#CORRECTLY translated italian

[forlorn-crows]

And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?” 

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back. 

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer. 

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.” 

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers. 

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack. 

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually. 

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow. 

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar. 

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply. 

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable. 

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this). 

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?” 

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul. 

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.” 

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?” 

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs. 

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat.  “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters. 

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south. 

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft. 

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply. 

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue. 

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers. 

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more. 

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters. 

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?” 

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants. 

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments. 

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll. 

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?” 

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes: 

“May I?” 

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards. 

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit. 

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.  

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand. 

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human. 

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them. 

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle. 

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum. 

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.  

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.” 

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture. 

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that. 

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second. 

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke. 

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by. 

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans. 

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly. 

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his. 

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is. 

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back. 

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs. 

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in. 

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled. 

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t. 

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch. 

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is. 

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one. 

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

[arawsuu]

For 2025 i will start my webtoon officially and also learn a couple languages

Maybe take care of myself while im at it, if I really wanna be ballsy

[ldrfanatic]

Oh Bella

Italian!Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

synopsis - 3 times the reader teases Theo’s Italian roots + 1 time she celebrates them

cute, lazy fluff, no angst just happy vibes for a happy christmas :)

slytherin boys masterlist works

warning - internet translated Italian

(got these ideas from Ben and Fabio on instagram they’re so funny)

It wasn’t easy to date Theodore Nott. It was always rewarding but it wasn’t always easy.

For starters, Theo grew up in Italy and has one of the thickest Italian accents you’ve ever heard. There were a few times over the course of your relationship that you had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. Like when he was trying to tell you that Draco had invited you out on a double date with himself and Hermione.

You had just woken up from a nap when Theo walked into the Slytherin common room after quidditch practice. He flashed you a breath taking smile and all but skipped up to you as you rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your heart melting in your chest at the sight of your adorable boyfriend.

“Buongiorno Bella.” (good morning beautiful) Theo swooped down and delivered a soft kiss to the side of your face before plopping down next to you on the couch. “Guess what?” You hummed in response as you snuggled deep into his side.

“What’s up Theo?”

“At quidditch practice today, Draco says that you and I, we can go out double with them.”

In your tired brain, Theo’s words made even less sense. You sat up from his side and stared at him with your brows furrowed. “Huh?” Theo stared blankly back at you. He brushed a piece of your hair away from your face.

“Still asleep, Bella?”

You shook your head lightly but it didn’t convince either of you entirely. A chuckle rumbled through Theo and his chest vibrated in laughter.

“Draco says we can go double out with Herminone.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at the way Theo pronounced Hermione’s name. You’d all been friends for about two years now since she and Draco had started dating, but he still couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly.

Finally deciphering his thick accent and slightly broken, but still cute English, realization dawned upon you. You tried to smother a smile as you stared at your boyfriend in pure adoration. “You mean he invited us to double date with them?”

Theo looked at you for a few seconds before standing up and sighing a little dramatically.

“Mio dio Bella, that’s what I said”

“Mmm of course, Theo.”

So, dating Theodore Nott was not without its challenges. But it also wasn’t without its fun.

1.

It was Mattheo’s birthday so of course the Slytherin common room was filled to the brim with drugs, alcohol, and probably the sluttiest girls in all of Hogwarts. Theo was sitting at a table off in the corner with both of your guys’ drinks and was noticeably uncomfortable in such an environment.

You’d gone to get ice for your sex on the beach when you had a mischevious idea. You scooped a little more ice into the cup and started making your way back to Theo.

You caught sight of Mattheo what was sitting on one of the large couches dead center in the room. He had three girls all over him right now and Lorenzo was giggling uncontrollably as he passed him a joint. Mattheo caught your eye and winked playfully. He liked to flirt with you to rile Theo up a little bit every once in a while.

You finally made it back to your table where Theo was swirling a deep red wine in a glass. His lips quirked up in a small smile as you took your seat next to him. Without speaking, he reached out and pulled your chair impossibly closer to his before throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Ciao Bella.”

Your entire body bloomed at the sound of his thick accent over his husky voice. Warmth settled over you like a fluffy blanket on a snowy morning.

“Ciao Theo.”

The surprise on Theo’s face was more than enough to make you happy that you’d taken up Italian recently. You practiced with Lorenzo in some of your free time and he was a pretty good teacher. You made eye contact with Theo and winked before settling into his side.

Theo immediately became suspicious as you were known for your antics.

“What are you up to Il mio piccolo piantagrane, hm?” (my little troublemaker)

“Nothing Theo, relax.”

He stared at you suspiciously for a few seconds before his body finally loosened.

The opportunity was too great to miss.

You leaned over both of your drinks and dumped ice into your sex on the beach before then dropping a few ice cubes into Theo’s wine.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Oh! Bella, no! No, no, no!” His lips turned up in disgust and multiple muted expressions left his mouth in what you assumed were Italian swears.

“Che diavolo? Ghiaccio nel vino? No! Il vino è sacro.”

(what the hell? ice in wine? no! wine is sacred.)

A large hand came and ran through his messy curls and the laugh you’d been surprising burst suddenly from your chest. Theo’s eyes snapped to yours and you recognized the mischievous glint.

A squeal left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat and took off around the common room with him hot on your tail.

2.

The second time that you decided to make your poor sweet Italian boyfriend question all decisions to be with you was at dinner one night. You weren’t intentionally teasing him at first as you stared down at your empty plate trying to think of what you wanted.

You glanced over to Theo’s plate next to you and saw a mouthwatering pasta that he’d conjured. You tugged gently on the sleeve of his green sweater and his attention found yours immediately.

“What’s wrong, bellissima?”

“Can you get me some of that, please Theo?”

“Of course.”

He took your plate in his hands and after a few seconds his dish was sitting in front of you. You noted how he made sure there were no tomatoes in yours like there were in his. Theo knew you hated tomatoes. It was so sweet it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do to his little Italian heart.

Almost.

Theo picked up his fork and started to dig into his food before he stopped abruptly. Lorenzo too stopped eating his own food and the pair stared at you incredulously as you shoveled the pasta into your mouth.

“Oh Bella.”

He seemed more horrified than anything else. You loaded more food into your mouth being careful to eat as much as a lady as you could.

“No.” You stared at him blankly with a sheepish look before resuming your meal. “Bella, no. Twirl. Like this,” Theo picked up his fork and expertly swirled the noodles around before bringing it up to his mouth.

You offered him a gentle grin before promptly resuming what you were doing before. From across the table Lorenzo started whisper screaming at Theo in Italian.

“Theo, Cosa c'è che non va nella tua ragazza? Lei mangia la pasta come una bambina!” (what’s wrong with your girlfriend? she eats pasta like a child!)

Theo stared at you astounded as redness crept up his face. Then it finally dawned on him that you were teasing.

“Bella per favoreee.” He dragged out his words with a small smile on his face at your teasing. You both knew that you knew the proper way to eat pasta.

“No more teasing love.” You nodded through your giggles and Theo wrapped a thick arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

3.

So, you knew that you promised Theo no more teasing last week but when you overheard him and Lorenzo complaining earlier in the most adorable stuttered English you couldn’t help yourself. You were walking down towards the common room to get lunch with the boys.

Theo, Lorenzo, and Mattheo were sitting in the common room all having a discussion. Suddenly you heard your boyfriend’s sweet Italian symphony of a voice shift into one of astonishment. You peeked around the corner and saw both him and Lorenzo staring at Mattheo like he’d just said the most offensive thing ever.

“What do you mean you have the cappuccino in the afternoon, huh?” His fingers came to rub at his temples and you had to stifle your laugh behind your hand. “Puah! cappuccino è solo per la mattina.” (Cappuccino is only for the morning).

Mattheo stared blankly at the two. Finally you decided to step in before the vein in Theo’s forehead burst.

“Theo? I’m ready.”

By the time that you made it to the Great Hall, the boys seemed to have forgotten about their earlier conversation. Mattheo walked quietly in step next to you while Theo and Lorenzo conversed in Italian so quickly your head was spinning.

“Psst. Y/n I have an idea on how to make that little Italian boy of yours blow a fuse.”

(“Maledizione Lorenzo, non credi che se sapessi cosa regalarle non andrei fuori di testa?”)

You cursed yourself that you couldn’t understand what they were saying. After staring at the side of Theo’s handsome face for a few moments longer you let out a disgruntled noise and turned to Mattheo.

“Fine! What?”

And that was how you found yourself in this situation.

Trying your absolute hardest to keep a straight face without looking at Theo at all while you sipped on your cappuccino that you’d conjured in your cup.

“Oh Bella.”

Theo’s familiar distressed tone rang out from next to you. “You cannot be series, amore mio.”

“Do you mean serious, Theo?” Mattheo chimed in with an amused smirk.

Theo made a dismissive Italian noise and waved Mattheo off. He swore under his breath before grabbing the side of your face and turning it to him. “Bellissima, it is too late for a cappuccino!”

You smirked up at your distraught boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to the softness of his cheek. “I know, amore.”

Theo stared at you before throwing his hands up in the air and turning back towards his lunch. Mattheo’s deep laugh burst out and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh along with him.

You were so busy laughing you hadn’t noticed that Theo was staring at you with a smile. He was so very in love with you.

+ one time you celebrated Theo’s Italian roots

April 25th was meant to be celebratory. La Festa della Resistenza. And Theodore Nott was stuck at quidditch practice.

Meanwhile, you were scurrying around the common room with Lorenzo trying to set up the perfect surprise for Theo. With Italy’s Liberation Day approaching, you’d noticed Theo had been a little down lately. You knew that it was because he was missing his family.

Normally, his mother would prepare a big feast and the family would sing the song of the resistance, Bella Ciao. You’d taken a floo to his home in Italy and gotten some recipes from his mother directly, all his favorites. And now, you were trying desperately to teach a group of first year Slytherins how to sing the song that you’d been practicing for weeks.

You sighed deeply as you realized the little buggers you bribed with a few galleons each were not at all going to get the song down in time. You conjured your purse and shelled out a few galleons to each child before shooing them out of the common room.

By the time Theo got back from quidditch practice, everything was perfect. You were standing in the center of the room in a deep red dress that you knew was his favorite. When he saw the spread, Theo thought his heart might stop. You looked nothing short of stunning.

“Oh Bella.”

It didn’t hold any of the distress that it normally did. This time his tone was thick with adoration. Theo felt a lump moving up his throat that caught tears behind his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. This was one of the most thoughtful things that anyone had ever done for him.

Just when he was certain you couldn’t get anymore perfect, your sweet voice rang out in an impossibly beautiful symphony that rivaled Pavarotti.

“Una mattina mi sono alzato

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

Una mattina mi sono alzato

E ho trovato l'invasor.”

Theo held you closer to his chest and pressed his forehead against yours as he joined for the next verse.

“O partigiano, portami via

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

O partigiano, portami via

Che mi sento di morir.”

The two of you swayed as Lorenzo joined and the three of you sang the rest of the song together. When you finished, you all made plates and sat down in the common room.

“When did you learn all of this, Bella?”

You smiled gently at Theo while he stared at you like you were the most perfect being in the world.

“I took a trip to Italy to see your mother a little bit ago. She told me about La Festa della Resistenza the Celebration of the Resistance. She talked about how important it was to Italy’s history and that it marked the Resistance victory in the Italian Civil War. Then when I saw how sad you were to be away from home at this time I knew I had to do something.”

In that moment, Theo knew that there wasn’t anybody he’d ever loved as much as he loved you. He took your face in both of his hands and pressed a deep kiss to your lips.

“This is perfect, bellissima, thank you so much.”

[hsunrry]

study session // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,5k

warnings: smut18+, age gap (harry is 30, reader is 20), fingering, oral (m receiving), praise

a/n: i wasn’t sure what was s/n in this request, so i decided to just did it like i usually do!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“okay, so this one is easy.” Gemma smiled, grabbing one of her books from the shelf. “i have perfect book for that.”

“yeah, easy for you to say. i don’t even know why i have this subject, italian has nothing to do with what i’m studying.” you mumbled, looking at her. she chuckled.

“i know, but it’s complementary subject.” she opened the book. you groaned, laying down on her bed. “come on, we got this. it’s easy, i swear.”

“mhm.” you putted random book on your face. she shook her head amused. second later bedroom door opened and Gemma’s brother; Harry, appeared in the doorway.

“Harry? what are you doing here?” her eyebrows raised.

“just thought about visiting when i’m in town.” he smiled, checking you out. “didn’t thought you’d have a guest. i’m Harry.” he extended his hand to you.

“don’t be silly, this is y/n.” Gemma said and Harry’s eyes widened.

“wait, y/n? really? oh my god i’m so sorry, i didn’t recognized you, you… changed.” he smiled, clearly eyeing you shamelessly. “how old are you now? it’s been what? 9 years since i saw you?”

“something like that, i’m 20 now. i just grew up.” you said, looking up at him from the bed you were sitting now. he licked his lips slightly, turning his eyes to his sister when she spoke.

“you want something to drink?” he only nodded and she went downstairs. he sat next to you on the bed.

“so you’re in college?” you nodded at his question. he grabbed one of your books. “italian?”

“Gemma is helping me, it’s complementary subject, i don’t really need it, but i have to pass it anyway.” you shrugged. he scanned your body quickly. his eyes lingering for few seconds on your exposed by summer dress chest, before looking back at your face.

“so what’s your main then?” he putted back book on the bed next to you.

“criminology stuff.” you smiled slightly. he raised his eyebrows.

“oh really? you’d look good in uniform, you know.” he grinned. you could feel your cheeks blushing slightly. “i’d love to see you in it.”

“you think so? thank you.” you smiled shyly, playing with the hem of your dress.

“i know so, love. you’d also look good under-“ he didn’t finished, because his sister walked into the room with a coffee for him. she putted it on the nightstand.

“i’m so sorry, but i have to leave for half an hour. Harry you know italian well, maybe you could tech her a little?” she asked, looking at us both. you wanted to protest, but he quickly spoke.

“it’ll be pleasure, take your time big sister.” he smiled and Gemma only rolled her eyes amused. she left the house soon after and you two were alone. “so with what do you have a problem?”

“everything, honestly.” you sigh, looking at the book.

“how about i’ll tell you a sentence and you’ll try translate it? for the starters of course.” you nodded, looking at his face. “amo i tuoi occhi.”

“i think it’s ‘i love your eyes’?” you looked at him. he smiled.

“yes, good.” he grabbed your chin between his fingers, looking into your eyes. “it is in fact. i love your eyes.” you swallowed quietly. “you changed a lot since i saw you. you’re a grown woman now, not just a kid.”

“and you’re 30, if i remember correctly?” you managed to say something finally. he smirked.

“i am 30 now, that’s correct.” he traced your jawline with his index finger. “you’re really beautiful.” you could feel your cheeks burning at his words. he seems to like the effect he had on you. but how could he not? you had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time when you were 7, but obviously it wasn’t right. he was 17 at this time. but now? he looks like a god on earth and you really can’t complain that he’s complementing you. you could already feel how wet you were from his little touches and words. “so how about instead of italian we’ll learn another language?”

“what do you mean?” you asked confused. he smiled and leaned close to your ear. his lips brushing against your earlobe when he talk.

“body language.” he whispered, sending shiver down your spine. his nose traced line on your skin from your ear to the crook of your neck. “you smell so good, y/n. what is that? grapes?” you nodded. “grapes. i love grapes. they’re sweet, just like you baby.” he pulled out from your neck, but he was still close to your face. you looked into his eyes, before his gaze darted down on your lips. you instinctively licked them. his jaw clenched and his eyes went back at yours. “don’t do that or i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”

“then don’t.” you said, without thinking twice. your eyes widened after they escaped your lips. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say-“ you didn’t even had to finish after his lips connected with yours. you froze for a second, but quickly recovered, kissing him back. you could feel your heartbeat quickening when his hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer. your hand went into the back of his hair, causing his quiet groan into the kiss. he pushed you down on the bed, without breaking the kiss. his hand went from your waist to your hip.

“can i touch you?” he whispered between kisses. you nodded quietly. his hand went from your hip under your dress. his big hand touched your core over your panties. you opened your legs slightly wider to give him access. he smiled into the kiss. “already opening for me, such a good girl.” he whispered, going with his kisses on your neck. you tilted your head to your side to give him better access. he was kissing and nibbling, but not hard enough to leave any mark. his hand went inside your panties, teasing your entrance with his finger. you moaned quietly. “so wet, just for me, i love that darling.” he whispered into your neck. his finger slipped inside you, causing your gasp. he started moving slowly, adding second finger after few seconds. you squirmed under him. his fingers were working magic inside you, it was all too good to be true.

“oh my god.” you gasped and your hips went up when you were getting closer. he smiled against your skin. his fingers were moving fast in perfect curve.

“i know you’re close, come on sweetheart.” he pulled out from your neck, looking into your eyes. you bite your lower lip and tilted your head back from pleasure. “you look so good y/n, you have no idea.” with final few thrusts you came around his fingers, clenching on them. your legs were slightly shaking and your loud moan filled his ears. he fingered you slowly through your orgasm, pulling them out after. he licked them clean. “you taste divine, darling.” he grinned, looking at your spent expression. you looked at him and your hand that was on his chest went down, near the button of his jeans. his breath hitched slightly.

“can i?” you asked quietly, looking into his eyes. he tucked strand of your hair behind your ear.

“of course, love. if you want to i’m not gonna say no to you.” he smiled sweetly, watching you going down on your knees in front of him. ha sat on the edge of the bed, taking his jeans and boxers before it. you wrapped your hand around his shaft. you spat on his tip and your hand started stroking him. he groaned quietly, watching you closely. when you started sucking him with your mouth he moaned, putting his hand into your hair immediately. you were still stroking the part of his cock you didn’t reach with your mouth. he tilted his head back from pleasure, breathing heavy already. your free hand went to massage his balls, when your mouth started moving faster on him. “god, you’re so fucking good, keep going darling.” he panted, gripping your hair slightly tighter. you quickly obeyed of course, moving even faster now. your tongue was working on him inside your mouth and you could hear it was so good for him. he could already feel climax approaching. “just few more seconds, can i come inside your mouth, baby?” you nodded around him, looking up at him. he moaned from how amazing it all felt and at the sight of you looking up at him. “god, your eyes are even more beautiful when you’re wrapped around my cock like that.” he gasped. he was panting at this point. “gonna come.” he warned you and after few moves of your mouth you could felt his warm release inside your mouth. you swallowed everything, whipping your mouth with your hand after. he looked down at you, caressing your hair with his hand.

“sei fantastica, tesoro.”

(you’re amazing, darling)

(a/n: i’m sorry if something’s wrong with this italian sentences, i translated them by google translate.)

[expertnuerodiver]

Reasons why I think San Lang is bad at writing

(Keep in mind that I have only read up to book two)

Because he is blind in one eye, he may lack perception, or perhaps sees the characters like that. In other words, he writes the characters correctly, but only in his vision of them.

Considering that he is ambidextrous, with left hand dominant, perhaps he has a harder time writing the characters with his right hand, which he seems to do.

He is so gay, he can't write. I mean, if I was good everything but writing, I wouldn't complain or care. That ink isn't as thick as Xie Lian's ass.

After learning so many languages, he probably messes up sometimes in writing. (e.g. I write Latin words despite wanting Italian.)

He was never taught how to write as a kid. If a kid is left alone on a roof and falls to their near death, I don't think your parents taught you how to write.

He definitely has somebody else write down important things or someone who can translate that handwriting, so he never actually writes for periods of times.

He is an artist. Artist always have bad handwriting.

He be giving no fuck about it.

That is all I have composed so far. If anyone has any other ideas, comment please. ^-^

Bonus: Imagine if San Lang had to get contacts or a monocle to see, so E-Ming would have to get one too. <3

[copperbadge]

This translates from the Italian as "The cook cooks the snake" which is getting a little wild for the Italian module, I feel. Although maybe it's like "Io ho l'ape" which is "I have the bee" but as the Italian readers informed me, "ape" is both a bee and a kind of amusing car, so perhaps il serpente is a kind of pastry or something.

Italians, tell me it's a kind of pastry. It's okay to lie if you have to.

[ID: A screengrab of the Duolingo app featuring Falstaff the Bear, who is smiling because I correctly transcribed "Il cuoco cucina un serpente" from an audio recording of him saying it. The phrase in English would read "the cook cooks the snake."]

[michael-the-candybar]

barty who grew up being trilingual (Spanish, Italian and English), but has a spanish accent because his father was rarely home and his mother would teach him the language almost every day.

his father isn’t too pleased with this though and forces italian on him, which he quickly picks up but now his english has both languages’s accents, which makes it nearly impossible for anybody he meets to understand him.

it took regulus, evan, pandora and dorcas a hot month to be able to hear him correctly, it doesn’t help that he switches languages mid sentence without noticing it though. And his poor teachers constantly have to ask him to translate his writing because its also a mix of all three

he used to hate speaking, because of how much he struggled with which words were correct, until he noticed evan would constantly do it with his french, and realizing he loved when evan would switch up made him feel a little better about his own speech.

[beardedmrbean]

Comedian and social media influencer Zach Sage Fox traveled to the West Bank to see if Palestinian people truly support the Hamas terror group. He almost didn’t make it out alive. 

Fox, who went viral earlier this year when his "Gaza Graduation" video featured anti-Israel protesters in New York City struggling to correctly answer basic questions about the Israel-Hamas war, has been on a crusade to educate his followers since the terror attacks of October 7. He recently brought his popular man-on-the-street style interviews to the West Bank, a contentious territory that Palestinians hope to establish as an independent state along with the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip.

Fox, a "loud and proud" Jewish American, was in Israel to create content when a member of his production team offered him the opportunity to enter the West Bank alongside a Muslim producer and cameraman. Fox knew it could be a dangerous project but was interested because American journalists are rarely able to secure unfettered access to Palestinians.  

"Israelis are literally not allowed into Palestine; they're not allowed into the West Bank. However, I'm not Israeli, I'm an American Jew, and it doesn't say ‘Jew’ on my passport. So, I was told, ‘As long as you don't say you're Jewish, you know, they're not going to kill you on the spot,’" Fox told Fox News Digital. 

"I really looked in the mirror that night and I said, ‘I think I could pass for Italian,’" Fox continued. "I'm going to take the risk." 

To get ready for the daring trip, Fox removed his signature flair, such as jewelry and nail polish, and wore the most "masculine" outfit he had. He didn’t tell most of his friends and family back in America about his plans, explaining that they would likely have talked him out of it. 

During the journey, Fox told anyone who asked he was an Italian American and was able to cross the border into the West Bank without issue, which he felt was "kind of shocking." 

Fox began his time in the West Bank with a prearranged interview with a man who was described to him by his Muslim producer as a "very smart and civil," "somewhat moderate" thinker who holds a Master’s degree and speaks good English. They sat down at a coffee shop in Ramallah, the Palestinian "capital" located near Jerusalem.

The man denied that "innocent Israelis" were killed during the attacks of October 7, expressed support for Hamas and suggested rape never occurred during the barbaric attacks. 

"I realized quickly, if this is someone being presented to me as one of the more educated people, I might be in for a real shock," Fox said. 

Then he hit the streets to find locals and recorded a series of spontaneous interviews while walking around Ramallah. But Fox said "things got very contentious very quick" once he hit the streets. 

"It was like one after another, massive love and support for Hamas," Fox said. 

"I was specifically looking for younger people thinking, OK, someone here is not going to support Hamas. And they all do," he continued. "It really ranged from sympathy to actual love and admiration for Hamas…. I thought I would find at least some people who were not diehard Hamas supporters, and I couldn’t find one." 

Fox found several people walking West Bank streets who were quick to express support for the Hamas terror group and declared Israeli hostages should not be released. He said things grew particularly dicey when he tried to interview a woman whose hair was fully covered. 

"This Palestinian man comes up, and he starts screaming in Arabic, and my translator and producer tells me he's very upset," Fox said. 

Fox recalled the man yelling "something about modesty," and that females shouldn’t speak for all Palestinians. Fox attempted to ignore the man, but he only grew more agitated and started calling additional Palestinian men for support. 

"They start screaming in Arabic, and I’m still just trying to be professional and go on and interview people. Eventually, my producer tells me he’s threatening to hurt us if we don’t delete the footage. I’ve never had anything like this happen in my entire career… never, no one threatened violence," Fox said.

"Then that violence turned into death threats very quickly," Fox added, noting that he initially pushed back and refused to delete the footage. "The Arabic started getting louder, more men started coming."

Fox said he’s probably "crazy," and wanted to continue to stand his ground, but pivoted when his Muslim cameraman said he was terrified for his life.

"Eventually I cave because my cameraman tells me they’re threatening to kill us… we deleted a bunch of the footage in front of him," he said.

"Then my producer and my cameraman grab my arm, we run to the car, and it was a pretty eye-opening experience," he continued. "We really bolted out of Palestine… luckily they didn’t chase us to the car."

Fox enlisted a team of IT specialists who were able to recover some of the footage, and every interview that was salvaged made the viral "Wild West Bank" video. He lost some valuable footage but said he’s "happy to be out of there alive" and is thrilled he recovered enough footage to make an impact. 

"Wild West Bank" has been viewed over 4.7 million times on X alone. 

Fox noted that many Jewish people don’t refer to the West Bank as "Palestine," but he decided to use that moniker in his video and subsequent conversations about it for "kumbaya purposes."  

"Obviously there's a land that Palestinians are living in, and the dream would be that there's a two-state solution, at least for me. However, once I got there, I realized that dream seems further than ever," Fox said. 

Last month, the Department of State urged Americans to avoid the West Bank because of "terrorism and civil unrest."

[tassjis]

Small Copper - 10 lion Medium Copper - 100 lion Large Copper - 1,000 lion Small Silver - 10,000 lion Large Silver - 100,000 lion Small Gold - 1,000,000 lion Large Gold - 10,000,000 lion

---

30 Fruit on the market <100 Payment for ordinary handiwork

---

100 Shumil Feystone 100 Effa paid Lutz 200 Payment per flower part of a hair stick 500 Payment for making a mass-produced hairpin

---

1,000 2 mugs of Behelle and some sausages in Ebb's bar 1,100 Hair ornaments with an express fee 2,000 Stone slate and one slate pencil 3,000 Initial price set for a mass-produced hairpin 6,000 A used calculator 8,000 Myne took home after selling her first sheets of paper 8,000-10,000 Ralph's monthly salary

---

10,000 10 cookies sold at the Harpsiel concert 10,000 Given to each soldier escorting grey priests to Hasse 10,000 Cost per hair stick arranged for the girls in the Ehrenfest dorm to wear as a promotion 20,000 postcard-sized parchment 20,000 postcard-sized Volrin paper 30,000 profit from Frida's hair sticks (split between Lutz and Myne) 40,000 postcard-sized Trombe paper 40,000 A bottle of writing ink 40,000 Initial price for one of Freida's hair sticks 50,000 registration for the Myne Workshop 50,000 - 70,000 planned price for Reversi and Playing cards 60,000 Frieda's twin hairpins

---

100,000 An apprentice uniform for Gilberta Co. 100,000 contract-sized parchment 100,000 contract-sized Volrin paper 100,000 minimum monthly wage for a Math and Writing Tutor - Three 1 bell lessons per week 100,000 Monthly salary of a gatekeeper (Gunther's Salary) 160,000 Myne's share of the 5 small gold donated to the temple 200,000 Given to the guards for handling an unexpected Clarrisa correctly 300,000 Monthly travel allowance paid to Italian restaurant chefs 300,000 Price for a Concert Program 300,000 Single colour poker set 400,000 Premium Reversi and playing cards 500,000 contract-sized Trombe paper 500,000 Monthly rental fee of an Italian chef 500,000 A Ferdinand portrait sold at the concert 500,000 Price of Karuta sold at the castle 500,000 - 800,000 Ticket price for low seats at the concert 800,000 Final price for a picture book

---

1,000,000 price per Italian restaurant recipe 1,000,000 Highest seats in the concert 1,000,000 A picture book sold at the castle 1,000,000 Coloured playing cards sold at the castle 1,000,000 Price paid on Brigette's dress 1,000,000 Damuel's reward for the raise angelicas grade squad 1,000,000 Previous Grey Priest price 1,000,000 Royal Academy's Library Registration fee 1,800,000 Initial price of the Children's Bible 2,000,000 Laynoble price for Rozeyne's Mana Compression Method 2,000,000+ A faulty magic tool that will break 2,800,000 Cost of the mana tool to save Myne 2,800,000 2.5 years of Gunther's annual income 3,000,000 Information Fee to improve Rinsham 3,000,000 Used Mana draining tool that has been overwritten twice 5,000,000 Commission for a new mana-draining tool (estimate) 5,000,000 Average price for a grey priest 5,000,000 exclusive rights to pound cake for a year 6,000,000 Production method for plant paper 8,000,000 Mednoble price for Rozemyne's Mana compression method

---

10,000,000 Mynes initial donation to the temple 17,000,000 Production method and rights to hair sticks 20,000,000 Archnoble price for Rozemynes Mana Compression method 22,000,000 price of grey priest Volk 30,000,000 deposit to borrow a book from the Royal Academy's library 30,000,000 Donations from the Tea Party 40,000,000-50,000,000 Price of a book 50,000,000 250 Trombe Paper (The size of a holy book) 128,600,000 profit from Ferdiand's concert (an undisclosed portion of this is considered "loose change" to Ferdinand) 180,000,000 estimated cost of transcribing and translating Dunklefelger's history

[squalodinoappreciationsquad]

I feel like I should give a short advice if any of you would like to realistically give adopted kids to your KHR OTPs according to the Italian law system.

NOTE: should you wish to go on in an ideal Italy where all rights are guaranteed pls do, I would love to live in such a country.

According to the Italian law to be able to adopt a child you MUST be:

Heterosexual

Married

Able bodied

No mental health issues

Should you want to be a single parent you CANNOT. All you can have as a single parent is what it is called "Affido" (translated: custody). The child will only stay with you for a few years (1-3 if I remember correctly), then the child is sent back to the orphanage/care home/whatever.

LGBT+ couples CANNOT adopt. They are barely even recognized in a half-assed civil partnership, that's all they have.

Disabled people CAN adopt, BUT they have to demonstrate that they are ACTUALLY ABLE ENOUGH to care for the child and also they have to demonstrate that they have enough space to accomodate the child.

Surrogacy is ABSOLUTELY ILLEGAL in Italy. There have been countless cases of people who went to USA to have a child and then they cannot register their child as Italian because they have committed a felony punishable by jail time, but also they can't register the child as USAmerican because they are not actually USAmericans.

It's not just because of the Vatican. The clowns we have at the government are way too bigoted and they have too much money to actually worry about any law.

That said. I am now VERY SAD that I would like to give my OTP children, but now I have to like invent a plausible way. Or go the fantasy way with "magic gave them children to care for" and disregard a realistic approach.

Actually, I could have them like lavender marry someone and that would solve stuff. IDK.

*deep sigh*

[jieejex8110]

THE LAST PAGE °✩₊✩°｡

• content :Where Jungkook writes a book as an anonymous writer about his childhood friend y/n confessing his true feelings but she realize it after she bought it while reading the last page.

• words count: 1.2k

• pairs: jjk!reader

•premise: i’m sorry if there will be any errors in my english,i’m italian,im pretty good at english and i don’t like to use the translator but i know that i have to learn so much more thing so eventually if you find any errors pls tell me in the notes so that i can write them correctly next time. Also,this one is a short ff but i’m working on longers one hoping you will like them both ways,Have a good reading💋

“And after all her soul was the only one who complemented mine like no one’s else, i will keep her in my right jacket pocket near the heart waiting for her love”-

-“this book is so good”- i said to Jungkook after reading that little paragraph to him while drinking the last sip of my cinnamon tea,i was trying to spur my best friend to read the book with me since he was the one who advised me to buy it-“like seriously Kk you should read it”- he rolled his eyes drinking his iced americano,he didn’t like to read at all even if i always thought he could be a really good writer,he was just so creative-“sorry,pass”- it was useful to keep insisting with him,i closed the book and put it back in my bag noticing Jungkook staring at me-“so you almost finished this anonymous author’s book orrr?”- i looked at him -“oh so now you are interested? well actually i have 20 more pages to go,i was planning to read them tonight,wanna join?” he dissented politely and got up from the table with me behind.

Outside was pouring rain,it was really cold and dark and i was so happy to finally be back at home again,ready to finally finish the book. I sat on my bed turning te little lamp on the bedside table to see better the pages and i opened the book at page 265 the first page of the last short chapter

-“Someone once told me that when we born a new star starts to shine in the sky,that star is our soulmate that lights up our way to find them while we grow up.

If i have to be honest i’ve never believed it since i met her,we were younger but i remember to have seen her light among thousand and thousand others,i guess if she thinks the same.”-

I underlined the paragraph thinking about how i wanted to be loved this way,the girl whose the author is talking about is very lucky but also blind cause how is even possible to not notice the love of person who looked at you like a real star for his whole life ?,i putted a pink post it on the side of the page and kept reading

-“There are a lot of things that reminds me of her other than the stars like: lilies,everything that’s pink,cats,love novels, strawberries…i also got a lily’s tatto on my forearm to always keep her with me even if she doesn’t know about this comparison”-

i smiled thinking about how much could be me and Jungkook since the girl likes the same thing as me and Jungkook really has a lily’s tattoo on his forearm…weird right? what a coincidence and actually it was not the only one, sometimes i really thought the book talked about us. I kept reading and underlining paragraphs till the last page

-“If you have read this book till the end you are surely asking yourself who am i and who is the girl whose i talked about for 285 pages…Well her name is y/n and she is probably reading this page too right now ,about me instead, you don’t need to know that much,at the end of the day i chose to stay anonymous but if you want y’all can call me Kk and this is the last page of the only book i will ever publish,Goobye”-

I started to heavy breathing,my eyes wide opened and then the realisation:they weren’t coincidences, the fucking book was about us,he wrote it and as it he insisted for me to buy it, this was not just a story…it was our story,his confession of a life based on commitment to me. I felt so stupid for not noticing the way he loved me all this time,all the dots were connecting . I jumped off the bed taking the keys and the phone with me,i started to call Jungkook while rushing down the stairs but he wouldn’t answer at all -“answer the fucking phone Jungkook,come on”- my heart felt heavy and tears started to flow on my skin,once i wore my shoes i got out of the house feeling the rain already getting my clothes and hair wet,i was running as fast as i ever did in my life thru the streets of Seoul while cars was honking at me but i didn’t care at all…i kept running . After 20 minutes i was completely wet in front of his apartment crying as a child while knocking at his door,after maybe five minutes the door finally opened -“you have read till the last page right?”- i looked at him,tears tracing his face even if he tried to not let them out, eyes full of worries-“why didn’t you tell me Jungkook? why i had to discover this by myself with a fucking book?”- he was looking at the floor as he wanted to vanish off the hearth-“i-i-i’m sorry”- i placed two fingers under his chin, lifting his head slightly so i could look him in the eyes-“tell me that you love Kk,please tell me while looking at me”- he sighed -“i do love y-“- and finally i was kissing him,i wasn’t scared to be rejected anymore i wasn’t scared to loose him or to be caught, oh how i loved him,how i dreamed to be loved like in those book by him -“I love you too Jungkook…i really really do”-

[…]

I entered the book shop,walking towards the cashier counter-“hi,good morning,i was wondering if you had a book , the title is “the truth untold-second book”- the woman gently smiled at me nodding and passing me the book from under the counter-“it is the last one you’ve been lucky”- i thanked the woman and left the shop searching for the nearest bar where i could seat to read while reading the book while waiting. Once spotted a bar i asked for a cinnamon tea and sat at the window table opening the book

-“Hi readers,long time has passed uh? l’m…well…i’m Kk ,or if you prefer,Jeon Jungkook.

Ten years has passed since the first book and well a lot of things are happened…”-

-“Babe i told you to not buy it”- i turned around smiling at my now husband -“ this book talks about me,i had to”- as the same time my tea arrived and Jungkook sat with me-“i can’t believe we are going to be actual parents in 2 months” i looked at him with eyes full of love taking his hand-“me neither but hey at least we know how to tell her how we met”- we both laughed , my eyes fell on the book…ten years are a lot but it seems yesterday that i’ve read the last page of the first book,the book that brought us to a 9 years relationship,to a marriage and now a baby girl arriving in a few months, we have grown up so much thru those ten years and we have to grow yet facing also new realities like being parents but i will always thank the “anonymous writer “ for being brave e publishing that book and i promise that i will love him as we are in a novel till the end of our days

[kraken17]

Italian translator girl here to:

1) Address something I discovered only hours after my previous ask: The original '60 serie also had completely different names originally! Both the '60 and 1973 series got some new dubs w the right names at some point, apparently? It was a surprise to me bc even my parents who grew up on the '60 series always used the correct names, so I incorrectly assumed that had always been the only real names that were used.

2) i beg you to PLEASE tell me abt the localizatiom lore you mentioned knowing in the tags. I'm a curious person by nature and i love fun facts abt different lenaguges.

Also, at this point then i really hope Nottola gets a reference or smth like you said, that would be an extremely funny experience xD

So, if I remember correctly...

Gomez Addams is still Gomez Addams in Spain, but Homero Addams in Latin America.

Morticia is still Morticia in all. Perfection doesn't change I guess xD

Fester is Fétido (foul-smelling, fetid) in Spain and Lucas in Latin America.

Pugsley is still Pugsley in Spain but Pericles in Latin America.

Thing is Cosa in Spain and Dedos (fingers) in Latin America.

Cousin Itt is Primo Eso ("cousin it") in Spain and Tío Cosa ("uncle thing") in Latin América.

Grandmama is usually translated as Abuela (granny, grandmother) in both versions.

Lurch is still Lurch in Spain, but Largo (long, tall) in Latin America.

And our star Wednesday is Miércoles (wednesday, literally) in Spain and Merlina in Latin America.

I find the names for Gomez and Pugsley extra funny because Homer(o) and Pericles were the names of some of the family pets (a spider and a octopus).

[crymeariveronceagain]

*CLAMAT IN VACUUM* SCIO IN LATINAM MODUM!!!!!!!! :D IN DIES BONUM EGO DICO QUOQUE!!!!

Huge huge disclaimer that is pretty relevant because of the people I follow:

I speak English and a tiny bit of Spanish (that will expand over time). That is it.

Please, only speak English and like white person spanglish when talking to me. If you feel the absolute need to say something in another language, don’t make it important. Love people being themselves, but I will be too afraid to correct you and will just go on whatever you typed in English.

Don’t feel any pressure to speak English when not directly speaking to me, I’m fully aware that not everything is made for my consumption

[swallowerofdharma]

What do you think of Muraji and Tsunakawa?

I don’t think they are together? Kidding, kidding. I actually wanted to try and write down my thoughts about Tsunakawa, so I’ll start with him. I admit that I disliked him quite a bit at the beginning. If I remember correctly, we met him on a golf course… just like that he didn’t make a good first impression on me… heir to a powerful old traditional yakuza family with a patrilineal hereditary system, went to university, the guy knows privilege, although he almost saw his position as successor to his father vanishing and he had to work for taking it back. His most interesting reactions to me are those connected to Okuyama and what he represented: someone with an other kind of earned authority, who could in fact challenge his position, that was close to his father and that he couldn’t figure out completely. And of course his reactions to the possibility that this rivalry and his strained relationship with Okuyama was the reason Nikki was kidnapped. So it’s with the latest chapter that I finally see a series of pieces falling in order and I can see a little growth of character in Tsunakawa and that was very satisfying, narratively: so much so that I think I calmed down and I can look at him without disliking him too much lol (I still think he is a major threat to Yashiro specifically though).

There is also the first conversation between Tsunakawa and Yashiro, so important for establishing a sort of subtle uneasiness that Nanahara talks about, more on Yashiro’s part at the beginning, but we will see how that sentiment develops.

I’ll take the opportunity to show here a little difference in translation between the scans and my copy, it’s not a major thing, but I think this is a point with a certain significance, and it’s good to keep this conversation in mind. I don’t have the Japanese nor the official English translation here, so I am not showing this comparison to say which one is better, to be perfectly clear. Only that I have the Italian version in mind when I think about this. And Tsunakawa says: “Between ‘people change’ and ‘they can change’… which one of those two sentences do you (formal) think can reflect reality?”. I don’t know, but to me the question reads slightly differently with this wording. Less about what Yashiro agrees from a theoretical standpoint and more about what experience tells him? Of course then the answer Tsunakawa gives is neither of those options he gave and Muraji comments on it. Yet the last chapter in a way contradicts the statement that “people never really change”, in my opinion. I’ll try to explain, hopefully without writing too many words. And in particular there are three different chapters to consider here: chapters 45, 55 and 59.

The moment Kai’s name is mentioned we can see Tsunakawa starting to piecing things together and thinking more calmly about the situation and what he remembers about the type of person Okuyama was. In chapter 55 he is already doubting Okuyama’s involvement in Nikki’s kidnapping, because a loaded action like that would contradict Okuyama’s reasonings about how the yakuza works. He remembers a specific conversation and he has the grace to mention it to Okuyama in his hospital bed, as a form of acknowledgment and respect: he did listen to him years ago, and now he understands the type of obligations Okuyama had towards Kai. That is also interesting because it explains why Tsunakawa had Doumeki under surveillance: the situation here resembles Kai’s, who had been entrusted to another group after his previous one was dismantled. So at least Tsunakawa is capable of changing ideas about people, even when he doesn’t think that people can really change entirely.

As for Muraji, he is mostly doing his duty as wakagashira, second in command and he is the person Doumeki needs to report to directly. I do think that is wise that we don’t get as much additional information about him as a person, since there is a lot to remember already at this point. He isn’t one dimensional either, but we don’t need to know him personally that well in the economy of the story. I like that he isn’t expressive, because that works as a counteract for Tsunakawa’s antics (loved the details of the finger pointing in the corner of the panel when Tsunakawa introduces him).

Muraji trying his best twice to make Yashiro withdraw from chasing Yamakawa is a bit funny to me, because Yashiro can be very frustrating: they offered him a sum of money to cover Kido’s debt and some extra for the inconvenience, but Yashiro opted to stay in since catching Yamakawa will lead them to more money, but that frustration is mostly represented through Kamiya’s facial expressions. And ultimately, Tsunakawa has to intervene himself and talk directly with Misumi, which is something he probably wanted to do also because he wanted to see Misumi’s reaction to him dropping Doumeki’s name. Yoneda managed to get everyone where she needs them to be, and it makes so much sense from a strategic point regarding the situation and from who these characters are in term of personality. It’s brilliant.

[oneshotnewbie]

Hi! Saw that you write for Carina De Luca and I am so hyped!! Can I request one where Reader waits for Carina at the bar after work and while she waits, there is thus woman who flirts with her? Carina has to watch it, swears un Italian before she goes all jealous mode? (Romantic)

Authors note: My Italian is not that good that I can say I translated everything correctly but I tried. Also, I did not really use swear words, but rather statements that show Carina´s anger because all the swear words I know, somehow did not fit Carina since she is more of a classic woman with decency.

...

You looked around, lost in thought. You stood in the front door of the bar, looking for a beautiful Italian woman you had arranged to meet after work here. Your gaze wandered around, but Carina probably had not arrived yet.

You went purposefully to the bar and took the last two seats that were still free. Before you could even take off your coat, the bartender sat down in front of you. She gave you a cheeky grin and you smiled kindly, trying to forget all the crap of the day.

"What can I get the pretty lady?" she asked and you looked at her helplessly. When you went to parties with Carina, you always held back your alcoholic beverages. Otherwise, you were not usually the person who would drink this brew voluntarily.

But on those days when nothing made sense and everything went wrong from the first thing in the morning, you needed something strong. "I dunno, just bring me something strong, please" you answered and she looked at you skeptically but nodded.

You looked around the bar again. There were small groups of tables everywhere, which were all occupied on a Friday evening. People were talking motionless and laughing while you were the only one still sitting alone.

"How come a woman like you is here on her own tonight?" the bartender started mixing the tequila in a shaker with some strawberries that had previously been strained. Her green eyes, sparkling like emeralds in the bar light not leaving you for a second. She scanned you up and down, her head cocked and a faint smile on her lips. "Like me?"

"Sweet, beautiful, charming, classy.. shall I continue?" she poured the strawberry margarita into a suitable glass and placed it in front of you. "Thank you. Both for the compliments and for the drink,"

You thought the bartender would let go of you and get back to work, but she stayed. She leaned on the counter with her elbows, her white blouse revealing a plunging neckline through an open button. You looked at your opposite and took a sip of your drink, it burned in your throat sharply and made you grimace.

The woman in front of you laughed.

"Too strong?" you looked up slightly annoyed and hoped that she would let go of you. You were not a person who would strictly forbid anyone to speak to you or seemed generally antipathetic, but this was something else.

The woman saw the ring on your finger, did you often catch her eyes glancing at the diamond-encrusted, glittering stone in the middle of a silver band that held it in the setting. Still, she was not counting on stopping flirting with you.

Her hand lay on your forearm, gently stroking it up and down with her fingertips. Her long sleeve was perfect cuffed at the elbows, showing an winding tattoo. This woman was persistent. You withdrew your arm from under her touch and leaned further back in your bar stool to gain some distance.

"We do not know each other and I.."

"Hi, I am Ava," your counterpart introduced herself quickly, interrupting your sentence. The brunette held out her hand and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "And you are?"

...

As soon as Carina entered the old bar, drunk guests fluttered towards the Italian and prevented her from getting a precise overview of the room, in which she was only looking for a single person.

But even though she burned every physical feature of you into her eyes and memory, she could not find you anywhere between the numerous people. You had been swallowed up by the turmoiling crowd in front of her and she groaned in annoyance. "Excuse me,"

Carina tiptoed through the people with difficulty, making the walk into a breakneck slalom while being careful not to pick up spilled beer on her expensive suit or touch any lit cigarettes and get burned.

As she rounded the little corner, she stopped abruptly in her tracks before her jaw dropped. In front of her stretched out a little scene that she had experiences many times before, but which made her incandescent every time. Anger rose up inside her like a thundercloud and she bit her lip in frustration.

Surprisingly, she spotted you sitting at the bar with your back showing to her. In front of you, a brunette whose hair was pulled back into a messy bun, some lose strands of hair framing her face. Her lips covered with red lipstick grinned cheekily at you while touching what was Carina´s.

"Per il mio bene, c'è un giorno in cui non flirta?" (for the sake of myself, is there one day where she does not get flirted on?). Visibly judging, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. The brunette wrapped her arms around her body and darted looks were thrown in your direction, which unfortunately were not fatal to the young woman in front of you. Sciocco, che non conosci limiti quando vedi quel fottuto anello a lei dito (Fool, that you know no bounds when you see that fucking ring on her finger)

She walked skillfully and with an upright, straight gait towards the bar while being able to catch the conversation just in time before you could answer the bartender.

"In a relationship. With me. Hi, I am Carina DeLuca,"

Startled, you jerked around in your seat and looked into your girlfriend´s delicate face. Her voice was deep and sounded annoyed, a dark gloming look in her eyes as she looked down at your lips and then back to your eyes while cocking her head to the side.

You could feel your heart start to beat insanely fast at her close presence, the smell of her expensive perfume, that expressed your wife´s contradictory and timeless nature, intoxicated you. Almost like she was trying to lure you to her lips instantly. "You really took your time,"

Carina´s jaw clenched at your remark and her body came dangerous close to yours. With her upper body, she leaned into you, smirking while her lips ghosted over yours. You felt your cheeks heat up at your close distance. Flustered, you watch up at her, feeling your body beaming at the graze of her soft skin on yours.

A strand of hair that managed to free itself from behind her ear fell onto your cheeks, momentarily pulling your gaze away from her lingering eyes before your eyes shut at her close proximity, butterflies filling your stomach. "Ochi su di me, bella" (eyes on me, beautiful). Carina mumbled darkly into your ear, making you shiver at the close distance of her lips on your earlobe, feeling your heartbeat raging in your throat.

Her hand was laying still and quietly over your throat, gently wrapping her fingers around it. With a little bit of pressure on the sides of it, you let out a whispered moan, leaving your mouth gasping before her lips slammed onto your own.

You melted into her touch as she pulled you even closer, your hands unconsciously gripping her waist. "Ti possiedo," (I own you). The brunettes voice was deep and husky. You could feel your breath hitching as you looked into her darkened and heated eyes, filled with lust. Her lips made contact with your jaw line, prepping it with a few small kisses. "Cazzo, mi fai impazzire" (Shit, you drive me crazy)

Carina let go of you and pulled you a little closer before putting an arm tightly around you. She threw a wide, cheeky grin at the bartender but at the same time a glare that reflected pure jealousy.

Unsure, Ava´s fingernails scraped the dark wood beneath her. The whole thing, that played out in front of her made her slightly uncomfortable. Nonetheless, question marks flooded above her head and could lit up whole Seattle. Her curiosity was piqued.

"So.. you are her wife?" she pointed to the ring on your finger and Carina started to chuckle loudly. Carina pulled your jacket off the bar stool and hastily held it open for you to slip into. She was impatient, almost jittery. "No, princess. I got the ring from a children's vending machine and just gave it to her,"

Ava raised her eyebrows sharply and grabbed your empty cocktail glass from the table as quickly as possible. Nervously, she pulled a washcloth from her shoulder and made a beeline for the other side of the bar. Her gaze was constantly lowered without once looking in your direction again. "I did not know you were the jealous type?"

Fully dressed to go out again, Carina grabbed you tightly by the wrist and dragged you through the crowd. She wasted no time pushing people out of her way, just wanting to get you out of here and bring you back to the apartment where she had you all to herself. "Woah, where are we going? I thought we were supposed to stay a little longer?"

"I need to do something about that little flirt you just pulled, teaching you some manners"

[remy-white]

Theme: Lost in Translation; Two characters from different cultures/languages trying to communicate and understand each other (and sparks fly?) (with dialogue)

1. "I can barely pronounce anything right, and you find that funny?"

"It's not just funny, it's endearing. Let's keep practicing, maybe over coffee?"

(Later) "Every mispronounced word and shared laugh has unexpectedly brought us closer."

"And every lesson feels less like class and more like... us discovering each other."

2. "How do you say 'dinner' in Japanese again?"

"Here, let me draw it for you—it’s easier!"

(Later) "Using drawings and gestures turned out to be our own little language."

"And every shared word feels like a step closer to understanding more than just our languages."

3. "My translation app isn't working. Can you understand this diagram?"

"Let's try acting it out instead; maybe that will be clearer!"

(Later) "Struggling through every sentence somehow made us understand each other better."

"Yes, and those laughs over mixed-up translations? They’ve translated into something quite special."

4. "How do you say 'beautiful view' in Italian?"

"Bella vista—just like this moment, isn’t it?"

(Later) "Navigating the language barrier was frustrating, but finding you made every confusing moment worth it."

"And each misstep in our speech became a step closer together in these beautiful places."

5. "Can you teach me how to order this dish properly?"

"Sure, repeat after me, and maybe teach me how to say it in your language too!"

(Later) "Learning the names of dishes turned into tasting a new kind of sweetness."

"Every lesson you gave me added another layer to our deliciously growing connection."

6. "I hope I said that right—did that even make sense?"

"It was perfect, and your accent is cute! Let’s try another sentence."

(Later) "Our screens couldn't hide the chemistry that was building with every corrected pronunciation."

"As we bridged our languages, we also bridged our hearts."

7. "I might not speak your language well, but this color should say a lot."

"Yes, let the paint talk when words fail us."

(Later) "Our mural became our shared language, full of colors and feelings we couldn't verbalize."

"And each stroke painted a piece of a romance that words could never have expressed."

8. "I can’t seem to pronounce this correctly; can you help?"

"Let’s break it down together, and share some stories along the way."

(Later) "Every translated word and shared experience brought our worlds closer."

"Our stories wove a narrative richer than any single language could tell."

9. "Do you think they’ll understand this metaphor in translation?"

"Let's tweak it together—I’ll make sure your voice shines through."

(Later) "Flirting through footnotes wasn’t something I anticipated, yet here we are."

"The nuances we shared crafted not just a translated work, but a manuscript of affection."

10. "I’m completely lost; can you point me to the museum?"

"Why point when I can take you there? Let’s make a day of it."

(Later) "Our broken phrases and laughter filled a day I thought would be lost in this city."

"Your company turned a quest for directions into an unexpectedly beautiful journey."