#Tired of the “sorry I'm not a native speaker” thing

[silver-alter]

The amount of people in the notes (purposefully?) missing the point is astounding.

It is not a call to write wrongly on purpose. The statement in the screenshot is a criticism of colonialism. Any country that isn't an English native speaker in one way or another is forced to use English in some capacity to interact with the world at large, sometimes even at the detriment of the actual native tongue of that country.

if you're a native English speaker, ask yourself: How likely are you to listen to music that is in a language other than English? Or read a story written in another language? Most will simply not engage with that content, because the world already caters to your language with enough content in it that you don't need to go out of your way to find it. But, say, if I write a story in Spanish... How many are going to read it? In my country, sure, a good deal of people might. But outside of it, the number drops immediately. Now imagine in Portuguese? Now try any language that doesn't use a Latin alphabet...

We have to learn English because not doing so means being isolated from the rest of the world, even if it means forgetting the rules of our own language.

Small example: in Spanish we use opening marks both for exclamation and questions on top of closing marks. (¡Buen dia! ¿Como estás? / Good morning! How are you?). I stopped using opening marks at all in Spanish, my mother tongue. Because I use English a lot. And that's just the first thing that came to mind. (Don't get me started on how I sometimes forget a word in Spanish but not in English...).

English natives, on the other hand, have no compulsion to learn other languages. And why would they? It established itself as the de facto international language. They don't have to see their own language being absorbed by English (ask the Japanese how that's going for them). And it shows when you have so many stubborn monolinguals in the comments thinking that hating English somehow equals to lack of skill, or even unworthiness of using the language outright. They simply don't care.

When English isn't your mother tongue, there's an unconscious pressure to perform exemplary, because doing otherwise means having your voice be ignored on the international stage. It means being mocked for being "unintelligent" or "incompetent". Which I'm sure I can make a few monolingual brits empathize with this sentiment. Ya'll just need to think about how you feel when people question your accents.

So yeah, we're more than allowed to feel strongly about the English language. And if any UK/US monolingual jackass is upset by this, well...

Consider we have, at the very least, double the repertoire of ways to tell you to kindly fuck off.

[bat-the-misfit]

oh no

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so… 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[snail-migraine]

Hey what do you think of a platonic yandere Malleus with a perfect child?

They get great grades, they are super well behaved, they never object to anything, simply what most people would describe as a perfect child.Only to discover that it's not true and that the reader has a completely different personality when he's alone/with friends.

They are those friends from the group who like art, their clothes are always covered in paint, they are always wearing headphones and I think it would be very interesting if she wanted to work with Music like being a singer

((sorry if this seems a little confusing, I'm not very good at expressing my ideas and it gets harder when my native language isn't English :p

Kisses from Brazil~★

It's okay! Honestly as a native English speaker I'm more than use to hearing and reading grammatical mistakes in English, often times coming from fellow native speakers, so please don't worry. Anyway, thank you and let's get to the fun stuff!

I imagine that if Malleus's had a perfect child things would go a bit differently. If you were a "perfect" child so to speak, you'd probably still be at N.R.C., he'll you'd probably even graduate without much trouble with school or with your father.

It isn't until you've graduated and you tell him your aspirations that things on his side begin to change. See cause Malleus was always under the impression that you'd become his successor, his heir to the throne. When you tell him your dreams of being a musician he's flabbergasted!

"When did this come about?" Is the first thing he says, the second being, "No."

He's against it wholeheartedly, and won't chamge his mind. When you try listing off reasons why he should let you go he gets angry and starts yelling. How dare you! You know better than to make stupid comments like these just to anger him! For someone as gifted as you, you surely are foolish. The fact that you'd even want to leave Briar Valley upsets him.

If you start rebelling against him like sneaking out when he's not looking, stealing his crown, and even painting an offensive doodle of him on his own throne. That's when he puts you up in the tower. Tired of your antics and just wanting thr sweet little child he knew back. None of...whoever this is.

-Anon-Yan

[onesaltysir]

If you make fun of people for the way they speak I hope your death is slow and painful and you are surrounded by people who will be so pleased when you finally die.

[mrsrileywrites]

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

[fangswbenefits]

getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with a really interesting plot (?), kinda like dark yelena I think

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering (r receiving), dom!yelena belova, BDSM, mommy kink, squirting, kinda innocent r, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3.8k

note: GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE, I'M FINALLY HERE. I'm so sorry I haven't been posting, I just really didn't have time to write and I have so many ideas and requests, and it's frustrating because I really want to write them but I don't have time lol. I finally finished this one, to be honest I don't know how I feel about the smut part, I honestly need to work more on it, but hey I'm trying. Anyways, I hope you guys like it. This one's for 💦🍯 anon, I really hope you like it. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake.

note 2: I actually can't believe how long it it lol. Based on this request

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Yelena felt everyday was the same as the previous one.

Wake up, pretend to be the happy wife and mother of a 10 year old child, take care of said child and fake husband, go to sleep and repeat the whole thing the next day. 

She was used to doing this kind of thing, that was what she had been trained for her whole life. Plus, she always had to be on watch, in case things went southways and she and the little agent had to make a run. 

But still, she couldn’t help but grow tired of the routine, constantly waiting for something different to happen. She wasn’t supposed to talk to her neighbours, the less people knew about her the better, her orders were just to play the lovely neighbour next door. But everything changed when you moved into town. 

She was notified of you arriving a week early. She was given a report of you, and everything in it seemed normal, a few fines here and there, but nothing more than that. She didn’t think anything of you, just another townie. But she got it all wrong. 

The first time she properly met you was the same Saturday night you had arrived in town. Yelena opened the door to you knocking, holding a pie in your hands. She was completely taken aback by your bright smile, it took her a whole second to function like a normal human being. 

She invited you in for a glass of wine, being the lovely neighbour she was. She introduced you to her ‘husband’ and ‘child’, and a few minutes later you parted ways. 

Long gone after you had gone, she could still smell your lingering scent on her house, causing a revolution on her stomach. She didn’t know what was going on with her, her heart began to beat faster at the mere thought of you, she felt her knees getting weaker and an unpleasant feeling in her core. 

That very same night, she waited for her husband and child to fall asleep, locked herself in the bathroom, and touched herself to the thought of you. 

The next day she made it her new mission to get to know you better. Because of her secret agent duties, she couldn't just approach you and talk to you. No, that would put you in danger, and Yelena couldn’t risk that. So she watched you, from afar, and soon it became her favourite hobby. 

Everyday Yelena would wake up, cook breakfast for her family, wait for them to get out of the house, get dressed and wait for you to start your morning routine. Everyday she would walk a few steps behind you, watching your every move. She would follow you to the park and watch as you played with your dogs. She would follow you to the cafe where you always had breakfast, follow you home, follow you to the library when you needed to study, follow you when you went shopping. She became your shadow. 

Sometimes, she would pretend to run into you, just to get a closer look and talk to you. Sometimes she would be bold enough to touch you, just softly brushing her fingers against your skin. Each time she did, she felt electricity going through her whole body. 

But she wanted more from you, she didn’t want to just watch you and imagine all the things she would do to you. She needed you, badly. You were driving her insane, with your perfect shiny hair, your beautiful smile and your flawless body. Touching herself to the tough of you wasn’t enough anymore. 

[...]

Yelena was patiently waiting for you to walk out of your house, but the hours passed and you were nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t from her window, never lost sight of your front door, there was no way you had walked out and she had missed you. 

She began to worry about you. You were the kind of person to make the most of the day, you didn’t sleep in, not even on the weekends. She started to think that maybe something had happened to you. Maybe she got too close to you and messed things up. 

Without giving too much thought, she walked out of her home, crossed the road and stood right in front of your door. She raised her hand to knock but she stopped herself once she heard loud whimpers coming from the inside. 

She quickly reached for her gun, standing by in case she needed it. She felt her heartbeat in her ears, remorse and fear filling her body at the thought of you suffering because of her. She went around your house, trying to get closer to the source of the sounds, and stopped in front of a window where the whimpers were louder. 

Her eyes winded at the sight before her eyes, she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold the gasped that was about to escape from her lips. Slowly she put away her gun, her eyes not moving away, not even an inch.

You were very much alive, naked on your bed. Your eyes were closed, your breathing was heavy and while your right hand was in between your thighs your left one was pinching your nipples. Moans and whimpers were coming out of your mouth. 

Yelena knew that was wrong, but she couldn’t look away. Not that she tried or wanted to. The more she looked at you, the wetter she got. It was one thing watching you from afar on your daily routine, but it was a whole nother thing watching you in the comfort of your home, naked, pleasuring yourself. 

She was about to make her way back home to sort herself out to this new image of you when she heard something different coming from your mouth. At first she thought she had misheard, but then you repeated the word, over and over again as you were getting closer to your release. 

She watched as you thrust your fingers in and out of you faster, your brows were furrowed, your lips parted, your back arched like a cat, and a second later she watched you coming undone. 

“Fuck! Yes, Yelena!” she heard you screamed, as you opened your leg wider, giving her the perfect view of your cunt covered in your thick cum. 

It took her three whole minutes to snap out of it and run back home. The second she stepped in, she went to her night table drawer, grabbed her wand vibrator, locked herself in her bathroom and came hard to the thought of you until she couldn’t take the pleasure anymore. 

In the late afternoon, she watched through her window as you exited your house and headed to the park to walk around your dogs. She thought it was hilarious, you weren't as innocent as you appeared to be. Sweet kind Y/n, who touched herself to the thought of her supposedly married and with a child neighbour. The need to have you became stronger and now she wasn’t going to hold back. 

[...]

You were her new mission now, she planned on seducing you. She invited you over every time her husband and child went away, doing whatever it was they were told to do. You gladly accepted, Yelena was the only one who had been nice to you ever since you moved, you thought you could use a friend. Even if you didn't have any friendly feelings for her, even though you fantasised about her every night, even though she was married and with a child and even though you found that last part a bit arousing. Knowing that she was out of your limit only made her more irresistible 

So every afternoon the two of you would have a coffee together. Yelena didn’t talk much, she didn’t want to nor could she. All she wanted was to hear your lovely sweet voice. So she would ask you all kinds of things just to keep you talking. 

Slowly but surely, she would throw you hints. She would say things like how her husband wasn’t what he used to be, a big fat lie since she didn’t properly know the guy. Or she would say how everyday felt the same as the one before, a half lie since her whole word got more interesting once you showed up. 

She would find any excuse just to touch you, in a subtle way. She would touch your hands, sometimes even your waist or cheeks. Everytime the two of you hugged goodbye, Yelena would hold you tightly against her, wanting to feel your body against hers, but both of your clothes were always in the way. Still, she found some comfort in your scent. 

And then, finally, you realised that you weren't just imagining things, that Yelena needed you as badly as you needed her. Your afternoon meetings became make-up sessions. 

Yelena wanted to take things slowly, to not scare you away, even though she felt like she was going to die if she didn’t have a taste of your body. But you just couldn't take it anymore, your fingers weren’t doing the job anymore, you needed her to take care of you. 

So, the next day, the second her husband and child drove away, you desperately knocked on her door, and once she opened the door you smashed her lips against hers. 

“I can’t wait any longer, Yel,” you whispered on her lips, not caring if anyone had seen the two of you. 

“Fine, detka. We’ll do it your way,” the nickname caused butterflies in your stomach. 

She grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside and once she closed the door she slammed you against it. 

You felt your breath already getting heavier and she had barely touched you. She traced your jaw with her fingertip, moving down to your collar bone and further down to your breast. You shudder as she traced your nipple through your clothes. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together looking for some kind of release. 

“Patience, malyshka,” she said, getting her knee in between your thighs. “I’ll take good care of you, yes?” her russian accent got thicker, filled with lust. 

You felt as if your skin was on fire, just from her touch and closeness. 

“There are so many things I wanna try out with you, pretty girl,” she said, kissing your jaw and neck. Leaving love bites all over your sensitive skin, your head fell back giving her more access, as you tried to hold back the soft moans escaping from your lips.

“I want you to do anything you want to me,” you breathed out, your mind getting foggy as all you could focus on was her.

 “Really? Will you let me use you?”

“Yes,” you gulped down. 

“Mommy.”

“What?” you innocently asked. 

“‘Yes, mommy’. Say it, detka.”

“Yes, mommy,” you swallowed hard, the new nickname getting your core wetter. 

“Good girl,” she kissed your cheek. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?”, she said, a firm gripped on your thigh. 

“Please, mommy.”

She grabbed your hand and the two of you made your way to her bedroom. Once inside, she made sure to lock the door, just in case anyone who wasn’t wanted would come in. Her lips found yours again, it didn’t matter how many times you had tasted her lips, they always felt like the first time, sending shivers up your spine. 

As she stepped closer to you, you unconsciously stepped back. The back of your knees finally hit the bed and you fell on it, Yelena was fast to crawl on top of you. A loud soft moan escaped from your lips once you felt the pressure of her whole body on top of yours, wanting for the two of you to stay forever this close to each other. Her lips moved down to your neck as her hand tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

“Please, take it off,” you breathed out. 

She did as you told her to, smiling to herself once she realised you weren’t wearing anything underneath your shirt. 

“Naughty Y/n, not wearing a bra. This is how badly you wanted me to fuck you, right? So desperate, babygirl.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Oh, man. Look at those tits,” she said, adjusting herself on top of you. Her calloused fingertips found their way to your nipples, pinching and twisting them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

She gave your nipples a few licks and bites before getting up. 

“Where��re you going?” you whispered, confused that she was leaving you half naked on her bed. 

“You said you would let me use you, right peaches?” her voice was hoarse.

“I did,” you swallowed hard, she was definitely up to something, you could feel the smirk on her face.

“We need a safe word, babygirl,” you could only see her back, she was kneeling down in front of her closet looking for something. 

“A safe word?” you stuttered, what would you need a safe word for?

“I promise you won’t have to use it, baby. But if you want me to stop or you dont feel uncomfortable just say ‘vanilla’, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, not sure what she was referring to but trusting her nonetheless. 

Once she faced you, you noticed that she was carrying a lot of things. Most of them were fun bright colours and they seemed to be made of silicone, but what made your core go wetter were the metal ones. What were those for?

“Okay,” she said as she placed them on the bed, “let’s take this off,” she gestured to your pants. 

You, being the obedient girl you were, followed her instruction, wanting more than anything to see what was next to come. 

“Such a good girl,” she praised, trailing her fingertip through your body. “Do you know what this is for, malyshka?” she grabbed one of the metal ones.

You shook your head. 

“Of course you don’t,” she smiled down at you. “This bad boy right here is to keep your leg spread out for me, can I use it on you?”

Even though she was the one in control of the whole situation and she was demanding you to do things you haven't done before, there was some tenderness in her words, which only made you want her more. 

You could only nod at her. The truth was you would let her ruin you in every way possible. 

You felt the leather cuffs around your calves, the metal bar in between your legs keeping them open as she had said. 

“What’s that one for?” you nod your head to a bigger leather cuff, two metal chains hanging from the middle of it. 

“Oh, we don’t need to use—”

“I want to,” you cut her off. You knew better than to go against her but you wanted to give your everything to her. 

“Fine, if you insist,” she smiled at you. 

She grabbed the thing and got on top of you. She clasped the leather cuff around your neck, making you gulp. The chains had clips at each end, your brows furrowed not understanding what those were for. 

Yelena could tell you were confused by them, she found the whole thing both arousing and cute. She felt lucky she was the one to teach you all this kind of stuff. 

“Now, these little guys go on these little ones,” she said, grabbing both clips and clapping them around your nipples. 

The soon you felt them around your nipples you felt this shock of both pain and pleasure, a soft moan escaped from your lips. You could feel your cunt was already dripping wet and she was just getting started. 

She got off of you, and took a few seconds to admire you. You were now completely on display for her, legs apart and a collar around your neck. Yelena thought you couldn’t look prettier but then again there you were, all cute and bothered, and most importantly all hers to do as she pleased. 

“What’s next?” you breathed out.

“Now these ones,” she grabbed two more leather cuffs and wrapped them around both your wrists. “Okay lift up your legs for me,” you did as she told you and then somehow she clasped the cuffs to the metal bar. 

You helplessly tried to move, but there was no use, she had completely restrained you.

“You look so good, detka. I want to take a picture of you looking all submissive for me,” she kissed your forehead and you could only smile at her words please that you were being good for her. 

You watched her as she grabbed a weird looking microphone, she pressed a bottom and the thing started doing a buzzing sound. 

Yelena lifted up your legs and pressed the thing right in your core, exactly where you needed her the most. A loud moan escaped from your lips as soon as the thing touched your skin. Your eyes once again rolled to the back of your head, finally getting some kind of actual pleasure. 

She traced small tight circles around your clit with the thing, making you whimper and setting your skin on fire. You wanted to close your legs, giving that the pleasure was all too much at once, and that was when you realised why she wanted the metal bat in between your legs. 

She was actually tourtung you, in the most satisfying way a human being could torture another one. She was giving you what you wanted, what you needed, but it wasn’t nearly enough. 

“Mommy, please,” you begged. 

“What is it, baby?” 

“I need you,” you gasped as she kept the thing torturing you poor clit. “I need you, mommy.”

“It’s okay, baby.”

She traced your entrance with her fingertips, gathering all your wetness. She licked her fingers, having a small taste of you and she couldn't help but moan at how sweet you tasted. She quickly moved her fingers back to your core, and slowly pushed her middle finger inside of you. 

As soon as you felt the pressure of her finger inside you, you once again wanted to close your legs, and you found it arousing the fact that you couldn't. 

She pulled back her finger and pushed one more back in.You felt your cunt being stretched out by her two fingers, making you whimper. While she was giving your clit attention with the white vibrating thing, she quickly found a perfect pace inside and out of you. 

It all soon became too much. The collar around your neck, the clips on your nipple, the bar in between your legs, the thing on your clit and her fingers inside and out of you. 

“Mommy, fuck,” you couldn’t formed words your brain too foggy to, “ I think I’m going to come.”

Yelena took that as a sign to get her pace faster, chasing after your release. You could hear the sounds of skin against skin as Yelena pushed her finger inside and of you. The closer you got to your orgasm the more you felt the need to close your leg given it was all too much for you. 

As tears formed in your eyes, you felt something in your stomach snapped as your orgasm took over you. Yelena didn’t slow down, and soon enough she found herself covered in your juices. You squirted, warm liquid coming out of your cunt, getting all the bed sheets and Yelena’s arms wet. 

Once you came down from your high, you realised what just had happened. You didn’t know you could do that, you have never done that. 

“Well would you look at that,” she said, “I think I just outdid myself, don’t you think, detka?” she had a grin on her face. 

You felt your cheeks go red but chucked at her words. She had in fact outdone herself. 

You felt your whole body getting numb and your eyes getting heavier. 

“You’re feeling sleepy, babygirl?”

You nodded at her, too tired to answer her. 

“You can rest now,” she said, unclasping the cuffs around your wrist and calves, but leaving the collar around your neck. 

Through your tired eyes, you watched as she undressed herself. You brows furrowed and Yelena noticed your confusion. 

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to do anything, alright? Just let me use you as you promised me, okay?” her tone was so kind but her words had other intentions. Still she was right, you told her she could use you as she pleased. 

She grabbed what looked like a double ended silicone dick and slowly pushed inside herself half of it, as a soft moan escaped from her lips you couldn't help but rub your thighs together feeling your core hot once again but were too tired to do anything about it. 

But Yelena wasn’t tired at all. She spread your legs open and adjusted herself in between you. You groaned as she rubbed the silicone dick along your slit. And then slowly pushed it inside of you. 

She started at a slow pace, in and out of you, getting you all hot and bothered again. As she picked up her pace, you could feel your second orgasm getting closer. And by the way her brows were furrowed, her eyes shut and her lips slightly parted you could tell she was close too. 

You grabbed her by her chin and pressed your lips against hers, her tongue soon finding her way inside your mouth, tasting every corner. She moved her lips down your neck and found your nipple. She unclasped the clip and replace it with her mouth. She sucked, licked and bit your poor nipple as she trusted even faster and deeper into you. 

“Mommy, I’m gonna—” but a loud moan stopped your words, as Yelena trusted faster and sloppier into you as she chased her own orgasm 

“Oh, fuck,” you heard her said before she cry out your name over and over again, reaching her orgasm. And you came right there. 

She came down from her high, slowly thrusting into you. Once she was done she lay next to you, both your breaths were heavy. She unclasped the other clip from your nipple and kissed your forehead. 

“You did so good, malyshka,” you had a sleepy smile on your face, already thrifting off to sleep. 

As you slipped away from reality, you felt her wrapping her arms around you and started singing some russian lullaby. 

Yelena watched as your breathing became slower and soon enough you were fast asleep. She chuckled at how tired you had gotten from a few little things. She wanted to have you like this forever, all to herself. But she couldn’t, she was an assassin for god’s sake. 

Or maybe she could, she just needed to come up with the right plan.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[shamrockst4r]

Q: "kiddos, aren't y'all tired from the fact that most of the questions revolve around relationships and crushes?"

it's an 'ask me' thing from another platform but with monster high chars! and this one in particular is a secret santa gift for @makukhtse twyla's design and personal headcanons belong to her <333 i just designed an outfit for twyla

also sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, i'm not a native english speaker, but what i am is sleep deprived sooo yeah

[ephemerallovesong]

Rooftop [HSR Blade x Reader headcanons]

Sometimes life gets so hard that you want to end it all. It seems as if the world around is losing all its colors. But he knows what it's like to wish for death. And he won't let you leave him. Pairing: Blade x gn!reader

CW/TW: heavy topics, reader is really depressed and suicidal, attempt to end life. Do NOT interact if this can trigger you.

A/n: I'm in a depressive episode again and can't visit my psychotherapist right now, so here some comforting HCs. Please, talk with a specialist if you have problems with mental health, you are strong and everything's going to be alright. Not proofread, as a non-native english speaker I'm sorry for any mistakes.

◈ You have always been a ray of sunshine in Blade's life ever since you both met. Even if he didn't talk about it openly. Your care for him made him feel something warm again other than an all-consuming emptiness inside. ◈ But sometimes even the brightest sunny day can be overshadowed by clouds. ◈ You were especially cheerful that evening. So much so that it became suspicious. Especially when Blade noticed how empty and tired your eyes were despite your smile. ◈ You tried not to talk about your depression with other people. Jokes here and there, nothing more. Although Blade still noticed it. And he was worried. Although it was hard to tell from his cold and neutral expression. ◈ "Blade, promise me something? Promise that you can find something good in this life, no matter what." you said with a warm, yet slightly sad smile. ◈ But he has already found it. You. ◈ He just looked at you silently for a while before simply nodding. Your phrase was even more suspicious than your behavior. ◈ And then you left. ◈ But intuition told Blade that something was clearly wrong. He hesitated for a while before following you. Quiet, like a cat on the hunt. ◈ You went up to the roof. ◈ At first it looked like simple stargazing. You stood there and looked up at the dark sky. A light breeze gently ruffled your hair. ◈ "I am so sorry. I'm really sorry. I can't take it anymore." you mumbled to yourself. And there was silence. ◈ But as you confidently walked towards the edge of the roof with a heavy sigh, Blade broke this silence and rushed towards you. He understood what exactly you wanted to do. And he couldn't let that happen. ◈ You barely got your foot over the edge when he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest. ◈ "Wh... What?" there was so much confusion and despair in your voice as you were pressed against his chest. "No! No! Let me go! Let me go!" ◈ You've already made up your mind and you can't back out. But Blade held you tightly in his arms. ◈ You cried and screamed and tried to break free from his grip, but it was useless. Your own heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. ◈ "I can't let you go." Blade's voice is barely above a whisper. "Not now. Never." ◈ He tightly held your waist with one hand while he stroked your head with the other. You trembled and sobbed and tried to fight. ◈ As soon as you start to sink to the floor Blade dropped down with you. You cried and he held you in his arms as tightly as he could. The thoughts in his head raced at the speed of light. It felt like it wasn't really happening. He could lose you. No. This cannot happen. ◈ With every minute your crying became quieter, and the struggle was weaker. Until you finally go limp in his arms, breathing heavily. ◈ "I'm here. I'm with you. Everything will be all right." his voice was still quiet, he continued to stroke your hair. "I understand how you feel. Like no one else. But (Y/N), I won't let you leave me." ◈ He should have noticed earlier that something was wrong with you. So that it doesn't get to this point. ◈ But he was glad that he listened to his intuition and got here in time. ◈ "You told me to find something good in this life. But I almost lost it. I almost lost you, (Y/N). You are the most valuable thing in my life." ◈ You fell completly silent as you listened to his words. ◈ "Please, I can't lose you. I do not want to lose you."

[nqueso-emergency]

I have the same feeling as the previous anon. Like when knowing a tv series that I have loved for a few years, and then finding out that the fandom is so toxic makes me shocked. I watched this tv series since 2019, and I am not in the fandom either not following any 911 social media accounts. I started to watched it just bcuz interest in emergency and rescue things. I stop to watch before Season 5 was released cuz busy life. I started watching back in July cuz I heard Buck has a relationship with Tommy, I was curious, then I LOVE IT, THE KISS, THE CHEMISTRY. I’m really happy about it so I went to 911 ig, when I saw the deleted scene and opened the comment section🫠 At first I thought it was just that post only but when I opened others that related to Buck or Tommy…🫠 It doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry to say that but their behaviour very childish. The more they hate, the more I love🤭

tbh, I hope Buck and Tommy will become endgame, cuz as an audience, I'm little tired of seeing Buck having a new relationship almost every season. I feel like is good to see Buck have a stable relationship especially with Tommy till the end. Anyway, I enjoy your blogs🫶

(I native speaker of Chinese, forgive me for my bad English)

I understood you just fine!! I hope you enjoy season 8!!

[v88sy]

Yeah, you’re absolutely right, no one knows how the show and the couples will end, but realistically speaking, the show is already in season 8 and if they want a meaningful relationship for Buck, I think it’s time and developing Tommy Buck just to break up and start all over again…it seems exhausting in my opinion, it would mean getting Buck in the hamster wheel again… don’t you think?

As for next episode, I’m hoping that even if we get some drama between them, they will fix it and maybe exchange the first “I love you”, I would love for them to move in together but if I’m completely honest, they didnt give any hint about it (maybe I’m wrong and we get this kind of conversation next episode)

What do you think is going to be the thing about Tommy’s past that Buck figures out?

Sorry about my English, not my first language…

Oh, I absolutely agree with you on the first part. Everyone has said they're tired of the failed relationships for Buck, and I know I am. Now, I'm not one to press the narrative of "everyone needs to have a partner to be complete and happy" and as a matter of fact, I absolutely hate that narrative in media. I'm pretty anti-romantic relationships for me, in my own personal life.

BUT, that other half is something that Buck has always wanted. It's something he longs for and I think he should get it. I want to see it be Tommy.

I've been pretty much wanting them to get married since almost the beginning, but you're right, I just don't think they're there yet from what we've seen. I was firmly hoping the "moving together in episode 6" rumor was true, but at this stage, I think a shared "I love you" is far more likely.

As far as what I think the issue will be with Tommy...I think he feels guilty for abandoning someone at some point in his past. I actually made a post about how I think it might be his dad. It (the overall theme of abandoning someone, not specifically his dad) was set up in this episode, and would definitely set off a lot of emotions in Buck, with abandonment issues of his own.

I know another popular theory is that he's still married (in legal terms only) or was previously, but that's too much like Lone Star. While at the same time, I think still likely.

Don't ever apologize for not being a native English speaker! Nothing to be sorry for 💓

[compassionatereminders]

This might be the most obnoxious thing ever but it's genuinely intended as a help because you're not a native speaker and you mixed up two words that I think can be easily mixed up, but where it could confuse the meaning. You wrote "carrier" to refer to a career, that is, someones job situation and similar. No need to respond to this, just wanted to let you know. I love your blog and I'm sorry if this is obnoxious but I personally actually appreciate if people correct me.. And I'm only doing it because your English is generally flawless, so therefore it stood out and I thought you might like to know

No it's cause I'm tired and had three beers, I'm gonna fix it though!

[meimi-haneoka]

{drabble} Somewhere I belong - Kaito/Akiho

This is the second Kaito x Akiho / YunaAki drabble that is paired with the first one I wrote from Akiho's POV. Please read that one first so you can have a better understanding of the situation!

The setting is the same as the first drabble, but Kaito's thoughts drift all over the place because....well, he's Kaito. He's been officially named as the "overthinker" by CLAMP so now I'm going to call him that for quite some time 😂

As you will be able to see, while Akiho thought to herself without problems that she loved him, you won't see Kaito thinking that, here. This is a very early stage of their new life and he's still far from acknowledging any of that, but he's starting to come to terms with things, at least.

This one might be a bit more angstier than the other one, again because this is Kaito we're talking about. His self-loathing won't disappear overnight. But I hope that the finale will comfort you, at least. ❤️

Once again, I'm not a native English speaker so forgive me if any line sounds weird!

P.s. Dandelion, thank you again! P.s.2 Yes, I also like Linkin Park 😁

Excerpt:

“I’m sorry...”, I blurted out, in a whisper. Every time we ended up in this situation, I would apologize. And she would never reply to it.   Maybe an apology wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I had yet to find out what were the right words to say. 

Kaito's POV

I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it. 

The way she looked at me when they told her everything, that night.  The way she had slowly turned her head and kept her gaze fixed on me, while the British magician rattled off all that my plan had entailed, down to the way it had affected my body. He recovered all the previous memories, and he knew Akiho-san needed an explanation more than anyone else, but also knew I was in no condition (neither mental, nor physical) to give it to her. I could feel her gaze piercing through me, while someone was helping me sitting down, as I couldn't even stand up. 

Her hands gripped tightly the tablet, shaking. Her blue eyes, usually crystalline and bright like the Caribbean Sea, darkened several shades and became like a raging storm. They once again glazed over with emerging tears, but she probably held them back, because not even one dropped. 

And I felt so weak. My guilt, growing again by the second.   I would've given anything to remove that hardened gaze from her and bring back the soft features I've always known. But you see, that was my problem.   Giving everything the way I did before wasn’t the correct answer. And I had finally surrendered to the truth, that night.  But I didn't know any other way. I simply didn't know how to express how important she is to me without pushing it to an extreme, and that was exactly how we came to that point.  

I don’t know when exactly I started to hear that voice inside of me, telling me that I wanted to connect with her. 

I could hear it every day, before I carried out my plan. Louder and louder and louder. Kicking and screaming inside of me. I tried to fight it for so long, forcing myself not to hear it. But when she asked Sakura-san to bring me back, and she stated that she refused to keep living a fabricated life, wanting to go back to what she had before with me, I suddenly grew so tired. So, so tired. I was exhausted. I didn't want to fight it anymore. 

I've fought countless magicians ever since I was a little boy, and defeated every single one of them. People kept me at a distance for that. And yet, completely oblivious to all of that, she was the one who defeated me every single time.   Even this time around, she won. She won over that brutal, devastating desire to disappear forever that had consumed my life to such degree. She won over my guilt and self-loathing that I, quite frankly, haven’t got rid of yet. 

So here I was, now, clinging to her like a lifeline in the kitchen, while I waited to regain control of my breathing. I had tried to hide it from her, the first couple of times after I got back on my feet, following that fateful night. But she found out every single time and made very clear that if we wanted to live together from now on, this had to stop. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. Why was I fighting it again?  So I did as she requested, and by now, this was already the third episode of seizure she had witnessed. 

I didn't know.... how any of this worked. But I wanted to learn. I wanted to try. 

I was slowly starting to get it. Why I caved in and agreed to go back to her, that night, despite how confused I was and how much I still despised myself for making her cry like that.   She made me feel wanted.   Made me feel accepted. Made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere. I hadn’t realized how much I actually had yearned for that, all this time. 

I thought I was nothing to her. I thought that she could've lived perfectly fine without me, without remembering anything of what we experienced together. Because, in the end, who was I? Just her butler. I embarked on that mission with the full understanding that I would've always been just her butler, and I played that part till the end at the best of my ability. An expendable tool to let her reach the happiness she deserved.  

But I wasn't. I wasn't, and I couldn't see that. I could only finally realize it that night in the most harrowing way possible, causing that face I wished to see eternally smile to be tainted with burning tears, as she poured out all her pain. Pain that I had caused. This wasn't the kind of support she wanted from me, and I failed her terribly. 

I was willing to do anything to make things right. So when she asked me, no, rather demanded to not be kept in the dark whenever I had one of my seizures, I had no choice but to comply. That was what she wanted, and there was no way I could refuse it to her. 

But now that the medicine was finally starting to kick in, and my breathing stabilized to a more normal rate, I raised my head to look at her worried face and I couldn’t help but think how unfair all of this was on her. She was so young, and she didn’t deserve to withstand all of this because of my choices.  

“I’m sorry...”, I blurted out, in a whisper. Every time we ended up in this situation, I would apologize. And she would never reply to it.   Maybe an apology wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I had yet to find out what were the right words to say. 

She helped me stand up and supported me all the way to the couch, where I finally laid down and released the tension from my stiffened muscles. Seizures usually left me completely exhausted and sore.  

She sat down on the floor next to the couch, and we exchanged a long, wordless stare. Her eyes were again clear and bright. Before I drifted in a dreamless heavy sleep, I remember I felt so grateful to have her by my side.   I didn’t deserve it.   But the warmth I felt in my chest, contrarily to before, felt so nice.   And I was pretty sure she was the cause of it. 

[anonymous-dentist]

I just read your long post about q!Cellbit, the murders and him being morally grey and my take is:

Be aware that I know superficially about his lore (cause i started watching streams and not a few clips here and there after Bagi was announced) and I'm not a native english speaker

I think people forget therapy only works if you actively fight against your bad habits and learn new ones. It can take years, sometimes decades to abandon certain habits that you do on instinct.

In the last stream q!Cellbit said many times he's exhausted. His son is missing, one of his best friends also disappeared, the other is acting weird, his mentor figure is destroying himself with all of his grief, he learned he had a sister that he doesn't remember, the people who kidnapped his friends, manipulated and tortured him threatened him with 'consequences' whatever that means. and I'm sure people will point out many more things that i didn't mention

Idk his character enough to know if he is scared or just worried, but I'm pretty sure he's too tired to fight old habits. All the lying, manipulating, and murdering kept him safe during HG and his time in prison. This things shapped his morals, sure maybe he agrees with the therapist that those things aren't the healthiest, but he won't hesitate to do them if it means that them will keep him and the people he cares safe. We saw him lying to save q!Felps, and again when he implied that q!Badboyhalo should torture the fed worker/Ron to get info about the eggs.

I've seen people theorizing about the murders being evil cucurucho work or someone trying to frame q!Cellbit, but I don't doubt it could be q!Cellbit himself, so let's assume it was q!Cellbit, I'm kinda interested if this situation will be a relapse or if he gave up entirely on fighting this old habits

God, this is huge 0-0, I'm sorry

Good points! Honestly, I’m just interested to see how everything plays out when we get q!Cellbit back later this week

[moth-time]

hello friend.

for the non-us asks, can i pls ask (for whatever country you want/both): 4, 5 & 7?

Hi! Thanks you for sending these in :D

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

french: oh man there's so many fantastic french dishes, you make me choose one?? Ok I'm going to pick a classic but specifically my mom's version (my mom is dutch, does this make this fusion cuisine?) because it tastes like childhood and also it's so, so easy to make:

Tarte tatin! It's a caramelized apple cake. The fancy versions (see picture below) requires you to carefully arrange the apples and painstakingly flip the cake, but the lazy version is a lot easier.

My mom basically does it like this: - In a deep dish, arrange apple slices in circles until the dish is full. Sour apples are best. Make two layers, ideally the whole thing is slightly domed. You can add a few fresh rosemary needles to the apples if you want, but only a few! 5-7 should be plenty. - Drape dough of your choice on top - my mom usually uses store-bought laminated dough - making sure to cover the whole thing. Then poke some holes in the dough with a knife. You can arrange them in a circle for prettiness. - Pour a cup worth of melted butter and honey (50/50) on the whole thing, making sure to pour a generous amount into the holes in the dough so the apples are also soaked. - Push the whole thing into the oven at 180°C (with bottom heat!) for roughly half an hour, or until the dough is golden and flaky. - That's it! You can flip it but I don't bother, I just messily scoop apples and dough out of the dish. The honey and butter caramelizes and the whole dish is so, so tasty.

german: I really really really like a good Gulasch. Especially with wild meat like deer meat (Rehgulasch). I guess arguably it's not a dish specific to my country, since a whole lot of places make this too, but they're always a little different in every region. This one has mushrooms and juniper berries in it, and it's a perfect, hearty winter dish. Serve with potatoes or potato dumplings (Kartoffelknödel).

5. favourite song in your native language?

I'm so sorry neither of these are going to be even remotely comprehensible for non-native speakers. I always want to share obscure french new-wave music or german punk, but both of these rely heavily on people understanding the lyrics. They are funny because they are absurd, or crass, and very hard to translate. I guess that's part of the charm?

That said:

french: Le blues de Francoise - La Femme La Femme (the woman) is a French psych-punk band who does very floaty electronic music. Their lyrics tend to be really sarcastic and mean, the characters they play deeply unlikable, and the contrast to the peppy, spacey dance music is very funny to me. The lyrics of Le blues de Francoise (Francoise's blues) are about a woman named Francoise who is having a depressive episode following a break-up, and is told from the point of view of a "friend" who tells her "come on Francoise, get yourself together. I tell you this as a friend, you aren't pretty when you're crying". It's SO mean, and so many of their songs are like that x)

A lot of french alternative music is like this, imo. Just. Mean. Or plain absurd, french humor has a lot of absurdism to it.

german: Alt sein - Pisse Pisse (literally just: Piss) is a German punk band. They write songs about social inequality and deeply sarcastic and crass about it. Alt sein (to be old) is about being old and grumpy and slightly senile (or maybe just pretending to be to get away with theft). It's really hard to translate, it's a very German punk sentiment. Being really tired of the world turning, mad and impotent, doing small stupid things just to have any kind of impact on the world around you. All of their songs are kinda like that. I also really like Vernissage, ranting about the world of commercial art and how you have to kiss ass to make it anywhere, not having merit but just being the best at groveling.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

french:

cagouille: a regional word for snail! It's just a very cute and fun word. Cagouille! Doesn't it fit the animal perfectly? It's so round.

vistemboir: ok this is a made up word but it sounds so quintessentially french and I love it. A vistemboir is an object from a short story by Jaques Perret, titled Le Machin (the thing). It's a thingamabob, essentially.

oiseau: french word for bird, mainly famous for being five vowels and only one consonant (and a fricative, to boot). Isn't it perfectly shaped?

german:

Kreisverwaltungsreferat: look this one just cracks me up because it's so damn german. Google translates it as "district administration department" and yeah sounds about right. But look at it. It has to many letters. So many of them are consonants. Presposperous.

Rettich: Raddish. Look, it's the same one in english. But the german one has a 'ch' sound in it, which english doesn't have. Fun sound! And a little Rettich is a Radieschen. Look at it, it's got a diminutive and everything!

Schorle: Okay this one I'm adding mainly because a Schorle is a cool thing that seems to be fairly specific to Germany: It's fruit juice cut with sparkling water. Typically half and half. Depending on the type of juice you would add the name of the fruit in front. So Apfelschorle (with apple juice), Johannisbeerschorle (with red current juice), etc. You can get a Schorle in p much any restaurant, it's usually the cheapest non-alcoholic option, too. Refreshing!