#Unless u speak french

[bthebeachboi]

Louisiana, drunk out of his mind, low-key dirty talking in French for past hour in the meeting to Florida: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Parce que tu serais magnifique dans mon lit, étalé sous moi. N'aie pas peur, je peux toujours changer de place avec toi, je suis sûr que tu te sentirais aussi bien en moi que je le pense...

OK, Cal and Gov, watching him now in silence, all understanding French:

Florida, who doesn't understand shit, nodding for the fifth time because his Bro is important and loved: You're so right, Louie, you're so right.

[French taken from translator, so don't expect much, my dirty talking abilities are also down low, so-]

Anyway, I hc Louie as at least heavily flirtatious when actually drunk, man's got no filter, he just talks until something stops him, be it a person or a blackout.

[bogkeep]

realized something earlier today. you know that trope where bilingual characters in fiction will sprinkle their native language into english sentences? and how i personally, while i can't speak for every bilingual person on the planet, don't really see that happening in reality pretty much ever, at least not with people who are passingly fluent in english? anyway i realized i DO mix languages, just the other way. i will happily throw english words and phrases into my daily speech when chatting with my peers in norwegian or czech like it's no biggie. because we all know english here, so it makes sense to swap in words if i'm falling short! but why would i say words other people don't understand in conversation...!

[imflyingfish]

Hey why does qsmp fanart get so little attention unless its the highest of highest standards? Even ones that ARE the highest of highest standards dont get reblogged. Comments also seem to be really slim and i dont get it

Im talking about both my art and other people's art. I even stopped posting my qsmp fanart because of the overall poor reception so hey what gives fans.

[fleshprocessor]

jesse i need to start conlanging again

[etoilesbienne]

out of curiosity, what are the common qEtoiles mischaracterizations, and the accurate characterizations you wished people used more? Sincerely, an English speaking fan who is re-learning French!

honestly i kind of consider it a mischaracterization when people like... make etoiles into this team leader who always knows what to do and move things forward. or like that he has a bad attitude to like... match his fighting skills. or like the dark knight brooding warrior. he says he is these things. these are lies. he lies about himself constantly. i wouldnt trust a good 2/3 of the things he says about himself to be true. you read him clearer through his actions than his statements.

in my opinion etoiles is more like. sturdy second in command. he's not there to lead, he's there to fill in the holes where they pop up. he's there as cover. he's quick witted in shortchange scenarios, but that is so not the same thing as a genuine strategist. in another expression, if someone is a leader, the leader is a doctor, etoiles's role is more like... the EMS team in an ambulance. He's not there to fix your problem, he's there to keep your problem covered until you can get someone else to fully fix it. but that doesn't mean his role is any less important when he's needed.

Etoiles is also, like, so very much a team player if he respects and trusts a person. And it is so easy to have his respect and trust. His trust starts at 100% for everyone. he's also so very very very good at reading people (gesture to the bbh clip where bbh moves his mouse slightly downward and etoiles calls him out on being depressed). He read Mousey as enjoying dungeons and pvp way more and wanting to hang out with her. He's also one of the only people who like continuously runs in the girlies group and makes all of them pvp with him and they all love it so he keeps coming back to pvp with them. Thats how he started his whole thing with Tina and pvping with her constantly. Reading other people also, he loves finding other pvpers so he attacks roier constantly now bc he knows roier can pvp.

What else OH Etoiles loves whining (and this is because Rayou loves whining) that dude will just complain constantly. You haven't seen an etoiles stream if youve never seen him whine. Can't say I'm not kind of endeared by it. With this too he loves over explaining things (RIP armor powerpoint wish you couldve been given...) because he wants to help everyone....

OH and he's very over exaggerated too in replying to people in a complaining way and a self deprecating way and also likes to try to push the envelope with people and he does all of that to try and get a laugh out of others. like he's well aware people find him going "Oh so you don't give a shit about me and want me to die ? you want etoiles to die ?" fucking hilarious and also loves complaining in the first place thats why he does that. if your etoiles isn't complaining and whining then it isn't etoiles. the self deprecating thing is... its interesting bc he does have full faith in his abilities but will never say it out loud unless its trying to reassure someone who is worried. pushing the envelope is so specific he won't do it too much and its like........... from what ive seen (correct me if im wrong) heavily directed at non francophones where if they laugh at something wack he's done he'll try to do it again to make them laugh more. shoutout to the time he made bbh laugh so much when he cursed he didn't get languaged by bbh so he kept cursing to try to make bbh do it again. the dudes a total people pleaser.

smaller thing ive talked about extensively already (u can prob find it in my q!etoiles tag if i remember i'll edit a link to the posts in here soon lol) etoiles hates losing he looooooves winning he's very intense about it lol. its cute!

on a final note even if you don't become deeply unwell about etoiles like i am i think this highlight clip video has like everything he's like condensed into like 11 minutes. You should watch it. It's a good starting point.

[moneymartin]

🦌- impatient

summary: lottie comes home from work and sees you playing games 👾

warnings: this is smut so mdni :p oral and fingering (r!receiving), praising, extremely touchy lott, and lil bit of french from lawtie. she’s a little meanie when it comes to u but still super soft. also title probably doesnt make sense dont laugh. ok thats it

i wrote this in like 2 hours so if it sucks dont hate thankz 😢😢

1.4k words

both characters are aged up.

saturdays were never the greatest days; lottie was out doing her dumb side job for extra cash, despite the fact she was probably set for life. she had been providing for the both of you, and it was only cause she never wanted her parents to do everything for her in the first place.

the only thing you could really do at the house was play games on that xbox she surprised you with on your birthday. it was the first console you’ve ever owned and you were more than grateful, playing on it all the time and letting her join whenever she wanted to. although she was never that supportive after you continued to play almost every hour of every day. but even if she sucked, you were willing to teach her.

while she worked her ass off at work you decided to play games without her. you opened up fortnite, hopping on with a few friends from uni and getting lost in time. it was your favorite game after all. hours and hours passed by quickly when the chime of your guys’ door started ringing. lottie stepped inside, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and that big familiar smile on her face when she saw you on the xbox.

“hi, baby..” she mumbles lowly and kicks off her shoes, waving a hand in your face. it distracts you for a moment and you take off one of the headphone muffs.

“y- yeah, hold on.” you grumble and try to look to the right side of her body to see the tv screen. “please move…” you whine. your friends start snickering into the mic when they hear you struggling to play the damn game. lottie knows how they are when it comes to you two and it’s the worst thing ever.

she stands in front you again, continuing to cover the screen and trying to mess you up. “do you not know how to look at your girlfriend or something?” she huffs out and grabs your shoulders, a grunt leaving your lips when you end up getting knocked. “all you do is play that damn game.” she sighs.

your eyes dart up to hers and your lips pout when the laugh of your friends fill up your ears and her words still sit in your head. she’s right though. you don’t do anything but play on the damn xbox… “i know, but you got me the thing anyways,” you say and tilt your head to the side. “and all of my friends are laughing at me!!! quit it!”

lottie’s eyebrows raise, but you quickly stand up so you can see the tv after your friend revives you. and so you can avoid that gaze she gives you when you give that little bit of attitude. “sit back down.” she orders, pushing you onto the couch again and sitting herself down on your lap. she stays there and doesn’t bother moving unless you do just to see the screen. all you can really hear though are the screams of your friends telling you to start shooting back, but it got real hard when she pushes her lips up against yours.

she’s kissing you with fervor as if she hasn’t seen your face in years. you can’t do anything but kiss back and it’s a shame that you’re incredibly obsessed with the taste of her strawberry lipgloss. all it does for you is fuel the need you feel when you kiss her. “lott, please. not right now..” you breathe out heavily when you pull away. “shit, i’m so sorry guys.” you tell your friends after you end up dying fully.

“don’t talk to them, talk to me.” she whines in response to you speaking to your friends instead of her. she grips at your controller and sets it on the armrest of the couch, clicking the mute button on your headset. she shifts a little against you and her hands find their way to your core, a grunt escaping your lips. “wow, you are so incredibly pathetic…” she says at your attempts to squirm and grab your controller. she palms you through your shorts, her movements coaxing you to move your hips up against her.

“fuck.. please,” you murmur, wetness pooling up in between your legs just because of her gentle touch and mean words. her other hand quickly tugs on the strings of your shorts and she yanks them down, the incredibly prominent wet spot on your panties right in front of her. your face flushed out of embarrassment from how wet you got so quickly and she can’t help but snicker. “all of this for me?” she hums.

the pressure of her fingers against your clit sends a chill down your spine and your teeth grit together. lottie sinks down onto her knees and you nod frantically, moaning when her lips make contact with your skin. her hands inch around your body and her fingers pull down the sides of your panties. she doesn’t give you a warning before she sticks two of her long fingers into you and they curl in just the right way. “my god. you look so pretty like that, angel..” she says, your eyes closing at the overwhelming feeling of her fingers inside of you.

“lott, please… please, please, please.” you whimper pathetically. her lips are kissing and marking around your inner thighs while her fingers continuously pound into the perfect spot, hips absentmindedly thrusting into them. she pulls her fingers out, shoving them into your mouth to let you get a quick taste of yourself and making your walls clench around absolutely nothing. “you’re such a little slut aren’t you? you can’t help but get wet around me.” she mumbles.

lottie’s lips attach to your throbbing clit and her fingers make their way into you again, your eyes widening at the sensation. it hurts so bad, yet feels so good. you squirm and move around constantly, lottie gripping onto your thigh with the other hand. “sit still or i’m gonna have to let all of your little friends hear you acting like a fucking whore.” she grunts into your centre and curls her fingers a little harder than before. the touch causes you to wince in pain a bit. “i’m sorry, i- i didn’t mean to ignore you!” you groan.

when you grip at her hair she slaps your hand away. “ne fais pas ça putain…” she growls. she’s getting aggressive but when she sees tears in your eyes she gets a little bit softer. her tongue is wrapping itself around your clit, sucking and biting on it gently while she laps up all of the wetness dripping down your legs. you haven’t finished yet but she’s eating you out like a starving animal. her face is practically buried into your pussy and the tip of her nose is grazing against the top of your core. her fingers curl inside of your pussy again and she knows that she’s hitting the spot.

“charlotte, my stomach.” you whisper out when the knot that formed in there gets a little bit tighter. she takes it as a sign that you’re close and moves herself a little bit slower to help you out. “juste comme ça… i got you, okay, baby?” she tells you as she looks up at you. the look on your face is what fuels her even more. your lips are parted out slightly and your face is furrowed while your hips just barely hump into her fingers again. a raspy moan escapes your throat when the knot in your tummy becomes undone and she shushes you, helping you ride out your high carefully with her fingers.

lottie’s eyes immediately lock onto the cum dripping down your legs and your drenched core. her first instinct is to clean. you up with her mouth. so she does, and she laps up every single drop that came out of you, rising up again. her fingers cup your chin and she wrenches your mouth open, sticking her tongue inside. all you can taste is yourself and you whimper in her mouth.

lottie pulls your panties and shorts up again, sitting next to you on the couch. her hands wrap around your waist and she gently pushes the back of your head into her chest, a small sigh escaping your lips as your heart pounds from the after feeling of it all. she kisses the top of your head and holds you there for a moment. “je t'aime, baby. je t’aime tellement.” she whispers softly and rubs at your back. you two sit there for a while in silence until she breaks it.

“sooo.. do you wanna play overcooked?”

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF

So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)

Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..

Which we can all agree is boring...

BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!

We be getting creative with it

Eg.

"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"

"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"

(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)

AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL

English could never compare ✨

BUT ANYWAYS

how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?

The eay their face would drop

We would make a couple of people cry

AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US

Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*

Your thoughts?

Love yaaaa~

ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!

Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??

I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-

like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.

I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see

Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️

GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE

and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,

😭 BRO IM CRYING

“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-

(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)

idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,

OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-

OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???

everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,

or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot

or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao

STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)

AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:

“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)

JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG

STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol

oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭

Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀

“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND

Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”

which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG

☆

i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth

which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]

which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!

☆

Safe Travels 0rah,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[leclsrc]

a certain romance ✴︎ cs55

genre: fluff!, humor

word count: 4.5k

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

notes... reader is a leclerc, one sexual allusion but it’s not bad, french that is basically translatable thru context clues

auds here... req’d, sort of twice! was gonna make this a full fledged fic but i went with the short route to keep it brief. i hope u like this anon/s :) title from a song of the same name by the arctic monkeys. also there is use of y/n which i generally don’t like using in fics bec i feel it disrupts the flow, but it wouldn’t have fit any other way so. must b all... enjoy!

If you told Carlos Sainz that he—a full grown, mature, twenty-eight-year-old man—would be tiptoeing on the balcony of a hotel in Monaco (shirtless and fully terrified, no less) eight months from now, he would laugh at you. But he’d be doing so anyway, fearing something in the room behind him rather than the alarmingly high distance he’d be possessing over the road below. He’d inhale, exhale, recites a few proverbs to keep himself calm. But now, if you told him, he would mumble something along the lines of estúpido, because really, how the hell would he get himself into that situation?

Don’t worry. He’s going to find out.

“I’m not really looking to date,” he says wisely, taking another swig of his beer. “I think racing is the number one thing on my mind. And it’s difficult to maintain a balance of both.”

Lando clears his throat, tipsy from having exhausted his drinks and then some. “Mate, quit being a pessimist. You Spaniards, I swear. That’s not necessarily true. I made it work.” He presents two thumbs, pointing them toward his beaming, dopey face. 

Carlos stares. “Luisa broke up with you.”

“Right then, you arse, twist the knife,” Lando mutters exasperatedly, his thumbs drooping down and his smile dropping. Carlos can’t help but throw his head back in amusement, eking out apologies in between bouts of laughter. The younger just mocks the laugh, finishing the beer he’d been drinking. 

The two are on the balcony of Lando’s flat, overlooking the expanse of Chelsea. The subject of girlfriends and looking for love had been between them for a while now, seeing as they were both single; they’d often greet each other with a Got a girlfriend yet, cabrón? And, while the conversation was generally harmless, it did tend to push Carlos into a state of introspection regarding his own love life.

“But honestly, really.” Carlos says. “I just don’t know if a girl is what I need right now. Unless somebody perfect drops on my lap.”

“I’m going to ignore how pervy that sounds—but I get it. I guess the career thing’s just the priority, huh, mate? And speaking of career”—Lando rifles through his jacket pocket and fishes his phone out—“we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t leave in the next fifteen.”

Ah, dinner: the only reason Carlos had chartered a jet to London earlier today in the first place. Proposed out of sheer fun and then carrying on because it actually seemed like a doable idea, Lando had texted a few drivers and invited them and however-many-pluses they wished to bring to an upscale restaurant in the city as a way to get in touch.

It didn’t seem ideal, until they realized that 1. Lando, George, and Alex were already in London, and 2. Charles was with family and had a meeting there, too, and—well, at that point Carlos had basically succumbed to peer pressure and gotten on a jet straight to the UK. Lando always had a penchant for making these plans and spending the entire time making dirty jokes and/or getting tipsy and/or using his camera to take pictures of any and everyone, which really just made the dinners all the more fun.

They clean up the bottles of beer they’d drank from, and Carlos pulls his coat on by the door, still unused to the overcast British weather. “Who’s there later?”

“The boys, Arthur… Lily, Carmen. I think. I mean nobody brought their mums or whatever. That’s all of ‘em, I suppose.” Lando inspects his outfit in the mirror by the entryway and swaps out his jacket for a different one, ushering Carlos out the door and into the waiting car. Something about I’d rather be driven around than drive a pretentious sports car around the city looking like a daft prick. 

They’re halfway to the restaurant, both on their phones, when Lando suddenly gasps softly and goes, “Right, and Charles’ sister is going too.”

Carlos looks up, interest piqued. He hadn’t heard much of Charles’ sister before—you’d dropped by a few races, and had always been present for the entirety of the Monaco weekend, but you weren’t engaged in racing as much as Charles’ other siblings. He’d shaken hands with you and made the polite, necessary, albeit totally rushed small talk. “Y/N,” he recounts. “Right?”

“Yessir,” Lando says, letting Drake filter through the AUX of the car. “The one in law school.”

He nods, trying to pick out specific memories. None really come to mind—it’s all introductions that repeat themselves. Hi, Carlos Sainz, Charles’ teammate. Oh, hi, I’m Charles’ sister. He faintly recounts finding you pretty, but having not seen you at the paddock for quite a while, he considers his memories dubious at best. He leans back and listens to Lando rap Rich Flex with an obnoxiously posh accent instead, and figures if he dies now, at least he wouldn’t have to keep hearing this.

The restaurant is nearer than they anticipate, so the Drake rap-along session is cut blissfully short, the pair being ushered into the private seating area, coats taken and wine served. They join George, who, at his insistence, had made the reservation in the first place even if Lando had suggested the restaurant, and Carmen. 

“Charles and Albon?” Carlos asks when he takes a seat, greeting the couple.

“Charles and Arthur are on their way, but Alex is stuck in Harrods with Lily and Y/N. They got busy looking for shoes or something. Poor guy,” George says, half-laughing. 

“I so wish I met up with the girls beforehand,” Carmen mopes, “the sale at Harrods is amazing.”

The conversation descends into a multitude of different topics, as they always do when Lando and George lead the way—racing (obviously), Carmen, Daniel Ricciardo even, dogs, any plans of adopting dogs, and then, because George Russell is a little shit, he says: “Feels nice being the only guy with a girlfriend at the table right now, innit?”

Carmen pinches his arm but he persists with a smile. “No, but really. You two are just about the most eligible bachelors ever and still single. What gives?”

“I for one am not into monogamy at the moment,” Lando says matter-of-factly. “I’m twenty-three, mate. I’m trying to have fun. But Mr. Almost Thirty here is a different case.”

“Ay,” Carlos gripes. “It’s not an involuntary thing. Just want to focus on racing.”

He prays then for this topic to come to a close so he won’t have to explain himself all over again, and reprieve comes in the form of Charles and Arthur entering the room. Already Charles is talking, before he even takes a seat, and Arthur is nodding along—something about how London traffic sucks, how are your streets so small, mate, oh my God Harrods is so full, Lily and Y/N have been at it for hours, poor Alex, he volunteered to stay. The guy spouts words quickly and easily, in an accent that sounds both English and French.

The rest of the wait time happens fast—Lily and Alex rush through the entrance, apologizing for being late. The lines are so long, Lily explains, taking a seat and leaving the other side empty. When her boyfriend tries to sit there, she swats him away, goes, babe, no, that’s for Y/N. So her boyfriend sits woefully across her and beside Carlos instead.

“Where is Y/N?” Charles asks. Carlos is also curious, albeit inwardly. He didn’t even know you were arriving until late, and still he hasn’t seen your face.

“Sorry, I had to check something with the valet,” a voice goes, and then you’re sliding into the seat across him.

The thing is, Carlos has been stunned before.

It’s sort of a non-negotiable when you go into such a demanding, high-risk sport. If he’s careening into another car, or the side of a circuit—obviously, it stuns him. Everything spins into slow motion for a few nerve-wracking seconds. But he’s also been stunned in all the good ways: when he can tell he’s in the lead, when he overtakes the car in front of him, when he bounds past the flag and realizes it’s a podium finish. So, yes—Carlos is fully familiar with the gut churning, belly spinning delirium of being stunned. So familiar, in fact, that he’s grown familiar with it, developed a second skin for it, welcomed it with open arms.

Which also explains the way he sees you laughing quietly at something Lily says and subsequently realizes, with apprehension and dread, that he is stunned.

—

The first time it happens is after the dinner—not just the dinner, but the drinks and the London walk that followed, accompanied by three noisy and drunk tour guides (read: Lando, George, Alex). Charles and Arthur, almost as drunk, follow the tour with loud jabs of their own, and Lily and Carmen are filming everything on their phones. You’ve been on your phone checking an email, and Carlos takes a call from his cousin, which naturally leads both you and him to trail behind the group.

So, when you’re both done taking calls and checking emails, it’s the two of you left to your own devices. You swing within the awkward few moments of deciding whether to rejoin the group or just keep trailing behind, your shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone pavement, accompaniments to Lando’s loud singing of Piano Man. 

“What’d you think of the wine?” You ask, your accent sliding easy into the syllables but not losing its distinctiveness. 

He pretends to ponder, even if he’d given Lando a full-scale review when they first left the restaurant, and turns back to you. “It was okay. A bit too sweet for my taste.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told Arthur, but he found it perfect. I guess kids these days just don’t have taste.”

You both laugh at your sarcastic use of “kids”, knowing you’re just two years older than your younger brother. Carlos opens his mouth to speak, trying to find footing, the perfect suave thing to say to possibly land himself in a position to flirt.

Right then, Lando reaches the crescendo of Somebody to Love (he can’t ever finish a song), and then Charles is turning around to find you and Carlos engaged in conversation. His lips stretch into a mischievous smile.

“Aye, Carlos! Back off the baby sister, mate!” He slurs, clapping Arthur on the back to catch his attention.

Arthur’s eyes narrow playfully, darting in between you both. Carlos just raises a middle finger in response, sending the brothers into unnecessarily extensive bouts of laughter. You roll your eyes, blowing a raspberry. “Putain. These fucking shitheads never leave me alone.”

George is in the middle of teaching Charles to say sod off instead of back off when Carlos purses his lips and, on a whim, turns and goes: “Is there a rule against dating drivers?”

You try and fail to hide a smile. “Hmm. None, I don’t think.”

Silence. Then you speak again, coy. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Carlos says. London is suddenly a place of magic. “No reason at all.”

—

It’s at an afterparty, the second time it happens—and technically the first where you and Carlos actually connect properly. In hindsight, it might’ve been stupid to flirt with him in the middle of the dance floor—something he thankfully realized in the moment, taking your hand and guiding you through the throng of people into the back exit.

Nobody said first kisses had to be remarkable in the romantic sense. Sometimes they’re in seedy European alleyways, with a fist bunched into his polo and a hand on your hip. It had to happen this way, because how else would two months of beating around the bush culminate? Because even if you’re drunk, you can’t stop thinking about how much you want to kiss him again. Tomorrow morning. And the next.

You pull away, but he speaks first, voice rushed and semi-sobered. “Let’s not.”

Humming, you try to swallow the lump of distress in your throat. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, nervous now, gulping. “Because—of the bro code.”

You stare. “Is that a Spanish thing?”

“B-ro c-ode,” he says again, enunciating the syllables; the Spanish accent doesn’t go away, and neither do his hands, hot and big on your hip and waist. 

You move your hand from where it’s fisted into his shirt, cupping his neck. Then you burst out laughing, much to Carlos’ confusion. “That is so not a thing,” you press, unconvinced.

“It is. Bro code. I just crossed that line, dios mio,” he says, clearly way more stressed than you are. 

“Bro code isn’t upheld for boys over twenty-one,” you say haughtily. Right then, you hear Arthur’s voice through the door and it swings open a few seconds later. In the span of those moments, you shove Carlos away nervously and attempt to look like you weren’t doing anything.

Arthur’s on the phone, speaking in quick French when he sees you and Carlos at a respectable distance. He tilts the phone away, mouths What’s up?, pointing at the both of you.

“I felt like vomiting and he was nearby,” you reply, nodding. He’s out of view, exiting the alleyway within seconds and back on the phone. 

You exhale, and turn back to him. “Okay, so maybe the bro code is a thing.”

He looks at you as if to say no shit. “I don’t think we should do this,” he says, but his tone betrays himself.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

“Right, yes.”

A beat. “Can you kiss me again?”

—

Against all odds, you and Carlos had managed to successfully start dating under your brothers’—ergo the majority of your mutual circle’s—noses. You’d only let it slip to a few close friends and family, and in Carlos’ case, Lando, because Lord knows the guy could not keep his mouth shut for the life of him. And even if it was stressful, and it often felt like any moment would be interrupted by somebody catching the both of you on the phone, or even together, neither of you could deny how good it was.

It’s five months later—five months of pure bliss, for the most part. Save for multiple close calls, you and Carlos had enjoyed each other’s company. You’d tried to navigate how everything would work once you realized you both wanted something more out of the relationship, but neither of you wanted to deal with the hassle of your overprotective siblings yet. You’d resorted to hours of FaceTime, everyday texts, and if the world was on your side, the occasional date. 

The last method is easily your favorite, you both—and when the drivers get three weeks off and Carlos spends it in Las Vegas, that’s how it happens, the third time. Carlos visits you at your hotel, relishing in the eleven-thirty emptiness of the communal area, swimming in the jacuzzi and giggling about something into Carlos’ neck. You barely remember the joke; you’re honestly just welling up with enthusiasm and an endless supply of laughs that your boyfriend is finally with you.

Your head is still dug into Carlos’ neck, laughing about something else now, when you hear faraway footsteps. Having grown used to being a pseudo-patrolman, your eyes dart up immediately, and your stomach drops when you see, seriously, of all fucking people—Charles and Arthur. 

“Oh my God,” you mutter, dumbfounded. A hand wet with jacuzzi water taps frantically on your phone; sure enough, you’d gotten texts from the both of them about dropping by your hotel for drinks. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

You disembark from your position on your boyfriend’s lap, hoping the hickey he sucked onto your neck won’t be visible from meters away. Your eyes shoot up again, and they still haven’t spotted you. Holding your breath and bracing yourself, you turn to Carlos, place two hands on his shoulders, and shove him underneath the water.

They spot you then, waving enthusiastically. “Drinks!” Arthur shouts, mimicking a beer bottle with his hand. You chew your lip nervously, raising one hand and waving back.

“Don’t wait up and I’ll just meet you at the bar!” You holler, watching as they pass through the entrance at a truly leisurely pace. 

Once they’re in, you haul your boyfriend up and he breathes deeply, anxious. “Puta madre.”

“I think we should tell them soon. I don’t want you literally dying just for the sake of keeping us a secret,” you say, maintaining a safe distance and constantly turning toward the entrance just in case. You reach for his hand underwater.

“It’s thrilling, actually,” he winks.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bother.” You say woefully, guilt eating at you a little bit. But he takes your hand, squeezes it among the jacuzzi bubbles.

“Nothing’s a bother with you.”

—

Charles knocks on your Monza hotel room door when it happens the fourth time, opening it once he finds it unlocked—and then freezing when he finds you buried in your duvet ’til your shoulders. You’re in your silk pajama top, arms and mouth outstretched into a yawn when your eyes meet, hair disheveled. You blink.

“Charles.” You say confusedly, letting your arms drop. “Tu vas bien?”

“Mmm, ça va.” He pauses. “Et toi?”

“Moi aussi,” you say casually. “Any reason you came into my room without waiting for me to answer the damn door?”

He smiles, as if remembering why he invaded your privacy. “Right, I came in here to ask if you’ve seen Arthur.”

“I’m clearly by myself in bed, so no,” you respond cuttingly. “Last I checked he was walking around with Lando.” The two had become fast friends after the London dinner. 

Your elder brother hums, then moves to take a seat on your bed, to which you quickly reach over, grab a complimentary soap bar (on the bedside table and not the shower, which you’d found weird), and toss it square at his face. “Ah—ay! What the fuck?”

“Don’t come near me,” you say. “I’m sick.”

“Sick? What rubbish. You were literally at the paddock hours ago totally fine.”

“Don’t be daft. Not that kind of sick, you arse—”

“Not that kind of sick,” he mocks, exaggerating his accent and raising his voice a few octaves to sound like a silly version of you. He raises an accusatory finger. “You lie, you lie!”

“I am not lying,” you insist irritably, sitting up a little and cocking your brow. “Tu es insupportable!”

You slide into a flurry of angry French and Italian in your valiant efforts to defend your innocence, and Charles is infected into doing the same. Eventually the room is just filled with indistinguishable insults and scoffed phrases of merde, ah bon?, and immensely accented What thuh helliz your problem?s. You even chuck another hotel soap at him for extra measure, but he manages to catch it this time. It’s childish, like many of your petty fights born out of irritance.

“I’m on my period, you prick,” you say as a last resort, once the insults have run their sufficient course. “I couldn’t be arsed to find Arthur.” His eyes narrow, doubting you, but ultimately he admits defeat, walking back to the door to exit your room. The door’s out of view of your bed, so you brace yourself, waiting for it to open and click closed.

“You better not be harboring a fugitive in here!” He says, but only half of here is heard before the door clicks shut and drowns him out. The tension leaves your body and you heave a deep sigh, relaxing backwards and biting your lip. 

The thick silk duvet flips upward and Carlos surfaces, face flushed from being in hiding for so long.

One arm is still curled around your thigh, the inner part of which is rubbed raw from his facial hair being against it. You stare at one another with dopey smiles on your faces, relieved that you’d managed to act fast and flip the huge blanket over Carlos—although he had conveniently been in that position to begin with. 

“Do either of you ever shut up?”

“One more word and I’m kicking you,” you say, reaching an arm out to stroke his jaw. You smile, laughing a little. “I’m not bluffing.”

“Scary, princesa,” he teases, hauling himself up to press a lasting kiss onto your lips. You smile into it, out of relief that your nosy elder brother didn’t catch you, but also out of the way your heart swells when Carlos smiles.

—

“You’re absolutely sure it’s the right room number?”

“100% positive. 613, Y/N Leclerc.”

“And not any other Leclerc.”

“Mate, I just said Y/N. Get a grip,” Lando scoffs. “My investigative skills pay off. Still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just asked her yourself, seeing as though you two are, I dunno, dating.”

“It’s a surprise, man,” Carlos says cuttingly, facing the lobby of the Hôtel de Paris. “Alright, thanks, cábron. I’ll see you soon.”

“Get some!” The Brit whoops, and then Carlos is taking the elevator to your room.

He didn’t think of himself as much of a surprises guy, but then again—he didn’t think of himself as much as a flowers and teddy bear guy, but he’d gotten you those every month since you became official; he didn’t think of himself as much of a physical touch guy, but he was always the one initiating hugs and cuddle sessions. The list goes on.

He knocks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Much to his relief, it really is you who answers, with the face of surprise he wanted out of this. Before you utter a word, he’s dipping down to kiss you, and you find yourself returning the kiss, knowing you’d lost your boyfriend’s presence for so long. It quickens fast, and Carlos wedges himself in, kicking the door closed behind him.

You pull away. “Wait, I—”

He kisses you again, and you can’t resist, laughing at his persistence. He pulls away to tug his shirt off, and that’s when you crash back to reality. “Mmmm—Carlos, this isn’t my room!” 

Everything happens fast after that.

The door starts opening and Carlos hears Charles on the other side of it, talking about there was a room mix-up, Y/N, this is mine and 615 is yours—he misses the rest of the sentence, clutching his singlet to his bare chest and allowing himself to be pushed by his girlfriend out the door of the balcony. Thinking he’s safe if just for a moment, he turns, but finds he still sees the room—the curtains don't cover him enough. 

And if he can see the room, he figures, the room can see him. And if the room can see him, Charles will see him when he’s fully inside. 

You’re gesticulating wildly with your hands, trying to find a way to distract your brother, turning away from Carlos briefly to maybe just accept your fate. Charles shuts the door, facing you and, consequently, the balcony doors. Your heart seizes. Surely, Carlos must be there—there’s no other place left for him to hide, unless he miraculously fit his blocky, broad frame behind a random potted plant.

“Something wrong?” Charles says, and you whip around. The balcony’s blissfully empty.

“N…othing.” You say. “Nothing.”

“D’accord,” he says promptly. “So. Dinner?”

Your head spins, unable to formulate a reply. Where could Carlos have hidden?

The balcony is a bit wide, but the entirety of it is visible, and, well—Carlos is clearly not. There’s one lawn sofa, and one plant, neither of which seem to harbor your favorite Spaniard, so where the fuck is he? Because of course, he’s not stupid. Surely. He’s twenty-eight, you think.

What kind of guy would climb onto the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother?

Carlos cannot believe he’s on the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother.

In the scurry of it, he hadn’t even gotten properly dressed. So here he is, braving the frigid sixth-floor air and the harrowing height at which he stands, brandishing his shirt like it’s a flag and standing like he’s on a podium. He feels like he’s about to die for love. Like some Shakespearean hero.

But when he digs deep he figures he doesn’t actually mind at all. Sure, he feels like he’s on the brink of death, but he realizes it’s for you in the end, and that comforts him. He never thought he’d do this, ever, not even if he was paid, or bet on, or for a Real Madrid win. He leans back and ignores the asphalt below. He’ll stay here as long as he needs to.

“Mate, get down from there.” Carlos looks up to see Charles and Arthur going absolutely mental, even taking a few photos for good measure. Relieved, scared, and just glad his stint on the banister is over, he climbs off and pulls his shirt back on, crossing his arms. He spots you inside, smiling but also insisting they delete the incriminating evidence.

In the end, seriously? This is the reaction you and he hid from for eight months? You walk over to place yourself beside Carlos, watching your brothers. Two fools laughing at everything, each other, their sister, and her boyfriend. “Jig is up,” Charles says. “But we’ve known since you two kissed outside that club.”

You roll your eyes; clearly, you’ve already been told this information. But Carlos is slack-jawed with shock—they did all that on purpose. How fucking cheeky, really. He figures they gave Lando the wrong room number through the grapevine, too.

“But,” Charles says, wiping real tears from his eyes, “I know you love my sister, mate, so I’ll be the first to say I approve. Arthur will be the second.”

“I approve,” says Arthur dumbly.

“We approve,” they say in unison, then they’re laughing all over again. You swat both of their arms in retaliation, which causes the teasing to subside.

“Now, cábron,” Charles says gleefully, “we do have a couple of questions for you…”

You squeeze his hand. Even if he prefers the banister, your presence is comforting all the same, and he’d answer any totally unnecessary, pointless, silly question from your brothers if it means he gets to hug you again later. If you told him eight months ago he’d be this in love, he would’ve laughed in your face. But here he is anyway. 

It’s comforting.

[mistybunny]

⋆˚࿔ 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧ 15 yrs old

୨୧ infp - scorpio

୨୧ the 6th lisbon sister

୨୧ anakin skywalkers gf (real not fake)

୨୧ started this acc to make friends / moots w the same kinda vibe as me so if u like any of these things let's be moots!!

୨୧ i love Jesus, tumblr, music, reading, blythe, the dolls, vintage dolls in general, online shopping, music, movies, reading, fashion, the 50s/60s, brandy melville, pinterest, star wars, plushies, vs secret angels, pretty little liars, 2000s media, the colour pink, sweet food, sofia coppola movies, cats, puppies, bunnies, horror, junjo ito, vintage fashion, anything french or russian, philosophy, ancient greece, and nice perfume

୨୧ fav books include; my year of rest and relaxation, twilight, virgin suicides, no longer human, the bell jar, the secret history, tomie, and uzumaki

୨୧ some of my favourite movies and shows are; pll, twilight, gilmore girls, star wars, virgin suicides, girl interrupted, princess diaries, priscilla, palo alto, speak, victorious, I rlly just love any sofia coppola/tim burton films and any good horror

୨୧ music - I like rock, classic and a little pop, some of my fav artists are lana del rey, radiohead, the smiths, deftones, david bowie, ariana grande and the cure

୨୧ aesthetics - very much a coquette girly since 2021 but I dabble in vintage and gothic styles occasionally, coquette, vintage dolls, hyper-fem, gloomy coquette, morute, dollette, 2000s movie protagonist, 60s/50s, vintage americana, 2010s tumblr girly and southern gothic r some kinda keywords I would use to describe my personal aesthetic

୨୧ posts are mainly mood boards and gifs with probably a few little rants here and there, minor tw for maybe sadish content and some horror imagery as well as a bit of religious talk

୨୧ non-denominational christian girly converting to catholicism

୨୧ dni - basic dni criteria + nsfw blogs + anyone under the age of 13

୨୧ no pictures posted are mine unless stated - dm for credit / removal

[nightcolorz]

what do you think Armand's accent is in qotd? Daniel mentions he's got a lilt that he can't quite identify but that sometimes gets stronger when he's emotional. Venetian makes sense for emotions but French also makes sense since that's the language he was last speaking the longest. or maybe those two have just sort of amalgamated in his speech at that time? I think lestat mentions in memnoch that by that time whatever it is it's completely gone (implying I guess by that point armand has an American accent?)

in queen of the damned I imagine Armand has an amalgamation for sure. I headcanon that Venetian phased out and only rlly colors his word choice and tone of speaking by the 80s. French had been his dominate language for the longest so I picture him as sounding like a French hybrid. Venetian is there but it’s there so subtly that you’d only be able to hear it if u were also Venetian in the 1500s. French is the strongest but it’s too American to sound French unless ur analyzing it, and it’s also mixed with Venetian and ambiguous Eastern European with a dominating ambiguous untraceable European accent that sounds like everything and nothing at the same time. I think that Armand is so good at putting on masks that he ends up shaping his voice into a conceptually “neutral” accent that gives the impression that he’s foreign but ties him to no specific region or country. So I always picture him in the books as sounding sort of British? Lmao.

the untraceable lilt that comes out when he’s emotional I have always headcanoned as some deeply buried Ukrainian. It doesn’t sound Ukrainian bcus Armand hasnt spoken Ukrainian in 500 yrs, but it’s sharp in a very Eastern European way that he can’t kick. But in general it’s a mix of everything lol. French and Venetian especially, Armand’s weird little hybrid accent that would be his real accent if he wasn’t trying to straighten it out into smth more formal

I remember lestat saying armand looses his accent very quickly, which supports my headcanon that Armand tailors the way he speaks to his current environment, hehe

[gunkbaby]

Do you have any tips for writing Shuu?

This is the best ask I’ve ever had thank you anon!!! I am honoured to have been asked this, sorry it took me so long to answer, I was getting my thoughts in order! I have a few general tips!! Idk how useful they’ll be tho! :P (this is very long but i have tried to make myself as concise as possible…sorry anon…bear in mind this is all my opinion!)

Shuu, is dreadfully mischaracterised. So it’s tricky, especially because it depends on what exactly ur writing. If ur using headcanons that drastically change him anyway, then the rules are looser ofc, but if as close to canon is the aim, then I would take all fanon Shuu with a grain of salt. Not a slight to anyone at all, but I find different people interpret the character really differently, and I don’t agree with most of it (especially anything pre-2018), so I don’t interact with fanon, especially when writing. Idk what’s currently fanon tho, maybe it’s real af!

A very general tip but it cannot be understated with Shuu - always refer to canon. I have a notebook where I make notes of things I have noticed in his canon appearances, notes from the wiki, the light novels, films, everything. I always cross-reference when planning, and adjust my plot accordingly, during the writing stage, so I can alter my writing process, and upon editing/re-drafts, which I find is where Shuu really becomes himself. I would say write him as best as you can in a first draft, and allow yourself time to redraft and fine tune him afterwards. :)

Another tip for general character writing is to write diary entries from that character’s POV - regardless of whether that is the ultimate protagonist or not - this helps get inside their head. Shuu’s blog entries are helpful starting points.

So, some things to avoid (note: i haven’t read fic in years, so this isn’t in reference to any writer/fic in particular, just things I did notice/have noticed that i dislike when I see him characterised.)

I used to see a lot of flanderisation with Shuu. People really overestimate the amount of French he uses, so I guess a tip there is to limit that - or half the amount you think is enough. You can always add it in later if it is too little. He obviously does use it, but it’s not to the point I’ve seen. Also remember that Shuu doesn’t just speak French - he speaks Italian and English too! (Ik he speaks German, but this only comes up once. Unless ur writing a fic with Kanae I would say it’s less important). A good starting point for adding French/Italian/English to his dialogue/inner monologue would be to look at a list of common francophones, Latin phrases, or older English turn of phrase (not modern Bri’ish, shuu is not a roadman). If I find a list I will add some links 4 u. :)

With regard to general speech/train of thought, try use a wide vocabulary of colourful adjectives - words that are maybe rare or perhaps too fancy for normal conversation. I read a lot, so if I find a new fancy word I write it down. Normally this ends up going to Shuu’s passages in my work :) (I think a great example of this was when I read A Certain Hunger - the protagonist was a food critic, so she was very helpful with colourful language in relation to food!) I also think imagining his anime VAs saying any dialogue really helps me check dialogue too! Food is worth mentioning too, obviously, I think a Shuu-specific tip is to use terms that could be food-related in otherwise unrelated actions - one can devour a book, salivate in anticipation, or go out for a delicious walk! That kind of thing. Don’t be afraid to make it a little silly. Shuu is very fun to write, so have fun! The key is just to toe the line between silly and fun, to caricature. I think if you intend to write him properly, then you inherently sort of avoid that tho.

A thing that seems random but that I used to see constantly in fanon Shuu was him swearing a lot. Off the top of my head, Shuu properly swears once in Tokyo Ghoul - depends on the translation. He also says damn/damned a few times. That’s about as much as I ever write him saying. Again, I would use more colourful language to express his anger or strong emotions. Thinking to him slagging off Rize - that sort of posh-boy anger. You could probably use swearing very sparingly to pack a comedic punch. He doesn’t swear flippantly, that’s very important imo.

Shuu’s motivations are really important. I’ve seen him written as this sort of caricature so many times. People often refer to Shuu as this sort of narcissistic creep - but I think that’s a mischaracterisation. I think he’s vain, but I think that his vanity and pride is covering up some repressed guilt about what he has to eat - his earliest documented interaction with food is that of guilt. Shuu sees himself not as some kind of monster - but as very strong predator. I think he’s more matter-of-fact than people initially realise. He views the world as dog-eat-dog. He’s hunting Kaneki because he is predator - not in the sense of a creep, but as a lion. His justification for his existence is merciless in that fact - man is not typically sympathetic to the hens in batteries, served pre-plucked en mass in a Tescos, but Shuu, who hunts his prey properly, as a true animal should, is supposed to believe he is lesser than them. I think that makes him much more understanding. I think that’s why other ghouls also fail to understand him, because though he pretends to be better, more civilised, he has a very savage mindset. (Sorry. Long Character analysis there, remember what I said about taking fanon with salt earlier?). :p)

TLDR: I think people think Shuu leans far more into a ‘villain’ role than he actually does. An animal is an animal. I wrote a whole load of paragraphs about his character on Instagram a while ago. I will try and rewrite them and post them here if they would be helpful. (Again, all just my opinion)

In regards to Shuu’s obsession with Kaneki - if this is what you’re writing - this isn’t something I’ve ever written (sorry!) but I have written a similar relationship with him and an oc, and I also have BPD (shocking!), so I can relate to this kind of thing…Kind of. I’ve never wanted to eat anyone! I find expressing this kind of obsession very difficult to verbalise - it’s like, full of over-idealisation. You get so swept up in the idea of someone, you forget they’re a flawed human being who you actually might not know as much as you’d like. And when that idealisation inevitably implodes, it’s very devastating. Shuu’s depression and anorexia after ‘losing’ Kaneki, is something I heavily relate to. It might be worth examining what other people with similar conditions have said about this kind of obsession in particular (in bpd we refer to it as having ‘favourite people’) - im not saying Shuu has BPD, I’m simply saying that looking into real life examples for similar kinds of things, in ways that are expressed by people much wiser than me. :) I think it’s important to have empathy for people like this when writing them, because we do exist out here! Having empathy for Shuu when writing is very important, imo.

I think with his relationships, it’s key to remember that Shuu does not understand what he is feeling. He does not understand that he actually genuinely likes Kaneki and enjoys his company, or Hinami’s company, or Hori. This is despite him going out of his way to comfort them, lend them books, buy them gifts, and (importantly) flowers - which Shuu says he links directly with feelings of happiness. People have said this is creepy, but I think this is wrong. Shuu does not understand how relationships work, but he understands that material objects can make people happy. I think people viewing Shuu’s exchange of gifts as something impure are kind of missing the point - understandable if you’ve only read TG and not :re, tbf.

This is just my opinion, so listen liberally, but considering Shuu refers to his actual friends as pets - I think it’s a somewhat reasonable assumption to make that Shuu’s only relationships outside of his home have been with animals or plants. I write Shuu’s relationships as if he were interacting with animals. With :re based stories this is a little different, but you can generally use the same rule. Referring to my earlier point about Shuu viewing himself as an animal - he probably doesn’t think this perspective is as offensive as it might be.

****

I think this is everything off the top of my head. In general, it all comes back to referring to canon, that’s your main thing. Thinking about, and analysing the character in your own way, and coming to your own conclusions. You can utilise other people’s ideas- as long as it’s not offensive, I don’t think it’s so bad, but I try not to. Also, having empathy for the character and taking the time to get to know him. Sometimes I just listen to what Shuu is telling me - if a story arc is too difficult to write, maybe it just isn’t his! Sorry for rambling so much - was this even helpful at all? I feel like I have simply waffled!

Just a few notes: I have written/am writing Shuu at stages Tokyo Ghoul does not document (when he is19/20, and after the end of :Re at age 30+). So most of my work is my estimation of where he might be.

Bear in mind I also haven’t posted anything in a loooong time so none of this has been subject to any criticism aside from my own! I can post some extracts of my current work if it would be helpful. I can also post some pages from my Shuu notebook if you need inspiration, or my instagram analyses, or whatever might help! Feel free to send more asks if needed too! As you can see I like to talk!!!

i hope this was semi-helpful!!!! thank you anon!!! This was such a lovely ask, thank you, merci beaucoup!!! Bisous!!! <3

[vidavalor]

have u ever seen the "his name has Ra in it. Ra is the Egyptian god of sun. Sun has three letters. A triangle has three peaks. Illuminati is a triangle. That means that he's illuminati" videos?

cuz ur like that but cooler and more educative

The last line of your message means you can have chocolate pie. 💕*sets you up with a plate* I was getting a little nervous there for a second lol. I think that any book or show that causes its audience to engage so much is a great one and if someone is enjoying making connections like the ones you described, then it's their life to enjoy. I'm not going to yuck on anyone's yum but I have seen some theories that I honestly had difficulty following so I get whatcha sayin' and I appreciate the compliment.

If I said this next sentence with any other context but with regards to Good Omens, you'd all try to have me committed lol but here it is: I'm following language-related directions from The Voice of God. Literally. I have it in the works to do a post on that alone because the show is actually teaching the audience Crowley & Aziraphale's vocabulary and it's provided some keys at times as to where in the show you can find lessons in it. In S2, there's also a meta scene about it, which is the "Professor Rossignol" scene. Some brief thoughts on that and, since you were nice enough to drop me a note, also on Ra and The Illuminati while we're at it, just for kicks.

It's no good to make it evident to your audience that your main characters are speaking a secret language that they've made up if the audience can't be taught to speak it because then the meaning of what's being said is lost, right? And it is very obvious that Crowley & Aziraphale have their own vocabulary. There are a lot of examples of it but one scene, in particular, that stands out to me is 1967 because it is literally impossible to make heads or tails of what they're fully discussing unless you try to figure out what Aziraphale means by "dangerous." He tells Crowley that he's heard about Crowley's plan to rob a church for holy water and then says to him this, word-for-word:

"I can't have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous."

What does that mean, right? If you didn't already get a sense that their words don't add up on the surface sometimes, you get smacked in the face with it in that scene. Aziraphale's phrasing puts "dangerous"-- a word with a scary, negative connotation-- in the position of a positive, cherished thing that Crowley would see worth risking his life for and the end result is that "dangerous" must mean something to them besides the surface definition of the word. [What it does is something someone else has asked me for so post on that to come.] Right there, though? You have hidden vocabulary. One of the most important scenes in the show and it makes no sense without an awareness of it. This is all long before Crowley's standing there saying "no nightingales" in 2.06.

There are other scenes where something doesn't add up without an awareness of hidden language being spoken. Why does Crowley melt into a puddle of burning goo at Aziraphale saying "We will win, you know" about Heaven winning Armageddon in 1.01? Because, as other scenes and The Voice of God's narration teach, when they're speaking of Heaven or Hell with pluralized pronouns, they're really talking about the two of them together beneath the surface. That's why Crowley's face melts into a lovesick gaze and hint of a smile when Aziraphale says "we will win"-- because Aziraphale is saying that he and Crowley will win.

In S2, Aziraphale says he learned French "the hard way" with "Professor Rossignol" in 1760. Aziraphale already speaks French. He and Crowley, as Crowley points out in the scene, speak every language of the world. It's a nod towards how you can speak a language but a secret language like theirs is one that can be built out of words that sound familiar but are put together in a way that you need to understand in order to comprehend what is being said.

In the course of the scene, Aziraphale speaks French to Crowley and what he says is a riff on "la plume de ma tante"-- a French phrase that refers to the kinds of sentences that you are taught when you learn a new language that you would never actually say in real life. This scene is actually nodding to the "la plume de ma tante"s of Ineffable Husbands Speak and where you can find them in the series.

The reason why those sentences exist the way they do when you are learning a new language is to teach as much vocabulary as possible alongside teaching people how to conjugate verbs, etc.. This is why you are never taught practical sentences like "Excuse me, where is the restroom?" or "Yes, I would like to buy that bread, please." but are, instead, taught sentences like "Is it true that you can buy white onions at the library on Tuesdays?" lol. It's because when you are a child and you learn the native language or languages spoken by the people around you, you absorb thousands of words just by living in that world but when you are a teenager or an adult learning a new language, you start almost from scratch. You need to learn as much vocabulary as possible as soon as possible, in order to become fluent. Aziraphale says he learned some "la plume de ma tante"-like sentences (in a language he already speaks but in which he wanted to play better) from a professor whose name eagle-eyed fans already translated as meaning "nightingale" in French, right?

Nightingales (the birds) and also nightingales (the skeleton keys). The Rossignol family created The Great Cipher that encrypted communications for the French government for centuries-- they literally built a secret language. If you want to learn Ineffable Husbands Speak, the show is saying, you need to follow the nightingales. So, who taught us about "nightingale" being a word related to Crowley & Aziraphale? God. Whose sentences, at times, smack of "la plume de ma tante"-like vocabulary lessons? God. What better character to teach us what we need to know than the literal Voice of God, right? God is our Professor Rossignol.

God's 1.01 line of "The Russian cultural attache's black bread is particularly sought after by the more discerning duck" is the most la plume de ma tante sentence in Good Omens lol and the four sentences-- of which that is one-- that God says to re-introduce us to Crowley & Aziraphale in the St. James' Park scene, when picked apart using language elements things suggested by God's opening monologue at the start of the series, contain almost every element of the vocabulary, with other scenes reinforcing and adding to it throughout.

Further suggesting this is the way to go is that if you apply the same instructions to the top part of Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth (the bit above Aziraphale's entry), you'll find the guidelines repeated-- and notes to us that include everything you would need to unlock the hidden language in the entries for Aziraphale and Baraqiel (Crowley) beneath them. I'm not just randomly deciding this is what stuff means, is mah point lol. I'm taking lessons from Frances McDormand.

As for Ra and The Illuminati, well... to date, I've seen Ra come up as one of the many, many words in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings, which are hidden-in-plain-sight coded love letters. Aziraphale uses it in relation to Crowley. Ra is the ancient Egyptian god of the sun and was depicted as a figure that was half-bird, half-man. That alone would probably be amusing to Crowley & Aziraphale. Aziraphale referring to Crowley as the god of the sun is just romantic. The sun is a star and Crowley made them; the Earth and all life and their life on it would die without the vital warmth of the sun. There is no food and no peace and no life without it. Calling his very old serpent partner the god of the sun sure sounds like Aziraphale saying that he can't live without him.

As for the masons and Gabriel... I took it as a joke about conspiracy, actually, not something suggesting one. The bartender at the pub assumes that Gabriel and Beez are masons-- meaning Freemasons-- because he thinks that there is a local chapter that meets nearby. The bartender has made assumptions about Gabriel and Beez that add up to "not from around here" and assumes they're there for a mason meeting. Gabriel is well-dressed and clueless in a rich sort of way to the bartender-- he doesn't know what a jukebox is and he's in an expensive-looking suit. He also has an American accent so the bartender figures he's probably not a local. Gabriel doesn't dissuade the bartender from thinking that he and Beez are Freemasons because Gabriel has no idea what that is-- because the bartender said "masons" and, honestly, that actually is pretty close to what Gabriel is by his own definition.

A mason works to make things out of stone and the original meaning of the word was specifically related to those making stone walls. Gabriel was in Eden at the start-- the ultimate in stone walls built-- and he also just took Beez to see a statue of himself carved out of stone. Walls are really all Gabriel's ever overseen being built or ever reinforced or ever known before Beez. He's not the most poetic of beings but he can see an analogy there where he is the imprisoned imprisoner of those in Heaven and he just doesn't dispute it because not like he's about to tell the bartender that he's actually The Supreme Archangel of Heaven and Commander of the Heavenly Host 😄 so, letting the guy assume that he works in stone seems like a good solution, as it's actually barely a lie.

The irony is that, etymologically-speaking, the bartender is actually more correct: Gabriel, in the pub that night with Beez, isn't a mason. He's a free mason. Because he's with Beez and the two of them together are carving a path out of their prison walls. Gabriel has actually joined "The Illuminati"-- because he's been illuminated... he's been enlightened. Dude's going to be Grand Master Wizard of The Illuminati or whatever it's called in S3 and bring a whole lot more with him, Beez, Crowley & Aziraphale along the way. He consumes beverages now. There's nothing holding him back. 😂

Anyway, thanks for indulging my ramblings and have a great night. 💕

[yourfavepookiebear]

Introduction (again 😭)

Requests: open (?)

I'm currently less active since I have exams coming up, so I'd rather answer any requests once my exams have passed. I'm gonna post my WIP soon, I just have to finish it first

Again, my only side account is @thepookiestpookiebear

Request Rules :

Character limit : generally 4 unless it's a group

I don't write incest, racist, homophobic, or that kinda stuff

Uhh I don't have much rules

I can write yandere stuff, I can also write self aware stuff

I write for twisted wonderland and genshin impact, and maybe tokyo revengers too !

And that's all, moving on :

Feel free to chat, I LOVE MAKING FRIENDS and i love talking/chatting ❤

If you don't like my works, just ignore them. If you don't like my account, block me. If I offend you somehow, either ignore me or block me.

I don't argue with people (most of the time)

I'm a pacifist, I have a teeny weeny wittle tiny eety beety bitty bit of anger issues

I haven't made a masterlist yet bc I don't know how to sorry

Do not steal my works, they are mine. Do not do anything with my works unless I consent to it, please. Don't copy !

Pookie, come and have some chai with me ♡♧ (or some coffee if that's what you prefer idk)

Hi pookies! I'm a beginner fic writer. I write for twisted wonderland, self aware twisted wonderland, and a slight bit of genshin impact, but mostly sagau. I'm a ✨FaLLeN AnGeL✨ /HJ SORRY 😞

My pronouns are she/her

I'm half European half Asian (specifically middle-eastern asian) my first language is French and my second language is English (chronologically), oh and I can speak in total 3-4 languages.

Edit: I have a lot of names and nicknames, so you can call me whatever you'd like, but here is a list of what most people call me, both online and irl :

Jess

Pookie

Pookie bear

Bear

KitKat

Jessica (rarely)

Cathy

Cath/Cat

Catastrophe (a nickname my previous classmates used to give me)

Sometimes even Catharina, or Catherine/Katherine

In conclusion, I have a lot of names and nicknames, so just call me whatever you'd prefer to call me, I just gave that list so maybe you'd have an idea.

Sometimes I'm dumb sometimes I'm smart, it all depends and varies.

I'm a girl, bisexual + greysexual (basically a biromantic greysexual). I'm a huge simp -> (edit: sometimes), and I like cute things.

I LOVE CATS

requests are almost always open pookies

Proud member of the pookie nation.

I will call u pookie or pookie bear no matter who or what you are.

I'm a pisces, my birthmonth is March. I'm not a huge fan of astrology but I do like astronomy tho

Subjects/topics I like:

Fashion, modeling, models.

Astronomy

Biology

Physics

Chemistry

Science (general base)

Philosophy (self-explanatory)

Edit : Sometimes history/SS too

Things I like/LOVE:

Vacuum cleaners ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤💖💞 (love of my life <33333333333333)

Food (everything except some seafood and mushrooms)

Cats (self-explanatory)

Cute things (self-explanatory)

Animals

Social media (sometimes, depends on the type)

My friends

My (new) classmates

My old school

Fast-food (KFC especially, OMFG I LOVE FRIED CHICKEN WINGS AND OML FRIED SPICY CHICKEN WINGSSS <333)

Chicken nuggets

Dried bacon

Bacon and eggs

Scrambled eggs

FRIED CHICKEN

Sandwhiches

Hotdogs

Riceballs

Tuna fish cans (canned tuna fish 🔛🔝)

Basically any food

Chocolate, ex : chocolate cakes, chocolate milkshakes, chocolate bars, chocolate tablets

Nutella/chocolate milkshakes

Writing (depends, sometimes)

Dancing

Ducks (And he waddled away waddle waddle waddle 🥲.)

CARS

Motorcycles

MONEY (no need to explain)

My extra-curricular classes (kinda, sometimes I also hate them 😞)

Uh, a Lotta things, I'm just too lazy to write all of it (it would take hours)

Music too

My personality type:

I'm ambiverted actually so it depends, so idk.

Edit: I'm an INTP pookies

Little details about me:

I could talk about food for hours. (It's one of the only things I like more than astronomy and money.)

I can't focus for too long.

I have a wild imagination (not in a bad way tho)

I love mostly everything, except for a few people/things that I still hold grudges to. (For a good reason tho).

I have a super packed schedule most of the time, it's mainly cuz I go to 2 schools at the same time, along with extracurricular classes, and both school's homeworks, and school projects

My hobbies:

Horseriding

Rockclimbing

Hiking

Writing (sometimes)

Reading

Studying (only rarely)

Jogging (but mostly cycling)

Track running

Cycling (every day, except for when I'm sick or not in form)

I don't like:

Judgemental people

Sh*t-talkers

People who have massive egos

Roaches

Spiders

Dirtyness

Dirty people

Dust

Unsanitary people

Dirty food

Dirty water

Unhygienic people

People who don't wash their hands after going to the bathroom.

Some things you should probably know if you're one of my mutuals:

2. Also not that inportant, but I try to be nice to people because they already have enough problems and I don't need/want to be one of them. Sometimes though I may be rude or mean on accident, srry.

3. I LOVE ALL OF MY MOOTS ♡♡♡

4. Also not important but I don't really think much before subscribing to someone, if I see a random stranger on the internet who has good humor, then I'll hit the plus button. Sometimes though it can be troublesome, since i don't really check people's bios.

ALSO this is my beloved creature that I found on the streets on a snowy day, it's my best friend now @farfarurfav

I'm in a lot of fandoms, mainly Twisted Wonderland, Genshin impact, Attack on Titan, Jujustu Kaisen, Honkai Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Sailor Moon, Naruto, Boruto, Assassination Classroom, Spy x Family, KNY, Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken/ That time I reincarnated as a slime, Obey me, Dark Fall, Etc etc and also I'm a manga, manhua, manhwa, and anime enjoyer and I also know some webtoons too !

ONLY Side account : @thepookiestpookiebear

Must read to navigate through my blog :

Tags :

See "#yourfavepookiebear" for anything related to me !

See "#pookiebear rants" for whatever rants I've posted !

See "#pookie talks" for me talking with people or just chatting and stuff like that

See "#thepookiestwrites" for some of my newest works !

For now these are the only tags I'll introduce.

for all the dividers ! ⬇️

Oh btw @cafekitsune , love your stuff

[tomriddleslove]

You had me going crazy with pick up the phone, specifically with the “mine, all mine” line. I was hoping to request how it would be with Tom, and having to deal with all his followers. Surely he expects them to treat you with the utmost reverence. Just wanna know your thoughts~

UGH OH MY GOD WHERE DO I EVEN START WITH TOM ☹️☝️

First of all I wholeheartedly believe he would not want to introduce you into that lifestyle. His followers do not know about you, and you do not know about his plans.

I am a firm and strong believer that Tom does not love, he only obsesses. You are an obsession to him, and as such he would not want to do something that could risk losing you. So if you really want to believe so, you could say it comes from a place of care. Mainly however it’s because if he loses you he risks having a weakness - someone who’s seen a (barely) softer side of him.

I think one of the things Tom would fall for is intelligence. Before we get into the whole debate of “what is knowledge” (my love for philosophy is coming through) , it’s not literally academic capability. Moreso, someone who is socially observant . They may not need to act on it but that have an uncanny knack for getting people to do what you want/getting on with people. That’s a huge asset to him and would most likely be the very first thing that drives him to getting close to you.

Love can manifest in many different ways, and obsession can too. I think there are many cases where they manifest in the same form, and that’s what Tom has for you.

As much as it pains me to say this there is probably only a very very specific type of person who can get Tom to as close as one can get to “loving you”. And at that point, it’s a whole new story.

Tom would resent you for it. He’d be so disgustingly angry at the idea of you making him love (or at least close to it) , making him be weak (because to love is to be weak, undoubtedly) that he would avoid you. He wouldn’t talk to you, he’d lash out, he’d lose his composure . That would make him all the more desperate for you, and so he’d end up coming back. Sort of like a “I hate loving you” type situation.

It’s essentially my fics “ Foolish, foolish thing” and “forgotten once again”

Ok now if we ignore my rambling, how would it be dealing with his followers?

I wholeheartedly believe it’s a “they don’t speak unless you command it” type thing. On the very rare and seldom occasion that you make an appearance, everyone is expected to keep their heads down. They cannot, and do not deserve, to look at you. If you are to speak, they dare not interrupt. They do not speak a word against you.

I see one sort of thing that kind of shocked everyone into not uttering a word of disrespect going like so:

Telmont frowns as he sits at the table, moving to interject. Carrow places a hand on his forearm, a warning to not interrupt Riddle in his already agitated state.

But, he chose not to heed the warning, and was doomed to pay the price.

“My lord, surely you cannot be suggesting we postpone the raid? Macnair confirmed that the only day the ministry would remove some of the heavy restrictions on the department of confiscated artefacts would be the day the French minister of magic was to visit! Otherwise it would be near impossible to enter without detection.” Telmont objects, and an almost deafening silence falls over the room.

It all of a sudden feels far too suffocating, and Carrow can only pray Telmont has enough sense not to probe further.

“Are you suggesting we do not possess the capabilities to carry out such an operation?” Tom says, turning to Telmont with an eerily calm voice.

“No my Lord, you are but the most brilliant mind we should ever have! I am merely suggesting that it is best we don’t risk unnecessary casualties for…. well, her.” Telmont stammers, and it is only as he utters those last words that he realises the grave mistake he had made.

It happens far too quickly for anyone to even realise what has happened. Telmont is yanked upwards into the air by some sort of invisible force, body convulsing unnaturally in a way that isn’t human as his face contorts into a look of agony.

“You dare speak of her? You dare disrespect her? I will slaughter every single one of you without second thought if she so asked. Each and every one of you are completely disposable. You dare utter a word about her and I will see to it personally that I strip every nerve from your body till death becomes mercy.” Tom snarls through gritted teeth, whilst everyone watches on in stunned silence.

He flicks his wand to the side harshly, spinning on his heel as he walks off.

“Get out.” He snaps.

Telmont collapses onto the ground in a heap as Tom walks away, and no one dares to move till he has left.

So yes, utter reverence and nothing more. Dare I say he expects them to treat you with more respect than they do with him, which is saying a lot.

I could genuinely write pages on what a relationship with Tom would be like, but for now i’ll just quote some things from the stuff i’ve written that I feel summarise him best:

He feels the rhythmic beating of your heart, and is once again reminded of how easy it would be. To just pierce the damned thing, and not feel this way anymore. To not feel like you were drowning him , yet he also needed you to breathe.

What began as a detached fascination transformed into a possessive need. Tom, driven by an insatiable hunger for control, found satisfaction in manipulating the threads of your existence. Obsession seeped into every crevice of his thoughts. Your every action became a challenge to him, something for him to understand, something he wanted to have control over. His infatuation stemmed from a desire to have control, to claim your very being, to possess you like some sort of artefact in his prized possessions.

In his distorted reality, your existence became an extension of his own, a possession he couldn't bear to lose.

Tom's presence was poison, yet it was also the air you breathed.

It wasn't love as the poets wrote or the philosophers pondered. Yet, in its ugliness, it was the only reality you knew.

Like a serpent, his embrace constricts around you, possessive and suffocating. You lean into him, feeling the coldness of his touch seep into your skin. It's oddly warming though, as paradoxical as it seemed.

His love for you (if you could class it as that) lingered in the spaces between your heartbeat, intertwining so seamlessly with your essence that to let go of him would be to unravel the very fabric of who you've become.

I hope you enjoyed this unsolicited tangent that came from a single question 💀💀

[pommunist]

Please feel free to delete this ask if you don't feel like answering for any reason, but do you know if Antonie has stated that he's part of or had asked to be part of the restructuring team, or if he's just waiting on a statement like most of us? He shouldn't have had to ask, given the fact that the French got done the dirtiest in this whole mess and deserve to have a say in the changes being made, but between it looking like most of the other ccs have about the same amount info that we do, and seeing rumors that Pierre said on stream yesterday he's been in contact with Pomme's admin and she'll be coming back *when* the other eggs do, not if (though idk how accurate that is, as I both don't speak French and didn't catch the stream, so I'm working off tweets/posts about the comment), I wonder if this is a sign things are seriuously breaking down behind the scenes, or just an instance of things being considered on a need-to-know basis by the team and accidentally making things worse by going radio silent with anyone not explicitly in the team thats trying to fix everything (which is still not a good look, but there's at least a glimmer of hope it could be fixed if they actually wise up and start talking to people)

(Also, I hope this doesn't come off as me trying to discredit anything, if this is truly the final straw for Antonie or any of the other french ccs/team members, I'll be sad to see them go but glad they're finally informed of the situatiom and confident enough to be loud about it and publicly draw a line after all the abuse they've unjustly had to put up with, both within the team and from the qsmp community at large just being terrible, and I hope they get the restitution they deserve.)

(Also also, thank you for taking the time to post about things from the french side of the situation to keep the rest of us informed, I can't imagine how exhausting it must be given how the qsmp fanbase can act. Much love from this random internet stranger lmao)

All I know from antoine’s stream is that right before Lea went public, the french ccs had seen a file she made detailing the various issues and were planning in return to send a long letter to Quackity to share their concerns. Didn’t do it because she spoke up before that but they were still planning to talk with Quackity about it (this was from his stream two weeks ago idk how things are now, he only said today that he had no update and things weren’t looking bright)

I have no idea how involved he or any other cc is right now with the process but since he did say very publicly that unless he was shown concrete proof of positive change he would never come back to the server made me assume they would update him a bit ?

I can’t speculate about what’s going on but idk shit lmao just that so far there has been very few green flags. I know it takes time to make such big changes but when the first step they take doesn’t seem promising u kinda have to worry

Istill truly wishes that everything can be fixed for everyone’s benefit but atp give me something to trust :/

[otrtbs]

hiii! ive got two: how many languages do u speak + any rosekiller recs??? have the best day

hi!! <3

i speak english and the most limited french ever. i'm actually pretty good at reading french,,, wretched at speaking it,,,,

as for rosekiller recs, i don't read rosekiller exclusively unless they're in a background jegulus context :((( sorry my friend <33 OOH WAIT THAT'S A LIE I DID READ WILDFLOWER BY @sequinhaze and that slayed incredibly hard. it is a straight smutshot if that's ur vibe i recommend

i hope you have the best day !! <3

ask game!