate behavior. You briefly wonder if such open affection is an uncommon sight where he's from, before turning your passive attention back to the couple. The continue to laugh with each other, the jovial sound only being broken when they move to kiss, fondly pecking each other on the lips over and over as they stroll past, giggling whenever they break. 

You feel odd staring at them so you break your gaze, instead opting to tap your heels on the sidewalk concrete and stare at the cracks where plants haphazardly grow. It’s bad enough to see other couples happy, but feeling Alexei’s arm wrapped around your shoulders is a different kind a torture. You know you shouldn't feel jealous; it's your fault you fell for the man whose life you saved. The burden of your blooming feelings rests solely on your shoulders. You would never want to risk ruining your carefully crafted and nurtured friendship over something that might change your dynamic for the worse. You would never take the initiative, and never find out if your undying love for the goofy scientist is requited. 

A tap on your shoulder draws you from your brooding. You perk your head up to glance at the man. His crimson-stained lips are pulled taut in that impish smile again as he tilts his head to get a better look at you. You feel blush prickling your skin the longer he silently watches you. You wait, anticipating a comment or question in that heavy and distinct (and oh, so lovely) accent of his, but it never comes. Instead he leans closer, free hand lifting to tilt your chin with fingers, chilled by the cool cup he's placed down somewhere. You’re speechless, no more than a hairsbreadth away from touching noses with the man you desire more than anything. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and from this perspective you can see every detail of his face up-close and personal, from the small scar hidden beneath the nose-piece of his glasses to the flecks of amber in his eyes.

Before you can fathom the events unfolding before you, he leans forward, closing the distance and planting his soft lips on yours. You can feel him smiling against your mouth. Adrenaline buzzes through every nerve and bursts like 4th of July fireworks in your head and the only thing you can think about is how strongly he tastes of sugar and cherries. The feeling is short-lived as he pulls away and releases your jaw from his gentle grip, still smiling like an idiot. When he hums gleefully and amusedly to himself and goes back to sipping his drink, the anguished realization that he may have only been fooling around hits you like a ton of bricks. Fighting the urge to smack him upside the head, you puff up in defense.

“What was that?” you bite out, adjusting yourself to sit facing him. He chuckles and shrugs, then replies in Russian. You can’t understand a word of it and only become more flustered at his complacent behavior. 

“You think that was a joke?” You feel your face growing hot, both with anger and embarrassment. 

You don't intend to be mean, but the abruptness of it has you wired. It didn’t feel like a playful kiss for you, nor do you want it to be in jest. It just makes your heart ache. He furrows his brows and turns to look at you, genuine confusion twisting his gentle features as he retracts his arm from around your shoulders. 

“Joke? No...” he mutters, cradling the cup in his hands. His playful demeanor shifts instantly, and he hunches, shrinking under your fierce gaze.

“Why would you kiss me then?” 

His confusion seems to grow exponentially and his eyes dart away. “They like each other.” He meekly gestures towards where the couple disappeared off to, “I like you. Is that... not what you do?” 

His mouth is pulled into the first real frown you’ve ever seen from him. Even through grueling physical therapy and the healing process of a bullet to the liver he’d never frowned. Your heart twists at his words, and you feel like you've been shot. Had you been wrong? Is this yet another miscommunication? Blush almost as red as his beverage creeps onto his face, beginning at his ears and spreading to his cheeks and nose. 

“You... like me?” you whisper, hung up on that one sentence. You could care less about the rest. The crease in his brow softens as he nods. 

“дa, yes, yes,” he mutters, sheepishly shrugging and shrinking away. "I thought... это было очевиднo." 

You don't quite catch the last part, but his bashful confession is enough proof for any residual distress to melt from your system. He's taken aback when you burst into an enormous smile and throw your arms around his neck, laughing with your nose pressed into the curve of his jaw. The swell of happiness in your heart is almost unbearable. This is quite possibly the happiest you've ever felt, as you delightedly pepper kisses against his full cheek. He manages to wriggle out of your latching grip and place his slushee cup down at a safe distance. He peers down at you with brows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar in what looks like a mix of shock and relief. His dark eyes twinkle with curiosity and you finally feel confident enough to slip you hand up the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around his curls. His glasses have slipped down his nose again and this time you do him the favor of pushing them back up properly. 

"You... like me?" he asks, a slight pout downturning his dyed lips. You lean up to touch your forehead to his, holding him close by the back of his head. Your other hand rests on his chest. 

"I have for a while," you sigh, forehead still pressed to his. "Now, kiss me again." A devilish smile spreads on your face as you bite your lip. A wave of visible relief washes over him as the tenseness in his shoulders dissipates. He giggles joyfully, gleefully obliging your request. His hands find your face and dark eyes flick to your lips— the object of his desire. You lean to meet him halfway, his cherry-flavored lips sealing against yours once more. This time it's more serious (as serious as the man could possibly be, that is), and he puts thought into the way his warm mouth moves against yours. He's gentle and tender, but he doesn't do well to hide his enthusiasm as he fervently leans against you. His hands glide from your heated cheeks to the space below your ears, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. Your own hands remain where they are, one tangled in his heavenly hair and the other sandwiched between your chests, gripping the fabric of his garish striped button-up. 

He briefly breaks and you both take gasping breaths; the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile before he captures your lips again. He tilts his head to get a better angle at you and a light moan is drawn from your throat, muffled against his plush mouth. He just about trembles with excitement under your hands at the noise. With every extra inch he eagerly leans into you, the further you're dipped backward, clinging to him as you're nearly laid out on the bench. His left hand separates from your head to grip the back of the bench, bracing himself so as to not tip you back too far. Your senses are invaded by his intoxicating scent; the cherry sugar of his lips mixed with the warm cologne that lingers on his form makes for a heady combination. Just as your lips part to allow him entrance, the small of your back bumps and subsequently topples something. Your hazy brain racks to think what it could be, when remember—

The lemonade! 

You break with a surprised gasp and twist to find your cup overturned behind you, spilled all over the sidewalk and part of the bench. Alexei peers over your shoulder, resting his chin on the slope of your neck as he surveys the mess. His large hands find your waist and you turn back to him, pouting in disappointment at having wasted the rest of your refreshment. He merely grins and goes back to kissing you, gingerly pecking your smiling lips over and over. 

After a moment you hear a huff somewhere to your left, and look up to see an older woman, frowning with arms crossed as she eyes the spilled lemonade splattered across the sidewalk. Her eyes trail to you in Alexei's arms, both red-faced and staring at her. She tuts in disapproval and steps over the dark patch.

"Delinquents," she mutters with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she passes the pair of you on the bench.

There's a pause as you and Alexei watch her walk away, amused and stunned speechless, before his face pinches in a grin and laugher roars from his chest. You follow suit, crumbling into giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of the event. You hook your arm around his waist to better hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, nestling against his chest. He presses his lips to wherever he can reach—your temple, the shell of your ear, the crown of your head—whispering in his native tongue between every sugary sweet kiss. 

"I still have to sleep on the couch?" he mock-innocently asks in a low, accented whisper, audibly grinning with his lips against your ear. Though you choke out a surprised laugh and swat his hard chest, you can't help but feel pleasurably enticed by the suggestion. 

Your grinning lips find his jaw and give him a quick kiss before slipping out of his hold, scooping up your empty cup in the process. You throw him a playful glance over your shoulder before skipping a few steps away.

"Come on, Lexi, we still have the rest of the afternoon!" you call behind you, laughing at the sound of him scrambling to collect his own cup and follow after you. You deposit your cup in the trash bin beside the sidewalk as you pass it, lingering to wait for him to catch up.

His hand finds yours as he returns to your side, fingers lacing with yours, and you look up at him. His warm eyes watch you from behind askew glasses, sipping through the straw once more. You've never been more overjoyed. Holding his hand feels different now as he cheerfully swings your joined arms. It's real now, and your love is requited. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you've never been more thankful to have gone to that carnival and saved a dying stranger. 

[ronkeyroo]

ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴɢʀʏ 🩸

[everglowstardust]

Kimura-saaaan #161 (2021.08.29)

It's my birthday, so I'm giving everyone a present! This episode and the next one are really fun episodes where Kimura plays billiards and darts against professional players that had been on the show previously (which are also fun episodes).

The video is too long for tumblr, so it can be found with the subtitles [here].

Also Kimura-saaaan is officially back, so be sure to watch the videos on the official channel as they get uploaded!!

[dyrewrites]

Find the Word Tag

Brought to you by @cowboybrunch ^.-

I am tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks @starbuds-and-rosedust @aziz-reads and YOU (seriously do the thing, it'll be fun)

Your words, should you choose to accept them are; far, pale, sever, and command

->my long snips is under the thing<-

My words are: suggest, lead, choose, and favor

Suggest(ively) (and it is suggestive, so beware >.>)

“The arm will return?” I wasn’t as concerned as he, and my face likely showed how much his amused—comforted, more like, but they tend to look the same. Eyeing me, he nodded, “Yes, it will. Without the coffin, and its sigils, it will be longer, but it will grow back. We are all different, however and you, my perfect treasure, have been a well of mysteries,” sliding off me, he crawled to the nightstand—to the drawer of mysteries—while adding, “so I can’t say how long it’ll be for you.” Posing suggestively with a tiny bottle—of clear, glittering oils—he wiggled it and cooed, “But I can ease the ache…” I leaned with salacious words on my lips—to tell him how he already had, could again—but the strain it put on the hole in my shoulder sent me reeling, cutting more to my intention, “scopami!” Giggles chased his worried gasp and he teased, “Mm, maybe after.”

Lead

While all that enchanting forest remained at a distance, soft white sands and sea-black stone—glittering all too familiar—worked to lead us with a pulsing rhythm through our boots. And I wondered then...if it were the Isle’s flesh, her skin. “Of course it’s her skin, treasure,” Lucient answered aloud—confusing no one, the men accustomed to hearing one-sided conversations, “what else would one call the rocky surface of a living island.” Responding to his knowing tone, I teased, “I’d best not touch it then, lest I rile a certain jealous brat…” Not bothering to check for the crew’s eyes, Lucient swatted me—grinning for my sharp gasp—and held my arm tighter, whispering, “As if you’d need more than that mouth.”

Choose

“A shame, isn’t it, treasure?” Lucient asked my confused interest in the packaged meals, “To remember ones desire for such things...yet hold none of it.” Patting my arm, he slipped by me and out the door, “You can still enjoy it, as I’ve said. We are not so removed from life as to have lost our taste.” Following after, six of those boxed meals in my arms, I considered it and remembered what he’d said last I broached the subject, “but it does something to our stomachs, yes?” Giggling, he winked back at me, “It dies in them,” my gasp was soft, but he caught it and giggled again, “It is rather painful and unpleasant on its way out as well. So, please, my love...choose wisely.”

Favor my only instance is a wee bit of filth and our narrator is still human in it...

“Please,” he cooed, rubbing my shoulders with his feet. So sweet that voice, rich syrup to my ears, but hearing it beg was sweeter. Grabbing his legs, I stopped the tease, pulled my lips free and pressed for more—and perhaps showed off a bit, “Alors, qu’est-ce que mon rêve veut que je fasse?” To paraphrase, what I said was, then what does my dream want me to do? He answered first with wide eyes and a nibbled lip before I lost his legs as he hooked them under my arms and pulled me forward. Not until he’d trapped me in those legs and tasted every sweaty lick of my neck did he answer with words, returning the favor of a native tongue, “Prendimi.”

->Taglist<-

// feel free to ask to be added or removed ^.- //

@thebejeweledwatercat

@starbuds-and-rosedust

@thespacelizard

[gentlegaalee]

Chapter 1: pages 49-52🧨

[lilyoffandoms]

Tobias x Casey for @jerzwriter

Day One of the @choicesfandomappreciation Kindness event. Thank you Elsa for being so supportive of us creators around here and for taking on the responsibility of hosting CFWC and sharing our creations with the fandom!

Warnings & A/N: None. Decided to include my Merida and @storyofmychoices Olivia in the quick little drabble.

“Nope. Stop. Not tonight,” Merida chuckled as Olivia pulled Casey down the hall away from Tobias and Merida stepped in front of Tobias

“Merida, darling, my favorite friend, you would not keep me from-“

“Oh yes, I would,” she laughed and stepped in front of his attempt to get around her. “And clearly you don’t know me all that well if you think I’d let you distract her. Again.”

“Mer,” he sighed with a grin.

“Nope. We are already late. She’s all your’s-“ His face lit up. “In three days,” she smirked and patted his cheek.

“Go torture Ethan. That should keep you occupied,” she chuckled with a wiggle of her fingers a wicked laugh as she joined Olivia and Casey holding the elevator for her.

“Bye, babe,” Casey grinned. “Try not to miss me too much.”

The elevator doors slid shut and Olivia cheered with a clap of her hands, “Yay! Girls weekend!”

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Hola! no se si la gente te suele decir o solo lo descubres tu. Pero hoy viendo Dead fríend forever note la camisa que pertenece al articulo 88

¡Hola! Muchas gracias por contarme sobre esto 😍 (Por lo general, es una mezcla de personas que me cuentan cosas y yo las descubro por mí mismo). No estoy viendo Dead Friend Forever (todavía), pero cuando mejore internet (¡el miércoles!), lo agregaré a la publicación para el artículo n.° 88. ¡Gracias de nuevo!

[neuxue]

Mei Changsu: “既已荒败多年，多半已无旧日之痕。郡主又何必非要进去睹物思人呢？”// “There are likely no traces of the past left there, after so many years abandoned. Why is Your Highness so intent on going in to reminisce?” Mu Nihuang: “人去楼空，物换星移，可不代表一切就消失了。该留下的还是会留下。有些人，有些事，依旧深藏在心里，不会被时间抹去。”// “The room stands empty of those who are gone, and all things change with the turning of the years... but that does not mean everything is lost. That which must stay will stay. Some people, some things, remain hidden deep in the heart, and cannot be erased by time.”

Mei Changsu: “[...] 苏某奉劝郡主，不要在此地逗留了。” // “[...] I advise that Your Highness not linger too long in this place.”

she is trying SO hard to realise who he is and he is trying SO hard not to let her, pulling out all the stops to bury any trace of who he was (and definitely not hurting both of them more in the process)

[flaresanimedump]

Fukuzawa wears dresses send post

Actually I'm gonna write an essay listen I thought it was all in my head funny haha Flare's got another silly headcanon BUT IT TURNS OUT I'M RIGHT.

Theory start: in the Bungo Mayoi phone game one of the Fukuzawas wears this little number:

This is a Changshan which is a traditional Chinese outfit for men. Except it's really not acting like one at all. The sleeves are right but the rest of the outfit looks like a Cheongsam, the much tighter female version.

So it's sort of a cross between the two styles. I figured mayoi was just taking artistic liberties to make him sexy. Technically the cards aren't canon designs. But oh. Today as I was struggling to scroll through the sparse tweets on Fukuzawa on Japanese, Chinese, and Korean twitter, I struck gold. Because you see, I found someone from China who confirmed that the mayoi card is the female version of the outfit!!

so

Fukuzawa wears dresses send post

[leotello]