#apologies if i butchered the russian!

[elusive-lights]

Your art is so awesome, I really like the prize fighter Alfred one you did😍 If your still doing requests please draw russia?

thank you very much, anon :)

sorry it’s just a sketch for now but in the meantime here you go—hope i did him justice!

-

bonus drabble below (because i couldn’t help myself):

“and now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. entering the ring is our challenger—the red peril, the russian menace, the one and only—ivan ‘the gentle giant’ braginsky!”

a hush falls over the spectators as ivan steps into the octagon, all six feet five inches and two hundred forty pounds of sheer muscle. he pauses momentarily, takes in the grandstand, the blinding lights, the twenty-pound cameras.

then a thin-lipped smile crawls across his face, cold and calculated. he jerks his thumb over his scarred neck, the message clear:

no mercy.

(not a warning—a promise.)

and the crowd goes wild, baying for blood.

[blairxbear]

Stranger Things Preferences

Their Pet Name for you.

(Featuring: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers, Dmitri Antonov, Jim Hopper, Alexei, Murray Bauman, Robin Buckley, Argyle, Henry/001)

Warnings: Mentions of sex. This blog is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: My first preference! There will be quite a few of these across quite a few fandoms so if you'd like to be tagged in future preferences or future stranger things posts please let me know in the comments! :) Also any Russian is taken straight from google translate so pre-apologies if I have butchered it! Enjoy!

Steve Harrington

Steve keeps his pet names quite generic, baby, babe, sweetheart. It's not so much the names he uses but how he says them. Most of the time he's most comfortable using the shortened version of your name or nickname he has for you, but the amount of affection he would put into it would make you melt. If he's being especially flirtatious you'd even occasionally get doll. He doesn't miss the effect it has on you when he calls you that.

Eddie Munson

Eddie is as theatrical with his pet names as he is with anything else in life. He loves to call you princess, especially during Hellfire meetings when he can incorporate you into his campaign. I think Eddie would switch between a few pet names to try to keep it interesting, baby, sunshine, sweetheart. It doesn't matter what he calls you it never fails to give you butterflies. Let's not pretend that if you two are hanging out in his trailer while you joke around and play air guitar together that he doesn't call you his little Rockstar.

Billy Hargrove

Billy's pet names for you depend on two things; his mood, and who you are around. In public you're only getting the less heartfelt pet names, he refers to you as his girl a lot in front of other people. Not only does he love the small smile it brings to your face but it also feeds into his possessive side, knowing that everyone knows you are his. When you two are alone and have been together for a while, Billy finally shoes a softer side of himself. He will compliment you a lot and attach all sort of pet names to those compliments, baby, sugar, sweet thing, still loving to resort to calling you his girl. You're mad at him and he's trying to make it up to you? Get ready for him to bargain his way back into your arms, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers in your ear, "Come on sweetheart, you know you can't stay mad at me."

Jonathan Byers

This soft, shy, adorable baby will probably be hesitant to use pet names for a long time. I honestly doubt you would hear them until you two begin to get intimate and he's too lost in the moment to think about what he's saying. He's pussy drunk and rambling into your neck, pet names would all be soft and sweet while he's chasing his high, beautiful and sweetheart would be at the top of his list. Getting high in his room? This sweet man would be telling you how you're his sunshine, rambling on in his delirium about how you light up his life.

Dmitri Antonov

While this man's English is very good, he still prefers to use pet names in Russian. There's something about the way he looks at you with his intense gaze as he slips back into his native tongue that just turns you into an absolute puddle. His favourites include котенок (kitten) and моя любовь (my love). The thought of this man holding you while you curl up in bed for the night, arms wrapped around you while he whispers endearing words in Russian into your ear is enough to bring butterflies to your stomach.

Jim Hopper

Let's not pretend like for a goooooooood while this man affectionately refers to you as kid even if you are barely a few years younger than him. He's a tough shell of a man that will refuse to open up or show his feelings for a long time, but when he does you realise its worth the wait. He doesn't throw around pet names and words of endearment a lot as he prefers to save them for moments when he feels it's right. When it's just the two of you and you're sharing a soft moment, sometimes referring to you as darling in his softer moments. Occasionally you might even get a cheeky baby.

Alexei

Another Russian baby, this adorable man will always call you pet names in Russian, it doesn't matter how much his English has improved. It just means more to him coming from his native tongue. His regular go to include голубь (Dove) and милый (Darling). Although, Murray taught him how Americans us Pumpkin as a term of endearment as a way to screw with you both and now it's one of Alexei's favourite things to call you. Jokes on Murray because seeing Alexei's face light up as he reaches for you and calls you pumpkin is enough to fall even more in love with him.

Murray Bauman

I feel like Murray cannot find it in himself to call you soft names to start off with. He's still confused by the fact that you even want to be with him, he's not going to possibly embarrass himself further using some pet names that might cross some invisible line he's set up for himself. He refers to as lady a lot, or another unique name that fits your looks of personality. Once this man is comfortable and more secure in your relationship I think the names would still stay light and not too sensitive. You would definitely get honey a lot, I don't think Murray would be able to resist yelling through the house when he gets home, "Honey, I'm home!"

Robin Buckley

Robin would also keep her pet names generic just like her bestie Steve, but less out of originality and more just to play it safe. Robin would have some insecurities going into a relationship after all the careful steps she took just to get to where you two are now. She is hesitant at first to say the wrong thing so she sticks to a lot of sweetheart and babe. One day you were spending time together and she slipped up and called you buttercup. She panicked for a second worrying what you would think of the nickname, but seeing your smile wiped all of those worries away and it became one of her favourite pet names so far.

Argyle

Okay so we all know this cutie is not going to call you any conventional pet names unless he's sober which is not very often. You're going to get a lot of my dude and bro but he does really mean it affectionately with you. Other than that you're definitely going to get a lot of made up names that mean absolutely nothing but to him they mean a lot; wicked lady, cream puff, anything. He would totally refer to you as "my queen" when he lets you into the van which he refers to as your chariot. Your favourite pet name would be the time he said, "My pretty girl is gonna get all the pizza she wants" he couldn't understand your reaction as you couldn't think of what to say next after hearing Argyle call you his pretty girl.

Henry/001

I whole heartedly believe this man would refer to you as pet. He does mean it endearingly but he also can't resist how you scrunch your nose up at hearing the teasing term. He also uses a lot of "My little..." whether it be bird, bunny, dove. He constantly feels the need to protect you and he shows that in his terms of endearment by referring to you as small and innocent. I know this man would call you his good girl, and you will have to pry that thought out of my cold dead hands.

A/N: Hope you guys like this! Reminder that if you want to be tagged in future Stranger things posts or other preferences to let me know in the comments and ill create a tags list :)

[glossysoap]

ready to comply i - пленение

directly after your capture, you are held in пленение, or captivity.

warnings/tags: ghost x reader x soap. !! please be sure to read the prologue first if you haven’t already !! a little pov from the woman, canon typical violence and gore, talk of sterilization and s/a, implied human trafficking, srsly it’s obvious who the woman is at this point lol

notes: russian will be written in bolded italics. eng translation for russian sentences will be written in non bolded italics directly after said russian sentence.

inclusivity note: no mention of flushing or hair type. the woman can drag you/lift you because she has super serum, so you can imagine any body type for the reader.

ex: пример. example

prev chapters here!

word count: 3,020

She hated this. She hated this with every fiber of her being. You were just doing your job, trying to heal her and keep her comfortable. You even tried speaking Russian so you could treat her! Even if you kind of butchered the language, the redhead was touched by the gesture.

You had treated her so gently only an hour before, squeezing her hand and murmuring words of reassurance into her ear. Your hands were careful when you assessed her for injuries. You even took warm blankets away from other people that might have needed them, good people, in order to wrap them around her.

In that helicopter, she couldn’t resist apologizing for what she was about to do. She stopped feigning most of her injuries and sat up from the gurney before yanking your arm, pulling you close to her.

“Мне жаль. Я бы хотел, чтобы мне не пришлось этого делать.” I am sorry. I wish I didn’t have to do this. She whispered in your ear.

Her heart broke when your eyes widened in shock as she twisted your arm into an impossible angle — crack. You choked on the breath inside your throat when she plunged the cold knife inside your chest. After a few moments, she twisted it and yanked it out before throwing it at the pilot.

Everything else was a blur to her, from taking out the pilot to her tying a rope around the two of you to stay connected. When she stood at the edge of the aircraft with her arms wrapped around you, she was already prepared to hold a deep breath of air.

She watched as you attempted to take a deep breath, but all that came out was a wet wheeze, almost a gargle. No doubt from internal bleeding, the plasma already making its way up your esophagus.

She knew she had to work quick; she only had so much time to get you to headquarters before you bled to death.

With that, the redhead jumped out of the helicopter with you in her arms and you two plummeted to the dark water. After falling about halfway to the ocean, she pulled the pin on the parachute. Once the parachute was activated, your plummet to the ocean slowed to a bearable descent.

Once you two crashed into the waves, the ropes tied around both of you had snapped. Now that you weren’t tied securely to her, the angry tides pulled you away from her. She panicked, using her arms to push herself forward and kicked her legs behind her to propel her towards you. She used broad strokes as she swam towards you, pushing the water behind her until she reached you. Taking in big gulps of air without abandon, she fought to keep her head above water to get to you.

Finally, she reached you. Your hands thrashing were the only thing she saw above the surface. She took in a deep breath and held it before diving underneath the biting water, green eyes searching desperately for you in the dark.

She quickly saw you due to the contrast of your gear against the water. You were scrambling to hold on to something, anything in the water — but to no avail. She could see your lips turning chapped not only from the biting snow but the freezing water. You could barely keep your eyes open. She could tell your resolve was slipping, just like your consciousness. She immediately swam towards you, fighting to push water away from herself.

After a few strokes, you were finally at arms length. Just as you were about to inhale and let water into your lungs, she wrapped her arms under your armpits and yanked you out of the water. To keep you afloat, she brought your arms up to wrap around her neck and used one of her arms to hold your waist. She used her other arm and her feet to swim towards shore.

The second you were above air, you gasped and your eyes flew open. She looked down at you and watched as you almost greedily took in big gulps of air. Relief washed over her to know that you hadn’t drowned.

She continued swimming to land with you on her shoulder until she finally hit snow. It was then that she let go of you for a brief moment, laying your limp form on the blanket of snow.

She stood and rifled through her pocket to pull out a folded up map, before ensuring their location. Once she located the headquarters that was labeled with a red star not too far from them, she nodded. She bent down to grab you by your underarms once more before dragging you behind her.

A pool of your blood had stained the snow where you were laid, the crimson a harsh contrast against the bright white. As she pulled you by your underarms, your body left a trail of blood in its wake.

The biting wind blew and howled, whipping her red hair in her face. She shook her head to get her hair out of her eyes as she kept dragging your body behind her.

Snow crunched under her combat boots as she kept trudging on, her legs heavy with exhaustion. She huffed and panted with each step as her body tried to warm itself. The redhead’s breath was visible in the air because of the below freezing temperatures.

She knew that she was approaching the headquarters when she saw some hills and rocks dusted with snow. After a few more minutes of hiking, she had finally reached the entrance of the headquarters; an underground bunker. The entrance was a large, metal square hatch on the ground. It was almost camouflaged. The metal was blanketed with a thick layer of snow so the average person wouldn’t be able to see it.

She set your arms down gently so they laid at your sides, before bending down to brush away the snow from the metal. She hissed at the biting cold, wishing she hadn’t lost her gloves in the water, as she typed in the access code into the nearly frozen keypad.

The hatch unlocked with a click, before slowly opening with a creak. When the hatch was fully opened, it revealed a set of cement stairs that were going down.

As the Russian stared down the set of stairs that seemed to go on forever, a pit formed in the bottoms of her stomach. Her throat grew tight and her eyes stung with unshed tears.

She knew what she was subjecting you to by bringing you here. She had lived it for years, endured it for years.

She was taken with her sister and brought to this place when they were only small children. She was taken and beaten. Starved and left thirsty if she didn’t obey their every command. Injuries left untreated if she didn’t obey every order, no matter how cruel. Forced to watch innocent women be abused by men, by her own handlers, if she didn’t shoot the women herself.

She reached a shaky hand down to clutch her stomach, remembering possibly the worst trauma inflicted upon her. Underneath the waistband of her jeans was a nasty white scar that spanned across the width of her hip.

When she had completed training at the young age of 18, she was forcefully sterilized. Robbed of her choice to have children. It was purely for the convenience of her handlers. She couldn’t very well complete missions and eliminate targets if she had a menstrual cycle or a fetus growing inside her.

She was taken as a child, she was robbed of the choice to have children when she was 18, and now at 32, she was dragging someone else into this hell.

A whimper of pain leaving your lips brought her out of her thoughts.

One glance back at your unconscious figure laying in the bloody snow with your face scrunched up in pain was all it took for tears to start streaming down her face.

She choked on her sobs as she bent down to pick you up by your underarms once more. She made sure to be gentle as she walked with you down the stairs, one step at a time. After a few steps, the hatch slammed shut behind the two of you.

You awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open at the loud clank of the metal hatch. You were overwhelmed by your senses.

Your nostrils were flooded by the familiar scent of rubbing alcohol and sanitizing supplies, something you normally associated with a hospital. That comforting scent was now tainted with ammonia and rust.

You fought the bile that rose in your throat, pushing it down with a grimace.

You tasted blood as you swallowed, the bitter metallic making you cringe.

You could hear combat boots pounding on the hard floor and screams echo in the seemingly never ending hallway. Your wide eyes darted around you, seeing nothing but concrete floors and ceilings.

The same red headed woman was helping you limp down a set of concrete stairs and into a dimly lit hallway. The walls were metal, which didn’t help the freezing temperatures above ground.

Your teeth chattered and you shivered in your still soaking wet clothes.

With each step, you felt the excruciating pain return to you. White hot pain replaced the blood coursing through your veins as the wound in your abdomen throbbed and pulsed. Your arm was definitely broken. It was alarmingly numb and you feared that it wasn’t because of the temperature, but due to the blood supply being cut off. Unless your captors had state of the art equipment, that would make it effectively unsalvageable.

The two of you walked down the hallway until you reached a set of large, metal double doors with a painted on red star. It had a keypad and a fingerprint reader. The woman typed in a code and then pressed her thumb to the screen, before looking up at the ceiling next to the double doors. There was a camera there, no doubt with a security team behind it to verify her identity.

The doors creaked open to reveal a team of armed guards, you counted six to be exact. All geared up in kevlar, helmets and masks, making them effectively unable to be identified. You noticed that every one of them was armed with multiple assault rifles and batons.

They turned around, backs facing you as they marched the two of you down another dim hallway. With their backs turned to you, you could see military knives strapped into holsters and tasers within their reach.

You gulped. It was interesting how those same weapons never phased you earlier that day, but you couldn’t be more terrified of them right now. But these people weren’t your 141.

They weren’t your reliable and trustworthy Captain Price whose presence held an air of respect. They weren’t your friendly Gaz that always had a quip to throw your way whenever you were feeling down.

They definitely weren’t your warm and strong Soap, whose warmth you found yourself craving as you were on the verge of hypothermia. Whose eyes reminded you of the clearest, brightest ocean in Scotland.

They definitely weren’t your protective Ghost, who you knew could clear the room in five seconds flat if he were here. Ghost, who you knew could be snapping someone’s neck one minute and holding your face in those same big hands to make sure you were unharmed the next minute.

They would have gotten you out of this. They would have kept you safe. If only they had known.

You would give anything, do anything to be back with them right now. Back with your safe haven.

You chuckled inwardly as you recalled how you wanted to be away from them and their affection so badly. You had the audacity to think of their presence as a burden because you weren’t sure if they returned your feelings or not.

That was the biggest problem in your life a few hours ago. Laughable. Fucking laughable.

Meanwhile, the redhead was watching you look at the soldiers with wide eyes and trembling lips. Fear was practically rolling off of you in waves.

She felt like a lion leading a lamb to slaughter. Guilt dug further into her very core.

She had to remind herself that if she didn’t come for you, someone else would have. One of the men would’ve come for you, leaving you with much more injuries. They would scar you mentally instead of just physically. They would have drawn out your capture, taking and taking and taking from you, all for their sick pleasure. Taking whatever they wanted.

You did what you could to lessen their pain, she kept repeating in her head like a mantra.

She swallowed her emotions and steeled her expression.

After a few minutes of walking down that hallway, you arrived at another door. Not only was it more secure than the other door, but it also had a different insignia engraved on it. Instead of a red star, engraved on this door was a crimson octopus with a skull for a head. The tentacles of the octopus spanned out around the skull, almost in a perfect circle. Rust and dirt lined every crevice of the insignia, from the eye sockets of the skull to the suction cups on each tentacle.

The door was metal and had multiple locks and latches, as well as a keypad. It was also equipped with a fingerprint scanner and retina scanner to ensure no one could infiltrate the headquarters.

After a guard entered the access code, he pressed his thumb against the scanner and peeled his mask down to allow the camera to scan his eyes.

The door creaked open to reveal a large room filled with security cameras, headlights, and medical equipment. What drew your attention the most, however, was the lone chair in the middle of the room. It was black, surrounded by metal bars on the armrests and back. A heart monitor was next to it, as well as a tray full of medical instruments.

Some men wearing lab coats were scattered throughout the room arguing with men in Russian military uniforms. Once you and the group of guards had entered the room, the arguing stopped immediately. The doctors and the soldiers stared at you, wearing sick grins and eyeing you up and down in a way that made you feel like vomiting.

“Мы благодарим вас за успешную миссию. Вы уволены, вдова.” We thank you for the successful mission. You are dismissed, Widow. A Russian commanded, you assumed he was the highest ranking soldier in the room due to the copious amount of awards pinned to his chest. He wore a crimson beret and his uniform was green camouflage. He had stubble that was barely disguising his smirk. His smirk mirrored the expression of every other man in that room. It resembled a predator staring down their prey.

Your eyes darted to the woman holding you up, her remorseful eyes staring into your scared ones.

Somehow even after hurting you so bad, pushing you to the brink of death, that woman didn’t scare you nearly as much as the room full of men. She didn’t make a chill run up your spine like they did, she didn’t make bile rise up to your throat like they did. She didn’t stare at you like you were a piece of meat. Like you were a target they had their crosshairs on.

Your stomach dropped as you were ripped from her grasp from two burly guards and dragged across the room.

“No! Get off me! No, no, no!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, kicking and thrashing in their hold. Logically, you knew that you were too weak to escape. You knew that no one would hear your screams — and if anyone did, it wouldn’t be anyone who would want to help. Logically, you knew all of that deep down. But right now, your instincts were in fight or flight mode.

So you kicked and screamed and punched. To no avail.

They dragged you like a rag doll, pulling you to the chair as your legs collapsed underneath you. They dragged you by your arms without care, so rough that your injured arm felt like it was tearing all over again. You let out a scream at both the pain and the harsh realization that you weren’t getting out of this.

You were never getting out of this.

You would never be able to share a warm hug with Price again. You would never get to hear him praise you for taking care of him and his team so well.

You would never be able to play a game of cards with Gaz again. You would never get to reprimand him for being reckless again.

Your scream turned into a sob as you thought about how you would never see Ghost or Soap again.

Never again would you get to see the way Soap’s teeth glinted as he laughed, usually at something Ghost said. Never again would you smell his pleasantly strong aftershave, all leather and musk. You would never again feel his hand press against the small of your back whenever he would walk behind you.

You would never get to admire Ghost’s deep brown eyes surrounded by blonde lashes again. You would never get to hear his booming Manchester accent over comms, asking for your medical attention. You would never again be able to feel his callused hands gently hold your chin as he searched your face, looking for any injuries.

You would never be able to tell them how you felt. How you loved them with every fiber of your being, how you were in love with them.

How they occupied every thought in your mind, even in its darkest moment. How, even as you were on deaths door, you were thinking of them - wishing you were in their arms.

next chapter

🏷️ : @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @viylikescats @warenai @le0thely0n (strike out means it wouldn’t let me tag, sorry)

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[eldritch-nightmare]

Mk, so, how about Liu, and any other characters of your choice with an S/O who has selective-mutism, but one day they just randomly decide to say something, but it’s in a completely different language. Idk where I got the idea from.

a/n: i saw liu's name and i couldn't restrain myself. i'm monolingual so i had to use various translation sites so if these are incorrect then i am so sorry. nd i opted to just have the reader randomly say 'i love you' because that seemed like an easy phrase to not butcher. except for liu. with what i wrote, i did have to give a full phrase other than 'i love you' and i put it through multiple translation sites so uhm fingers crossed that it's accurate uhm if you speak danish and it isn't then first off i am so sorry and second off can you please tell me what the actual translation is anyways this is a long note sorry fdhjfh hope you enjoy!!

with a selectively mute s/o that speaks in a different language.

includes: homicidal liu, the doll maker, nurse ann, and clockwork.

warnings: gn reader, it's honestly mostly just sappy, liu downplays a stab wound but that's really it.

HOMICIDAL LIU.

Liu doesn't really think about your selective mutism. You'll talk to him whenever you're comfortable, and if that's never then that's fine with him. All he cares about is your comfort.

Besides, if you ask him, he does enough talking for the both of you. At least... he thinks he talks a lot. It definitely feels like it. And who knows, he probably just teaches you morse code so you two can communicate like that.

And little did either of you know, today was the day you'd speak to him for the first time. And not for good reason, sadly. You see, Liu... isn't necessarily a careful person when it comes to his own safety.

So he may or may not have gotten hurt. But it's not like it's a life-threatening injury or anything like that! Besides, he's taught himself how to treat minor wounds like this. Really, it isn't that big of a deal.

You think otherwise, because, uh, he was fucking stabbed. Who the hell considers a stab wound a 'minor' injury?!

So when you saw him cleaning and stitching up a stab wound, this obviously led to some bickering between the two of you. Liu is telling you that he's okay, while you're aggressively telling him via morse code that he's been stabbed and that he needs to get professional medical attention. But Liu was fine. He's gone through way worse than this, so you really don't have to worry.

But him saying that just leads to you throwing up your hands in frustration as you say, "Dammit, kan du ikke se, at jeg er bekymret, fordi jeg elsker dig?!"

And... well... Liu doesn't really know what you just said but he feels really bad knowing that this is what made you speak to him for the first time.

He'll sigh and apologize for not taking his injuries seriously, and he promises to get professional help rather than just treating it himself. He... is legally classified as dead, so he can't go to a hospital but... I mean... he knows a guy who was studying medicine. And a very suspicious doctor.

THE DOLL MAKER.

Vine's native tongue is Russian, so more often than not he'll mutter to himself in his mother tongue rather than any other language.

He doesn't really care if you speak or not, mostly because he feels more comfortable in the silence. He's not the best at holding conversations.

He was busy making a doll with non-human parts this time around. And you were roaming around his little workshop, inspecting all his half-finished projects and sketches of future dolls he planned on making.

Vine trusts you to be around his work, so he's not worried about you accidentally making a mess or breaking anything but he does find himself feeling a little nervous.

Dollmaking is his passion, it's something he loves doing. And he loves you as well and values your opinion more than anyone else's. What if you think he's not doing a good job? What if you think he could make something better?

You've never given him the impression that you dislike dolls or find his creations and passion to be 'childish' but it's still a thought that lingers in his mind nonetheless. Thoughts like this constantly plague his mind.

But when he glances away from the doll he's working on to see you gently straightening out the dress of another one that's on display, a small smile gracing your lips as you admire his creation...

"Я тебя люблю." The words just sorta slipped out of his mouth, and it took him a moment before he went to repeat what he said in English but you spoke before he could even open his mouth.

"Я тебя тоже люблю." And oh. That's the first time he's ever heard you speak, he thinks.

NURSE ANN.

She too is selectively mute, though she doesn't speak because it physically hurts to more often than not, and also... she sees no real reason to talk, to be honest.

You two probably communicate via sign language or writing, though she'll quietly whisper to you if she has to.

Ann doesn't care if you talk or not. She gets it, even if you two have vastly different reasons for your selective mutism.

She's not going to have that big a reaction when you do talk, though she will tilt her head to the side a bit when you speak in an entirely different language.

It'll probably happen while the two of you are spending time together in silence, Ann doing her own thing while you're sitting nearby.

She was caught up in her own little task, mind empty. She was vaguely aware of your gaze on her, but she only really came back to reality when she heard you sigh and softly murmur to yourself.

"Ich liebe dich."

She blinks, taking a moment to process your words. She... doesn't understand German, but the way you softly spoke the words, and the way you were looking at her with such fondness... well, she had a vague idea of what you said.

And very quietly, she whispers back, "Love you too."

CLOCKWORK.

Natalie seems like the type of person who wants to learn a new language, and even begins starting to, but her motivation for it just evaporates two days after starting and she stops trying to learn. And it's just a cycle that rinses, washes, and repeats itself.

Anyways, she overthinks a lot and needs constant reassurance more than she would like, so at the beginning of your relationship, communication was probably a little rocky.

But you guys manage to come up with other ways to communicate rather than vocally.

She'll catch herself wondering what your voice sounds like, and she'll sometimes wonder if you'll ever feel comfortable enough around her to speak but she doesn't push you to talk.

She understands, trust me.

But she's definitely surprised when you wake her up from her nap just to look her in the eye and bluntly say, "Anh yêu em." and you don't even give her a chance to process it before you walk away.

She's just baffled and confused. What the hell did you just say to her? You just spoke. What the hell did you say? Is she dreaming? She feels awake. She's definitely awake.

Natalie has to dig around for her phone to try and search for the translation of what you said, and it takes her a few tries before she finally manages to type it out correctly. She definitely buries her face in a pillow when she reads the translation. And she ends up falling back asleep.

It's only when she wakes up again that she'll go and find you. She'll wrap her arms around your waist and rest her forehead on your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss there and tiredly murmuring, "I love you too."

[giggly-squiggily]

Games with Squiggles, let's goooo! Hm, let's give BSD a whirl... how about Fyodor with tickles, please?

Ayyy! :D I've gotcha, anon!

Fyodor- Tickle:

Fyodor squeals in Russian if you tickle him long enough. He doesn't realize he's doing it so his cries of mirth will go from: "Ahhehehehahhahahah nohohohohooho stahahahp it!" to "Эхе-хе-хе-хе, пожалуйста, Ме-хе-хе-хе!"

(Apologies if I butchered the translation- I used google translate so take that info as you will)

Send me a character and one of the following: Angst, Fluff, or Tickle and I'll give you a headcanon!

[vladdocs]

Hello, I want to start off by saying I hope you’re having a good day :)

I’m here to ask if there’s any specifics about the relationship Vlad had with his brothers. It’s noted that he avenged his older brothers death, is there any documentation that gives clues to what the Dracula brothers were like? Why Radu had went against Vlad or anything? Apologies if you have answered this in the past!

Thank you for all the education you bring, truly it is a fascination and super fun to read!

Salut! Vlad had a complicated relation with his brother just like any other medieval royal family. On a hand his your kin from the same blood, on the other hand he is a future candidate for the throne. So it was quite a neutre relatioship, they didn't love eachother or hated. Radu fought Vlad because they were in the oposite sides, just like why Stefan fought Vlad. It didn't put any bad blood between them. that's how things were back then. So how his brothers were from the documents: Radu: He is quite cold and blank really, he alaways stick with the standard letters, never added something different to them so we can't make up an idea of his personality, he took as hostage the wives and children of the boyars that helped Vlad, He wasn't as respected as Vlad since the brasovans refuse to pay their debts to him, he would use treats like "I have power from the turks" and the ottomans described him as quite submissive (tho they describe everyone like that). He was a good ruler tho, improve stuff, build churches, didn't sold the country to the ottomans (always a + in my book) but quite an empty ruler. Mircea: Mircea is a little different, He was a warrior like Vlad, He wanted kinda wanted to protect his brother but also not to, he was doing what it was told to. The chronicler Jean the wavrin talked with him:

“In the meantime, the son of the lord of Wallachia went to visit the lord of Wavrin, to whom, after greeting him, had an interpreter say that he was planning an enterprise against the Turks: and, if he promised him not to judging him badly, he would tell him his secret; which the lord of Wavrin absolutely swore to him. And then the interpreter, having received instructions from the son of Wallachia, spoke in this way: "My father sent for me and told me that, if I do not avenge him of that subachi of that castle of Georgye (Giurgiu), he will disown me and he no longer considers me his son; because he is the one who betrayed him and who, with a safe conduct from the Turk, made him go to the aforementioned Turk, then took him prisoner to the castle of Gallipoli, where he held him for a long time with chains on his legs . Now the fact is that he and his Saracens have now surrendered to my father, their lives and possessions must be spared, and they must be taken to Vulgarye (Bulgaria); and I will go, along with 2000 Wallachians, two leagues from here, cross the river and set up an ambush on their path: so, when they try to go to Nicopolis, I will be in front of them, so I will put them all to death . ” A thing to which the aforementioned lord of Wavrin did not answer a single word, neither good nor bad. So the aforementioned son of Wallachia went away, to go and carry out his enterprise.“ In the same chronicle Jean the Wavrin actually tells Mircea about Radu being molested which I find quite a weird topic to talk about with a 15-year old boy in his way to butcher a garnizon of ottomans and just came back from a crusade but alright. At Varna Mircea was the only guy that did something, as much as Murad had to threaten him that will kill his 2 brothers if he continues From the chronicle of Beheim (He's a poet, the author of most of the brutal things you read on the internet about Vlad. so most likely as trustworthy as a Russian news station): " Many of them, a countless number, were killed. When the Emperor(Murad II) heard what great losses his men were suffering, he sent a message to Trakal(Dracul/Mircea): if he did not stop fighting before more messages came to him, he would kill his two brothers whom he had captured. He would do this if he did not show restraint in battle." Which Mircea did, tho this action had drastic consqueces. here is a video about Mircea I don't think Vlad was bother that much about Mircea's death but how was he killed, all people with noble blood like the boyars and ruler must be killed by sword (decapitation), when the pargars of Brasov buried Mircea alive they tehinically said they don't consider the Basarabs nobles. Vlad IV The Monk: This guy most likely was just a random monk and had nothing to do with the Draculesti, could be a step brother or something but it just speculations, Vlad mentions him in a letter from 1457 martie 14: "...But now we have heard and fully understood from the people of this priest of the Wallachians, who calls himself son of a lord..." Here Vlad IV did something unfanthomly based, he left. He quit being a pretender to the throne and went back to being a monk. He will become a ruler in 1481. He was a nice guy, didn't fight, write letters a lot, build and gifted churches (many churches), rule for 13 years, lived to be 71 (Which is the supreme proof that he was not a draculesti, all of them die in their 40s or younger, even Mircea the elder(BTW He's called "The Elder" because of Vlad's brother Mircea, there was a young one and an elder one)). So basically all of them got along pretty well, tho it was quite hard to be a brother back then, Ask Mehmed's brothers. Their relationship was sufocanting to say the least. I think Vlad liked his sister the most, Alishandra. He gave her 2 villages and married her to a boyar from prahova, pure brotherly love if you ask me.

[mlink64]

Hongjoong Unique Nicknames

In writing an earlier post, I came to the conclusion that, out of all the members of ATEEZ, Hongjoong would be the most likely to look up/find nicknames in other languages to call his s/o because he would want the nickname to be unique. This mans doesn't want to call his partner something common or generic (or simple)!

I can see him falling reeeeeally hard when he finds 'the one' and to him they are ethereal, stunning, unique, one-of-a-kind (no1likethem😤) and he would want to address them as such.

Sooooo, struck with inspiration, I wanted to make a post of some pet names in other languages (masc. and fem.) that I could see him calling his s/o 💖

(My personal favorites/the names I can most see him using will be starred ✨ sparkled? )

~ If my translations or pronunciations are wrong/weird/wonky I apologize, I'm using a number of different sources here including google translate 😅 nicknames below the cut ♥️ ~

~One more side note: it's easier to find nicknames in some languages as opposed to others and I'm also more familiar/proficient in certain languages so I'm sorry if there are fewer nicknames for certain languages! I'm trying to get a wide range of languages on here and I love learning new things, so if you know of additional nicknames in other/your languages leave a comment! I know it can also be a cultural thing: finding cute nicknames in Romance languages (ex. French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese) is much easier than finding nicknames in Germanic languages (ex. German, Swiss, Dutch) simply because of the cultures ~

First of all...treasure. Treasure is a common pet name all over the world so there's no shortage of variations to choose from. And like...COME ON! It just fits so well! A Captain needs his treasure 😍.

Treasure

Arabic - كنز (Kinz) : pronounced kahn.zohn

Danish - Skat : pronounced sk.eht

Dutch - Schatje : pronounced sch.hight.chee.en

[one source said this ⬆️ translated to 'little treasure' while another translated it as 'baby' ]

Esperanto - ✨ Mia Trezoreto : not sure on the pronunciation here, I couldn't find it anywhere...best guess would be mee.ah treh.zoh.reh.toh

{ If you're like me ten minutes ago and don't know what Esperanto is, it's a "constructed international auxiliary language" ; which means it was created to be a means of communication between people of different cultures who do not share a common first language. Created in 1887 by LL.Zamenhof, Esperanto was intended to be an international second language. (This concept is absolutely fascinating to me and if you or someone you know speaks Esperanto lmk cuz I'm curious how widely it's used, if at all). }

French - ✨ Mon Trésor : pronounced treh.zohr

Polish - Moja Scarbie : pronounced moh.yeh skar.b.ee.yeh

Greek - θησανρός (Thisavrós) : pronounced fay.sah.vrohs

Hindi - ✨ खज़ाना (Khazaana) : pronounced kah.zah.nah

Indonesian - Hartaku : pronounced har.tah.koo

Italian - Mio Tesoro : pronounced teh.zoro

Portuguese - Meu Tesouro : pronounced may.oh chez.ouro

Russian - мое сокровище (Moye Sokrovishche) : pronounced mahy.oh sah.kro.vih.che

Spanish - Mi Tesoro : pronounced tehs.oro

Turkish - Hazinem : pronounced hah.zee.nehm

Ukranian - мій скарб (miy skarb) : pronounced mee skar.b

Vietnamese - kho báu của tôi : pronounced koh bow kwah toy

Okay, totally went overboard with this nickname...😅 but I just love this idea so much abfursffkj

Anyhow...moving on

 

Arabic (Side note...y'all...I'm so sorry for probably butchering these...Arabic is hard as fuck, how do y'all do this!?) -

حبيب/حبيبة قلب (habib albi) pronounced hah.beeb ah.til.hah.lee.ah.tah : Love of my heart

يا حياتي (ya hayati) pronounced eey hie.ah.ti : My Life

حلو/حلوة (ya helo) : pronounced eey hooh.loon/hah.la.whe.toon : Sweet

✨ يا قلبي : pronounced eeyah kahl.bee : My heart

✨يا قمر (ya [g]amar) : pronounced eeyah koh.mah.roo : Moon

https://natakallam.com/blog/terms-of-endearment-in-arabic/

Mandarin

宝 (bǎo) : pronounced bahw : Precious ~or~ 宝宝 (bǎobǎo) : Baby

(I think bǎo also means dumpling?)

亲亲 (qīn qīn) : pronounced sheen sheen: Dear/dear one/kiss

太太 (tài tài) : pronounced tie.tie ~or~ 老婆 (lǎo pó): pronounced lahw poh: both mean Wife

~or~

老公 (lǎo gōng): pronounced lahw gohn : Husband

小公举 (xiǎo gōng jǔ): pronounced shahw gohng chu: Little princess

(Couldn't find a masc. equivalent)

✨ 心 肝 (xīngān): pronounced shin gahn: Darling, or, in a more literal sense - heart [心]and liver [肝]

(In Western cultures this would likely be a little weird and creepy, but in Chinese culture it's rather poetic in the sense that those are the two organs you can't live without. Therefore, it's like saying you can't live without them)

https://www.mandarinblueprint.com/blog/chinese-nicknames/

Spanish

Mi amor : pronounced mee ah.mor : My love

Amorcito : pronounced ah.mor.see.toh : My little love

✨ Mi sol : pronounced mee sol : My sun

✨ Pastelito : pronounced pahs.tel.ee.toh : Little cake

Linda/o : pronounced leen.dah/doh : Cutie

Princesa : pronounced preen.seh.sah : Princess

-or-

Príncipe: pronounced preen.seh.pay : Prince

✨ Mi sirenita : pronounced mee see.rehn.ee.tah : My (little) mermaid

-or-

Mi Tríton : pronounced mee tree.tohn : My merman

Hermosa/o : pronounced air.moh.sah/soh : Beautiful

✨ Mi Chispita : pronounced mee chees.pee.tah : My spark

Conejita/o : pronounced koh.neh.hee.tah/toh : (little?) Bunny

✨Osita/o : pronounced oh.see.tah/toh : Little bear

https://www.berlitz.com/blog/cute-funny-nicknames-spanish

Dutch

✨Mijn lied : pronounced mine leet : My song

Lieve : pronounced lee.fuh : Dear

https://blogs.transparent.com/dutch/pet-names-and-loving-nicknames/

Gaelic

M'eudail : pronounced may.tahl : Sweetheart/darling

Mo ghraidh : pronounced moh ghreye : My love

Mo luiadh : pronounced moh lohy : My love/darling/sweetheart

Mo leannan : pronounced moh leh.non : Sweetheart

✨ Brèagha : pronounced bree.yah : Pretty

Mo ghaol : pronounced moh hill : My love

https://www.oursocalledlife.co.uk/lifestyle/learn-scottish-gaelic/scottish-gaelic-terms-of-endearment-with-phonetics/

Greek

✨αγάπɳ (agápi) : pronounced ah.gah.pi : love

μωρό μou (mόro mu) : pronounced moh.row moo: my baby

✨ αστερáκi (asteráki mu) : pronounced ahs.teh.ra.ki moo : my little star

✨ καρδɩá μou (kardiá mu) : pronounced kahr.dee.ah moo : my heart

https://www.greekpod101.com/blog/2021/08/26/greek-love-phrases/

Hawaiian

Ku`u Lei : pronounced k.oo lay : my beloved

E ku'u aloha : pronounced Ay k.oo ah.low.hah : my love

✨ Na'u : pronounced nah.oo : Mine

✨ Ipo : pronounced ee.poh : Sweetheart

https://www.hawaiian-words.com/hawaiian-words-for/love/

French

✨ Mon (petit) chou : pronounced moh.n (peh.tee) sh.oo : My (little) cabbage

Mon amour : pronounced moh.n ah.mooh : My love

Ma beauté : pronounced mah boo.thee : My beautiful

Ma chérie : pronounced mah sh.eh.ree : My dear/darling/sweetheart (fem.)

-or-

Mon chéri : pronounced moh.n sh.eh.ree : My dear/darling/sweetheart (masc.)

✨Mon bijou :pronounced moh.n bee.zhu : My jewel

Mon cœur : pronounced moh.n kh.ur : My heart

Ma moitié : pronounced mah moh.tee : My other/better half

✨Ma colombe : pronounced mah koh.loh.mb : My dove

✨Ma souris : pronounced mah soo.rhee : My mouse

Ma chatte : pronounced mah sh.ah.t : My cat (fem.)

-or-

Mon chat : pronounced moh.n sh.ah : My cat (masc.)

✨Mon nounours : pronounced moh.n noo.noor : My teddy bear

Mon ange : pronounced moh.n ohn.zh : My angel

https://langster.org/en/blog/48-words-of-endearment-in-french

Thought I'd finish up with some classic French nicknames there cuz...France...anyhow! LMK if you want more of this types of post (nicknames in other languages)!

Like I said above, message or comment if any pronounciations or spellings or anything are weird or wonky! I love learning cute little things in other languages 🥰

[vanam0nde]

I apologize for the butchered Russian

[poesbeforeprose]

Chapter 5: Spoiled (NSFW)

Something about her scent stuck with me hours after she left. I laid in bed in a restless stupor trying to convince myself that everything she consisted of was the antithesis of me. She debriefed me on what she and Price discussed and I was floored by her tenacity. In a flurry of words and motions she described her balls to the wall idea and I couldn’t help but feel exasperated. However, seeing her with that feral grin, brushing her hair out of her face passively, I was completely enamored with her. It was endearing to see that after being threatened and intimidated by her, deep down she had such a dark and concerning childlike joy to killing and planning.

To have the mission be perfectly executed, we needed to decide on a few things. First I was to be placed deep within enemy territory. I was then given a fake name and identity to go by. All of which was provided by Nyx and Task Force 141. I was lucky enough to then be dubbed “Vaslov” for the time being. The process itself only took a few days to get me by. Teach me a few phrases, get me used to the sights and parts of the culture then boom. Before I knew it, I was an almost believable in my persona of being a very shitty Russian. It also helps with never being “from the Mother country” and being a tourist on sabbatical. It all seemed pretty squeaky clean.

I was sitting across the cafe from a cluster of men with sharp crew cuts, well pressed suits and concealed weapons. Absolute overkill for anyone getting their macchiato for the morning. The target was one of Makarov’s small lieutenants. The part of Vaslov was to be set in a situation where he would be at the right place at the right time. My heart was hammering in my chest when one of the burly bodyguards made eye contact with me. He looked over his black shades at me and sneered. I nodded my head, and appeared to look busy on my laptop. Although I was admittedly scrolling through useless blogs and pretending to research.

Yuri “The Silencer” Sochev was not some bloody butcher unlike his predecessors and peers. No he was a man who, much Ghost and Soap, dealt in information and manipulation. He was not a man who got his hands dirty but if he wanted the truth out of someone, he would get it one way or another. However, most of the heavy lifting was done by the thugs that often accompanied him. The four of which were sure to make it known that anyone who got too close to Yuri would definitely not have a cappuccino anytime soon. One of which, the tallest of them, approached me and took the chair away from my table as they waited. He sat down, crossed his legs and I noticed a small hitch in his ankle. His shoes were wearing his feet down raw and he definitely didn’t want his buddies to know at this moment.

“Just stay calm. Soap and Ghost are right around the corner.” Nyx whispered in my ear. “Nod if you understand.”

I bobbed my head forward randomly then rolled by head to crack my neck. I made sure not to snap a glimpse at Cross Leg Joe to my immediate right.

“Smooth. I think he bought it.” She finished. I could almost hear the grin in her voice. My blood felt like needles in my arms.

The next part of the plan could have been simple. The key word being “could”, but if it’s one thing I could trust in the world, is how shit could go sideways so fast for Nyx and her crew. I tried not to look too much into my messenger bag, seeing the butt of the pistol I was given just peeking out of the side. Instead, I fiddled with my laptop just as an alert rang out from it.

In a fucked up synchronicity, the ping from my laptop caused the four bodyguards and Yuri to jolt upright. As I was apologizing profusely, the door bell chimed as Soap and Ghost walked in brandishing black pieces of iron.

“For the glory of Makarov!” Soap shouted in a terrible Russian accent.

Gunfire rang out and in quick succession, the four bodyguards were put down and Yuri was clipped in the arm. The waitress who was an innocent bystander was not harmed whatsoever. Now the next part of the plan was the least likely to be believable with those knowing the truth nature of Soap and Ghost. As the would be assassins laid waste to the coffee shop, it was now my job to jump in as if to save the day. I leapt from the table just as Yuri started to take a dive and I shouted a string of Russian slurs and curses towards the two.

We had planned for this to be a hit and run operation but as I was getting from the table, Ghost put himself between Soap and I. The original plan was for me to cold cock Soap across the jaw with as hard a hit as I could manage. Instead, he took it upon himself to call an audible. Masked or not, my adrenaline didn’t know the difference, but there was a small glimmer of joy from his choice. After all, there was a compromising interest between the two us. Fuck you Simon, I thought just as my fist collided. I felt a small pang jolt up my arm and his jaw cracked underneath my knuckles.

Ghost whipped back around both shocked and furious with the shot and we stood there in silence. Soap had his eyebrows on the top of his head and his only thought was to grab Ghost by the shoulders and haul him up away from the scene. After all, I still had clean up to do and a place to prove. As they left the cafe, I turned to the carnage and although it was tactical, it still proved messy. Perfect. The four bodyguards were down effectively and the waitress was currently calling the authorities. Suddenly a hand was wrapped around my ankle. The huge sausage like fingers belonged to Cross Leg Joe who was currently bleeding out from a massive wound in the neck.

He looked me deep in the eyes and all I could see was fear. Afraid of death, of his light going out. I hardened myself to this look as best as I could. All I managed to say to him was, “I’m sorry.”

The waitress was now finished with her phone call and I could hear sirens in the distance.

“Get to work there lieutenant. Be seeing you.” I heard Nyx said and then my earpiece went silent.

I jerked the bud out of my ear, tossed it into the trash and looked at the waitress. Now my turn began.

“Water!” I shouted to her, slowly getting the jacket off of Sochev to get to his wound. His eyes were rolled up in his head and I felt for a pulse. It was extremely weak but it was there.

Just as I got his arm propped up and ready for cleaning, a piece of steel was pressed to the back of my head. My heart leapt into my throat and I slowly raised my hands. Whoever was behind me was speaking in Russian in a deep and unsettling tone. I couldn’t understand a word her was saying and even though I looked at the waitress for help, she was practically relaying his message as an echo. She was frantic with the blood and glass around her.

“American! American!” I shouted in response, praying to whatever God above that he understood me.

“Don’t touch him. Hands off.”

“Medic. I am medic.” I said trying to keep my composure while using my accent as best as I could.

The gun pressed harder against my head, “He dies. You die.”

Fair enough, I had slid my bag over to me. Casually peering at the pistol resting in the bottom of the bag for a moment. I lifted one of the flaps of the outer pocket and pulled out a few things that wouldn’t completely be out of the ordinary for someone who traveled with an emergency kit. Bandages and so on were scattered about the floor. In the meantime, the man behind me patiently watched me work. Although I never saw his face, I could sense the finger itching against the trigger to do away with me altogether. Honestly I couldn’t blame him because with all things considered, I can guarantee he was wanting a little revenge right now.

I found myself sitting in the backseat of a blacked out sedan as we drove through the dying light of Russia. A few things had taken place between the cafe and now, but most importantly was that I had been blindfolded. My knees knocked the gentleman who had threatened me earlier to my right and I sat up a little straight. The slumped body of Yuri was strewn out over the other seat and the silence in the cab was deafening. All the while, I felt a wave of exhaustion hit now that the nerves were gone.

The first part of the plan was done, but now came the hard part. Getting into Yuri’s good graces or at least impress him enough to get the team a little closer to Makarov. Right now I was just trying not to get killed. I could hear Yuri coming to as he groaned once again. After a moment he sat up and began speaking to the man. With a few lines between them, eventually he changed his tune to a little more focused American. Not perfect by any means to someone back home, but his accent couldn’t be removed.

“So Dimitri tells me you saved my life.”

I turned my head to his voice, “Yes sir.”

“You are also American.”

“Dah.” I said with my make believe Russian accent.

Dimitri and Yuri had a small chuckle over this and spoke between themselves again.

“What do you wish of me?” Yuri finally said as the car came to a stop.

“I’m sorry?”

“A life saved is rewarded in kind. Unless you meant to end my life until Dimitri intervened.” Yuri replied.

A bead of sweat threaded through my brow, “Ah. No. I meant to save you. Part of my oath.”

“Ah, your oath as an American? Or as a doctor?”

“I believe doctor is universal, especially now.” I muttered. I could hear Yuri chuckle again.

Suddenly, Dimitri was shoving me out of the car and I collapsed onto the grass with a thud. I managed to get my feet underneath me as I was pulled up and the blindfold was torn off.

The manor before me took my breath away. It was a sight to behold and seemed to leap from a Dostoevsky page. A sprawling estate complete with gravel driveway, fountain, staircase that led to large doors. Dimitri took the binds off of me as well and gave me a gentle shove up the steps. Yuri was shaking off the grogginess as he made his way up. The doors opened as a butler was already taking his coat from him and welcoming me with a short bow and gesturing me into the foyer.

There was a staircase in the center of the foyer that went up to the second floor which doubled back above us to the left and right into a row of rooms. I was standing there awkwardly until Yuri turned to Dimitri speaking in Russian. After a little bit, he disappeared and Yuri changed to English.

“Don’t worry, he is going to get you a gift from me. I will pay you a meal and a night sleep here for saving my life. Consider it a courtesy.”

“Absolutely. Thank you sir.” I managed and couldn’t decide to bow or not. I opted to shake his hand.

The butler, well into his fifties, motioned me to follow him. Although we didn’t go up the stairs, I was led to a smaller room on the bottom floor. As the door swung open I saw a four poster bed, two large dressers and an armoire to my left.

“Enjoy your stay sir.” The butler said with the doors closing behind me.

In the span of a few minutes, I was given a meal and the suspicion was gathering. I had no contact with the team but now that I was well behind borders, I prayed that they would reach me somehow. After my dinner was delivered, the butler told me that he was preparing dessert as well. He also instructed me to get comfortable and see myself to a bath if necessary. I didn’t want to be rude so I managed to sit in the claw footed bath and eventually found my way back to the room with a towel draped around me. A swift knock was at the door.

“Come in.” I said out of necessity. What came next, sent me spiraling.

Walking through the doorway, with a lustful sway of her hips was a gorgeous blonde woman. She was smaller than me and was wearing a tight fitting dress and her heels softly clicked on the tile floor. I felt my cock budge against the soft fibers of the towel and I did my best to cover myself. It wasn’t until she was closer that I lost all control and felt all of my blood rush to my loins. Her dark eyes met mine and I realized who I was staring at. I was sure of it.

Nyx Stevenson, ever the surprising act, had somehow managed to work her way through whatever defenses Yuri possessed and got to my room. Before I could even say anything she was within a foot of me. Her finger gently pressed to my lips.

“Don’t speak. I’m your gift.” She said, her voice masked with a seductive Russian accent of her own. My eyes rolled back as her voice curled in my ears.

She pushed me back to the bed and when I landed my towel became threatened to be undone. It also didn’t help that my swollen member was trying to make his way out of containment. Nyx took a step back and toyed with the side of her dress. In a flourish of her tender hands, she slinked out of the attire and let the dress hit the floor. I had to have looked ridiculous because I could feel my mouth hanging open.

Her body was beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Perky breasts with petite nipples already harder than I expected. She stood there to let me admire her a little longer. Her hands curved down the shape of her body until she hit the hem of her underwear. I could feel a small dribble of precum leave me sticky underneath my towel at the display. After her underwear fell, she left the heels on and began to straddle me.

“Ny-“ I began.

“Nikita. Nikita Petrov you’ll call me.” She cut me off.

Her naked breasts touched my chest and the contact sent an electric charge through my body. It was if I was electrified in that moment and my cock was begging to be released. Her lips slowly caressed my neck. She kissed my earlobe and just under her breath she spoke again.

“The room is bugged. Be careful of what you say.”

Before I could even process the information she worked her lips across my chest and up the other side of my neck. She hadn’t even done anything to me and I was already swimming with pleasure. My heart was racing at the impossibility of this as she spoke again. I slowly wrapped my arms around her, softly cradling her perfect ass in my hands.

“We’re being watched. Yuri gets off to watching.”

“Ny-Ni-. Please I can’t handle it.” I moaned.

Her free hand slipped down past my waist until the palm of it was grasping the base of my cock. It bucked once at her touch and I could instantly feel a small release. There was no way I was going to last long with her.

“Fuck. I-.” I started but before I could say anything else she had my towel splayed on the bed and was looking down at every inch of me.

“Nikita wait, I…”

Nyx looked at me, a small look of wild pleasure in her eye. With a flick of her wrist, I was inside of her.

Every inch of her felt molded to my throbbing cock in that moment. I could feel my heartbeat against her walls and how delectably slick she was. I had trouble believing all of this was for me, but that first initial push was soul-stealing. She slowly slid herself down on top of me as far as I could go until our hips were locked in the grasp of sweat of fluids.

“Fuck.” I whispered. My eyes furrowed with a mix of emotions. Worry, pleasure, lust, and longing all came flooding through my mind. I could barely focus on the woman I would ever want the most dominating me for the sake of a mission. This couldn’t be real. She slowly rose up from the base of my cock and then lowered herself back down. The first stroke made me gasp.

In seconds she was slowly rising in speed and ferocity. With her stroke she was riding harder and deeper on me, her eyes staring deeply into mine. One hand was on the bed and the other was tangled in my hair on the back of my head. It wasn’t until she moaned once for me and it was over.

“Oh my god I…” I moaned and I felt myself come inside her. Several throbs bounced against her soaked walls as my warm load filled her up. When I gasped in release we were staring at each other and I was exhaling directly into her mouth. She was stealing the very voice from me with how close she was to me.

“Fuck.” I whispered.

[corners-of-weird-fiction-blog]

Hasguart's Transmissions: Search and Rescue From Hell.

Date:November 26th, 2x26

Location:???

This is goon squad checking in.

We had to put off the expedition by about a week so we could wait for Maryük to get here. She seems rather keen on coming with us and gets defensive when asked why. Goon Squad consists of Peggy and Edmund as squad leaders and head security along with Maryük of the Billergo clan. Dr Martin Dolski and Kira Cathrines as our practicing medics and of course myself as the radio operator. We've also got several Russian ghouls from Edmund's time so whoever it is we're retrieving must be pretty damn important to the Psychic. So the plan is we're going to be going north from the western mountain range to the shore where bodies will usually wash up. We will be combing the whole lakefront from the rock until 5 miles away from the religious fishing town RedSalt City, if he's within the Five miles from RedSalt then we're shit out of luck. We're encamped at the bottom of the mountain we're leaving at 6:00 am tomorrow with provisions to last two months.

November:28, 2x26

Goon squad to HQ we are under fire! Repeat, we are under fire!

*Another voice comes on the transmission, you assume it's HQ*

10-4 goon squad, give us the location over.

*Goon Squad radioman continues.*

We are roughly 2000 meters on the Northern trail. They can't be Laucters, these assholes have laser weapons. Enemy position is 950 feet at our three o'clock your eleven, they're using a sand dune as cover. We are holed up in a nearby cave with two men injured, three if we count Edmund, Kira says he'll be fine.

*HQ*

Understood goon squad, relieving fire is en route.

November: 29 2x26

*Another voice comes onto the radio.*

Goon squad? Goon squad come in, this is doughboy. We are being led by clan Isiccibus, Is everything clear?

*Goon squad radio.*

Affirmative Doughboy.

*Doughboy*

Uuhm…Simo here says he has a visual of three bodies, Two human and one not. Varacies and a few Krauts are going in to investigate

*Goon Squad.* 

Thank you doughboy. Proceeding with the expedition.

December: 13 2x26

Goon Squad to HQ we are on site. Mind telling us what the hell we’re looking for now?

*HQ comes on the radio.*

Apologies Goon Squad couldn’t risk intel on the mission in case of your capture. You are looking for two people. A magician woman who hails from clan Billergo and her husband, Human Asian male, Scar across the left side of his face, missing a forearm starting from the elbow.

*Goon Squad*

 10-04 HQ, Will report if we find anything.

*HQ*

In the lake goddesses name I hope you do.

*You find the next few l radio transmissions to be all the same*

Goon Squad reporting in, we’ve found nothing.

December 17 2x26

Goon squad to HQ. We still haven't found anything yet…Maryük’s noticeably on edge today, Edmund and Kira both tell me that the magician is her sister. At least we know why she tagged along.

December 21 2x26

HQ none of us are confident that we're gonna find anything, we may need to call it a lost cause. May need to get Edmund to break it to Mari.

December 22 2x26

HQ we have a problem Maryük is uncooperative and is demanding we stay. The men are agitated with her hostile attitude towards abandoning the mission. We'll only be able to stay another three days before we have to start using the supplies for the return trip.

December 25 2x26

Goon Squad to HQ we have a friendly fire incident Maryük had made an attempt at Edmunds life after he told her that we have to leave. Dolski got a broken nose when the back of Edmunds head hit him, Edmund himself took one of Maryüks horns to the bottom of his chin, he’ll probably be back up in twenty minutes or so. It took eight of us including myself to restrain her while Kira forced the bottle of Tau-Vire stout down Maryüks gob…I'm grateful at least one of those slavs had an affinity for booze, otherwise I think she'd have butchered the lot of us. We're short a week's worth of rations but I think we'll be able to make the return trip so long as poor Maryük remains bound and unarmed. I will report back when we return to the nest.

January 10 2x27

Goon Squad to HQ we have been back at the nest for about a day now, sorry for the delay on the report I needed a good night’s rest after that nightmare of a trip. Maryük has been wailing in the night like a child, Would’ve caused another infight if Kira hadn’t fired warning shots at the slavics. Edmund must be a masochist or something given how patient he’s been with her this whole time. Maryük has been sent back to town to recover from the emotional trauma of losing her sister; she's accompanied by Dr,Dolski, Kira and Edmund. Peggy stayed behind at the nest.

Rockside Farm has reported three bottles of Tau-Vire stout going missing, I suspect Maryük or Kira may have taken them despite Dr, Dolski’s protests against the use of alcohol.

This is Goon Squad Signing off.

*End of Transmission.*

[maximons]

Language Barrier

Summary: Wanda has been struggling with her feelings for her best friend Y/n for a while now, so she turns to her brother for help. Little did she know, they didn’t have the privacy she thought they had.

Word Count: 2,054

Genre: Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: This was fun to write, but also challenging lol I hope I didn’t make this too difficult to follow along to. I used Russian for Sokovian, and I also used google translate, so I apologize if everything is butchered. I’ll provide the translations at the end. I hope you enjoy!

Wanda was sure this is what torture feels like.

And that’s saying a lot considering she’s experienced...actual torture.

But the physical torture of her HYDRA days feels miniscule compared to the current torture of the heart she was experiencing. 

She was in love. Deeply in love.

Normally that sentence would be extremely positive, something to celebrate. And yeah, Wanda wished that were the case of course, but it’s not. Because she’s in love with someone she couldn’t be with. You.

Wanda knew that it wasn’t that she couldn’t be with you. There’s no outside forces keeping you two apart, and she knows you date women as well. No, she would just never muster up the courage to tell you. Hell, she hasn’t even told anyone else.

You and Wanda got off to a rocky start. You had joined the Avengers not too long after she and Pietro did, and she wasn’t thrilled about it. She was had just experienced traumatic event after traumatic event and was only just thrown into a new country and culture. She only just got used to the rest of the Avengers, so she really did not want to face new people.

And she wasn’t shy in letting you know she wasn’t interested. 

You had tried befriending her, and she shook it off. She barely spared you a glance, ignoring you, and even began being snarky with you. The problem was, you were stubborn.

You always approached her with a positive attitude, not being even the slightest bit phased by her insults, and continued to try your best to make her feel welcome. You weren’t a pushover though, make no mistake. You also fired back with sarcastic remarks, albeit with less bite behind them.

She internally warmed up to you over time, but she refused to show you.

Until you nearly died on a mission.

Wanda wasn’t sure why she felt as panicked as she did when she heard the news. You were fighting for your life, but for some reason she couldn’t breathe. You had become a constant presence in her life, and even though she didn’t want that at first, she was now realizing she really couldn’t handled if you left. Enough was enough.

After you woke up, she starting talking to you more. She helped you in recovery, being there with you every step of the way. And when you learned that you gained the power of flight after whatever happened on that fateful mission, she helped you learn how to use it without hesitation. 

You became her best friend, and she become yours.

The snarky remarks remained, though it became part of your friendly banter rather than as a sign of dislike. You two hung out almost every day, you were attached at the hip. You knew everything about each other and trusted each other deeply. She had finally found a true friend in this crazy world and she couldn’t be happier.

But then, she fell in love.

She remembered the day when she realized. It was a normal Saturday and she was hanging out in her room, watching sitcoms. You had gone out shopping for groceries, so she was waiting on your return so you guys can watch the movie you had planned for that day.

Four hours had passed though, and she was getting a little nervous. 

She pulled out her phone and was about to call you, when she heard the telltale thud some from outside the compound.

You were still rusty on your reentry.

A few minutes later, you walked into her room with a plastic bag in your hand and a huge smile on your face. You told her to close her eyes, and she obliged. When you told her to reopen them, she was surprised to open her eyes to her bed covered in treats. Not any treats though.

Sokovian treats. Candies she hasn’t seen since childhood.

You said you wanted to surprise her. She looked at you in shock, asking you where you got them.

“It took some digging, but I eventually found a small corner store that sold them. In Seattle. To be fair, I never said where I was shopping.”

She was head over heels after that.

It’s been about two months since then, and she was bursting at the seams. She thought about telling you, she did, but you two had a long journey to get where you were. She didn’t want to risk throwing it all away over stupid feelings. She had to let it out though, she was about to explode.

So she turned to Pietro.

“You’re only realizing this now?” He laughed, grabbing a soda can from the fridge. He walked around the kitchen island to sit down, Wanda following.

“I realized it two months ago.”

“Only then? I’ve known the whole time!”

“You...wha-”

“Please, sister, you’ve had the hots for her since you first laid eyes on her.”

Wanda recalled the day in her mind. She remembered thinking you were attractive when she saw you, yeah, but when it was announced you were going to be an Avenger, all her thoughts about you turned negative. Her attraction to you was pushed to the back of her mind. And now, it was back in the forefront. She shook her head, choosing not to dwell on it.

“Fine, you’re right, congrats, but what do I do about it!?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You tell her.”

Wanda stared blankly at him for a moment. “Okay, now what’s the real answer?” 

Pietro chuckled and raised his brow. “That was it.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. Give me a different one.”

“Why not? Scared?” The speedster teased, but then his sister shook her head vigorously. 

“Yes! I can’t tell her, because-”

“Can’t tell who what?” 

The twins whipped their heads towards where the voice came from. There you were, standing in the kitchen entrance. Wanda froze, while Pietro smirked and took another sip of his soda.

“Um, nothing! No one!” The witch panicked. You furrowed your eyebrows, but smiled in amusement. You decided to not push it, though. 

“Alrighty then.” You chuckled. “Well, don’t mind me, I’m just gonna make some breakfast.” You went over to the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs, preparing to make your breakfast.

Wanda’s eyes whipped from you over to her brother, biting her thumbnail nervously. She remained silent for a moment, before she spoke up again.

“Ya ne mogu yey skazat', potomu chto eto vse isportit.” (1)

Pietro caught on quickly. “Ty paranoik, sestra. Ona chuvstvuyet to zhe samoye.” (2)

Wanda sighed, eyes flickering back to you. Your back was turned to her, as you were preparing eggs on the stove. She shook her head. “Net ona ne, ne davay mne nadezhdy.” (3)

Pietro noticed how solemn his sister looked, and gave a sad smile. He took her hand. “Ona znayet, ya eto znayu. Imeyte nemnogo vera.” (4)

“Ya by otdal vse, chtoby ona uvidela menya takoy, kakoy ya yeye vizhu.” (5) Wanda smiled, still staring at you. Her next words were addressed to you. “Ya lyublyu vas. Tak mnogo.”(6)

After that, you turned around. Your eggs cooked and ready to eat. You began transferring them to a plate. “You guys alright? You’re talking shit about me, aren’t you?” You asked rhetorically with a chuckle.

Pietro smiled and stood. “Yeah, we were.” He looked you up and down. “Your shirt’s on backwards.” Your smile dropped as you looked down realizing he was right. You lifted your shirt over your head without another thought, exposing your defined torso. Wanda’s breath hitched, causing Pietro to laugh. He took that as his cue to leave.

You pulled your shirt back on, this time correctly, and grabbed your plate of eggs. You looked up at Wanda, who was staring at you with wide eyes. “You okay, Wan?”

Wanda nodded and hummed in affirmation, not trusting words right now. You smiled. “Okay, good. Well, I’m gonna go eat these in my room. Gotta multitask and get ready for training with Nat. I’ll catch you later?” Wanda nodded again, and you left, smile still on your face.

However, as soon as your face was entirely out of Wanda’s view, your face dropped in shock. You mouthed ‘Oh my god’. to yourself, making your way to your room as fast as you could.

Wanda liked you. No, she loved you. She actually loved you. When you got to your room, you dropped the plate of eggs on your nightstand, before fist pumping happily. You couldn’t believe it. The woman you loved for as long as you could remember loved you back. You were beyond thrilled. You had to go back in the kitchen and give her a big kiss, declare that you loved her just as much, and-”

Wait. No, you couldn’t.

She clearly chose to spoke in Sokovian because she thought you wouldn’t understand. She was just talking to her brother, she wasn’t confessing to you. She wasn’t ready, in fact she was scared. You weren’t going to betray her trust like that.

You would just have to wait until she confessed to you, on purpose.

Except a month passed and nothing happened. You were getting impatient. 

While you still stuck to your guns and waited for Wanda, but no one said you couldn’t speed up the process a little.

You were sitting in Wanda’s room, the Bewitched credits playing in the background. You turned to her so fast that Wanda almost fell off the bed in shock.

“Y’know, we never talked about crushes before.” You said, and Wanda could’ve sworn she felt her hear stop. She gave a nervous chuckle.

“Wha- what are we, twelve?”

“Aw come on Wan, it’ll be fun! Do you have a crush right now?” You asked, “You can tell meee.” Wanda couldn’t bring herself to lie to you, but she wasn’t going to tell you the full truth either. She settled for a nod. You smiled. “Really!? Who?” Wanda shook her head, telling you that she wasn’t saying. “Aw come onnn, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours!”

Wanda’s heart dropped. Of course you liked someone. She knew Pietro was wrong, she wasn’t that lucky. She refused to let her disappointment show though. She took a deep breath before she finally answered you.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we tell each other one thing at a time about them?”

You were surprised at this, but decided to play along. “Sounds awesome! I’ll ask a question and we both answer, okay?” Wanda nodded. “What gender?”

“Girl.” You both answered. So far so good. 

“How old is she?”

“26″ You answered, and at the same time Wanda answered “24″ You noticed Wanda’s eyebrows furrow. Good, she’s starting to catch on. Time to get a little bolder. 

“What country is she from?”

“America.”

“Sokovia.”

You were sure Wanda knew by now. You saw her eyes begin to well up with happy tears, smile starting to form on her face. You smiled as well, before you asked the final question.

“What’s her name?”

You said each others names at the same time, but before they even fully left your mouths, you both leaned forward. Meeting in the middle in a passionate kiss. Months and months of longing and yearning was poured into it from the both of you. When air became a necessity, you separated. You leaned your foreheads together, huge smiles on your faces.

“I love you.” Wanda breathed out, and your smile got even wider.

“I know.” You answered, causing Wanda to pull back in confusion. But before she was able to ask what you meant, you spoke again. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”(7)

Wanda straightened up on the bed in shock. “You...you know Sokovian?” She asked, you nodded with a smile, biting your lip. You gave her another moment to piece the rest together, and just like that Wanda’s face shifted. The puzzle piece falling into place. She brought her hand over her mouth. “Oh god.”

You laughed and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Pietro kstati byl prav, ty dovol'no paranoik” (8) You teased, before getting up and sprinting out of the room. You took off and began to fly down the hallway. Soon enough, Wanda ran out of her room with a laugh and started running after you. 

“Vernites' syuda!” (9)

A/N: English translations in order:

I can't tell her because it will ruin everything

You’re paranoid, sister. She feels the same.

No she doesn’t, don’t give me hope.

She does, I know it. Have some faith.

I would give anything for her to see me the way I see her

I love you. So much.

I love you too

Pietro was right by the way, you’re pretty paranoid

Get back here!

[sophiemariepl]

Why are so many people still fixated on including Russians into the discussions surrounding Ukraine?

How about finally prioritizing all the nations and ethnic groups that Russia has hurt over the centuries and never apologized for any of it? How about listening to Ukrainians and other Eastern Europeans? How about listening to the Indigenous people of Siberia? How about listening to Central Asians? How about listening to (actual) Caucasians, like Georgians, Circassians, Chechens or Ingushetians? How about listening to the Ugro-Finnic people living in the so-called Russian North who’s languages and cultures the Russian empire has butchered for centuries?

I mean, like, saying “what about good Russians?” is classic whataboutism. It's like asking “what about good white people?” during 2020 BLM protests. Just like no one said that all white people are racist scumbags, perhaps not all Russians out there are active supporters of Russian imperialism and colonialism and perhaps not all of them are active putinists and ukrainophobes. But you know what, dear Karens from right to the left? This is not about them. Both white people in the US and the West in general and Russians had been at the center of attention for years. When we spoke of the US, it had a face of a white, straight man. The so-called post-Soviet sphere also had a face of a white, Slavic a.k.a. Russkiy, preferably Orthodox Christian man. The rest behind them did not matter much, if it mattered in any way.

Plus, if those “good white people” in the West or “good Russians” really were against those systems of oppression, they would have stepped against them a long time ago, and they have not.

Let all of that sink in.

[mattzerella-sticks]

I have a feeling Mallory is going to die this season, at the hands of SB and SB is going to fatally give Ryan a nasty Scar because Mallory was with Payback when SB was taken, so he prolly thinks Mallory was with them. She was also the lead of the Nicaragua operation too. Now I'm scared for Ryan more now because once SB comes for Mallory, he's going to fatally wound Ryan (I mean the dude is a hazard towards kids), causing Ryan more trauma and not trust anybody. Even if he doesn't blast Ryan (which he won't), he's going to brutalize him either way.

I don't know about that. If anything, Billy would act as a mediator between them and I'm 90% sure Mallory had no clue about what happened to Soldier Boy. I doubt he'd even remember her other than 'that mouthy broad in the South'. If she did make an impact on his memory, it might have been that she didn't put up with his bullshit - and after everything that happened - might mean Soldier Boy respects her for not being a liar like Crimson Countess.

I also don't know if her and Ryan will be of any further importance to the story. Introducing them back to an already stacked plot with many different threads and only 3 more episodes to wrap them up, and one we already know will be dedicated to sex, sex, and MORE sex? Ryan might pop up at the end to remind Billy of his humanity or for Billy to go back to to apologize and begin training Ryan to take down Homelander, setting up season 4 after Soldier Boy doesn't do the job.

Because if Soldier Boy were to kill anyone, I could see him killing Stan Edgar. Stan Edgar was the one who probably negotiated with the Russians to "sell" Soldier Boy to them. I can see it being like, Homelander finally gives in and asks for Stan's help - but just as Stan is about to help Soldier Boy kills him in revenge. And either Victoria kills Soldier Boy or vice versa, or it's a mutually assured thing where her exploding him triggers an explosion and vaporizes her.

If Soldier Boy survives to make it to season 4, I can see him teaming up with Homelander to help run Vought as he has experience Homelander needs. And Soldier Boy really doesn't care about Homelander - he wasn't the one who put him in the hands of the scientists. However, I also see this partnership not lasting as niether would care to fluff each other up. And seeing Homelander AND Soldier Boy teaming up (and maybe Maeve dying - let's hope not though) convinces Butcher to make the last hard choice which is begin training Ryan to be the superhero needed while also walking the line of not becoming a weapon like him. This could then be mirrored with Hughie and Annie adopting Victoria's daughter after she's killed to raise. Of course, this also works if Soldier Boy doesn't carry over to season 4 (since I don't know whether or not Jensen's contract was extended or upgraded).

Which would then move onto the season 4 set-up which might be the future and could introduce concepts like the hero academies which we know Amazon is trying to spin-off as its own thing.

[amphxtrite]

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: light angst (sad pietro).

summary: pietro has worries about potentially becoming a father, so you hep him realize everything will be alright.

a/n: my first marvel fic, sorry if I messed up the russian.

word count: 1.8k

enjoy <3

blyad’ - fuck, printsessa - princess, moya lyubov' - my love, krasivaya - beautiful, dorogoy - darling, ya tebya lyublyu - I love you, zhena - wife

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe the captain is making me practice physical combat like I can’t take someone down with my mind.” Wanda groans, holding her sore shoulder in her hand as the two of you exit the training room.

“You know he does it just in case Wanda, besides it’s good to know.” You smile, repeating the same line for what seemed like the tenth time today.

“It’s not like my powers are going to just disappear y/n, besides I strongly dislike sparring.”

“You just don’t like it when Steve calls you out for using your powers.” You smirk.

“That was one time!” Wanda groans, murmuring a couple curses under her breath.

“Anyways, I was talking to Fury about the next mission and—”

Your sentence is cut short as the wind is knocked out of your stomach and the air around you begins to blur, terrified you latch onto the person carrying you.

“Blyad’ Pietro steal your girlfriend at your own time!” Wanda seethes.

But you can barely hear her groan of annoyance as a soft chuckle brings your eyes up to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Hello Printsessa, coincidence bumping into you here.” A familiar sokovian accent greets you.

“We live in the same building Pietro, you can’t do this every time you see me—” You squeal as the blonde picks up the pace.

“You know you love it, moya lyubov'.” He sighs with a smirk, pressing a long kiss to your cheek.

“Besides, you look ever so beautiful in my arms.” Pietro teases, pausing for a moment to nuzzle his nose to yours and take in the sight of your breathless self clutching onto his neck for dear life.

“Don’t look at me like that I-I’m trying to be mad at you.” You groan, glancing away only to find Pietro still staring at you with soft eyes, like you were his world.

“Alright, you win Piet. You’re going to make me melt.” You mutter, covering your face with your hands to disguise your deep blush, but Pietro had already seen it.

Grinning proudly to himself, he paces down to the living room and drops you gently on the couch before running off again.

“So kiddo, how was training today?” Clint asks nonchalantly, gratefully turning away from his conversation with Tony.

“Well, we finally got Wanda to spar without her powers for once, so I see that as a win.” You shrug with a laugh as Pietro arrives again with a blanket to toss over you.

“That’s good, the kid needs to learn, she can’t always use her ‘mind thing.’” Clint shrugs.

“Try telling her that.” You smirk.

A voice clearing abruptly cuts off Clint’s next sentence.

“Hey speedy, anyone ever say you look like a suburban dad with those tousled locks.” Tony comments sarcastically, eyeing Pietro’s slightly overgrown hair.

“Oh leave him alone Tones, he’s been on a mission for the past couple weeks.” You sigh, playfully pushing the brunette.

“Just saying.” Tony murmurs quietly under his breath.

You roll your eyes, but smile fondly at the thought of Pietro as a father, cradling a small child in his arms.

Glancing up at Pietro, you smile, but you’re met with a different expression.

Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Pietro’s eyes cast away from you, as if he was trying to bore a hole in the wall.

“Is everything alright speedy?” You question softly, resting your hand on his arm.

Your heart clenches as he flinches slightly, turning his gaze back to you.

“Yes— yes of course krasivaya.” He smiles weakly, attempting to sound cheerful, but the break in his voice was evident.

“Um— I’m feeling kind of tired, I’ll see you guys later.” You excuse yourself, nodding to Clint and Tony as you take Pietro’s hand.

“Alright, but remember tonight’s movie night so don’t eat too much before nine, we’re ordering pizza.” Clint calls as you begin to walk away.

“Alright old man, we’ll keep it in mind.” You laugh, pulling Pietro out of the living room.

“Oh she’s getting it tonight.” Tony laughs as Clint rolls his eyes.

“Watch it, the kid looked kind of upset.” Clint sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, sorry Katniss.” Tony chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

Refusing to let go of Pietro’s hand, you reach the door to his room and pull him inside, finally releasing your grip and taking a deep breath.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really up Piet?” You sigh, taking his hands into yours.

Pietro’s eyes are downcast at the floor beneath him, glancing from side to side. For a moment, no one moves, you practically hold your breath for a moment as Pietro fidgets with your fingers and mentally debates saying anything.

When Pietro finally lifts his head, he reveals blurry blue eyes with tears welled up in the corners. “Printssesa...”

Your heart drops to your stomach as the streams fall down his cheeks, you quickly lift your hand to dry them.

“Printsessa, how could I ever become a father?” He mumbles softly, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth as he tries to fight back his on-coming tears.

“Of course you could be a father Piet, you’d be an amazing dad!” You smile softly, lifting Pietro’s chin so he’s facing you again.

His lips pull up into a weak smile, but his downhearted eyes suggested there was more to it.

“Piet?” You whisper softly. “Please. You can trust me.” You murmur, lifting his hand to press a kiss to his fingers. 

The blue eyed blonde takes a deep breath and shuffles around on his feet, avoiding eye contact as your gaze softens.

“I-I don’t know dorogoy. You shouldn’t have to see me like this I apologize.” Pietro sighs, slowly trying to turn himself away from you.

“W-What? No. Piet, you’re upset. Please as long as you’re willing to tell me, I’m here to listen and help.” You smile, taking Pietro’s calloused fingers into your hand and squeezing gently.

Pietro chuckles softly and squeezes back.

“Thank you krasivaya. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Pietro mumbles, pulling you into his arms and sniffling against your head.

“Please Piet, I think I’m the one who got lucky. The cute speedster with the perfect smile.” You smirk, nuzzling your nose into his chest.

“Yes, I suppose you did.” He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Pietro clears his throat, letting out a long sigh and taking in a seep breath.

“What I mean, about being a father of course, is how could I possibly manage it.” he starts, clutching you closer to him.

“Y/n, I lost my father when I was ten, I hold onto any scrap of a memory I can hold of him but they’re slowly fading. Ever since I’ve been reckless, stupid, and childish. I almost died y/n, how could I possibly take care of children when I can barely take care of myself.” Pietro sighs and takes another deep breath.

“Truth be told I’m still much of a child myself, I couldn’t leave you with children because I died trying to prove something to myself. I couldn’t bear knowing I’d failed you and our children as a father.” Pietro finishes in a low murmur, allowing his tears to flow freely as he expressed his deepest fear and insecurity.

“Printsessa, you’ve helped me learn how to slow down and appreciate my life, but I’m still far from perfect. It’s hard for me to imagine being a father when I can see myself screwing everything up for the person who makes my life better.” He continues, gently pulling back from your arms to show the sincerity he held.

Your heart warms at the love Pietro held for you, but your stomach drops when learn his fear. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him towards you again, rest your forehead against his and gently clear your voice.

“Perhaps we’re not talking about the same Pietro love.” You comment softly, brushing the hair from your boyfriend’s confused eyes.

“Because my Pietro Django Maximoff, is the farthest from reckless, stupid or childish.” You begin, stroking his face with your thumb.

“My Pietro is selfless, ready at all times to help someone in need and save the day.” You smirk, watching his lips turn up as you press a peck to his nose.

“He’s brave, willing to do whatever it takes to help, but also smart enough to know when enough is enough.” You continue, kissing the tears off his cheeks.

“He’s fun, always knows how to make everyone smile.”

“y/n, I—”

“Pietro, you could never ‘fail’ me. We aren’t perfect, we’ll learn as we grow.” You smile, leaning into Pietro to press a butterfly kiss to his lips.

“Remember there’s no rush darling, and no matter what, ya tebya lyublyu.” You say as clearly as you can.

Pietro does his best to hide his laugh, but it’s futile as a low chuckle escapes.

“I butchered it didn’t I?” You sigh, shaking your head gently.

“Only a little krasivaya.” Pietro smiles, kissing your temple.

“Y-You know that’s the first time you’ve said that.” Pietro murmurs, holding you tightly against him, arms wound against your waist.

“I wanted to save it for sometime special… And I’ve been practicing.” You laugh.

“Aw I’m flattered dorogoy.” Pietro chuckles, falling onto the bed and pulling you down with him.

“Pietro!”

“You know you love it, moya lyubov.” He chuckles breathily, leaving a trail of kisses on the side of your neck.

“I love you too, printsessa. So very much.” Pietro sighs, his thick accent rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“So. Learn as we grow Piet?”

“With you beside me, anything y/n.” Pietro laughs, moulding your lips together in a soft kiss.

“Now c’mon, Nat’s picking the movie tonight.” You murmur against him.

“Oh, I love a good horror movie, Clint always screams.” Pietro laughs, standing again and pulling you bridal style into his arms, and running you to the living room.

————

“Shh, shh you’re going to wake up mama.”

You awake to the glow of a faint light and the sound of a soft cry. Squeezing your eyes together, you shift yourself to your side and attempt to drift off when a voice catches your attention.

Singing.

Coaxing your eyes open, you turn over again and glance to the other side of your bedroom where Pietro sat cradling your bundle of joy.

Pietro’s smooth voice had brought the cries to a happy coo, and you could see your daughter’s small hand reach up and touch her father’s face.

“Good morning Piet.” You smile, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“It’s only three a.m dorogoy, go back to bed.” Pietro insists as you stand and make your way over to him.

“And let you become the favourite, I know your plans love.” You smirk, wrapping one arm around Pietro’s shoulder and using the other to caress his cheek.

“Alright, you caught me.” Pietro chuckles, gently rocking the baby in his arms.

“Hate to say I told you so.” You laugh in a sing-song voice.

“Oh I’m still terrified, zhena.” Pietro smiles nervously, glancing over at you and pausing as he takes in your beauty in the low light. His heart flutters at the sight of you smiling down at your baby, his train of thought getting lost as you look back at him.

“But?” You question when Pietro’s sentence drops.

“But— I must say my love for you and our little angel is... Much stronger.” He murmurs, kissing your baby’s forehead.

Your heart warms at the sight of your husband's smile that matches your little girl’s.

“Learn as we grow?” Pietro smiles, leaning forward with his eyes closed.

“With you by my side, anything Piet.” You smirk, taking his fingers in your chin and meeting him halfway.

Pietro tilts his chin to deepen the kiss, but the sound of high pitched coos pull you apart.

“ya tebya lyublyu, Piet.” You sigh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your little girl’s forehead and then the corner of Pietro’s lip.

“I love you too, y/n.” He murmurs dreamily.

“Now come on, she’s practically fighting to keep her eyes open now.” You giggle glancing down at your child’s half closed eyes.

“Alright, alright.” Pietro chuckles, placing your daughter back in the crib and collapsing onto your mattress.

“You’re doing amazing my love.” You yawn as Pietro pulls you to his chest and leans into you for a slow kiss.

“You’re not too bad yourself, printsessa.” He murmurs against your lips.

It was all even better than you had imagined.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Tim Drake)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part two of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You watch the rusty green of the warehouse wall disappear behind a spray of orange paint. There is nothing more satisfying than watching paint make old things new. 

A whistle interrupts your reverie, making the can slip from your hand. You swear, the harsh syllables echoing in the empty air. The can bounces down the scaffold and lands in someone’s hands. Tim’s face gets sprayed with a mist of orange. He makes a noise and rubs at his face. You bark out a laugh and he grimaces at you. The begrudging fondness obvious on his face. 

He waves at you, eyes still stinging from the paint. Giddiness flourishes in your chest. “I knew I’d find you here!” He shouts in a dialect of Mandarin that you hadn’t heard in ages.

It takes you a moment to understand him. You’re honestly extremely rusty. It takes you another moment to realize that it made no sense for him to find you. “How?” You shout back in Romanian. 

Tim shakes his head, throwing his hand over his shoulder. “Open canvas.”

You snort, looking down at him. Tim’s breath catches as he stares up at you, your smile. You’re haloed by sunlight. You look like an angel descending from heaven.

Tim’s forced to pick up his jaw when he hears your voice again. You’re tapping your watch. The words are lost to him.

“What?!”

You shake your head, strands of hair coming loose from behind your ear. “I asked...” You shout in a coarse frawl. “... Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

It was. 

He was only 30 minutes early. No big deal. 

He shrugs. “I just wanted to watch you paint.” He says, trailing off. Oh God, Tim thinks. Does he sound lovesick? Is Cassie right? He pushes the thoughts down, opting to look at the building instead. On the side of the building was an immaculate portrait of the Red Hood rendered like a saint, haloed in golden light and surrounded by your orange marigolds. It would look at home in any grand cathedral. Your talents never ceased to amaze him.

“Should I ask why you’re defacing a building?”

You turn back to the building picking up a can of yellow paint. You tilt your head. “It’s a massive improvement, yes?”

Tim looks around. The pavement is littered with wet trash mixed. The buildings were rusted. Everything else is covered in grime. “You’re rude…  but not wrong.”

You preen, electing to ignore the first half. You turn back to your canvas before Tim can get another word in. He knows he’s lost you. 

“So, why *the* Red Hood?” 

You look away from the portrait, setting the can of yellow spray paint. It sprays your sweatshirt and Tim laughs. You stick your tongue out at his face flushing. You liked this sweatshirt. He gave it to you the last time you had meandered into Gotham. “Why not? We’re in the Bowery. He’s like a saint here.” You snip, switching to Russian. Ok, that made sense. You toss your sweatshirt into Tim’s face. The fabric is lousy with the smell of paint and of 5-hour energy drinks. It was an improvement over the pungent odor of garbage. 

He tries to rub the orange paint on his face away before he tucks your sweatshirt beneath his arm. You’re still looking down at him, wry amusement on your face. “I’ll paint your beloved Red Robin when I get to China Town. Heard he was quite popular in those parts.”

Tim’s heart flutters.  He stutters out his next question. “Why are you using spray paint for this type of illustration?”

“Kon said I couldn’t do it.”

Tim snickers, “As if Kon could tell the difference.”

You frown only realizing your mistake. You curse under your breath. Tim doesn’t stop laughing at you. “Shut up!” You snarl.

Tim dodges the next paint can you throw but the next one hits him square in the face. You grin triumphantly. Tim raises a middle finger at you and you giggle in response. You feel bad, seeing him wince in pain. You’d buy him apology tea later but for now, you clasp your hands and call out to him sweetly. “Sorry, Timmers!”

Tim, equally as mature and well aware that you’re only half sorry, blows out a breath, muttering something colorful before shouting back: “we should get going if we wanna eat out after looting the museum.”

At that, you launch yourself off the scaffolding, your body feeling weightless as it falls. Tim drops your sweatshirt as he holds his arms out to catch you. He catches you easily. You two spin as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You are certifiably insane.” He laughs. His nose smooshed against yours. 

“And so are you.” You snort, hugging him. 

He hugs you back. You hum so softly into his hair that Tim wouldn’t be able to tell it from a breath if he were human.  Tim holds you close, hugging your waist tightly. He doesn’t really want to let you go. You don’t either.  You and Tim stand there for a bit when you hear his cell beep. 

“Why does your phone sound like a pager?” 

“Because Babs told me how to.”

“That literally explains nothing.”

“I’m not taking crap from the gremlin who had ‘Baby Shark’ as their ringtone for 12 months. WILLINGLY.”

You pout at him, your face so close to his. Tim’s only half paying attention to your defense. To be fair, it basically boiled down to ‘it isn’t that bad’ and ‘Bart’s ringtone is worse’. 

After a short shopping trip and a cab ride later, you arrive at the museum in fresh clothes and less paint on his face for Tim. 

“All the World’s a Stage. They botched it! The nerve! The barbarity of it all. It's just like when they botched ‘Words with Friends’ or ‘In Ice We Trust’ or even ‘Tomcat’. That last one was pretty much gift wrapped for them!” You say throwing up your hands nearly hitting Tim and whatever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be behind you. 

“For someone who isn't invested in modern media, you're getting fired up.” Tim chuckles, eyes flickering behind you. You had managed to miss the people behind you but you do have a rather conspicuous space behind you. 

“They had such good material to work with”  you say, gesticulating wildly. “And- and they butchered it.”

“You need a 5 minute breather?” Tim asks, resting a hand on your back. 

 “Shut up,” you laugh.

Tim grins at you as if he had no idea what this ultimate betrayal feels like. 

Determined to prove him wrong, you say : “C'mon, Timothy,  you ranted like this when they botched the star thingy.”

“It’s Star Wars, you heathen.”

“Star. Thingy.” You repeat, crossing your arms. 

Tim squints at you. You know he’s not gonna blow up at you but somehow that’s scarier. 

“You can pay for your own cab later.” He grumbles. 

“Star. Thing-Y.” 

Tim turns to leave. This always worked. Always without fail, you grab at his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Tim tries not to smile.

“Fine.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It was excruciating actually.”

“You're being dramatic.” He says, showing the woman behind the ticket counter your passes. 

“Excuse me, I left all my drama in the Renaissance.”

“Oh really?”

“Ok not really but admit that both Andromeda and Stars, Forgive Me have better writing.“ You bite out.

 “I- That’s unfair,” he says. You raise your brow in response. 

“...”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But admit that Andromeda should have been named ‘Space Whores’.”

You squint at him then smile. “Oh abso-posi-tute-ly.”

 “Have you seen this dirty old hockey mask?” You ask, tapping the glass as if the hockey mask would react if you just agitate it enough. 

 “What is that?” Tim asks, looking over your shoulder. His brows crinkles when he sees the mask. “How is that romantic?”

You hum. “Ask the curator?” You suggest, looking around. He was usually out and about. He could never sit still even if he tried. You lean down narrowing your eyes at the plaque. “Says here some dude called Jason terrorized 3 kids over summer.”

“That’s very romantic for our Jay to do.” Tim says, crossing his arms and switching to Cantonese. It was a weird habit but you knew why. Apparently for all Jason’s skill in languages he somehow could not get a handle on Cantonese. 

 “Not that Jason.” You say, smirking. 

“You sure?” Tim asks, leaning closer to you. 

You snicker,  “As in character as that would be...”

“True,” he says, edging closer and closer to you. You rock on your heels nervously at the proximity. “It’s a shame, I thought there would be a machete to match too…” You can feel Tim’s breath on your cheek. 

“OH LOOK AT THIS.” You say twisting away and pointing to a black and white photo. Tim’s hands leave his sides to grab for you, to pin you to his chest, but he has enough self control not to. Instead, he follows you.

“It’s just a man and a woman in business suits. Yanno something you can see in any metropolitan city.”

“Yes but,” you say, tracing a nonsensical pattern into the air, “I’ve heard a story about this, they were both extremely rich and heads of their companies, went from enemies to lovers - my all time favourite.” 

Tim looks closer at the photo of the man and woman with their backs to the camera just holding hands along the NYC sidewalk. It’s cute. “I thought your favorite was lovers to enemies.”

“Well of course, it is! The drama, the absolute tragedy. It’s better than any trope in existence. But I love that this is just black and white. You don’t need anything else to indicate they’re in love with each other.”

Tim is all too tempted to point out that that likely wasn’t intentional, that it was a limitation of the time, but the look in your eyes robbed him of his breath, so he swallowed his thoughts. 

Your eyes rove over the room frantically in search of something. 

“So is there any reason you wanted to go to this exhibit instead of watching lavalantula 10 in theaters?” Tim says, tapping another case. 

You turn to look at him, shock etched into your features.“10? We've seen lavalantula 1 through 9 in theaters? Why did I agree to that?”

“Cus you love me?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Probably not.”

Tim gives you a hurt look. 

You scowl at him. You have no idea why everyone thinks he’s the nice Wayne sibling. He is a manipulative little shit who plays you like a fiddle. And yet here you are falling for it. An absolute buffoon. 

You grumble an apology under your breath before continuing. “This is more cultural Timmers and lord knows we need more culture.” You wave sarcastically. 

“I think we've lived enough culture.”

“it cannot hurt to experience more Tim,” you snort. He rolls his eyes. You grab onto his arm and look up at him bright eyed. Two can play it at that game. “Please Tim....”

He scowls at you. “Fine-”

“Yes!”

“-but you owe me a movie marathon.”

“Fine. Fine,” you nod, “just don’t pick something dumb.”

“I just got the new star trek box collection.” He beams. 

“You could just shove me into a grave.” You sigh dramatically. 

Tim grins. “The Renaissance called-”

“Oh fuck you, Grackle.”

He snorts and you hate that you fall in love with him more every time he laughs. 

You cross your arms giving him a hard look. “Fine but we have to have an intermission of my choice.” You say, offering a hand. 

“Deal.” He says, shaking your outstretched hand. 

“Great, you've just agreed to watch the Great British Baking Show with me.” You say smug. 

Tim curses himself. 

"Are you still looking for that one painting?"

You tip your body back to look at him, your eyes wide and startled. It takes no time at all for them to shift to their usual angry shape. "Yes," you say quietly. It's Tim’s turn to be startled. Your hands curl into a fist. "It wasn't done and those bastards took it." 

Tim reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder. 

You cast your hands up to the sky dramatically.  "The barbarity of it all!"

Tim smiles, letting his hand fall to his side. You would be ok. 

You two walk on as Tim rants about StarGate  could have had a bigger fanbase if it hadn’t excluded so many people. You add StarGate to the list of things to not remember. 

You stop.

Your heart presses a bruise in your throat. 

Framed in  wood laden in ivy and marigolds is a painting that was painfully familiar.  Even unwashed, you can still see the bright reds of rose petals, the wild greens of the women’s skirts, the brilliant oranges of marigolds, and the blinding whites of cobble stones. The image was a practice in entropy made into perfection. The chaos of Valentine's day in a small town square reduced and captured in an infinitesimal moment.

Damian told you that people had started calling them Warsaw’s Faceless Sweethearts. You hated that.  A part of you wants to scream. You want to tell them that this wasn’t for them. This painting was made for one person and one person only.

You’ve been staring at it too long. Tim looks at you. You’ve known him too long to not know that he’s worried. That he’s feeling that stupid surge of protectiveness he always does when you go quiet. It’s in the cautious way he reaches out to you, slow and steady the way you approach a spooked animal. You want to lash out at him but he’s your Tim. Besides, too much of your mind is trapped in the painting, in the white gazebo, in between the couple who’s stuck in the moment before a kiss. 

Tim stands closer to you, his fingers lacing into yours with centuries worth or practice. He looks at the painting. “This painting looks familiar.” Tim says for the lack of anything better to say. It was yours. He knew that with only a few seconds of looking. 

“I… I don’t think so,” you say clumsily, “that’s definitely not the painting I’ve been looking for. Yup that one looks completely finished. Yup definitely.” You tug at Tim’s arm. 

He gives you a look, staying perfectly in place, before turning back to the painting. His gaze draws low. In a glass case sits scraps of paper lined with charcoal.  It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to realize that they’re sketches the artist did. Tim recognized the baker, the blacksmith, the seamstress, and even the constable. Most glaring of all he recognizes your marigolds.  His eyes drift to the sketches of the couple in  the gazebo. They were numerous, haphazard and unsatisfied. You were clearly frustrated with the groom’s face. Tim wonders who the poor guy could be. 

In the corner of the page in the center, he sees it.  “Wait… is that me?”

“NO!”

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the figure next to his. In the sketch, your lips are brushing against his. Tim’s lip tingles trying to replicate the sensation. 

You’re frozen stiff. You try to pull your hand away. You want to bury your face in them. Scratch that, you wanna be buried six feet under. Tim doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“That’s the umbrella you lost back in London.”

“I lost a lot in London, Timmy.” 

“Well...” Ok. Yeah, you did. Hence why he can’t get you to London even with the promise of letting you ‘improve’ Buckingham palace. But that isn’t the point. “(Y/n), this is gorgeous.” He says, turning to you. You look at him stunned and scared. He squeezes your hand.

You shake yourself out of his grip. Tim lets you. He knows when to back down. 

You step forward leaning on the rope separating you from your work. “I told you it wasn't finished.” You say, glaring at the painting as if willing the colors to move. 

“What happened?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against yours.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Warsaw.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That little town in Warsaw. It was kind of hard to finish the painting when soldiers were setting fires to houses. Ok, they didn’t do it directly but there was smoke.”

“Yeah kind of.” Tim agrees, smiling sadly. He looks back at the painting. “I want to keep it.”

“What?” You blink not quite following the shift in conversation. 

“Darling, I think we should have it. It’s ours after all.” Tim says holding your hand in his. Your mind is bouncing between too many things. He called you darling. He’s holding your hand. He’s smiling so sweetly at you. You’re addicted to that look in his eyes, pure unadulterated adoration. 

You cover your face with your free hand, feeling the smile on your face go uncomfortable wide. You feel something on your forehead, a kiss like a raindrop. It comes again and you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

“It’s yours..” He trails off hesitantly. “..if..” You look up at Tim, waiting with bated breath. Tim squeezes your hands. “...if you’ll be mine. ”

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[finleycannotdraw]

Guess what? I’m re-binge-reading Good Omens. And here are some Obervations that I forgot about and some things I might put in fics. Also things I found funny. Basically my dumb commentary on the book.

Crowley actually flees Sister Mary. He doesn’t saunter vaguely away. He flees.

Ligur is rather more thoughtful than he’s portrayed in the show

Anathema likes to read about herself, and her teachers are confused because she spells words like Agnes Nutter

Crowley apologizes

By page 41, it is mentioned at least twice that Aziraphale and Crowley Do Not choose each other’s company for any reason other than that they are constants, that they have an Arrangement, and that they are Friends because being Enemies got boring.

Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!

The Drunk Scene is fuckin hilarious and it’s actually a lot longer than it is in the show, and really you ought to read it. (Book pages 47-50)

My mom (who has a PhD in human development) would probably like to talk to Crowley about upbringing because they seem to agree on how important it is

War has always looked 25, and had a vulture that died of fatty degeneration

Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution

Warlock has Kermit the frog overalls, and Nanny Ashtoreth is described as someone who “advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines”. The tutors are present for about four paragraphs. Warlock is good at math and likes banana flavored bubblegum.

Crowley has a slice of angel cake. Aziraphale eats it. Aziraphale also eats deviled eggs. Hm.

Crowley calls Aziraphale angel casually enough to suggest he’s been doing it for a long time

Some girl at Warlock’s party calls Aziraphale a f*ggot

Crowley glares suspiciously at a gerbil. It is suggested that Hell has, in the past, sent hell-gerbils in place of hellhounds.

“Oh dear,” muttered Aziraphale, not swearing with the practiced ease of one who has spent six thousand years not swearing, and who wasn’t going to start now.

Adam and his friends play in a place called The Pit, where shopping carts go to die, apparently

Crowley is the first one to mention sides in the book!??!? Also Crowley goes on about how humans are more evil than Hell (but he calls himself evil—is he calling himself human already?)

Aziraphale yells “get off the road, you clown!”

“What’s a velvet underground?” *love confession???* “you wouldn’t like it”

Aziraphale is a bit rude to Crowley in the “flashes of love” scene and Crowley is less panicked about it

Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself

Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton

COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD

Aziraphale speaks like. Like ugh. “FlOUndeR on tHe rOcKS of inEquiTY”

“Thirty seconds later someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.” *cuts to a random pleasant story about Mary Hodges* *cuts back to where Aziraphale has fallen into a rhododendron and Crowley licks the paint before he knows it’s paint* dumbasses

Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall

Crowley is actually pretty impatient and doesn’t argue with Aziraphale when he’s worried

“Nothing but dust and fundamentalists” “that was nasty” “sorry, couldn’t help it”

When the radio sings “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” Crowley sings “for me” and then screams

Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’ll keep in touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t say tickety-boo, and then Crowley says “right” and feels very alone

the international express man is small and has glasses, and wears green woolen socks

The sword, which turns out to be Aziraphale’s, is described as having an aura of hatred and menace, which makes me think of how it could’ve gotten that aura from Heaven or from humanity or from War...

In the book Pepper has red hair and freckles, which makes it a cool comparison to War’s appearance and the defeat of War

Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently

Occasionally, as Aziraphale reads the book, he would very nearly swear

“He wouldn’t have said ‘that’s weird’ if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins.”

“If you had told him there were children starving in Africa he would’ve been flattered that you’d noticed.”

“...that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” (151)

Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs

Shadwell’s voice is described as “the color of an old raincoat” and seems to fake smoking cigarettes

Aziraphales cocoa is moldy and solidified by the time he calls Arthur Young, and has a thin layer of dust on himself too

Newt says that the walls look like nicotine and the floor looks like cigarette ash, and he suspects both are, actually, coated with these substances

Newt looks a bit like Clark Kent, and people seem to like Shadwell for some reason, much to his annoyance.

Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone

Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals

Adam is wayyyy too good at video games

Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable

Adam suggests that Pepper ought to have Russia cause of her red hair (huh)

Anathema and Newt actually have decent conversations?? Like?? Show??? C’mon, man. The show kinda butchered their relationship.

Trees, apparently, make a ‘vvrooooommm’ sound when they grow very fast

“He suspected that Crowley was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although he would have been surprised how right he nearly was.” Shadwell also thought Aziraphale was a Russian spy. Wow, Shadwell.

Aziraphale calls Crowley and actually says “shut up” to him, and then when the answering machine beeps, he tells Crowley to “stop making noises” and then he swears for the first time ever.

The fuckin’ footnote on page 227

“A sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have.” I like the word choice here. He’s not pretending to be a human, he’s trying to be one. That’s a really important distinction.

It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.

Crowley’s flat is very white. Wow, Crowley. It just looks dark because of the lighting. Heaven imagery and symbolism out my ears, goddammit.

Why does Hell say Crowley’s name so much when talking to him?? Honestly, I think that’s an intentional dig at his chosen name, using it in their speech to scare him. Wow, Hell. (And wow, Finn, excellent sentence)

Whenever the book says something is shaped like something, it definitely isn’t that thing. “man-shaped” “dog-shaped” “car-shaped”... makes it pretty obvious they aren’t men, dogs, or cars, huh.

The code to Crowley’s safe is 4004. The year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvelous planet”... and the year he met Aziraphale, of course. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Crowley, my dude.

Crowley consideres sticking Hastur into his car until he turns into Freddie Mercury but then decides even he isn’t that cruel

Actual text that I feel like nobody really agrees with: “Madame Tracy was by many yardsticks quite stupid”

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” “...imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?” “A prat.”

I’m crying. The fucking bookshop fire scene made me fucking cry. I’m literally crying.

“...on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.” “The police and firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.” “...a crack of thunder so loud it hurt....” *the sound of Finley sobbing into their cat*

The shortest biker in the cafe thing is 6′2, what the fuck

War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979

“Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held.” HMMMMMMMMMMM

“There were no bitches in Hell either.” I know it’s talking about female dogs, but I rather thought Hell was full of bitches.

“Why are you talking like a poofter?” “Ah. Australia.”

“gOsh, aM i on teLEviSiON?” (Basically Aziraphale gets passionate about stuff and likes to talk).

Crowley is actually an optimist and doesn’t dwell too much on how sucky the world is. He doesn’t go get smashed in a bar. He just finds Aziraphale’s notes in the book and heads to Tadfield. And also, his new pair of sunglasses just... materializes out of his eyes. And he likes to whistle.

“Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking to Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping But Secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People traveled with them.”

“on top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back.” Honestly dude, if an octopus waved at me I’d wave back.

Wait Agnes was apparently talking to Shadwell and not God when she said yowe daft old foole. I dunno

Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell: 

Aziraphale does not know how to get rid of demons. Canonically. “Had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late? And Crowley always got the hint.”

The road to Hell is paved with frozen door to door salesmen, apparently. The question is where it is, because the demons always seem to just stem out of the ground.

“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway. I love this sentence during that scene. 

I bet Hastur gets really mad whenever he hears Aziraphale’s voice from now on

Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene

ADAM. SAID. “But I reckon you can make your own side” AND WE FUCKIN IGNORED IT?

The temperature above the M25 was simultaneously 700ºC and -140ºC which makes me think of something I read about magenta not being real. The M25 is magenta.

I feel like “Agnes” is just going to become an inside joke between Anathema and Newt at this point, and it will drive Crowley insane because he knows who she is but somehow still doesn’t get the joke.

I’m six inches taller than R.P. Tyler, and apparently according to the back sleeve of the book jacket, I’m very similar in height to Neil Gaiman

R.P. Tyler thought Shadwell was a ventriloquist’s dummy, and then sees cows doing somersaults

“That’s terrific. Much obliged,” said Crowley. — “Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?” “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” “Probably because your car is on fire.” .... Also the fact that Crowley looks like a young man which I find interesting.

“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”

“Where is Armageddon, anyway?” “I’ve always meant to look that up.” “There’s an Armageddon, Pennsylvania”

Famine is the one that says “that’s one big avocado”, and also, I find it interesting that War, more than once, talks about love. (All is fair in love and war much?)

Anathema threatens the guard with a stick, pretending it’s a gun

Aziraphale, of course, asks Crowley to sort it out because he, Aziraphale, is “the nice one” and then proceeds to sort it out himself. Because of course he does. Because what else could he possibly do.

I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY

I’M PROBABLY GOING TO READ IT AGAIN IN A MONTH

Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t