#what language would I be translating bear into anyway?

[skullzanta]

My brain randomly came up with this meme, I do not understand what the fuck it means, it just bullied me into making it exist. Please help me figure out what it means.

[delulujuls]

aussies do it better | op81, dr3

heeeeey (louder than anyone else) im serving today the koala bear and the honeybadger duo and im hoping y'all will like it!

at the beggining i was hoping for making this a smut but it turned out so wholesome, even though im thinking about still making it smutty, maybe in second part?? idk lmk if you like this one and if you would like to have more of them in a maybe spicy way

anyway pls enjoy and have wonderful day x

summary: sometimes we forget that the best things are often at our fingertips, danny ric being the best wingman possible, pastry boy being pure babygirl

warnings: cheating on a reader (but not them they could never)

pairing: bff!fem!reader x oscar piastri x daniel ricciardo

"Guys, quick break," Oscar announced, stepping aside and setting down his paddle.

"In the next set, we play together, we'll show them how it's done properly. In a Aussie style," Daniel said, grabbing some water and taking a few sips, to which Oscar chuckled, wiping his hair with a towel. It was a pleasant, warm evening. Oscar, Daniel, and a few friends decided to take advantage of the last free day before the frenzy of the home Grand Prix and relax in the company of friends. But Oscar's thoughts were far from relaxed. When he picked up his phone and saw a few missed calls from Y/N, his friend, his smile instantly faded, not escaping Daniel's notice.

"Something wrong?" he asked, glancing at him attentively. Piastri, still focused on his phone, just shook his head.

"I have no idea, but I hope not," he replied, quickly typing a message to his friend.

"Sorry for not answering. Is everything okay? Should I call back?"

He didn't have to wait long for a reply, as it came seconds later.

"No, nothing happened. I just wanted to talk for a moment."

Seeing him nervously tapping on the keyboard, Daniel approached him and glanced over his shoulder.

"Translating to our language, something definitely happened. She just decided not to bother you," he said, scanning through their recent messages from a while ago. "Girlfriend?"

"No, a friend. A close friend."

"Then you should call her back even more so," he remarked, looking meaningfully into Oscar's eyes as he raised his head to meet his gaze. Oscar returned his gaze to the phone in his hand and after a moment's hesitation nodded.

"I'll be right back; start without me if you need to," he informed, then quickly clicked the camera. As he left the court and stepped outside, the girl picked up. She was hastily wiping her cheeks, but it was futile, as Oscar easily noticed her distressed state. It was evident she had been crying.

"Hey, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, concerned, gazing attentively at his friend. After his question, she just shook her head and buried her face in her hands. A sob escaped from his phone.

"Y/N, please tell me why you're in such a state," he calmly requested, though his heart was pounding like crazy. He had no idea what had caused his friend to be in such a state, and the fact that he was on the other side of the globe and couldn't just come over to check on her only amplified his worry.

"Mattias," she managed to squeeze out just one word, but it was enough for Oscar to know what had brought her to tears.

"What happened? Where are you?"

It was clear that the girl was outside. It was dark, and she was walking briskly, her face illuminated only by the glow of her phone held in her hand. Her hair were messy and her mascara was smudged on her cheeks.

"I'm waiting for an Uber. I'm coming back from Natalie's birthday party, the one I told you I didn't want to go to."

"You ended up going?"

"Yes, and it was a mistake," she replied, sniffing. "Mattias was there too. I didn't even know he got an invitation. Turns out he did, and on top of that, he was having such a great time he forgot he had a girlfriend."

Oscar didn't even realize when he started nervously pacing, waiting for his friend to continue.

"I went there," Y/N continued, her voice trembling "after all, it would be stupid if I ignored my friend on her birthday. Then suddenly someone comes up to me and asks if I'm Mattias' girlfriend, and I answer yes. And he says I guess not, since on the balcony he's been kissing someone else. And he was actually making out with some girl! When he saw me, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. It didn't occur to him that I might be at my friend's fucking birthday party!"

"Did he react in any way?"

"Of course," the girl snorted, "baby, it's not what you think, we were just talking, I didn't have my hand in her panties at all! Fuck, of course not!"

"Hey, calm down," Oscar said, knowing his friend's emotions well. "How long until your Uber arrives?"

Y/N calmed down for a moment and glanced at her phone, swiping through her notifications.

"3 minutes."

"Alright, the most important thing is for you to get out of there and be home soon. Don't hang up until you're inside, okay?"

"Why me, Oscar? What's wrong with me?" she asked, looking back at her phone. Despite the thousands of kilometers between them, as Oscar looked at the screen of his phone and saw his friend's sad eyes, he felt as if she were standing right in front of him. The downside was that he couldn't hug her and provide the physical support she needed right now.

"It's not your fault, Y/N. It's not your fault at all."

Despite his words of support, Oscar knew that his reassurances were just empty words. He talked to his friend until she got home and let him know she was safe. He offered to continue talking until he noticed her condition had slightly improved, but it was clear she was exhausted.

"I think it's best if I go to bed," she said softly. He heard the sound of keys turning in the lock and the rustle of things being put away. "Although I doubt I'll be able to sleep."

"You should rest," Piastri agreed, nodding. "Text me as soon as you wake up, okay?"

"Sure, but then you'll be sleeping, it's 9 hours' difference," she replied, returning her gaze to the screen of her phone. "Besides, you have more important things to deal with tomorrow."

"Nothing is more important than you," he said, but she just scoffed and shook her head. "Nothing, you hear me? I'll keep the sound on while I sleep, call if anything happens in the meantime. Okay?"

Y/N sighed and nodded.

"Thank you, Osc. It's good to have you here."

Piastri smiled warmly at her.

"Of course I am."

When the call ended, Oscar sighed deeply and rubbed his face with his hand. When he returned to the court, the match was already underway. So, he sat on the bench and clenched his phone in his hand, trying to gather his thoughts somehow. His heart ached at the thought of his friend and what she had gone through. He had known Y/N since their school days when they shared a desk. A friendship had easily developed between them, and they had become practically inseparable. Despite Oscar's busy lifestyle and constant travels, they had managed to maintain constant contact, meeting as often as possible. In such situations, however, their friendship, separated by kilometers, could not cope.

"It's everything alright?" Daniel interrupted Oscar's thoughts, approaching him after the set ended.

"Long story," Piastri sighed.

"I'll gladly listen, considering I'm out and Blake is subbing for me in this set," he replied, sitting next to him and wiping his face with a towel.

For some reason, Oscar began to tell him about what he had just learned over the phone. He and Daniel weren't exceptionally close, sure, they were buddies on the paddock, sometimes playing padel together, but Oscar had never thought of confiding in him about anything. But perhaps this situation overwhelmed him a bit, and he needed advice on how he could help his friend.

"How long have you known her?" Ricciardo asked, when a moment of silence fell between them.

"Over six years, we met back in school."

"For your age, that's almost a quarter of your life," he joked, but after a moment, he looked at him with a slightly more serious expression. "Do you like her?"

"She's my friend, of course, I do."

Ricciardo snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, I figured, but I mean, do you like her?"

Oscar blinked several times, and it wasn't until Ricciardo emphasized the penultimate word he said that Oscar understood what he meant.

"We're friends, I never, uh—," he stumbled a bit, not knowing how to respond.

"So I guess that means yes," Daniel grinned widely, seeing his reaction. "You should invite her here. It would be good for her to occupy her mind with something else now. And she'll appreciate being able to talk to you face to face, not just over the phone."

"I don't know if she'd want to fly all this way just to see me," he replied, causing Daniel to look at him indulgently. "She's never made me feel like I'm anything more than a friend to her."

"Maybe this is the moment to show her that she's had the right guy in front of her all this time," he said, getting up as the set ended. "Cause Aussies always do it better, right?"

Oscar pondered Daniel's suggestion for a long time, but when he went to bed, he decided to offer his friend a visit to Melbourne. Before he went to sleep, he sent her a message with an invitation, honestly not knowing what reaction to expect from her. Of course, he assured her that he would cover all the costs of her transportation, but he still wasn't sure if she would agree to travel such a distance just to see him.

When he woke up in the morning and picked up his phone, he had to rub his eyes in amazement several times. She agreed immediately. She even asked if she could fly to him on the fastest plane, to which he naturally agreed. As a result, she was already at the airport the next evening. Unfortunately, Oscar couldn't pick her up personally, but someone was willing to offer their help on-site.

"Hi, you must be Y/N," Daniel's wide smile and his Australian accent were the first things to greet the girl on the new continent. "I'm Daniel, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

She nodded, returning his smile and shaking his outstretched hand.

"It's very nice to meet you too, and I'm sorry Oscar roped you into this," she replied as he silently took her suitcase. "I could have taken a taxi."

"Absolutely no need to apologize, I'm just glad I could personally welcome you to our beautiful country," he said with a smile. It was past midnight, and Y/N wondered where her newfound companion got so much energy from. "First time in Australia, am I right?"

"Yes, I've never been here before. Actually, it's only the second time in my life I've flown on a plane."

"Really?" Daniel looked at her in shock, and she just shyly nodded. "And Oscar managed to convince you to take such a trip?"

"Actually, I was very excited about the invitation," she admitted, but at one point, she bit her tongue. However, when she glanced at Daniel again, she got the impression that he wouldn't be too concerned about some stranger girl occupying him with trivialities. "A lot has been going on with me lately, and I'm glad to have a reset here."

"I'll gladly join as your local guide and mood lifter," he offered, opening the car door for her. "Of course, if you're up for it and if Oscar is willing to share his best friend."

The girl chuckled, genuinely for the first time in a few days. She eagerly nodded at his proposal.

"I'd love to. And I don't think Oscar will mind."

The journey passed in lightning speed with a conversation that looked like they had known each other for ages, not just a few dozen minutes. When Daniel parked in the driveway, Oscar was already standing in front of the house, waiting for his friends.

"Everything you've learned from me, you haven't actually learned from me," Daniel said, throwing a quick glance at Oscar, which brought a smile back to the girl's face and her hasty nod. Both got out of the car, and Daniel, without taking no for an answer, took her bags. The girl smiled even wider at the sight of her friend, who started walking towards her. She hugged him tightly without a word, and he closed her in a tight embrace.

Daniel smiled at the sight and just raised his thumb. Oscar returned the gesture.

The trio entered the house, and Daniel left the girl's things in the living room doorway before stretching.

"I'll be off," he announced, looking around at them. "It was very nice to meet you, and I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"You can stay if you want," Oscar offered. "We probably won't go to bed soon anyway, and I owe you a beer for today."

"I definitely won't be able to sleep anytime soon, despite the hour," the girl added, checking the time on her phone before shifting her gaze to Daniel and Oscar. "But I have the least to say because it's not me facing the home Grand Prix in a few days."

"Well, why not, gladly," Ricciardo replied, agreeing to the suggestion with a smile.

Shortly after, the three of them were sitting on the terrace. The evening was pleasant, so they decided not to disturb Oscar's family and spend time outside. The conversation was already flowing smoothly, and with each subsequent beer, any inhibitions and barriers disappeared more and more. At some point, it looked like a meeting of three close friends after years.

"He acted like a complete dick," Daniel summed up Y/N's story, taking a sip from the can he held. "Look at it from a different angle, you could have skipped this party and not confronted him. He would probably cheat on you behind your back if he wasn't already."

Oscar looked at him meaningfully, not wanting him to further distress her. However, she seemed to come to terms with the whole situation. She certainly looked better than she did a few days ago when she tearfully talked to Oscar on the phone.

"Possible," the girl sighed, holding her own can. Her head was a bit fuzzy, but she liked this state better than feeling sadness. "Oh God, how could I be so stupid."

"It happens to the best of us," Daniel smiled reassuringly at her.

"The worst thing is, you told me many times that he's not the right guy for me, that he's not a good person at all," she continued, now looking at Oscar, who was sitting next to her. Daniel, sitting in the chair opposite, looked at him meaningfully, but he had his gaze fixed on the girl. "And I still thought I knew better. I'll never question your instincts again, Osc. Never."

She said, then hugged him tightly. Oscar returned the hug, rubbing her back. "It doesn't matter now. It happened, and that's it."

"You said he's not the right guy for you," Daniel began, and Oscar looked at him at the moment when he released his friend from the hug. He shook his head slightly, knowing where he was going with this. But this train couldn't be stopped. "Is there any guy you think would be right for you?"

The girl thought for a moment, turning the can in her hands. However, alcohol placed a certain thought in her head, which made her smile. She just nodded in response, raising her gaze to the man sitting opposite her.

"Oh, you're flattering me," Daniel laughed, taking another sip of beer.

"For the past few minutes, I've been noticing that I kind of like Aussies," she added, glancing at Oscar. He was so shocked when she subtly announced that she liked Daniel in an unexpected way that he didn't even notice when her gaze lingered on his lips. However, Daniel noticed it perfectly.

"And you, Oscar?" Ricciardo asked, stretching his legs out in front of him, a moment after he took another sip of his beer. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

Piastri almost choked on his beer when he finished it. His cheeks were instantly flushed, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol he had just consumed. Y/N raised her gaze to her friend's face, curious herself about his answer to the question, as Oscar had never shared his romantic affairs with her, even when she repeatedly asked about them.

When he, embarrassed, couldn't utter a word, Y/N's gaze returned to Daniel, and she decided to answer for her friend. "Oscar probably hasn't met the right person yet," she said, taking a sip of beer. "He's never told me that he likes any girl, even when I asked hundreds of times. Recently, I even started asking if it's not a girl, then maybe a boy? After all, there's nothing wrong with a relationship with two boys or two girls. And Lando," she looked at her friend again, "he's quite charming. And it seems to me that you two have a good relationship."

"Landoscar? Oh definitely, I've been thinking about it many times myself," Daniel interjected, pointing his finger and agreeing with her words.

Oscar, seeing how they were encouraging each other, knew he had to act. And since words got stuck in his throat, and he didn't know how to defend himself, he silently touched his friend's cheek and turned her head towards him, kissing her. Despite her shock, she returned the kiss. Daniel smiled. He felt like giving himself a high-five.

After a moment, Oscar pulled away from his friend. His heart was pounding like crazy, and her questioning gaze wandering over his face didn't make it any easier for him to gather his thoughts.

"You, Y/N, I like you," he finally said. "I've liked you since you invited me over to work on a biology project in eleventh grade. We were just starting to be friends, and I already felt something more for you. Nothing has changed since then."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked, looking at him, but he lowered his gaze.

"I always felt like I was more of a brother to you than potential boyfriend material,"

"Oscar…," the girl sighed, looking at him indulgently. "Do you know how many broken hearts you would have saved me if you had told me earlier?"

Oscar looked up at her. And just as he felt like an idiot when he decided to make his bold move, now he was wondering if there was a chance she felt the same way about him.

"I thought I was just your friend. And that you didn't want someone who couldn't keep up with your pace of life. After all, why would you need a girlfriend you couldn't have by your side?"

"I would spend all my money to have my girlfriend by my side,"

After these words, silence fell. Oscar and Y/N looked at each other in silence, and Daniel, sitting next to them, pressed the cool edge of the can to his lips and watched the whole scene with bated breath.

"Do you want us to be together?" the girl asked after a moment. She decided to put everything on the line.

"Yes, Y/N, I want us to be together," he said, looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier and spared you so many broken hearts. But I assumed that a long-distance relationship would break your heart even more."

Oscar lowered his head. He wasn't lying. The truth was that one of the reasons he didn't confess his feelings to the girl was that he already found it hard with a long-distance friendship, let alone having the possibility to see his girlfriend once a month or less. Oscar had countless layers of love within him. However, he was afraid that if he turned on the tap, he would cause a flood, injuring not only her but also himself.

"Come here," she whispered softly, pulling herself closer to him and hugging him tightly. He closed his eyes and embraced her just as tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"Surely you'll be happy with such a guy," Daniel spoke up after a while, smiling. "If not, you know where to find me. However, Aussies always do it better."

[miiukkaa]

raph's subway room 🧸

personally speaking, raph is both an easy and a difficult character to understand. he has grown up with the responsibilty of having to look after his younger brothers. he definitely can be rowdy, playful, goofy and irresponsible but there's a sense of responsibility that he carries and holds onto. i mention this only because i feel this shows in him wanting to let his brothers have things over himself (things like furniture, trinkets, food... just stuff in general). not in a dramatic way in which he'd sacrifice EVEYRYTHING for the sake of others and thus neglect his own needs, no, no, it's not black and white like that. this would simply mean that he owns less furniture/trinkets/things than what you'd imagine. a mindful guy looking out for those he loves (let us not forget that he looks after himself, too).

i gave the big guy a big bed which is supported by the subway car's seats opposite to one another as well as cinder blocks. again, very little space underneath the bed. there're a few teddybears by the foot of the bed (note that the mattress isn't as wide as the car so the bears are just sitting on the seat).

raph is a RnB fan and has shown to own a collection of vinyl records. i was feeling generous so i gave him a vinyl record player with an amp right next to his bed.

while i could have moved his DIY bench press in the car, i rather it stayed outside of the car as seen in the movie. he would probably still have some weights stored in his room (he could easily use smaller weights in his room, too - i feel there's enough room for that).

opposite to the main entrance, he'd have a clothing line to hang some of his clothes. oh, and the door on the right side? that's just half-open. i'm not sure if raph himself would fit through a half-opened door but i like to imagine it's more of a window to him anyway. (from the bed he would lean a little to squint what's happening outside before shouting "hey, what's the commotion about!?" or something).

posters! first we have ghostbear's poster which we have seen in raph's sewer room. i feel he would have ripped the poster off of the wall after feeling betrayed by the wrestler but then later taped it back up after having calmed down and feeling remorseful. he still does admire the sport and ghostbear after all. complicated feelings.

a new lou jitsu poster in which our favorite rat man is simply just posing for the fans. speaking of the rat man, i'd like to think he helped raph write down the famous japanese quote from the show: 「あなたは一人じゃない」 translated to "you're not alone". i mean, if i were raph, i'd want to write the quote down... ESPECIALLY since he doesn't know the language and it's easy to forget for that reason. it's like splinter signed his poster for his son in a way :)

the mad dogs flag looks like it was bought rather than self-made... so i doubt they would have bought just one for leo. i mean "mad dogs" is their thing so you gotta get all the siblings involved kind of like a shared tattoo!!

then a silly little drawing by mikey in which he drew raph flexing :)

and speaking of mikey! there's some graffiti art by him! both of them are near identical to the ones seen in raph's sewer room but... one of them just says "boss!" and the other is just flames.

a very simple room design but i feel it's just enough for raph :]

leo's room

mikey's room

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail Pairings: Blade, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Dan Heng, Sampo, Gepard, Welt x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, sharing intimate photos, references to masturbation.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq 

I'm not sure I've seen anyone write about this, so I decided it would be fun to think about how men from HSR send us photos of their dicks XD Enjoy!

✦ Blade

The first time it was your idea. Although he treated this with some suspicion, all doubts were immediately dispelled as soon as he received a seductive candid photo from you.

Blade has a lot of strange addictions, but now your little game at a distance has also been added to them. The job of a Stellaron Hunter takes up too much of his time, but it's a little easier for him to bear separation when you please him at least just by the sight of your sexy body.

Although you started it, Blade quickly gets into the taste, putting you in an awkward position especially at those moments when you are out of the house or, especially, at work. He likes the idea that your hips will close, your pretty face will surely be powdered with blush, and your underwear will be covered with warm moisture from just one photo that he will make especially for you.

Blade doesn't like anything else as much as teasing you and making you beg. He will definitely take care to accompany his photos with tempting captions, as if the sight of his excited penis alone is not enough to drive you crazy.

But even this will not be enough for him when he orders you to retire with the phone at any cost, no matter where you will be at this moment. Prepare yourself properly, describing to him in every detail how you play with yourself under his strict guidance and do not forget to send a photo report.

✦ Jing Yuan

The General will definitely be the first to suggest that you send him your intimate photo while he is relaxing in his chair, shirking from work.

Jing Yuan likes it when you obediently fulfill his requests, but he loves it even more when you yourself take the initiative to pamper your lover a little. If you surprise the General in the middle of the working day with one of your piquant photos, be prepared for the fact that when he comes home, he will properly thank his playful girlfriend.

As for him… If that's what you want, then why not? He will make any photo for you, no matter what you ask, without a bit of hesitation and doubt. If you want to take the initiative, forcing him to caress himself under your guidance, he will be happy to play this game with you.

Like Blade, Jing Yuan is a very teasing man, although not in such an overbearing display. He doesn't mind making you feel embarrassed at any time and in any place, but he prefers that you fall for his bait yourself, satisfying him with your charming detailed stories about how much you enjoy playing with yourself with thoughts about him.

✦ Luocha

His eyes widen slightly in surprise when he receives a candid photo from you, overwhelmed by feelings that he has not experienced before, since no one else has honored him with such an honor. Especially when you consider the fact that you are both in the same apartment, when he is relaxing reading a book waiting for you to get out of the shower.

Is this an invitation or did you just decide to play a little? Anyway, Luocha is intrigued and doesn't mind having fun with you at all. When he gets excited enough from your teasing, be prepared that he will no longer hold back. Throwing the phone on the sofa, he will definitely join you in the shower, properly demonstrating to you what pranks can lead to.

After this incident, he is no longer surprised if one of the days when you miss him too much, sitting at work, you ask him to make a juicy photo for you. He will treat this issue with all seriousness, carefully choosing the angle and going through several different options to satisfy your request.

We can say that Luocha definitely likes your little innocent games, especially those moments when you are finally alone so that he can throw out all the tension that your intimate correspondence caused. You didn't think that photos alone would be enough for him, did you?

✦ Dan Heng

Oh, innocent Dan Heng. He definitely won't be the one to take the initiative. In this relationship, you're definitely the one who teases, but not the other way around.

With all the outward seriousness, Dan Heng is so easy to embarrass and embarrass. It's even funny. That's why you decide, without any warning, to ask him to take a photo of a piquant content for you. You can't see it in the correspondence, but you can imagine how his face immediately lit up as soon as he read your message.

He's never done this before, but he can't refuse you. It will be a clumsy photo taken with a trembling hand, but incredibly cute from the fact that he really got excited from just one unexpected request of an intimate nature.

Although he doesn't quite understand why you are doing this, but he is pleased to receive these lovely sexy photos from you. He will save each of them in his phone, hiding it in a private folder so that, God forbid, no one will ever see your naked body. This privilege is only for him.

Will he ever do something like that for you again? Well… a little practice and maybe someday he will stop being so embarrassed by this request, but for now he will prefer to replenish his precious collection with even more photos of you taken especially for him.

✦ Sampo

There's not even anything to talk about, he will be the first one to come to you without any warnings.

His courage and perseverance, when he asks you without a second thought to take a couple of photos for him, definitely deserves respect. Although you know that your boyfriend likes to fool around and you've almost stopped being surprised by his strange antics, this one seemed very tempting.

Let his messages that accompany your little game sound even too dirty, but in each of them he is ready to literally worship your body, with pleasure using all your photos in the future to satisfy himself when you are not around.

Oh, you only have to take the initiative, and Sampo will kiss the asphalt on which your foot has trod! You're too good to be real if you can literally read his mind, spoiling him with naughty photos when he's busy with one of his dirty deeds, which he will gladly give up in order to return home and properly thank his goddess.

✦ Gepard

Gepard is even worse than Dan Heng. Not only is he confused by your request, but he will also bombard you with a ton of questions, why exactly did you need it.

The Captain is too far from such games and you really should explain to him the purpose of your request. But, as soon as all the questions that have arisen are satisfied with the answers, Gepard will gladly fulfill any of your requests.

As for your photos… Oh, what are you doing with him, he's at work. It will take a lot of effort for him to hide the bulge in his trousers that arose because of your candid photo. What a blessing that the Silvermane Guards uniform is loose enough that it does not cause questions from his subordinates. Although his red face will be harder to hide. You should definitely pamper him on his return from work for all the willpower he showed by going through this ordeal because of you.

And, of course, he will save every photo you take for him. Not even to satisfy himself in your absence, he will just sometimes admire your body, enjoying the thought that it all belongs to him.

✦ Welt

It would seem that such a mature man should have a lot of experience in everything, even in sexual aspects, but do not hope that he will immediately correctly understand your hints.

Even after receiving candid photos from you, it will not immediately reach him that you want to pamper your lover in this way. But as soon as all the pieces of the puzzle in his head come together in a clear picture, he will not mind at all. He really even liked your frankness and the fact that he now has the opportunity to save a couple of your intimate photos in his phone, instead of sketching your naked body from memory in his album.

As for Welt himself, yes, of course, he will do whatever you ask. Perhaps he, like Locha, will approach this issue with all seriousness. Welt is an artist, so the photo you get should be perfect, no matter how much time it takes.

Welt is really grateful to the universe for giving him such an amazing girl. He should definitely pamper you properly as soon as you are alone, paying special attention to those parts of the body that were so seductively flaunted in your photos taken especially for him.

[mingisaddctn]

unholy | j.yh

Pairing: preacher's son!yunho x reader Genre:[smut] yunho disguised as the devil brainrot Warnings: religious themes, corruption kink a/n: yea.

(also, sidenote, but it was kinda hard translating some of the christian terms bc i grew up with those but in my native language so bear w me

it always came back to that golden cross.

the token of Christ that he held around his neck, dangling on his chest as if it held the symbolism of carrying the holy figure in his heart.

ha. the irony of that.

you watched intently as the tall boy stood in the background. he didn't blend in, even with the gelled-back hair, white dress shirt and the gentle smile that was plastered all over. they all dressed the same, spoke the same, stood the same, but he somehow, his presence was the only one everyone seemed to focus on.

some could say it was the divine light that chose him, and no one would dare to oppose. how could they? not when the boy did everything to grace his image. an impeccable reputation, something not even the son of Christ himself got before meeting his end, being the towns sole preachers son almost faded in line of all the things jeong yunho was;

hard working student, star athlete, gracious volunteer, cheerful friend, sweet lover and darling son. sinful con-artist.

your father clapped alongside the people, cheering for the homily, he made sure to glance in your direction to ensure his own ego that you were being a good girl and paying attention.

he wanted you to fill those big shoes just as much as he wanted to slap your mother across the face every time she burned the food, leading her to fill another glass of wine and fall asleep alone on the couch, but still waking up earlier than everyone to pretend to be the very good wife that she was graced to be, offered just as young as you were now, by her own father, and the only thing she got in return was a sole golden cross to hang on her neck—a mark, a stamp that stated where and to whom she belonged—not your father, no.

but God.

"make sure to shake the preacher's hand" your father spat, oh-so-loyal to his master, shaking its tail as one of the sheep in the flock.

and you did. the mass had already ended when you approached the altar, under the watchful eye of the big wooden cross as you picked at your cuticles. in line, alongside your mother who held the weight of submission on her back, shrinking almost into a ball, you held your hands together waiting for your turn to thank the old man for doing his job.

"smile" your father told you.

and you did. borrowing one of the various features, doing your best impression of the good daughter, the most innocent sheep.

but the eyes of the predator followed around. to anyone, it would be just a caring gaze, but you knew what came within, the dark pair of eyes making your skin tingle and stomach churn.

you avoided it. you knew the consequences but you did anyway. you knew that later, when the blue darkened into the night and no lights would be seen within a mile radius, he would strip you out of wool, pierce your organs and drink from it as if it were the blood of Christ.

and when the birds went into hiding and dark hues shadowed the figures around, you found yourself shaking your leg frantically, looking between the clock on your nightstand and the closed window with lacy curtains that protected you so foolishly from the outside world.

it was close to time to leave when you heard the wine glass clinking downstairs. you put down the bible, shallow breaths forming inside your chest as you opened the window, jumping onto the dry grass that your father never cared to water. why would he do anything that didn't come with god's name attached to it?

approaching the same chapel you stood in this morning, you saw a faint light of an oil lamp coming from the backside, with it, came the following gaze that haunted you every other day, and you could smell the faint scent of soap in his clothes. not a wrinkle, not a stain, shirt as white as heaven, eyes as dark as sin.

he smiled as you came closer. not his usual one, but the one he reserved for those nightly escapades of yours—and your heart pounded from the knowledge that it was for you. you noticed that he was chomping on an apple, the sweet scent of the fruit adorning your nostrils as you stood idly in front of him. a small light reflected on the small piece of gold that hid on his chest.

with his hand up, he held the viciously red apple in front of your eyes. you didn't eat a lot at dinner because a fight between your parents broke out, and you were already sick from attending mass—ever since you started meeting the boy outside, sundays never felt the same—so the sight of a lustrous, full and juicy fruit did the trick on you.

you reached to grab it, but he retreated his offer.

"nuh-uh" he said. "open up."

and as a good girl, you did, allowing to be fed by the same fingers that found its way into your deepest parts. the same ones that dragged along your skin and touched wherever you claimed to be forbidden by the eyes of the lord. but how could it be so wrong? not when his touch felt that good.

yunho smiled at the sight of you biting into the fruit. you had no idea what he was thinking most of the time, but when he smiled like that, it was real.

"come" he said as he opened the back door, discarding the core on the grass. the evidence of it only being the sweet taste left on your lips, now to linger forevermore.

following him inside, you two reached the same familiar room where you grew up going in and out of. the wooden cabinets surrounding you, full of things that were meaningless without being held at the altar on sunday mornings.

the sacristy was somewhere you spent a lot of time organizing things as a volunteer, helping the altar boys and doing your part as part of the church, being the prideful gem of your community. but would they think so if they knew that your only reason to do it was so you could see more of the golden boy?

you could never lie when someone teased you about being too infatuated with the boy. your cheeks would heat up and heart would pound like crazy, to the point where you always worried if you were on the verge of dying or exploding. you first met him at the church, following him around as if he was your pastor, the one that would lead and save you.

then it was at school, but the meetings would always be brief, since he was always busy with school work or sports. you could never catch him alone, there was always crowds around him wherever he went, and you knew you fell into the category of being another one in his flock, but then he caught you staring that one sunday after mass, while he played the organ and no one was around for once.

"you always stare" he said, his voice velvety and seemingly to be something made by God's hands Himself "but you never say anything. are you scared of me?"

shaking your head, you looked down to your shoes, fingers picking at your cuticles.

you knew he was observant, too. most of the times you stared, he caught you, but he never said anything—that's how thoughtful he was, and that was one of the many things that made your young heart belong to him.

before you could even answer, your father called you from the sacristy, and you left, escaping from those warm, chocolate eyes.

but that was the day when things changed; the day he made you aware that he knew of your hobby of watching, because the next sunday, you caught him sneaking wine from one of those big wooden cabinets.

it was before mass, when you found yourself in the sacristy, opening the door without announcing, not expecting anyone to be there. but then you found the boy leaning by the entrance, drinking from the chalice as he watched you closely, his eyes never leaving you.

it shattered you on the inside. the sharp dress shirt he always wore to mass now held a deep stain by the collar, and everything about him seemed so messy. but what hurt the most was to see his eyes turn dark, something you never expected to see.

and it seemed to exhilarate him, the thought of you being the only one knowing. he knew you watched, and he wanted to give you a show.

on christmas night, when the mass would be held late, you stood behind to help clean up and organize the things from the short play held by the community. it was almost the next day and even the preacher had left, but you were folding the costumes and reassembling the scenery.

it wasn't rare for you to be alone in the church, at some point you even had the keys, but something felt eerie about that night. and then you heard a noise. it was indistinguishable at first, and you thought that someone could have returned and maybe got hurt, so you left the sacristy and went to the main hall.

now the sounds grew louder, and your heart pounded in its cage. it scared you, you thought someone might've gotten hurt, but you kept on going, trying to see where the noises were coming from.

stepping lightly, you heard another moan of what you thought was pain, coming from the confessional, the small door closed, but the sounds coming through.

"h-hello?" you called, no response.

approaching closer, your fingers held the handle and you took a deep breath, opening it slowly.

and you were met with dark eyes, the same ones that corrupted you before, the same ones who disguised themselves all this time, fooling everyone who dared to stare back. the same gaze you longed for, but now dreaded.

yunho leaned against the confessional wall, hair disheveled and the dress shirt half open. he panted, and the air inside felt heavy. moans sung by the heart shaped lips, the same ones you wondered if they were hand painted in heaven, now sounding so shameless, making sounds so sinful as he fisted his cock.

but the way your body reacted, your stomach felt like melting, and your face held too much heat. you didn't know you could sweat from other places, but your undergarments were now drenched. and that's when he grabbed your wrist, leading your hand to fall on top of his, enveloping his warm member into your palms.

you knew you were supposed to feel disgusted. you knew you were supposed to go back to your house, pray and go to sleep, but how could you when your hand was melting into his, and the noises he made when you moved your wrist were so forbidden it tasted good?

his pants became heavier and heavier, and the movements grew faster, then he spurted on your fingers and brought them to his own mouth.

seeing as you didn't move, he pulled your wrist, making your face fall closer to his, and then placed both of your fingers between your mouths, giving them a long lick, tasting his fluids.

"this is because of your staring" he claimed, placing yours and his digits into your mouth, making you jolt in shock. "do you know how hard it is to pretend not to see it?"

you did what you did best; you watched him. both of your fingers now resting on your tongue and the bitterness of his release mixing with your saliva.

"take it. prove it to me" he stared back. "prove that you want me."

it was over for you when you sucked on his skin involuntarily.

after that, he would ravish your body and sing prayers as his tongue tasted the sheen coat of sweat all over you. all week he portrayed the golden boy, the blessed child; but sundays, his mind became possessed by you.

now, back in present, he was holding the same golden chalice, signaling for you to grab the bottle of wine sitting next to you.

"will you open that for me?" he asked, voice coated in velvet that rubbed against your ears.

you took the cork off and he waited for you to serve the chalice, but before you could, he stopped himself, as if he had just gotten a new, better idea. he sat on the cushioned armchair behind the desk, pulling you closer by the hem of your thin camisole, face laying lower than yours, to the point you had to look down.

"pour me a drink, please?" you could've swore you'd seen the small, sheer glimpse of those same warm eyes for a moment. but it had to be just your mind playing tricks on you.

the boy sat under you with his fingertips grazing against your thighs as he opened his mouth, waiting for you to serve him. he knew that no matter what he asked of you, you would do it, no questions asked.

you started pouring the wine into his mouth, watching as the deep, dark liquid pooled onto his tongue as he closed his eyes, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed every last drop. mesmerized and lost in his godly features, you tilted the bottle a little more than you should, letting some of the wine drip on his skin, a small, faint line leaving its trace from the corner of his mouth to his neck.

he gave your thigh a small squeeze, and you stopped all motion as his eyes shot open, tongue licking his lower lip to not waste any alcohol.

"c'mon, darling, it's not time to make a mess yet" he laughed, the hearty laugh you grew up replaying inside your mind, giggling with your feet in the air. "clean that up now, will ya?"

you just nodded, turning on your feet to grab a napkin when he stopped you, pulling your legs closer in a quick move, making you fall onto straddling his strong thighs.

"you know what I meant by that" he watched every singular move your irises did closely, keeping track of your thoughts as if he could read them.

biting your lip, you looked at where the wine stained his cheek, and leaning forward, you gave it an experimental small lick. not daring to lean back, knowing that he wouldn't leave you alone with that following eye contact, you went lower, reaching for his neck, the tip of your tongue following the trace of a vein that stood under the fair skin.

the deep rumble of his groan trembled from your tongue to the rest of your body, accommodating itself inside your lower abdomen, a spot of wetness that began to stick to yunho's dress pants.

"I haven't even touched you properly, dear" he whispered into your ear as you kept on licking him clean "and you're already getting wet?"

your breath faltered and, ashamed, you hid your face into the crook of his neck. but he never ran from what he wanted, when he wanted—that's when you felt his long, cold fingers sliding inside your panties, the fingerprints embedded on your folds as he played around with the slick.

"y-yun—" you let out a whimper, your fingernails leaving half-crescent marks onto his shoulder.

"huh, what is it?" he asked, whispers into your ears and engraving his voice into your soul as his fingers pinched your clit, making a squeal leave your lips. "what is it that you want the most?"

you bit into his skin, chills running down your spine and cold sweat forming on your nape, could even be mistaken for a chilly breeze in the middle of that hot summer night.

when he slid a finger inside you, you could swear that your heart almost got stuck into your throat. placing your hand on top of your mouth, you tried to control the noises you were now making in union to the newly-found friction.

you found yourself nipping on your cuticles involuntarily, being too swayed by the waves of pleasure and emotional burst, but he caught it. he always did.

"oh no... you hurt yourself" he grabbed your hand with his free one, scanning it, watching as a small button of blood formed where your teeth bit into, it was a tic, you always picked at your fingers, and making it bleed wasn't news, but he seemed disappointed.

and then he put your fingers into his mouth, and sucked on the blood. eyes not leaving yours as you stared back, brows furrowed, a moan leaving the confines of your lips as you felt the texture of his tongue swirling around your digits.

with his free hand, he kept on moving, fingers in and out, pressing the sweet spot that was reserved for him, and only him. you weren't bounded by marriage, nor you thought you would be too soon, but under the severe gaze of god, you were his and he was yours.

the knot that formed on your stomach grew tighter and tighter while he sucked on your fingers and pressed inside you. the bulge in his pants causing friction when you rolled your hips desperately, using his body for your own selfish needs.

soon, the release came, washing over you as a cozy blanket of pure comfort, and you slumped onto his upper body, being held in arms as a cage, knowing that, even when he was the threat, he was the savior.

"you seem pretty found of this" he noted, and then you came to your senses to see that you were gripping to his golden cross.

leaning back, he unclasped the gold chain, the other hand that was nestled inside you left the warmth, the coldness of the slick on your panties meeting your lower lips and making you shiver slightly.

"I want you to have it" he said, placing the other hand on top of your lips, forcing them open, placing the cross on your tongue, and his wet fingers on top of it, pressing. drool began to form on the corner of your lips as you gazed at him with half lidded eyes. "god... how can you be so beautiful?"

in a quick frenzy, you suddenly found yourself on the top of the altar, legs spread and the weight of the golden cross now falling on your chest. yunho kissed your legs, leaving deep purple marks inside, places where only he could see them. he lost his dress shirt along the way, and his pants were unbuttoned, only a matter of time for him to lower his boxers to reveal the hard cock stuck in its confinements.

from where you laid, you could see the tall boy standing in front of you, and on top of him, as if to peek, was the huge wooden cross. the one last symbol you caught sight of as he entered you, the last view before falling into the depths of insanity.

his big hands sneaked under you, holding your body close to his as he moved in and out, the feeling of his cock rubbing against you making you crazier by the second. the feeling too good to be right, and the small voice inside your head that kept you pure, innocent, now was gone. you had no trace of light anymore, not when you were conjoined; not when your body melted into his.

his groans were prayers and you attended them with moans, the song of angels being made right in that moment, and nothing was holier than the way your heart thumped against his. keeping quiet wasn't an option anymore, and your whimpers soon became screams, the sound of his name echoing over and over between those walls.

you screamed, and drooled, and held onto dear life, his body being the last piece of salvation close to you, and the grasp so desperate you would think your soul was condemned. he kept on thrusting, his member hitting the same spot over and over, and the sound of your hips slapping grew louder.

you weren't you anymore. you never knew what came over your body when he fucked you, but it wasn't something holy. it trembled and shook and moved on its own, every trace of control abandoning your senses, the grasp of reality not being in sight.

"I'll make you mine" he repeated in your ear as a promise, singing it as his own psalm. "you'll be forever bound to me; to my body."

"I am yours" you babbled, not even sure if the words were clear, but he got the message as he kept on thrusting, fingers digging into your skin as his lips sucked on your neck.

and when his dark gaze met yours again, a groan run through his throat, the bundle of pleasure snapping inside you, just as his own did. the seed of his own filled your walls completely, and you smiled satisfied, mind far from your body as you were consumed by the primal urges.

now, with his golden cross wrapped around your neck and his claim slipping between your thighs, he marked you as his.

it was scary, how much you lost yourself when he touched you, scary how good it felt, scary how forbidden it was, scary how he made you feel like never before.

for as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him;

and you feared him the most.

[sizzleissues]

Speak my language (1250 words.)

inspired by this post by @nervousbelieverstarfish

There was a girl behind M Damocles, her hands stuck awkwardly at her sides as she made herself appear small next to him. Adrien tilted his head to the side to get a proper look but the girl shuffled away. Adrien straightened and looked up at M Damocles. Why had he led this clearly frightened girl all the way to his shady spot in the school yard? M Damocles stepped aside, gesturing to the girl with a worried smile. 

“This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she's a new student here.”

Marinette whispered something quiet that went ignored by M Damocles.  There was a piece of pasta on her shoulder that she didn't seem to notice and a reddish stain on her black jacket that she definitely knew was there. Her entire face was pink as she watched him from behind her bangs.

He extended his hand — that was what you’re supposed to do when greeting new people? — and tried to make his smile warm. “Hi, I’m Adrien. You have pasta on your shoulder.”

Marinette blinked and M Damocles stepped in, clearing his throat.

“She’s just moved here from China. Very little French.”

Adrien retracted his hand. (He was glad she hadn’t understood him, why had he opened with ‘there’s pasta on your shoulder’? She looked mortified already, no need to kill her.)

“I know you’re only recently returning to regular schooling after your m-,” M Damocles clammed up, his voice trailing off. 

“My maman died,” Adrien supplied, forcing M Damocles to look him in his eyes as he said it. He was sick of people treating him like he couldn’t bear to hear the words. Maybe it was more that they didn’t want to say it, that they didn't want to deal with the consequences if he did break with every mention of her. It was a good thing then that he’d put all that childish grief away — along with everything else that would only hurt him in the long run. 

“Err- yes. That. Anyways, you’re here longer than Marinette and I read on your file you’re fluent in Chinese. You’re also in all advanced classes so you’d be the perfect fit to help Marinette get around and teach her French on the side. If you are willing to, of course.”

Adrien had half a mind to refuse M Damocles and go back to his quiet existence on the edges of the school. That was the way he liked it and nothing ever before had made him want to change that. Then he looked at Marinette and he couldn’t find it in him to refuse.

“Do you know what dialect she speaks?” Adrien asked. 

“Pardon?”

“What dialect? I speak Mandarin but she could only speak Cantonese or another regional dialect I wouldn’t understand.”

M Damocles paused, his thick eyebrows weighed with confusion. It seemed the thought had never occurred to him. 

“Marinette. Do - you - speak - Mandarin?” M Damocles asked her in broken French. Adrien saw something flick across her face that was different from her timid expression before. A flash of fire in her otherwise soft blue eyes. She silently nodded in response. Adrien saw it again as M Damocles turned back to Adrien to relay the answer though he’d already heard. He had to bite his lip to contain a snicker as he caught the sarcastic flick of her eyes. 

“Well then, that’s all sorted. I’ll leave you to it,” M Damocles said with a note of relief in his voice, glad the translation problem was no longer his. He strode off, leaving Marinette behind. She watched him leave with a surprisingly reluctant expression, even though he’d proved utterly incompetent.

“So, you’re new here?” He asked in Mandarin. Marinette swung her head around, blue eyes wide and frightened again. 

“Y-yes.”

“I’m A-.”

“Adrien Agreste. I know,” She interrupted.

“You do?”

Marinette seemed to realise what she’d done and turned bright red.

“I mean, you already said so. Earlier. I’m not the best at French but I know when someone’s introducing themselves.”

“Right…” It didn’t explain knowing his last name, he’d never given it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the Agreste name had made it as far as China. He moved on to the side on his bench and held his hand out to offer the seat beside him. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Okay.” 

She sat, bouncing her leg as she looked everywhere but at him. Had she understood him earlier with the pasta thing? He searched his head for something to say before the silence lingered too long and it became impossible to breach. 

“You have pasta on your shoulder.”

Not that!

Marinette squeaked, shaking it off and then removing her jacket altogether. She groaned into her hands. Adrien scrambled desperately for something not related to pasta to ask.

“I- I noticed you have a French word in your name?”

“Oh, yeah. My Papa is French but we’ve lived in China my whole life. Never really tried to learn the language. Regretting that now.” She laughed dryly at her own expense. Adrien smiled at her when she looked up and she immediately went back to staring at the ground, furiously tapping her foot. 

“Why did you move, if you don’t mind answering?”

“To go here. To learn art at this school and become a fashion designer. I applied ages ago, I didn’t think I got in. Didn’t think I would get in.” She leaned back from hunching over, her voice getting a little louder as she settled. “That's probably why I didn’t really try to learn French but now I’m here and I don’t know a word and it's going to screw everything up. I couldn’t find any of my classes and then this- this, bitch, threw her pasta all over me when I couldn’t understand her. She had a claim over the table I’d chosen, apparently. People had been warning me and I couldn’t understand them fully to realise. How am I supposed to become a famous fashion designer if I can’t even say it in French!”

Marinette clamped her mouth shut and turned to Adrien with an alarmed expression. His Mandarin wasn’t good enough to have kept up with everything but he got the gist. She was completely lost and alone.

“I’m so sorry. You don’t want to hear about that. You’re the one saddled with teaching me and now I’m dumping this all on you. You really don’t have to.”

Adrien looked across the school yard to where all the other students had gathered, talking amongst themselves. Groans about homework, whispers of gossip and cheers as one student presented a graded project. He’d never once bothered to join in. Now he was sitting with this girl who was on the outskirts like him and she couldn’t join in even if she wanted to. The voice that told him to shut everyone out could be ignored for now. She would be his exception.

His only exception.

(He didn’t know now but soon he’d make another. For a girl with fire in her soft blue eyes. He’d look into those eyes as her hand reached to save him and know he’d have to make another exception. But that would be the last one) (Until the next.)

“It’s alright. I’ll teach you French until it's better than your Mandarin. And you can help me improve my Mandarin in return. Does that sound like a deal?”

Marinette looked down at the hand he’d extended then up at him, her eyes flooding with relief. She shook his hand, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Deal.”

-

OK OK OK OK. I hope you liked it, i hope it was good. Let me know or whatever. Please reblog blah blah blah and have a good day

I would write more but I have so many WIPS and I’m trying to overcome doubt in my writing so I can just write again. This is an AU to the movie’s canon but also can be applied to the show if you want. I’ve also added my own slight headcanon that Adrien was only homeschooled during the period of his mother’s sickness and ‘death’ as my interpretation of the canon given to us in the movie. Take it or leave it. So he was friends with Nino prior to everything but he’s since shut him out.

[babyhatesreality]

What if maybe stucky had a day off for the first time in awhile and they planned on spending it w/ reader. She was really looking forward to it. But maybe one of the caregivers asked them to watch their little for the day last minute bc they were called away on a mission. Stucky accidentally ignores reader all day and just really hurts her feelings. Maybe they spoil the other little let them pick the movie and lunch etc. How would they make it up to reader?

-M

Hi M! First off, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH for being so patient. I'm so so sorry it has taken me so long to get to your amazing thoughts and questions. So let's dive in <3

What A Day

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, anxiety, very upset Peter (but not at reader), angst, misunderstanding, frustrations, scolding, threat of punishment, tears, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, everything gets worked out in the end because I always need a happy ending.

A/N- not my best writing style, I'm sorry, words are hard right now. But I love you all and want to try to get these requests out for you all, so I hope you like it anyways.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

Today was the day! You were all set to spend the day together, just you and your daddies. You were so excited, you had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You all had tried to plan stuff before this, and something always came up. Every time. But not today! No way, not today!

Until it did.

Tony and Pepper received a very-last-minute summons to the White House to 'discuss some urgent matters' as Pepper put it or bail their asses out, as Tony put it. There was no way they could bring Peter, who was feeling extra little and clingy, so Steve, seeing their panic, volunteered to take him for the day, since you'd all planned on being at home anyways and the rest of the team were out on assignment.

You were a bit disappointed, but Petey was your best friend in the world, so this was going to be fun, right? Well......

When they dropped Peter off, he was definitely in a littler headspace than you had even seen him. He was crying hard in Steve's arms as Tony and Pepper left (both trying their hardest not to well up).

You tried to help, patting him on the leg and offering him Emma Bear or Pipsqueak to hold, but he didn't want either of them and tried to bat your hand away.

This shocked you a bit, but Bucky picked you up and whispered in your ear that Peter just needed a little extra attention right now. You nodded in understanding, and as soon as Bucky set you back down, you set off to your playroom, determined to find things to make him smile.

When you got back though- your arms full of toys and stuffies that you knew he'd like- you were a bit surprised to see both Steve and Bucky on the couch, side by side, comforting and holding Peter. You dropped your toys on the floor, wanting to come be a part of the cuddle party, but the noise scared Peter who started to cry again.

"Baby, you need to be more careful," Steve scolded very gently, knowing you hadn't done it on purpose. "I know you're trying to help, but Peter doesn't like loud noises right now. Please go put your toys back."

You started to protest that you had only picked out toys to be nice, but Bucky cut you off. "Go put 'em up, love, you heard Papa." It was a gentle tone, but you knew better than to try to argue.

Trying to be quiet, you carefully put them back slowly. But every time you came back to the room, you eyed your daddies meaningfully, hoping they'd ask you to be a part of the cuddle party, but they were so focused on keeping the little boy calm that they missed it entirely.

Once you were done, you quietly came over with Pipsqueak, holding him out to Peter, who took him, but turned his face back into Steve's chest. Feeling both frustrated and a little jealous, you said, "You s'posed to say 'tank you'." Peter just whined in reply.

This time, Steve looked at you sternly. "Baby, please don't upset Peter right now. He's feeling very little and needs quiet."

"But he didn't say tank you and you always say I gotta use my manners..."

Bucky picked you up before you caused Peter to start crying again, and started carrying you down the hallway to your playroom. "Listen up, angel, Peter is too young and upset to remember manners right now, and you're being loud when we've asked you to quiet down. Why don't you stay and play in here for a while until Peter is feeling better?" He set you down in the playroom and quickly shut the door before you had a chance to say anything.

You felt like you were being punished, even though you'd never get to stay in your playroom with all your toys when you were actually being punished. But you couldn't help but feel that way. Your daddies weren't spending any time with you now, and your bestie was treating you like you were mean, and it wasn't fair at all.

Bucky came to get you about an hour later for lunch. You were disappointed when you found that lunch was already made, because you loved it when you got to stir the mac and cheese. But when you were eating and Steve started telling Peter what a good job he'd done stirring, you got mad.

You shoved yourself off your chair and got exactly one step away before Bucky picked you up and plopped you back down. "You haven't been excused, little girl," he said a bit sharply, getting tired of your antics. You glowered as once again you were being asked to have manners when Peter didn't have to. Bucky made you sit there until all your lunch was eaten, which was well after Peter and Steve finished theirs and left to go watch a movie together.

You got even angrier when they picked a different movie than the one that you all were supposed to watch today, but you were still stuck in your dumb chair and couldn't do anything about it. Bucky had to threaten you with a time out and early bedtime before you finally finished eating. And once you did, he gave you a little talking-to about your attitude before taking your hand and bringing you over to the couch to watch the movie with them.

What you saw when you got there stopped you cold.

Steve had wrapped Peter up in your special yellow weighted blanket. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, as you always wanted to share with your bestie, but this was YOUR special blanket for when you were feeling upset or overstimulated or needed comfort- and right now, you were definitely feeling all three.

"Dat's my special blanket," you said, pointing and mumbling. You didn't want to be loud or 'keep having an attitude', but this was just too much.

The look of disappointment in Steve's eyes hurt your heart. "Honey, we share in this house," he said, making you feel even worse. "You know that."

You couldn't stop the tears from overflowing at this point. "I alweady gave him my whole day!" you sobbed, before turning around and running to your room. You didn't slam your door- you'd only get in more trouble- but you pushed it mostly shut before diving into your stuffies, pulling Jellybean in close, and continuing to sob.

You heard a soft knock on your door a few moments later. "Baby, it's Daddy. May I come in please?" You only buried yourself deeper into your furry friends, afraid that Daddy was going to scold you again.

Bucky slowly opened the door, and his heart shattered at seeing you crying into all your stuffed animals. "I'm gonna come in, okay?" he added softly, stepping forward gently. If you really didn't want him in there, he would leave, but as you gave no indication one way or the other, he came in quietly and sat on the foot of your bed.

Once your tears and sobs slowed down, you risked a peek at Daddy in between Jellybean's soft fluffy ears. His face broke into a sad smile once he saw your red eyes. "Hey there, Trouble," he said gently. "Can Daddy hold you please?"

You didn't want another talking-to about your attitude, so you obediently pushed yourself up and crawled over to him. But when he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you to his chest, like he did when he was comforting you, you suddenly realized that you weren't in trouble- that he really did want to just hold you. And the tears started all over again.

Bucky just held on, rocking you gently, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight when the tears turned into sobs, pressing soft kisses onto the top of your head. Once you cried yourself out, he plucked a tissue from the bedside table and held it to your face so you could blow. He mopped you up, still cuddling you all the while. "I'm really sorry you didn't get your day with us, Trouble," he said softly. "And I'm sorry that Papa and I were so focused on Peter and didn't see how upset you were. We weren't very nice to you today, were we?"

Sniffing mightily, you rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, resting your tired and aching head on Daddy's chest. "You was twying to help Petey. I sowwy I was bad and loud and mean," you mumbled.

"Baby, you were NOT bad or mean. You were loud, but that's just you- and we like you that way," Bucky said, finally grinning, which made you giggle. "I know that you were trying to help, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the patience to see that, and that we left you on your own today when we were trying to take care of Peter. So how about this? You and I can take some R&R together right now, just you and me, and then we can figure out everything else afterwards?"

Absolutely exhausted, you just nodded, falling asleep in Daddy's arms before he could even lay you down. And true to his word, he stayed with you for your whole nap, cuddling you and running his fingers through your hair.

After you all had naps, Peter was feeling much better, and the four of you played legos and dinosaurs in the living room until Tony and Pepper came home. It was a relief to Bucky and Steve, who had quietly worried that this was going to mess up Peter's and your friendship. But as always, after a good nap, things seemed brighter and you both were back to the giggling troublemakers you usually were, playing happily and noisily until Peter went home.

After you all had eaten supper, Papa cuddled you on his lap, apologizing too, and the three of you had a really good talk (with you still in younger space) about all of you feeling jealously, frustrations, and angry feelings, and being safe to calmly tell each other. They also helped work out some hand signals for you in case you went non-verbal or couldn't find the right words to tell them how you were feeling. You felt like a much happier baby after new ways to help you express yourself, and gleefully accepted Papa's cuddles all night (since Daddy had gotten them all to himself during nap time, he argued it was his turn).

The next day, Fury had blocked every single message to your daddies as well as access to your floor (barring emergency protocols, but ya know) making sure that you all truly had the whole day to yourselves. Daddy made your favorite cinnamon and sugar french toast for breakfast, which he fed to you bite by bite while you wiggled with energy.

The three of you went to your favorite quiet park out of the city, where you joyfully screamed down the slide, scrambled up the net ladder, giggled rocking back and forth on the bouncy animals, and had a contest with your daddies to see who could swing you the highest. THAT was the best.

You had a picnic lunch and had a blast bouncing back and forth between your daddies, insisting on feeding them blueberries one at a time. For some reason, that absolutely tickled you to no end, and you ended up laughing your head off the entire time. You fell asleep in your seat on the way home, and woke up in your bed. You found your daddies and the three of you drew pictures and colored together, then made a blanket fort in the living room for later.

Papa let you help him make dinner, and while it wasn't stirring- mac-and-cheese, it was still really fun. And then they both surprised you with being able to make a batch of your favorites- chocolate chip cookies! Right after the cookies cooled just enough, you FINALLY got to watch your movie, snuggled in between the two of them in your blanket fort, munching on the delicious treats.

Papa gave you a bath, letting you pick out both bubbles and a bath bomb, and Daddy put on your lotion and helped you pick out jammies and your nighttime books. You fell asleep in the crook of Bucky's arm, safe and warm, the three of you now more bonded than ever.

[pupgawa]

Hello😁✋, I saw your work and I wanted to see if I can request fyodor, Nikolai, and my bbg sigma fluff

Can it be a fem reader and Hispanic (Nicaraguan if possible) and she likes to say random phrases in Spanish like: quieres casarte conmigo , mi amor ( would u want to marry me, my love) just random times of the day. So out of nowhere he learns Spanish and starts responding😭🙏

Sorry its really specific😭✋

Leaning their darling's mother tongue

୨♡︎୧ a/n: hello lovely ! Thank you so much for requesting and I love this scenario so much I find it both hilarious and adorable!

That being said that I am not Hispanic myself so I have no clue how to speak the language , I am just using Google translate which may not be 100 percent accurate, so please forgive any mistakes I may have made (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but I hope you enjoy anyways !

୨♡︎୧ pairings: Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader, Nikolai Gogol x reader , Sigma x reader

୨��︎୧ Genre: fluff ! No content warnings at all lovelies <3

Fyodor Dostoevsky 🩸

so being as smart as he is, I whole heartly believe that Fyodor knows multiple languages, anything stemming from English to Russian and everything in between, but you know he was smart, but you never knew that he actually knew what you were saying, he loves to tease so he acts clueless to your sudden language switch, seeing your surprised face is all worth it ♡

you and Fyodor decided to spend the day at home, finding that it was a good day and neither of you wanted to ruin it with blood and gore, you decided to relax at home, it had been a while since you two had.

Fyodor was reading a book and you sat there and admired him, Fyodor was the literal definition of a pretty boy, soft facial features and an even softer voice, it made it hard to believe that this man was a terrorist.

“ Eres tan bonito , mi amor ” ( you're so beautiful , my love ). You didn't even notice your language switch until Fyodor looks away from his back with a head tilt.

“ what did you just say ? ” he asks with a gentle hum. You let a sly smile take over your expression as you wave your hand dismissively. “ oh nothing, dear, it wasn't anything bad, don't worry about it ”, you reassure, Fyodor eyes you skeptically and returns to his book.

gosh he was so pretty you felt like you were falling in love all over again. You open your mouth to speak, intending to use English, but something else came out.

“ ¿Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” “ por supuesto ” ( of course )

you blink, once, twice, three times, your face goes hot in embarrassment.

“ fyodor … you ?- ” he cuts you off with a laugh. “ of course I do ”

you were absolutely embarrassed, all this time you were speaking in your native tongue thinking that nobody could understand you, yet here your boyfriend was, knowing everything you were saying.

“ Eres linda cuando estas sorprendida ” ( you’re pretty when you’re surprised ) “ shut up … ! ”

Nikolai Gogol

similar to Fyodor I think Nikolai knows a bunch of different languages, but unlike Fyodor he isn’t completely fluid in them. So when he heard you talk in your native language he did some research on how to speak it. He’s not completely fluid in Spanish, but he understands a good amount of it ! He especially likes to flirt or tease you in your own language.

| You two were out on a date, out at a fair. You were enjoying yourself, but when you found yourself unable to beat a game for a plushie you had wanted, Nikolai stepped in and won that game for you !

| He hands you a giant white bear stuffed animal that held a plush heart in it’s paws, “ for you, darl’ ~ ” he coos lovingly.

| “ gracias amor ” ( thank you, love ) you were so happy that you didn’t even notice how you went from English to Spanish.

| “ De nada, querida ~ ” ( you’re welcome, dear ) he links your arms together and gives you a peck on the crown of your head.

| you let out an appreciative hum and you continue on with your date.

| the night was quite for most part, asides from the casual conversation of some people, but neither your or Nikolai paid them any mind.

| you two were sharing a plate of food since you had been getting hungry. Starting up small talk and casual conversations.

| “ thank you, for this ” Nikolai blinks and shakes his head with a small laugh. “ no need to thank me, darl’ ”

| there’s a silence between you two, before you break it “ Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” you suddenly, not even noticing you said it until Nikolai responded “ por qué por supuesto ! ”

| you let out a snort of laughter at his enthusiasm. “ I’m glad you agree ” you peck his lips, Nikolai returning the kiss.

| “ Entonces, ¿cuándo planeamos la luna de miel? ” ( so when do we plan the honeymoon ? ) he asks. “ Nikolai ! ” your face flushes softly.

Sigma

Unlike the other two, He didn’t know much until you came along, hearing you talk in Spanish made him motivated to learn. So he picked up any resources he could. He wanted to surprise you, well no he wanted to impress you, actually.

| you had just come off of work, annoyed and stressed out, having to deal with annoying customers and a asshole of a boss.

| the house was clean and dinner was already made, thanks to your boyfriend, sigma who had spent all day making sure you had come home to a meal and a clean house so you could properly relax.

| “ dear ? ” he starts “ what . What ! What do you want !? ” you snap, whipping your head back to see Sigma’s surprised expression.

| your gaze softens a little “ mi amor … I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to yell at you like that- ”

| “ rough day at work ? ” Sigma asks, you nod your head with a soft sigh. “ still it doesn’t give me a right to yell at you like that, I’m sorry ”

| Sigma dismisses your apology “ it’s alright, let’s get something in your stomach and then you can tell me all about your day ” you don’t argue with him.

| After dinner you sat at the edge of the bed, Sigma sat besides you, massaging your shoulders. He was surprisingly good at it too.

| you let out a sigh, relaxing underneath his touch “ you’re too good to me, my love ” Sigma lets out a laugh. “ nonsense, dear, you deserve this after the day you’ve had ” he responds.

| he cooked dinner, he cleaned and made sure the house was clean, all to make sure you could relax properly.

| and now he was listening to you vent while he gave you massage.

| he would make the picture perfect husband, you thought and you unconsciously voiced it too

| “ Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” you asked, not realizing what you had just said yet. Sigma takes all the months of learning he had and puts two and two together, it takes a moment for it register but once he realizes, his face goes red.

| “ si me dejas ” ( if you let me ) he responds, his pronunciation could use a bit of work but you were able to put together what he said.

| “ sigma when … ” “ are you impressed ? I’ve been learning for months ” you smile fondly at him and nod

| “ buen trabajo, mi amor ” ( Good job, my love ) you respond with a laugh. Sigma looks away to hide the smile on his face.

[resowrites]

Upstairs, Downstairs - oneshot (request).

Summary: Henry gets sick and becomes the patient from hell…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1186

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Upstairs, Downstairs - oneshot.

She could hear Henry groaning as she mounted the stairs. Carefully she balanced the tray bearing some toast, her Nintendo Switch she was letting him borrow, and more painkillers. She entered their bedroom as quietly as she could, though Henry still stuck his head up to inspect the food he thought he could smell from the kitchen. "Did you cut the crusts off?" At this, she pursed her lips and dropped the tray onto the bedside table with a clank. The noise made him wince and she couldn't help but smirk.

"Yes your majesty, as well as some more painkillers and my Switch if you're up to playing it." But one look at Henry suggested that was unlikely, his eyes were screwed up against the pain despite the room being in total darkness.

"Tablets please."

"Oh darling, is your headache really no better?" She carefully helped sit him up and handed over the painkillers along with a glass of water.

"It's a migraine." She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"No it isn't, it's just a bad headache--"

"It's a migraine!"

"Henry, I suffer from migraines myself, you're barely able to move. Now take your tablets and rest, you'll feel better in another hour or two. And it'll serve you right for staring at yourself in the mirror so long--"

"I was shaving!"

"Well try it blindfolded next time, that might resolve the issue permanently."

"Charming, and it wasn't that that did it, I was concentrating too hard painting my Warhammer--" she quickly interrupted, not wishing to get Henry started on the subject of Warhammer.

"Yeah that's fascinating, now take your tablets please."

"You know, this is not very good nursing… you're not even wearing a uniform!" She rolled her eyes again.

"Don't be a perv. And if you want a nurse, hire one. Though at this rate only a saint would cope."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He handed her back the glass and rested his head against the pillow, his eyes closed despite still talking.

"It means I've had to run around after you like a blue-arse fly and I'm nearing the end of my tether. Now have some toast--"

"In a minute, chat to me first." Henry patted her empty spot on the bed.

"Henry, you need to either have something to eat or go to sleep. I'll wake you at dinner, that's if you can still manage to eat…" He opened his eyes just in time to catch her smirk, but his expression suddenly grew more serious.

"… Don't leave." She burst out laughing.

"Henry, you're not a baby! Besides you need to rest."

"But I'm bored!"

"I am not here to entertain you, mister! I have a mountain of ironing to do as well as dinner to prepare." Henry's face became forlorn and for a moment she was genuinely worried. "Here, let me take your temperature…" She removed a thermometer from her pocket and held it up to his mouth.

"Warm it up first." She looked up to the ceiling and held her breath. When she tried again, Henry pulled away slightly.

"Make an aeroplane noise…"

"Henry, I really am losing my patience! Now let me take your temperature or I'll put this thermometer someplace it'll definitely feel cold!" He harrumphed but opened his mouth all the same.

"You know those tablets are no good, they didn't work when I took them earlier--" she shushed Henry, determined to get an accurate reading on the thermometer.

"Mmm… slightly high--"

"See, I told you I was coming down with something!"

"No, you told me you were painting your toys--"

"They're not toys!" She sighed.

"Whatever! Anyway your temperature's only slightly up, you're not feeling sick are you?" She looked at the plate of still-uneaten toast and began to wonder.

"Well, I'd get no sympathy from you either way! Now hand me that toast." She eyed the plate again, tempted to dump it all over him. He took one large bite. "Mmm… it's cold." She turned to go.

"Then chew on it, that'll warm it up."

"Wait! I didn't say you could leave." But the bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

She smiled as she gazed around the living room, both dogs snoozing at her feet. The housework was finished and she could finally put her feet up. It was a rare treat indeed to have a Henry-free afternoon and she was determined to enjoy it. But then her phone pinged. She ignored it and turned up the volume on the tv. Then came another ping. And another. Finally, the phone rang. "What?!" Oh, Henry, I'm trying to relax! Do I really need to come up there?" The phone rang off and she threw it aside, thoroughly irritated as she stomped up the steps. When she opened the bedroom door, he was sitting lower against the headboard, his eyes still closed. "Well?!"

"I need you to fluff my pillows." Her mouth fell open.

"You are kidding?! You made me come all the way up here, just for that?!"

"Yeah, I'm slipping. It's not comfy." She could tell Henry was trying not to laugh.

"Well carry on and I'll bloody smother you! That's if I can find a pillow big enough for that big fat head!" He held a finger up to his lips.

"Shhh… you're talking too loud."

"That's it! You're on your own. I'm not lifting another bloody finger for you…" For the second time that hour, she slammed the door. But just as she was making her way down the stairs, her phone pinged again. She knew better than to read the message, but she also knew Henry wouldn't stop bothering her until she did. Apparently, she'd forgotten something. Her brow furrowed. She was sure she hadn't bought anything up, but curiosity got the better of her and she made her way back towards the bedroom. When she entered the room, he didn't respond. She took a few steps closer, concerned whether he was alright. Suddenly the bed covers were thrown back.

"BOO!!!" She nearly hit the ceiling she jumped so high.

"Oh my God, you stupid twat! You nearly made me shit myself!" She went to grab hold of the bedside table for support but Henry just laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Get off me you silly sod, what did you really want me for?!" She tried to pull free of his arms but he held tight and smiled maniacally.

"I wanted you to take the tray down…" At that moment she could have knocked him out with it. "Oh and can you pick up the remote? It dropped on the floor." Her nostrils flared.

"Anything else, sire?!"

"Just your company m'lady…"

"I take it you're feeling better then?"

"Why don't you join me in here and find out…" Henry wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I think not! You've been a pain in the arse all day and if possible, I'd like a bit of peace and quiet."

"Madam, you should know that's impossible." She sighed, finally smiling at him. Henry was right, in their household there was no such thing.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @penneferofvenerburg

[yersina]

a linguist plays chants of sennaar (pt 2)

[pt 1] [x] [pt 3] [pt 4] [pt 5]

the linguistic journey continues!

disclaimer: can't promise that i'll have any insights that a layperson wouldn't have, this is kinda just me thinking through the grammar of the language out loud haha.

this post covers the second language and will contain spoilers! it also assumes that you know what the symbols mean already.

(my dictionary is missing some symbols bc i missed part of the gameplay that would've prompted me to fill them in)

immediately, visually just looks different from the devotee's language, which is super cool! reminiscent of runic alphabets, kind of. i'm assuming that's a creative/artistic decision to indicate the 'toughness' of the warriors or something. not sure if the game developers would've put thought into this, but i also wonder if this is a representation of the materials that those people would've written on (w the devotees being more clay/stone based and the warriors being more stone/metal based). unclear!

in the warrior's language, the verbs generally have a diamond shape, though it's not as consistent to identify as the devotee language's line. the people-related words are kinda tall and skinny, with a stick in the middle?? again, the devotee's language was the most pictographically representative of the bunch--the warrior's language is a little less obvious. i interpreted "treasure" and "fortress" as being location-nouns due to their similar triangle shape, but the translation for "treasure" obv doesn't convey that (i originally labeled "treasure" as "treasury"). i also find it interesting that "death" bears so much resemblance to "impure". in my mind, "death" and "impure" are in the same category as the other people-nouns due to the appearance of the characters, but that might just be coincidence. could possibly suggest some cultural beliefs around who or what "death" is tho!

grammatically, this language is also SVO, like the devotee's language and like english. instead of reduplication, we have a plural marker for nouns, which seems to act like an affix (prefix, specifically) rather than a root word. i will say—i'm not a fan of the translation of "impure" and "chosen" and subsequent plurals as "impure ones" and "chosen ones". not a huge deal, but translating them that way makes them seem like adjectives when they're not, especially considering how they translate <plural bottle> as "bottles". just doesn't seem consistent, but it's a v small pet peeve haha. (while writing this, i briefly considered the idea of "impure" and "chosen" as adjectives modifying "one" but we know that's not true—not just bc the game gives us a translation that says "plural" but also it's used with "warrior" and other objects to indicate plurality too. we also know that this language uses prepositive modifiers from sentences like "carry (the) small crate", so "impure" and "chosen" wouldn't be functioning correctly as adjectives anyway, as long as we assume that the language is consistent in this aspect of grammar.)

although this isn't entirely consistent across all of the languages and for all of the words, it seems that there's a trend that function words (as opposed to content words) tend to be visually simpler--this would include things like "up/great" from the devotee language, pronouns, and i'm also going to go ahead and include "not" and "plural" in this category. this isn't an unsurprising trend--i feel like in irl languages, the more grammatical a word/word component is, the simpler/easier to write it tends to be. we find that the plural marker in the warrior, bard, and alchemist languages are all relatively simple, which also makes them easier to identify when encountering them for the first time. i felt like this also makes the warrior's language interesting, in that the words for "small", "big", "bottle", "trolley", "call", and "moon" are also all relatively simple compared to the rest of the words. (i originally identified "small" and "big" as "this" and "that" because of this.) it might indicate something about the importance of these words in the warriors' culture? or i might just be reading too far into it lol.

questions that remain unanswered: - i wonder why "fear" breaks from the other verbs in terms of appearance (with the vertical line making the diamond part smaller) - i'm a bit too tired/impatient to go through the verbs in this language, but i wonder if there's some pattern to their appearance (since some of them look more similar than others)

[imsickofpasswords]

GOS2 analysis: A New Hope (or… Guys, I think I cracked the ending !!!😳🤯)

SPOILER ALERT!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!SPOILER ALERT!!! (Even for those who watched both seasons several times!!!)

Hi! You are about to read a mixture between a theory and a revelation. Both could be figments of my mind making things up by dint of overthinking and overwatching (...is there such a thing as overwatching GO?) Anyway, I must warn you that if you DO see what I think I saw, the agony you endured for months (maybe you got used to it, maybe you befriended it, maybe you don’t want it to go), the excruciating pain that led you here, will come to an end NOW. For me, Good Omens is a work-of-art and NOTHING will take the passion/obsession away, trauma or no trauma. If you're like me, then read on! 

Before I dive into the thick of the matter, allow me to stress a couple of things. I know you know, but this is still very important. Please, bear with me…

Aziraphale and Crowley KNOW each other. 

They share a 6000 year-old friendship. Surely you experienced that, at least once in your life, with a long-time friend or partner: you finish each other’s sentences, you glance at each other and burst out laughing when nobody else understands why, you speak the same coded language that doesn’t even require words. That’s how close Aziraphale and Crowley are. Aziraphale can predict Crowley's every reaction. He knows how to manipulate him with just a pout or a frown. Crowley knows what makes Aziraphale tick. He knows what the angel holds dearest. He can figure out Aziraphale's state of mind just by listening to the TONE of his voice. He knows how Aziraphale SMELLS! 

They also know WHO the other one is, I mean deep down, what they want and what they’re capable of… 

Aziraphale and Crowley TRUST each other. 

‘I could always rely on you, you could always rely on me.’ 

And

'You could have walked away'

'You said trust me'

'And you did.'

So on… you know all those lines by heart and I'm sure you could come up with oodles of examples. 

Walls have ears(floors too).

Someone wrote somewhere (was that on Youtube?) that the 25 lazari miracle could have been performed by the Metratron, since the magic circle was once used to contact him and was probably never turned off properly afterwards. That's an interesting theory. 

Personally, I don't believe the Metatron was involved in the miracle. I already elaborated about this in my first theory https://www.tumblr.com/imsickofpasswords/732879204359847936/a-theory-of-the-ineffable-plan-by and sort of got confirmation when Uriel asked what the miracle was and Aziraphale answered 'love, it was love!' 

I nonetheless realized that the Metratron could indeed be using this channel to spy on Aziraphale. If so, since when? I don’t think it could be from the first time Aziraphale drew the circle, because Adam reset reality after that. Adam would have closed the portal, wouldn't he? Idk. My bet is the snooping began after the miracle, and the magnitude of the miracle is what scared the Metratron into trying to separate Aziraphale and Crowley.  

Such considerations had me wonder if what feels like altered memories isn't actually the Metratron prying into Aziraphale's mind (indigovigilance from Tumblr pointed out that ALL the flashbacks seem to emanate from Aziraphale). Or maybe the Metatron has been reading… Aziraphale’s diary. (Btw, does anyone know what happened to that diary?) The Metratron does brag about looking back over Aziraphale's "exploits" (translation: infringements). Plural. So, not just stopping Armageddon? What else? Saving Job's children? Helping out Elspeth? 

What's more, the Metatron compliments Muriel, the "dim one", on reading books. 'What a splendid thing to do!' and then he glares at the bookshop. 

Aziraphale is not always Aziraphale

I don’t know about you, but I shriveled in horror when Aziraphale promised to give away a book. Had I just slipped into another dimension?

One perfectly acceptable explanation is that love is more important to Aziraphale than books. Fine. Why then does he only offer to LEND a book after Crowley pointed out how IMPOSSIBLE it is for the angel to even THINK of selling a book? In the novel, people who insist on buying books from Aziraphale’s shop go missing FOREVER…

It feels like the usurper realized they made a mistake and tried not to make it twice. Also, what's with the French? Aziraphale spoke French when he was in prison, and he certainly wasn't struggling like that. Last but not least, he does move his hands a lot, but not in the same fashion as he usually does. This was NOT Aziraphale (I think).

We saw how supernatural beings can change their appearance without swapping bodies. Shax changed her face whilst hitchhiking when she HAD NO REASON TO (Aziraphale had never met her before). 

I believe the Metatron is the one who turned into Aziraphale. But just for a moment ( I burnt my eyes checking Michael Sheen's every facial expression and gesture and tone of voice throughout the entire season and I couldn't spot anything amiss outside that moment, let me know if I'm wrong). Just a short period of time, then. Why? To see if Crowley would fall for it. I don't know if our beloved demon did. 

The obvious objection to this theory is: surely the real Aziraphale would realize that some of his guests had already been invited by… HIMSELF? Well, Nina kept Crowley for a moment. We don't know that the Metatron didn't go around erasing people's memory of him. 

Ok, okay, admittedly,  it is far-fetched, probably complete bullshit. But I needed to mention this because it's also a part of how I interpret the ending. Nope! I'm not saying the Metatron is the one who got kissed by Crowley!!! That would be… OMG, 🤮

The bullet trick…

Aziraphale is a magician. And his magic seems to always work when he needs it most, providing he uses this formula:"banana, fish, gorilla, shoelace with a dash of nutmeg” the magic words that Mark Gatiss as a zombie reads from the angel's lips. 

And there it comes, the showstopper. Actually the "REHEARSAL of the showstopper", as I call it, and you’ll find out why very soon. Please, pause here and go fetch the scene, you’ll need to watch CAREFULLY. See how scared Crowley is when Aziraphale hands over the gun? Crowley is maybe wondering why the miracles aren't working and if he is not about to actually kill his only friend. Then, Crowley mutters something. No idea what, but something like, I can't do it. And Aziraphale, reading his lips, replies in the same fashion, lipspeaking. Whatever the angel says then, Crowley understands it, and it's enough for him to overcome his fear. 

The ACTUAL showstopper.

I think you got it by now: what I thought when I saw that, and what I wanted to do next. I didn't rush to the last episode although I was dying to. I didn't want to miss anything and I couldn't believe what I expected would actually happen. But it DID. 

The Metatron knows that people are predictable and that nobody ever chooses death over coffee. We don't see his entire conversation with Aziraphale but even if the Metatron doesn't flat out threaten to erase Crowley's name from the Book Of Life, Aziraphale is very aware that this is an option as Michael already said she was given permission to do so. Check Aziraphale's face the minute the Metatron mentions Crowley. Aziraphale hears the threat loud and clear. His face goes grim. He knows he doesn't have a choice but to play along if he's going to save Crowley. 

"Go tell your friend the good news!" 

Aziraphale smiles, but he is distraught and terrified. The ineffable husbands KNOW each other, remember? There’s no way Aziraphale thinks Crowley will follow him to heaven. Besides, Aziraphale is INTELLIGENT. He knows The Metadick (whoever invented that name, I love you) doesn’t want Crowley back. So all the pleading, come with me, to the light, we'll be doing good, yada yada… is FAKE. All Aziraphale wants when he enters the bookshop is to let Crowley know about the situation without raising suspicions from the Metatron who is watching from outside. That's why the angel keeps glancing at the window whilst using his "something is wrong voice". Now, dear reader, fellow victim who cried your eyes out for months, if you still have eyes, LOOK AGAIN. 

When Aziraphale starts to talk about the offer, Crowley frowns, not in disbelief or in anger but in intense focus on… Aziraphale's lips. Can you see them? The SILENT words at the end of the sentences? Tell me you see them too. Please. You do, right? Or do I need to seek help? 

Everything after that, every line, is a smoke screen meant for the Metatron (and poor us…) The Metatron is to believe that two lovers got into a fight and got torn apart. Even angels and demons are predictable! 

The kiss, of course, is a mean to conceal the moment when Crowley extracts himself from the timeline, taking Aziraphale with him so they can discuss away from prying eyes and ears. Hence the missing fifteen minutes on the clock. 🙂

I think Crowley's confession was genuine. But it was also there to make the fight more convincing. And no one here will say it wasn't convincing… My guess is there must have been another confession, maybe another kiss? A real, tender, passionate, romantic, heart-wrenching kiss that left Aziraphale pressing hard on his lips, aching for more. “Do it again.” But the Metatron would notice… so… "I…forgive you", you foul fiend who thought you could tempt me with such a lowly, dirty and pathetic trick (translation, I love you… and I don't want to leave you, go before I burst into tears, I don't have sunglasses…)

So. They didn't fight!!!!  They are still a team, a group of two, a couple, and more than ever!! 

Not done yet. There is one last thing that you saw. When the Metatron reveals his plans about the Second Coming, Aziraphale pauses before entering the elevator. And it may last less than a split second, but I can swear that his lips moved again as he was staring at Crowley. Someone crossed the street right after, but Aziraphale kept looking at Crowley although the camera was too far for us to see the lips. However, there was enough time to convey a lot of information. 

Now, did they swap? Aziraphale doesn't gesture much after the kiss. Crowley drives under the speed limit and for the first time while Crowley is driving, Queen isn't playing. But. Aziraphale is walking away from his friend-now-lover, not knowing if he actually saved him, or… knowing that he did NOT save him. Crowley is crushed, and probably worried sick about Aziraphale walking alone into an obvious trap. The demon can remember only too vividly how Heaven wanted to end Aziraphale. 

The Bentley is sad too, and not just because her master is. She (Yes, she!) grew feelings for Aziraphale, who allowed her to wear fancy yellow and took her to an exciting trip and managed to have her play something new… She likes him so much that she tries to follow him, like a puppy, remember? I think she's the one who played the Nightingale song, to comfort Crowley and herself. As Sendaraya predicted in one of her YouTube videos, we may find out later that this was the Ineffable Husbands' song, ever since 1941, when their relationship started to drift towards romance. 

Last but not least, the main reason why I don't think they swapped. I firmly believe the Metatron is planning to wear Aziraphale's face again. Metasick has unresolved issues with Crowley who, annoyingly, still retains some of his memories. Memories that may have become indelible because of Aziraphale's presence. But of course, to impersonate Aziraphale, Crowley's soft spot and only weakness, the Metatron needs to keep Aziraphale out of the picture…

To be continued… (Season 3!!! And for the record, great pustulent mangled bollocks to the ones who delayed it, and I'm NOT talking about the writers and actors…🤬)

Thanks for reading^^

[ewingstan]

What do I do with this.

I'm not gonna claim that the text is endorsing this or anything. It did construct a situation where leaving someone on an empty world was the best choice with Monokeros, and we can analyze what that writing choice means, but I don't see this conversation being something we're meant to nod our heads along to. I can't see someone writing "we're gonna disappear people on this list" and "its fine if you're especially violent vigilantes we'll put you in our especially-violent-vigilante support network" and not mean for it to be read as awful. Otherwise it would use words that sound less bad on the face of it. Maybe I'll hear that WB has spent the last few years arguing on reddit that this was actually totally moral and cool but with the text in front of me, with the language used, I cannot see a reading where any of this is meant to be seen as okay.

But more to the point I don't see how we got here? Worm did an amazing job of making every choice Taylor made believable and understandable in the context of what choices she's already made and how she's been changed by her experiences. I do not understand what has prompted Victoria to suggest this and every other member of breakthrough (and every major hero team) to go along with it. I can see why its accepted on a systemic level, its not too different from the birdcage and most of the villains sent there were given sham trials at most anyway. But literally no one on the team is pushing back on this. Two members of breakthrough were just in prison—three, if you count Damsel. Its not clear that she's even given up on the top-tier villain persona even if she's not making moves to pursue it, why is she going along with this. Several of them have done things that at least approach getting put on a list like that. You're living in a world where Riley and Valkyrie and Legend are load-bearing pillars that people rely on, and suddenly disappearing powerful capes that are currently a problem is the only option we can think of? Is the whole "the city is the place of renewed chances" thing really being abandoned so thoroughly?

Kenzie had just told Swansong how much it hurt for her to go to prison, how much it felt like breaking a promise to not leave her alone even though they kept in contact. They were just having a conversation about how much Chris meant to them, how much his deal is a result of horrific circumstances that its the group's original goal to try to work through constructively and come out a better person with. Chris would almost have to be on a list like this, right? Apparent shadow-leader of a cape dictatorship? Sveta would've been on a list like that as Garotte, if it wasn't apparent how much she hated what she was doing. Sveta had spent the last chapter yelling at Carol for her views on criminal rights. Why is there such a huge disconnect here that the text isn't seemingly doing anything with.

Its not even that I can't see a version of this beat working for the story. The track just hasn't been laid for it. The prison break story set up "hey there's a lot of really dangerous capes and knowing where they are can let people try to break them out" thing well, but that does not automatically translate to "everyone will be on board for Secret Prison Colonies" given all the strong character and thematic reasons for the opposite reaction. Why isn't this the result of a more gradual slide or a series of moral compromises? Why is this something that's being described in jump cuts?

[ll-until-the-very-end-ll]

Okay Snily friends! Hi! My Name is Shay and while yes I'm a Jily girlie, I come to your tag bearing gifts (sorta? Idk) anyway, In my language (Arabic) there has been this poem (turned song) that I have always associated with Snily ever since I was a young girl because the lyrics are so crazy spot on it lowkey feels like it was written about this specific ship (it was actually written based on a true story which is heartbreaking when considering the lyrics).

The poem name is (Ana Wa Layla) and it translates to (Me and Layla). A little background on this bit, Qais and Layla are pretty much the equivalent of Romeo and Juliet for Arabs. And the name Layla in Arabic is Written almost exactly like Lily minus two dots.

Demonstration:

Layla (ليلى)

Lily (ليلي)

So the song title could be easily read as (Me and Lily). I'll post the lyrics below and you can be the judge of how well it fits the context of the relationship between Snape and Lily (you're the experts after all and I'm a mere outsider).

(Keep in mind that 1- I am not a professional translator and Arabic is HARD language to translate so I might lose some meanings in the process. And 2- I will only be posting the English translation of the lyrics here so if you'd like to have the Arabic ones let me know and I'll send them to you)

The poem/song starts with a calm symphony (showcasing sorrow) and the first words are a line describing Laila's Lily's eyes:

"My pleas and prayers have died in the alter of your eyes"

And then it's followed by:

"And my flags surrendered to the winds of despair"

"My days shriveled at your closed and locked door"

" Oh Laila Lily"

"And what results did my cries get?"

The musical part that follows these words is more upbeat because the singer/musician wanted the musical intermission between lines to be interrupted as someone reliving their happy memories.

The music then calms again bringing us back to the current state of sorrow and the following lyrics are:

"For two years I couldn't make any music" the literal meaning isn't necessarily about music, it's about the poet losing his passion for everything for two whole years. In the context of Snily it could be interpreted as 6th and 7th years after the events of SWM.

"And there is no light in my skies anymore"

"I released the love in my heart and crushed it, so I could drink the grief that comes out of it in the dirtiest chalice" apologizes for my rough translation, the dirty chalice metaphor is supposed to be a symbol of feeling abandoned.

"I am so torn apart"

"I had no prestige or luxury to tempt you with" this line is talking about the guy Laila left the poet for *Ahem*James *Ahem* since he was far richer and from a well known family (not that Lily would fall for such shallow things as money and fame, but Laila did and that's just how the poem goes)

"So leave me with my pain"

"If you squeeze all the years of my life, you'll find blood dripping from all of my wounds"

"If I had been able to offer luxury, you would not have refused my love"

"But the roughness of my situation.."

"The poorness of my situation.."

"The weakness of my situation.."

"Is my tragedy"

"I suffered, Oh I suffered"

"But I have not revealed my sorrow, and you don't know a thing about my suffering"

"I walk and smile, oh Layla Lily, because I'm stubbornly hoping I could hide my inner demise from those around me"

"For people don't know what is wrong with me to excuse me"

"And they wouldn't even know how to console me"

"Deprivation rests upon my brow and sucks my blood"

"And it allows itself to take away my smiles too"

"But rest assured I forgive you for aborting all my hopes"

"It was never your fault..it was my foolishness" him calling her mudblood in front of everyone in SWM.

This part is followed by upbeat music again, signaling that the happy memories segment is back again before we enter the 2nd part of the poem/song. The poet mentions his reunion with Layla and how hurt he was after that reunion. Personally I feel this part somewhat describes the fall that happened between Snape and Lily (and maybe specifically the talk they had outside of Gryffindor's tower that was signaling the beginning of the end).

"I lost my caravan in the desert"

"And came searching for myself in your eyes" self explanatory line when it comes to Lily's eyes.

"And I seeked warmth in your embrace"

"Like a child carrying my naive dreams" Snape hoping they could go back to how things were before the incident.

"But instead your planted your palms into my soul, and pulled apart my veins" Lily still being bitter and upset about the situation.

"and you mercilessly suppressed my joy"

Another music intermission followed by:

"And now I'm estranged from my home"

"My city has abandoned me"

"And my sailboat couldn't sail away from her"

Dramatic music pause.

"I was exiled, and strangers settled in my country, and they have destroyed everything that I loved" another line about the guy Laila Lily chose over him.

"Your eyes betrayed you" x3 seriously can this poem/song could be anymore Lily Evans coded??

"Believing their fraudulent and lying nature.."

"Or was it his shiny armor that fooled you, My Lady.."

The music in this part starts picking up again where the poet/singer starts coming into terms with his loss and starts making peace with the fact that he will have to live with it

"I came to you as a butterfly to place the heavy weight of my wings within your hands but my wings were unjustly burned"

"I screamed while the sword was implanted in my waist"

"For betrayal has destroyed all of my dreams" C'monnnnnnn

"You should know I died when you did.."

"And so I deleted your precious transparent name from my language"

"For, it will be without Layla Lily,..."

"Layla Lily.."

"Layla Lily.."

"Layla Lily.."

"..My stories"

[quietbluejay]

Betrayer 4

featuring the scene where Angron holds up a Titan

"she" is a titan we get a history of the Ember Queen, who originally fought with the First Legion

oooo linguistic worldbuilding my beloved i mean it makes sense if the capital is up in the himalayas then the language spoken there becomes the prestige language/dialect

so, Gothic is probably an Indo-European language lol just on the other side of the centum/satem divide than we'd think i mean like realistically it makes more sense if all the latin is translation convention rather than being actual latin i always assumed it was that like you know, "Frodo Baggins" actually being something completely different like 30k into the future the language spoken there should be completely indistinguishable from what it sounds like now

and i guess you could maybe manage to have it go through the sound changes to sound like latin squints someone extremely influential…with an agenda…and a weird roman obsession… anyways, lol

that's the politest way I've seen anyone call someone a silver fox the prose here regarding the way the Syrgalah walks and everything is very well done and really gives the impression of a lioness not a wolf so they know they're outclassed by the Titan Legio associated with the Ultramarines and they don't work with the legion the same way, you know, normal titans do

and now we cut to Kharn going full berserker

there's something very funny about this from a meta perspective a man who has never gone to war writing about someone in the thick of battle thinking that people who write about war can never get it

and that's why he reluctantly admires the Ultramarines so much "in his calmer moments Kharn felt honoured [that he was living in a second age of legends]"

lmaooo tell me you know nothing about phalanxes without telling me

where did this come from no, really what was Kharn taught about the past, how accurate was it, and how much did he make up so this is Kharn's lie, and how he lives with himself kharn also enjoys the sight of a city on fire this book's building out Kharn's character has been fun because it starts out with him looking like a reasonable man, someone who would be cool to have a drink with, and then as it goes on it goes deeper and deeper into him being a mess and the way it describes him fighting, with that glass wall, is part of that

no the true strength is in their ability to endure past injuries that would kill a normal person

meanwhile, as Kharn fights and kills various people all of whom get about a phrase each, Lorgar is telekinetically throwing around rocks and rubble to try and dig out Angron also: Lorgar is the only reinforcement that has shown up from the Word Bearers, lol Skane suggests sending a message saying Lorgar is here and then they'll finally get them to show up so ofc that's what Kharn does

lmao the book is also about choice I'm remembering some bits from later but they're starting to show up now how much choice do Kharn or Angron have? Can you call someone a betrayer if they do what you built them for? or is that just the justification they give themselves to avoid making difficult moral decisions?

time for Ultramarine Titan POV and a description of plasma weapons

so the world eaters caught in the blast straight up dissolved but…

yes we're approaching the famous scene princeps: FIRE AGAIN

and the seventeenth is finally showing up

they can't fire the plasma again but they have other weapons, which they then use

TITAN…SMASH

this is unbearable (ok moving on from the pun…) the rescuee has becoming the rescuer

and now it's explicitly a bear's roar

the gladiator

like angron has fairy tale timing here if you twitched this a little, Lorgar would have gotten stomped flat that'd be a twist hm what does Lorgar do in the Heresy after this

return to Syrgalah and she's taken a good bit of damage

the princeps got his tooth knocked out and he's thinking since they're so far from supply he might have to get an iron tooth they're getting a call but sadly it's not reinforcements or resupply, it's Lotara she orders them to kill the warhound that's trying to kill lorgar (and angron) right now back to Angron who has been holding up the titan for "less than thirty beats of his heart" but it feels like an age lorgar is using his psychic powers to help Angron: now you choose to be brave? again he repeats for lorgar to get clear lorgar starts crawling he shouldn't be alive

i remember, we get to follow around the crew of Syrgalah for most of the book, and they're fun

the only things that are coming to mind are to make the "The children yearn for the mines" black joke and "…I guess they're using kids for small spaces" it goes right into the torso of Ardentor

Angron and Kharn are alike, huh "He'd always loathed Lorgar" even seeing him fight at isstvan and "how far he'd come from his years of cowardice" angron shoos away all the apothecaries gently, for angron

angron needs to get away from this conversation lmao the word bearers surround lorgar and angron notes that in contrast to himself lorgar doesn't shoo them away he acknowledges all of them (with his blood)

Lorgar goes to get on the Thunderbird (that is there, now) and Angron shooes away his sons but Kharn will not be shooed

kharn: you're better than this

it's all about endurance huh

as soon as Angron leaves, it's time for Kharn to collapse the battle is at a lull and everyone is getting some rest

well except one (also, the nails are still bugging kharn)

sadly we don't get to hear more about the night of the wolf right now this is just set up so we're curious about it lol

[temmtamm]

omg hi i also currently have donnie brain rot and will totally dump some requests in your asks! also just wanna say thank you for your service there’s not many rottmnt blogs active, your doing gods work <3

anyways can i request some hc of donnie with a reader who speaks a diff language? (spanish to be specific if you want) like would he try and learn it? would he be annoyed he doesn’t know what they’re saying? would he shit talk with them in secret? inside jokes?

please and thanks you!

✰RISE BROS W/ SPANISH SPEAKING S/O✰

(Asks are temporarily closed until I can finish them all)

❀LEO❀

Both him and Mikey speak a little bit of Spanish, so he can understand most of what you're saying, but likes to play dumb so that way you don't stop.

Took special notice to your use of "Mi luchador" when you're tired of his antics.

Just something about the way you say that as you're trying your best not to chew him out for whatever stupid shit he did today just makes him fall in love with you all over again.

Whenever you have trouble with an English word, surprisingly he won't tease or poke fun as he usually does and would instead correct you as quiet as possible.

One day it somehow slipped out that he really knew what everything you're saying meant, as one night after a particularly long battle he sleeping mumbled "Mi mundo" to you while you two were cuddling. He definitely had some explaining to do after.

☁︎RAPH☁︎

Look, I love him but I think we can all agree he wouldn't know what the he you are saying.

It's not that he doesn't know Spanish or what it is, he definitely heard some of it and learned a few words of it thanks to Ghost bear.

He is unlikely to understand all of the little nicknames you give him until Leo decides to be a little menace and translates you one day.

His favorite of all the nicknames is "Mi héroe", not only cause it feeds into his hero complex but it makes him feel like his leadership skills are actually being appreciated by someone.

He never corrects you when you get anything wrong in englisj- Matter of fact, even if you pronounce a word so terribly wrong he's convinced the way you said it is the right way and will pronounce it like that too.

He loves it when you cuss people out in Spanish, he doesn't know why but he is absolutely smitten when you get so deep into an argument or conversation that you start speaking your mother tongue without realizing.

☀︎MIKEY☀︎

He, like Leo, can speak spanish although only a little. He mostly knows just pet names and a few curses in Spanish.

He loves to call you "Vida Mia/Mio" and in return you usually call him the same, though you still also save a few pet names for when it's just you two and you want a cuter more intimate pet name for him.

He is quick to correct you whenever you incorrectly say something in English, even offering to help you with the words you struggle with.

He sometimes likes to mimic things you've said- Like if you stubbed your toe and said, "Oh, hijos de puta. Te comeré vivo." He'd repeat it himself when angry or hurt. This has resulted in Leo and Raph chewing you out for turning their baby brother into a cussing machine.

He doesn't really mind though, if anything he fines it fun restarting some choice words you say to his brothers whenever they get into a fight, even if it always results in you trying to get him to stop by not cussing.

The attempt is futile though, as he had a taste of the bad boy life, and he wants more swears and devious behavior

⚕︎DONNIE⚕︎

You'd think with how smart he is he'd know a multitude of languages, but you'd be wrong.

He was much more busy with his tech and being enamored with science than languages.

Though, he knew that his lack of knowledge on other languages would bite him in the ass one day, and bite him in the ass it did!!

He sometimes automatically thinks that whenever you're talking in Spanish, you're talking shit about him but after building a translator for himself he was surprised to see that when you were ranting in Spanish, it was really about mushy lovey stuff that you thought he wouldn't enjoy but still wanted to say.

You love to call him "Tesoro" and although it's cheesy and a bit overused, he likes to call you "Mi Amor" whenever he's having a lovely moment.

Unfortunately, he is a stickler for grammer and will constantly correct and tease you whenever you have trouble with an English word.

Thanks for reading ♥︎

@el-chiste

@nightmarewhispersxx

[hyacinth-sims]

Red

Summary: After picking up his boyfriend to go to their ‘spot,’ a discussion about a poetry assignment for his literature class brings Mercutio to a few realizations. 

Warnings: None, there’s like ONE incomplete somewhat sexual themed joke

Pairings: (Established) Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty

Words: 4.7k

Author’s note: you didn’t think i’d forget about this did you??? absolutely not! this one just took me a bit more time since it’s longer. again, softer tybby since he luuuuvs his boyfriend although their bickering dynamic is still there obviously. anyways i bet y’all thought mercutio was the only one capable of being the emotionally supportive boyfriend huh???? NO!

Mercutio had to park all the way in the very back corner of the furthest parking lot from the rugby pitch. Supposedly, it was to avoid anyone seeing him picking up Tybalt from rugby practice. However, Mercutio thought that Tybalt randomly walking half a mile away from his other teammates at the end of practice was more suspicious than parking in a regular spot. But it kept Tybalt from being on edge, and it’s not like Mercutio was the one having to walk anyway. 

He took the time before the end of rugby practice to pull out his journal, covered in black leather and various vinyl stickers. Mercutio was known for his prowess in his literature class, and it seemed to more than make up for his lack of STEM abilities. Such a shame, he’d totally be an entomologist but the required math skills to get there were just not within his reach. 

So instead, he’d admire bugs on his own time and find a subject to write his newest class assignment about. Mercutio had his entire class fooled, believing he was genuinely bearing his soul for all to see with his poems of love, loss, and hatred. Instead, he was actually writing about his random encounters with different bugs. The only person who knew about this was Tybalt—although he only found out because he caught Mercutio in the act of staring at a butterfly while writing their love poem assignment. 

Unfortunately, he’d been dealing with a bit of writer’s block lately. The assignment for this week had been ‘color poems,’ or a poem about a specific color and what it meant to them. Not even the sight of a beautifully pink elephant hawk moth could drum up any inspiration. It was due in two days, and Mercutio could ask Tybalt for help—but Tybalt’s eloquent use of language only translated to off-the-cuff insults and not necessarily any form of written word. 

All he could really think to do was open his personal journal, glancing through what he had written previously. There was a day when all he could do was sit in front of the urns of his parents and reminisce—both on the good times and the very worst days of his life. The poem was about the funeral, about the day he realized what purpose he served to his family. There was another about what it meant to be the oldest, as well as the spare. Many were about what he could never tell the world, what he refused to show, and what he held close to himself. 

They weren’t all sad, though; some were actual human takes on the love poems he’d written about bugs. Admittedly, all of them were about Tybalt, but why wouldn’t they be? Mercutio had previously never been very much interested in love or relationships. He’d kissed people at parties, maybe even hooked up with one or two—that wasn’t love, though. 

Mercutio always thought that Romeo fell in love far too easily; it seemed like every pretty girl who gave him a smile was ‘the one.’ Love didn’t come as quickly to Mercutio, and he truthfully never thought it would come at all. It hit him like a truck when it did, and it was the most frightening yet awakening experience of his entire life. He finally got the hype around it, too.

Speaking of which—Mercutio glanced up at his rearview mirror, seeing Tybalt approaching from across the parking lot. Picking up Tybalt from rugby practice to hang out wasn’t meant to be as routine as it had become, but opportunities to spend time together were few and far between. 

Before, Tybalt would sneak out to the Monty ranch at night; that was their only chance to see one another outside school. However, Tybalt had finally been caught sneaking back in by his grandfather. Thankfully, Tybalt made up an on-the-spot lie about a party just outside of town. Sneaking out to get drunk with a bunch of random teenagers was clearly the better alternative to sneaking out and kissing a Monty when it came to Consort Capp. 

The backdoor of his car opened just as quickly as it shut, Tybalt assumingly tossing his gym bag into the backseat. The passenger door was next to swing open, and Tybalt slid into the seat as he usually did. It was already adjusted to his liking, slightly scooted back to accommodate his long legs. Romeo would always complain about it when Mercutio would drive them to school, asking who Mercutio was giving rides to that constantly needed the seat this far back. 

He was definitely keeping that secret from him. 

Mercutio took a moment to stare at Tybalt, noting every tiny detail about his appearance in that minute. His hair was still slightly damp from the post-practice shower, the crinkle in his brow suggested that some element of practice had been frustrating, and the flushed face…

He hooked a finger under Tybalt’s chin, lifting it and turning his face towards him. “Tough practice or kissing other boys in the locker room?” Mercutio teased with a smirk.

Tybalt scoffed as he swatted away Mercutio’s hand, “Frankly, I’m insulted that you think I’d find any of my teammates attractive enough to kiss.” 

“Eric’s kinda cute, no?” He continued to banter, resulting in Tybalt leaning over and lightly flicking his forehead. 

“I’ll be sure to let him know you think so,” Tybalt replied as he rolled his eyes. 

Truthfully, Mercutio knew very little about Tybalt’s teammates—outside of a few names he’d heard during rants after practice. They were both uncertain if Mercutio would be able to attend one of Tybalt’s rugby games without someone causing a fuss. Although granted, most of the involved adults of Veronaville weren’t exactly the type to be hanging around the stands during a rugby game. Supposedly, Consort didn’t go to Tybalt’s games, and there was no reason for any of his aunts and uncles to do so, either.

“You’re still my favorite, though,” Mercutio playfully assured as he leaned in—attempting to catch Tybalt’s lips for a quick kiss. Unfortunately, he was met with three fingers pressed against his mouth instead. Not quick enough. 

“We’re on school grounds,” Tybalt reminded him, narrowing his eyes as Mercutio gently took hold of the hand on his lips—placing a kiss on the pads of his fingertips. Not even his scowl could hide the pink flush making its way onto his pale, freckled cheeks. 

Mercutio twisted the key in the ignition, put the car in reverse, and began to head out of the parking lot. He shifted the gear to drive before glancing back over at Tybalt, “So, I’m assuming the flushed face means rough practice?” Tybalt was the team captain and very much strived for perfection. Supposedly, he could be a bit harsh at times, but if he was still on good terms with his teammates—he couldn’t be that harsh. 

“Mm, no,” Tybalt answered as he shook his head, “Practice went rather well, seems like the other guys are just as determined to win our next game…” He could see Tybalt bite his lip out of the corner of his eye, sparing a quick glance as he kept his focus on the road. “They seem to have deduced that I am…seeing someone,” He continued, gritting his teeth, “They did, in fact, point out the very long walks I take after practice.”  

Mercutio couldn’t help the loud laugh that he let out; he knew it would happen eventually. “Did they make any guesses as to who?” He asked with a smirk. 

“They started with Puck,” Tybalt said as he started counting on his fingers, “Then Paris, even Benvolio, and then someone who lives in a different town…” The idea of Tybalt dating any of them was baffling to him—okay, maybe he could potentially see him dating Puck. But they were both gingers, so that would be weird. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mercutio began as he raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t even on the list?” 

Tybalt shook his head, “No.”

Now, that was completely ridiculous. There was clearly no better candidate for being Tybalt’s boyfriend than, y’know…Tybalt’s boyfriend himself! Alright, granted, they didn’t know that Mercutio was Tybalt’s boyfriend—but he at least should’ve made the list of guesses!

“I’m gonna have to start wearing your rugby jacket around and going to every single one of your games dressed as a cheerleader,” Mercutio commented, “I’ll even write your own personal cheer and everything—I think I’d be pretty good at that.” While Mercutio didn’t mind how things were with Tybalt now, it would be nice to be publicly dating without worrying about their families finding out.

He wanted to go to every single rugby game, every single debate team event, and maybe another piano recital if Tybalt was up for it. Mercutio loved to watch Tybalt be in his element. Nothing was truly more captivating than the concentration he emitted as he furrowed his brow with a fierce look of determination in his silver eyes. 

“I’m admittedly terrified at what you would come up with in terms of a cheer,” Tybalt replied with what could’ve perhaps been a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “And my rugby jacket is quite expensive. What makes you think I can trust you to care for it properly?” 

“I’ll just get it dry cleaned every single day if it’ll make you happy,” Mercutio replied with a shrug, “But if you’re hellbent on not letting your lovely boyfriend wear your rugby jacket…I can always make you a jacket to match mine! I mostly order my patches online or make my own—I can make you some, too.” 

He could hear Tybalt give a small exhale through his nose and a slight smirk on his lips. “We’ll see,” He answered, and that was likely as good of a response as he would get on that matter. Personally, Mercutio was already planning on what patches he’d put on Tybalt’s theoretical jacket. He definitely needed something to let people know that he was firmly taken.

Tybalt didn’t ever seem to notice the fact he was physically attractive, which also meant he rarely ever noticed when people were hitting on him. How Tybalt seemed to be clueless, Mercutio had no idea. He had pretty, dark, and long eyelashes that framed his shimmering silver eyes. His thick yet immaculately groomed eyebrows were of the same shade—it was a miracle that they didn’t match the ginger with flecks of gold on his head. Of course, he couldn’t speak of Tybalt’s attractiveness and not discuss those cheekbones, as well as how angular the rest of his face was too— 

“All that thinking is dangerous for you,” Tybalt teased, pulling him out of his thoughts. That attitude was definitely what stopped many people from practically slobbering over him. Clearly, it had little effect on how Mercutio felt about him. If anything, he liked his scathing insults and sharp comebacks. He liked to hear what he would come up with at the drop of a hat, not even having to think of his words. 

Mercutio simply took a hand off the wheel to lightly punch Tybalt’s shoulder, not denying that delving further into his thoughts would probably be pretty dangerous. Luckily for him, they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of what used to be a park. Now, it was only grass, trees, and overgrown greenery. 

He put the car in park before switching off the ignition, hearing Tybalt already clicking off his seatbelt and opening the passenger side door. “Eager?” Mercutio teasingly asked with a smirk, resulting in a disgusted noise from Tybalt as he unclicked his own seat belt and took a step out of the car. 

“No, just need some fresh air,” Tybalt began, “I was holding my breath the entire ride here because your car smells like weed and shitty cologne.” 

Mercutio frowned as he stood outside his car, slamming the door shut behind him and patting the hood of his car. “Hey, be nice to Loretta,” Mercutio defended, “Sure, she might hold onto the smell of weed like no other, but she’s treated me very well throughout her lifetime!” 

“I really hate that you named your car Loretta,” Tybalt answered, his expression clearly unchanging and unamused.

“Jealous?” Mercutio teased, “I assure you that there’s plenty of room in my heart for both you and dear Loretta.” 

“I am not jealous of your car that might as well be as old as your grandma. You even named it appropriately,” He quipped back, and look— that was an unfair assessment. Loretta was only 15 years old but ran like she was brand new! Well, except for the time she broke down on the side of the road at 2 AM. But besides that and the weird noises she makes, she was a great car!

Mercutio walked in front of the car, moving to stand next to Tybalt against the passenger side door. “You sound pretty jealous to me,” Mercutio said with a small smirk, knocking his finger against Tybalt’s chin. The other man narrowed his eyes at him, and it was so hard to keep his teasing expression on his face. Many people thought Tybalt was terrifying, and Mercutio admittedly used to be one of them. However, Tybalt was more like an angry kitten than anything else.

It was hard not to laugh at his scrunched nose and furrowed brows. “Can I cash in that kiss, by the way?” Mercutio added with a happy grin, “We’re off school grounds, and according to your rules—I am allowed to show affection on neutral grounds, and these are technically neutral grounds since it’s just outside of town.” Mercutio honestly didn’t care much about getting caught, but Tybalt seemed to be terrified that they were being watched at all times.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tybalt murmured as he shook his head. He took his face in his hands regardless and placed his lips against Mercutio’s. Tybalt had confessed to never having kissed anyone before Mercutio, which was both surprising yet expected all at the same time. He was a quick learner, though; Mercutio never would’ve known had he not told him. 

His kisses were light to the touch yet very much addicting all at the same time. It always made Mercutio want more, but it would never be his right to take that. Tybalt was not accustomed to any kind of physical affection, whether it be platonic or romantic. The first time his fingers brushed against his cheek, he could remember the jolt that suddenly emitted from Tybalt. He’d looked confused, afraid, and close to tears from a simple touch. 

He’d gotten a bit better, and small touches and light kisses were allowed without question. Everything else was left up to Tybalt, and Mercutio was perfectly alright with that. 

They split apart, Mercutio finding his cheeks warming up as Tybalt’s eyes fluttered open. He was too pretty for his own good. “Satisfied?” Tybalt asked as he raised an eyebrow rather smugly.

“I mean…are you asking if the kiss was good or are you—“ Mercutio began, promptly cut off by a sharp poke to his forehead. 

“You’re a dog,” Tybalt replied with a huff, although it was clear he was trying to stop himself from laughing. While the kissing and cuddling were all very nice, Mercutio liked seeing Tybalt lose his serious facade more. Whether or not people wanted to believe it, Tybalt was very much capable of laughing at crude humor and sex jokes if he was feeling comfortable enough.

He could hear Tybalt let out a hum as he stood before him, brushing back some of his dark hair from his face. “You need to get a trim,” He commented as he let a small strand of hair fall between his fingertips, “Your layers are completely grown out at this point.” While many would see Tybalt’s words as being judgmental, the physical affection meant he was in a particularly good mood that day. So Mercutio would take what he could get.

“Yes, mom,” Mercutio replied as he sarcastically rolled his eyes. Tybalt’s hands fell to his side, lightly grazing the hem of Mercutio’s denim vest. “How’s your poetry assignment going, by the way?” Mercutio asked, the first semblance of a casual conversation they’d had all evening. While, of course, he wanted nothing more than for Tybalt to succeed in literally anything he did, part of him was hoping he’d also be a bit behind so they could bounce ideas off of one another. 

“Better than I expected, admittedly,” Tybalt answered with a small nod. “I was going to pick the family color and write about that initially,” He began to explain, “But I felt that was too expected, and I wasn’t coming up with any results that felt genuine. So I went with green instead; I think it reminds me of better times. I know I spent part of the poem talking about being in the gardens behind the Capp manor with my mother as a kid.” It was nice to hear that Tybalt had broken a barrier when it came to writing; he was one to always want to do well, even if it was a subject he wasn’t particularly interested in. 

Mercutio nodded with a small smile, wondering if he should even bother Tybalt with something as minuscule as writer’s block. Although judging by the raised eyebrow and inquisitive look, Tybalt was expecting an update on his own writing. He took a deep breath before letting out a sigh, “I’ve hit a wall.” 

“How so?” Tybalt asked curiously.

“I mean, I tried to write about my favorite colors like green, black, blue…” He began, listing them off with his fingers, “Couldn’t come up with anything. So then I went with pink because I saw this beautiful elephant hawk moth, but not even that was enough to drum up some inspiration…so, kinda back at square one over here.” To say it was frustrating would be an understatement because it was nothing Mercutio had ever experienced before. Usually, just seeing a cool bug was enough to write a novel about if he pleased.

It was just something else entirely; he wasn’t sure what.

Tybalt slowly nodded, “I mean—your bug poems are quite nice, but have you considered writing about something else entirely?” 

To say he hadn’t considered it would be wrong. He definitely had. However, Mercutio never thought that it would be worth trying. “I don’t really know how interested people would be in poems about my life,” Mercutio said with a shrug. His tone was nonchalant, but Tybalt seemed taken aback. 

“Why?” was all Tybalt replied with, and it was an even more difficult question than the last. 

“People don’t really associate me with stories about dead parents and borderline emotional neglect,” Mercutio answered, “I don’t think anyone really wants to know who I am past what I already show openly, which is whatever, I guess.” 

“That’s…” Tybalt began, but the words couldn’t escape his lips. He could see that furrow in his brow begin to form and the rumbling storm in the silver of his eyes. He was frustrated with him, and he truthfully couldn’t blame him. “Why would you think that?” He asked. 

Mercutio pondered on his question for a moment, but all he could think of was another one in response; “Why do you hide who you are from people?” Maybe some would find that passive-aggressive, but they both knew the question was genuine. 

“It’s easier,” Tybalt answered without hesitation, “Being on the attack all the time is much easier than letting someone in. My grandfather also placed great importance on me being tough, and I wanted to make him proud.” Tybalt was a strange case of nature vs. nurture, as it was hard to say whether his anger issues had always lurked underneath the surface or if it was something forced onto him by Consort Capp.

Mercutio blocked out a lot from his childhood, but he very much remembered what Tybalt was like before his parents died. He was timid, always clinging onto his mother if she was around. If she wasn’t, he often chose to stand away from the other children in complete silence. But he also remembered Tybalt had the brightest smile when finally comfortable with someone. It was as if the sun shone right onto him, and it was something hard to erase from his memory.

When his parents died, something fundamentally changed within him. He was full of anger, refusing to let anyone see any semblance of ‘weakness.’ Mercutio knew there were still some parts of that child within him, though, because he would still have to catch his breath sometimes when Tybalt offered him something that resembled a smile. 

“When my parents died…” Mercutio began, biting the inside of his cheek as he soon realized he’d never told Tybalt this story before. “Nonno pulled me aside at the funeral and pointed at Viola and Romeo, crying their eyes out. He told me I needed to be strong for them since I was now the ‘man’ of the family—I was 13.” He was never given a chance to grieve properly, to miss his parents, to even shed a single tear. “Nonno said that they needed to know that if I was okay, they could be too,” He continued, “So I guess that’s why I think that, because nobody was interested in how I felt outside of making other people feel better.”

It was the first time he’d spoken about any of this to anyone. Many people assumed that the Monty’s were the more ‘emotional’ and loving family out of the two feuding families, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. They just knew how to hide their issues better than the Capps, when in reality—they were just as emotionally stunted as them. 

“You worry so much about what other people need,” Tybalt stated as he kicked a small piece of gravel beneath his feet, “Have you ever thought about what it is that you need?” 

The question caught him completely off guard, partially because it was from Tybalt—who would rather choke on his own spit than have an emotional conversation. But it was mostly because he’d never thought about what it was he needed. He’d spent the past few years convincing himself that his sole purpose in his family was to be the glue that held things together, especially as his grandparents’ arguments grew more frequent, as Romeo snuck out of the house more, and as Viola seemed to stray further and further from what was expected of a Monty.

And yet, he’d never cared to notice his own cracks—his own broken pieces. “I…” Mercutio began, the words stuck in his throat as his mind went completely blank. “When you spend so much time worrying about everyone else, you rarely ever think about yourself,” He admitted, a better answer than a simple ‘I don’t know.’ 

“It’s a sad way to live,” Tybalt commented with a deep frown that quickly flared into anger, “Why the fuck is it our responsibility to fix what they’ve broken?” It was clear that the they in question was their grandparents, “Our parents probably wouldn’t be six feet under if not for their stupid bullshit, so why do we have to be the strong ones?” 

Mercutio could feel his eyes begin to light up with tears as he wiped them away, “Technically, mine are in an urn…” It was probably an inappropriate time for gallows humor, but it was all he really knew. 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Tybalt replied with a slight shrug, “My mom’s in an urn too—while my dad is in the graveyard. I think when grandfather dies, I want to ask Juliette if mother can be moved to the graveyard next to father, that’s where she would want to be anyways.” 

They stood in silence for another moment, watching the sky change to hues of purple and orange as the sun began to set. Tybalt very loosely threaded their fingers together, continuing to stare up at the pink clouds above. “You and I will never be the cure,” He confessed quietly before turning his attention back to Mercutio, “I’ll be here, though.” 

The idea that love was able to fix all was solely something that Romeo believed in. He believed that if you had love, there was nothing else that you could ever need. Mercutio wished he’d had the opportunity to be so naive. Many people thought him immature or boyish, but Mercutio had to grow up much faster than his siblings. Fuck, he was 19 years old and already stressing about helping his grandparents sort out their wills. It was easier to be carefree, to pretend that he was far more childish than he really was. He hoped that maybe if he pretended enough, he would begin to believe it.

Mercutio carefully lifted their locked hands towards his face, pressing a light kiss to the back of Tybalt’s hand. “That’s all I need from you,” He whispered quietly, feeling a small crack in his voice. Mercutio didn’t like to cry, but he especially hated crying in front of other people. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so, but it had to have been before the death of his parents. There was no stopping it now, though, as he could feel a tear begin to make its way down his cheek.

Tybalt reached over and carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. There didn’t seem to be any words left to say, but Mercutio mouthed a silent ‘thank you.’ Maybe it was for the affection, the conversation, or for simply being around when he needed him most. Tybalt offered him a quiet nod in response, letting their fingers remain locked between one another. “I don’t think I can write about this…” Mercutio said as he gestured to himself, with his tired expression and damp eyes, “But I think I have some ideas.” 

“That’s alright,” Tybalt assured quietly. It was clearly a familiar feeling for both of them, the uncertainty of whether they would be able to ever talk about their trauma to the world. He gave Mercutio's hand a small squeeze, “Do you want me to stay over tonight? I’m certain I can get Hermia to cover for me. Otherwise, I’ll just tell Grandfather I went to another party.” 

Mercutio didn’t want to get Tybalt into hot water with his grandfather anymore than he already had, but he also knew he really couldn’t be alone that night. Sometimes, it felt as though the bad memories swirled through his head even more than usual later in the day, threatening to consume him as he sat alone on his bed. Having Tybalt there with him to likely talk in depth about Les Misérables or Cats the entire night was more than enough to distract him from his own thoughts. 

“Nonno and Nonna are out of town,” He answered quietly with a small nod, “I can make you dinner; I just might have to wait ‘til Romeo and Viola go to bed.” He knew he should probably teach Tybalt to cook for himself, but then that would mean he’d stop sneaking to Mercutio’s house at 1 AM asking for leftovers—and he really couldn’t have that. 

The tears in Mercutio’s eyes eventually dried up as they discussed their plans for their impromptu sleepover, which included watching ‘Moulin Rouge’ and playing ‘Pikmin 2.’ However, he wanted to start working on his poem as soon as Tybalt fell asleep.

The color he chose was red, a color he was born to hate but yet was drawn to like an inescapable force of gravity. Red felt warm, red felt safe, and red felt like home. He’d always loved the color red, hadn’t he? 

SUPER SECRET AUTHOR'S NOTE: yes tybalt did write about them going to the overgrown park in his green poem