#broken european language

[vogelmeister]

just found out the planet of the bass people are american and i feel betrayed

[oblique-lane]

Spy tf2 and his identity

Character analysis (or at least my vision on him, if you believe my reasoning)

What do we know about Spy? He's a disguise mastermind. He can pretend to be anyone in order to infiltrate into the scene to do his job - quite literally, stab people on the back. But when he's not in the battle, what is he to his teammates? A suave Frenchman, a gentleman with taste, somewhat a leader.

At least, that's the persona he prefers to show. But is he really..?

What if I tell you that this person never drops his disguise?

For a man who always wears a mask and who's identity being secret is a sacred part of his role in this job, isn't this persona too much to show if it is real? Frenchman, rich, ladykiller... Wouldn't it be too easy to decipher his identity with so much clues provided? Wouldn't it be dangerous?

While Miss Pauling and the Administrator definitely know Spy's real identity, hiding it is a major thing for whatever reason. One could assume it might be because of Scout (obvious guess) but I doubt he's a sole reason. Spy very much enjoys being the Spy all by himself. Do what's the deal?

Let's start from the beginning.

Why did Spy join Mann Co. in the first place?

Let's take this assumption as a fact: people come here out of desperation. They are professionals in their field, yet in their past/casual life there is a pattern of them having difficulties that push them into joining this service. I don't see why Spy would be an exception.

The reason for joining is usually money. Some people question why Spy, a wealthy man from higher society, would join Mann Co. if he has it all already.

Well, probably because he really does not.

Have you ever met an aristocrat? Wealthy people don't get so protective about their expensive suits, they can afford cleaning or a new one. Regardless, rich people don't usually get stingy about material goods, especially if they're mass produced.

At least, not those who were born into wealth.

Spy's defensiveness about his "wealthy stuff", his pomp-ness, disgust and arrogance towards "plebs" gives off a man who knows what it means to live in poverty and who doesn't want to be associated with it ever again.

(Not even talking about his own filthy habits such as not washing his mask and pissing on walls? Jesus Christ)

Dare I even guess that he might be not French at all? His French is so broken. (Although, so is Medic's German, but at least he uses his language much more frequently and in more complex sentences, while Spy only uses French to say some basic expressions, occasionally confusing them with other languages). Definitely not a native.

If anything, he's not giving "rich man" at all, he's giving con man. And that fits my picture perfectly.

So, poor upbringing. How old is Spy? If he's Scout's father (and he was young when he was conceived), I'd say he's no less than 20 years older than him. I'd give him a few more years actually. So, approximately Spy is around 50 at the events of the game (1968-1972). Let's assume he was born somewhere in the 1910s.

Even if he's not French, I still agree that he's probably European. Hmm, what was happening in Europe at the time Spy was a kid?

Oh yeah. The Great Depression.

See my picture: imagine, a child from a lower class family during the Great Depression, his parents were most likely to not take good care about him (both because of the economical situation AND as an echo to Spy's struggles with his own fatherhood). He has to run away from home early and start to make money. Any way possible.

Unavoidably, it leads to crime.

Petty theft, blackmail, scams. Changing identities. Selling low quality products and services. Changing identities again. When older, seducing rich women to stay at their homes overnight, be fed and supported. Running away from the police. Walking into a trap of the mafia, and then joining them as their goon.

In this nightmare of a life he just had to keep pretending to be someone else, someone better and stronger, in order to his ego to not completely shutter. He had to imagine he was an invincible mastermind trickster of some sort, not just a poor boo-hoo victim of poverty who has never knew normal life and care.

And if you pretend for long enough, you become your role eventually... Right?

His true self was long lost forgotten under many layers of new identities. Worse, his true self was never known. And he didn't want it to be known in its ugly and disgusting vulnerability. Narcissism became his lifeline.

It's so much better to be Spy. To be rich and elegant and respected. His ego rebuilt.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 25. messed up

chapter tags/warnings: naoya fucks toji's ex-wife again. aggressive sex. creampie-ing. misogynistic! naoya. hurt/comfort. naoya views women as nothing but a hole. broken marriage. heavy angst. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. manipulation undertones. corruption. 

word count: 4.1k

notes: thank you always for all the support! on to the plot for our final arc! this beginning excerpt is a rewording from a line in “spy x family” (any fans out there?) that i believe captures the dynamics in our characters as well. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

❝ Every person has a self that one conceals, a side not shown to anyone else. Not to friends. Not to lovers. Not even to family. Behind lies and painted smiles, individuals shield their true natures and desires…and, in doing so, the world thus maintains its thin veneer of peace. ❞

Who in the world was Toji Zenin?

The Toji that you had always known was Toji Fushiguro, so what was your husband’s cognomen doing besides your sex therapist’s first name on the latter's university diploma?

Even Google seemed to deny that Toji Zenin existed.

Showing results instead for ‘Toji Fushiguro.’

No, that was not what you wanted! 

One step forward in understanding this enigmatic man might as well be three steps backward because, each time you thought you had learned something about him, you only come to the realization that nothing much had been discovered at all.

But as investigations via search engines, social media sites, and Wikipedia pages proved futile, sources that could quell your curiosity dwindled.

So, you turned to your last resort.

“Who’s Toji Zenin?”

“What—”

Across from you, the raspberry macaron in Mai’s hand stopped by her lips as the girl snapped her focus from the pastry to your unanticipated question, with Maki visibly turning stiff in the adjacent chair. The three of you sat surrounding a small table in the twin’s private lounge, located in the northern wing within the Zenin residence. 

Visiting the central family property was not uncommon ever since your engagement and wedding earlier this year, but the architecture would never fail to impress you. The mansion itself resembled the Imperial Palace more than anything—an edificial centerpiece defined by the elegance and simplicity inherent in traditional Japanese design, with latticework embellishing the wooden exterior and, inside, carefully painted doors opening into tatami rooms.

Given that Mai and Maki were back in Tokyo for their summer breaks from universities abroad, the sisters established themselves as your close friends and had brought you into their tea room, adorned with European furnishings that would come off as atypical compared to the Japanese heirlooms elsewhere in the residence. On the table sat an imported tea set from England, at the center a French-inspired pastry tower prepared with caramel-topped croquembouches, chocolate-covered profiteroles, and the like. 

In great admiration, the sisters had been barraging you with inquiries about your life back in your bachelorette days, asking about your volunteering trip to the Philippines or the charity auctions in Dubai.

Now, with the shift in discussion, the sisters exchanged an uneasy look.

An entire conversation appeared to be held in the way they traded glances. The usual sparkle in their eyes faded, which must mean the girls were remarkably uncomfortable, but Mai forced a polite smile as she placed down her macaron. 

“Y/N,” she began carefully, “May we ask how you know Toji?”

Even though she tried to spin the question as casual curiosity, her apprehension could not be more obvious. 

“I don’t know him, really,” you lied. While dishonesty went against your morals, watching the twins’ shoulders fall with relief was enough to assuage the guilt. “He’s just…” My friend, to put things in the mildest terms. “He’s just a name I have heard. That’s all.”

Maki dabbed at her mouth with a lace handkerchief, not making a big deal as she added, “Toji’s a cousin.”

So, the Zenin last name on his diploma was not a coincidence at all. 

Such a groundbreaking discovery should have thrown you into a whole whirlwind but, to be frank, the realization did not come off as too surprising at all. If anything, Toji as a member of the Zenin family was the perfect explanation to why Toji seemed so astute, why he would talk like he knew more about Naoya than you, and—as Geto had once said—why Toji was ‘not where he could possibly be.’ 

While Toji’s reason for opting for the Fushiguro name remained a mystery, what you did know now was that he was indeed affiliated with the twins before you by blood, which—by extension—must mean that Toji would also be a cousin to…

…your husband. 

Wait.

An unsettling chill ran down your spine.

“Cousins, as in,” part of you didn’t want to know the answer, “distant cousins? Or…?”

“No,” the older twin interjected matter-of-factly, not knowing the full background behind your seemingly innocuous question. “First cousins.” 

Ah, so the closest type of cousins possible, which was exactly what you had hoped not to hear. With this additional information, you tried to hide the clamminess in your palms. What would be the best word to describe this void now? Did you feel disappointed? Misled? Betrayed? Toji certainly had known that you were wed to his younger cousin, yet he willingly chose to hide his background as he kissed you, touched you, and fucked you.

A reversal from your sentiments before, you currently felt both disgusted and hurt.

Why did Toji keep this information from you? What sick person derived satisfaction from having sex with his first cousin’s wife? You were so damn stupid for placing all your trust in him. Looking at the situation now, he was just another iteration of the same manipulative and disrespectful man you had been trying so hard to avoid. 

“Are you close with Toji?” 

Mai shook her head. “No. We don’t talk to him anymore.” Her comment struck as odd. Anymore? Had they once been, then? Before you could ask, her gaze darted around in caution before she leaned forward and said lowly, “For your information, Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.”

That’s quite recent. 

You understood that Mai and Maki had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped as they did not want to slander the family heir in front of his wife. Blissful ignorance was what the twins must be thinking, hoping to preserve the peace between you and your husband. However, what you had yet to reveal was the broken marriage that had been masked for everyone’s sake, disguised by a pretense that all was well.

Which was why, on that note, the timing could not have been more perfect as a tall young man with ombre hair and hazel eyes flung open the door in one unforgiving slam, rattling the fine china and startling the seated individuals inside.

“There you are, you whore!” 

Your eyes widened with shock upon seeing Naoya Zenin in the entryway, your husband’s scowl icy and malicious. He came stomping toward you as his eyes held a dangerous hostility that was impossible to ignore, and you could oddly sense an impending doom when he stormed with zero regard for anything in his path, kicking aside a potted plant and toppling over a ceramic vase.

Standing up, you tried to hide the confusion that befuddled your already mish-mashed brain. 

Today was Tuesday.

Was he not supposed to be at work?

“Naoya,” you began calmly, cognizant of the onlooking sisters behind you, “this is not the right place to—”

“You’re such a fucking desperate bitch, aren’t you?” His words were sharp and bitter, his glare filled with hatred like a fire doused with gasoline. Before you could request clarification, he stopped steps away and swung his right hand up, pressing a black business card to your stunned face, the paper crinkled from his intense grip and rendering you petrified in your stance. 

No, this couldn’t be…

From your peripheral view, you watched Mai and Maki place their hands over their open mouths as they read Toji Fushiguro’s calligraphed name on the business card that also had in obvious words: 'sex therapist.' Shame racked your stomach. Merely minutes ago, you convinced the twins that Toji was to you nothing more than a name, and now, karma bit you back like a bitch. 

With your voice evaporated, you croaked.

“Where did you find that?” You had been sure that you placed the badge away.

Naoya used his anger to crumple the card and tossed the now useless paper ball to the side. “In your purse,” he gritted, “How long were you planning to hide this from me?”

The ensuing guilt suffocated you. “I—” I don’t know.

Sensing the weakness in your will, Naoya burst into a maniacal laughter that cracked through the air, creating a disconcerting symphony. He bent forward, shoulders convulsing with every diabolic and mirthful guffaw. 

“You’re so god fucking pathetic, woman. Do you have any idea who Toji Fushiguro is? That bastard is Toji Zenin, you ignorant slut—he is my cousin. Well, I guess I never told you about him, though, because he doesn’t fucking matter anymore anyway. I don’t know how you ended up crossing paths with him, but this is hilarious!” The man kept cackling and roaring like he had gone insane. “Were you two brewing shit about me? Actually, let me guess since you’d gotten hold of this business card: did you have sex with him? Did you have sex with Toji? Going around fucking your husband and then your husband’s cousin is nothing to be proud of. Tell me, did you meet the other sex therapists as well? Did you get stretched out by them, too? Whose dick did you like best? Whose? Whose? Is that what you like, being passed around and used like some sick trophy? What a fucking animal! How dare you disrespect our marriage. How dare you disrespect your own hus—”

Your hand lashed out before you could suppress the impulse and delivered one resounding slap across Naoya’s face. You watched him shut up and stumble backward, clutching his cheek. 

"Ow!"

For a moment, the world seemed frozen still: the sisters gaping in complete stupefaction, your husband staring at the ground wide-eyed, and you heaving from the incoming emotional onslaught.

”How dare you…How fucking dare you disrespect me!” The coalescence of anger, agony, and resentment—bottled up in your heart for months upon months—was now being released as you dissolved into tears. “What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you say such messed up things? You are sick in the head, Naoya, you know that? Out of respect for myself, how could I possibly respect you?!” The only sound echoing in the room became your uncontrollable cries, sobs that escaped past your lips in raw and muffled bursts. Torn apart by sorrow, you could hardly breathe from how constricted your throat had become, your knees wobbling and weak. “Y-You have no idea how lonely and miserable I have been since I walked down that aisle. For the past six months, you—as my husband—have done absolutely nothing but make me feel like a rat in my own home, a mistress in my own marriage!” 

“Fantastic! Exactly what I wanted to hear, I am glad I have made your life horrible!” Naoya snarled, not caring for how everyone else’s eyes widened at the scathing statement. Unbelievable. Truly, painfully unbelievable. Did your husband really just say that to your face? He could not give a shit that you wept pitifully, instead catching your shaky wrist in the tightest grasp possible as he added on, “My only regret is that I had not made your life even worse.” 

“What the fuck!” you heard Mai gasp as a gut reaction.

What the fucking fuck, indeed.

While you had been subject to Naoya’s verbal harassment during these many weeks, for him to tell you that he wished he had tortured you further was beyond heartless. The searing ache that burned your skin might as well be fatal because your respiration turned erratic like someone had trapped you inside a bubble.

Hyperventilating, you subsisted on shallow gasps.

“Don’t go around thinking that you’re any better, alright? You’re calling me pathetic for sleeping with your cousin, but have you considered that I had been placed in that position because, since the start, you’ve been cheating on your wife?” 

Yelling at his face allowed you to release more tears from your lachrymose eyes. Now, Mai and Maki must truly be appalled at all these revelations. What happened to the fairy-tale marriage you had told them about? Well, that never existed to begin with, and with these thoughts in mind, you found a sadistic satisfaction in watching your lawful spouse fume with deep-seated rage. 

“That’s right,” you mused with derision, “we’ve been two sides of the same coin all along.”

Naoya clenched his hands at his sides, disgusted to have been compared to you. “Do not put me on the same level as—”

“No. No, you don't get to talk! All you have done since we have been married is for you to talk and complain and bitch about everything, but now, this is my turn,” you screamed in return. “I…I hate you!” and you pointed right at him, “In fact, I despise you. You never tried to see what I had to tolerate to stay with an asshole like yourself because you had been too busy sticking your dick into another woman while you could hardly look at me! No wonder your cousins worried about me. No wonder Toji told me to file for a divorce. Because you, Naoya Zenin, are a total piece of shit!”

His momentary pause hinted at the tiniest self-actualization that flickered within him. Perhaps he finally realized how you had been feeling now that you freely spat out all the turmoil that had been chaining your soul. He took one additional step toward you, torn between whether he should keep up with his anger or succumb to remorse for hurting you.

But, knowing this man, he—of course—opted for the former. 

“I never,” he seethed lowly, “wanted this marriage.” 

Maybe you truly have become deranged or maybe you genuinely found his statement funny, for you began to emit tearful cackles in your laughter.

“Now, that is one big fucking lie.” Since your earliest encounter, Toji had suggested that Naoya solely regarded you as nothing more than ‘a sweet, innocent fuck,’ and the longer you had stayed with your husband, the more you began to acknowledge how these accusations were all true. “We all know that you’re going to be nothing without me. A CEO who could hardly keep his wife for half a year? What a loser. What makes you believe that I wanted to be married to you? Who do you even think would want to do business with you after this? You never had respect in the real world because all that respect rests upon me.”

While you never fully understood Naoya, your words must have snapped a particular chord in him because he suddenly lunged forward.

“Fucking cunt—” 

But before he could get too close, you darted away from him. “Don’t touch me!” you shrieked, voice shrill from the top of your lungs. “Do not ever touch me again. If you want to lay your dirty hands on someone, go touch your girlfriend instead!”

That’s right, he had another woman who he doted on far more than he could appreciate you. This wedding band, this engagement ring on your left hand meant absolutely nothing. Toji had been spot on—why the hell did you cling onto stupid shit like this, twisting the jewelry as if that would save your messed-up union? Without further empathy, you slid off the two rings and hurled them toward your husband’s chest before the circlets clinked upon hitting the ground.

At first, Naoya scoffed. He watched the ludicrous scene with a comical gaze, and when his brain processed what he just saw, he quickly fell onto his knees. All at once, he tossed his head back and let out a chortle—a full-bodied cachinnation that took the room completely aback—as his hysteria mounted.

“Good, good, good!” His screeches were like those of a maniac, his chuckles haunting, throaty, and lacking in sanity. “I’m glad that you’ve come to show the witch that you have been all along! Look at yourself! No wonder no one wanted you!”

Unable to be a bystander any longer, Mai stood up and hurled toward her cousin. “Shut the hell up, Naoya!” 

But the said man was quick, using one powerful movement to punch the older twin first. “You shut the hell up, scum. Unless you want to be pummeled to the point where people will feel sorry to look in your direction.”

“Watch what you say!” and when Naoya turned to the new voice, the evil glint gleaming from his brown eyes appeared ablaze.

“Oh? Someone’s bold, too. Shall I bully you first then, Maki?” the timbre in his disdainful laugh crescendoed into unhinged amusement. “Say one more word, little girl,” he taunted, his imp-like face riddled with mockery. “C’mon. I dare you. I will throw you into the courtyard and beat your ugly face up. That’ll bring back warm memories from the good old days, huh?”

The younger twin gritted her teeth, her sister reaching for her arm as a signal to back down and stay levelheaded.

Meanwhile, once Naoya rose from the floor, he nonchalantly kicked at the rings because those emblems of your union had always been meaningless garbage anyway.

“If wanted to leave this badly, then fucking leave,” he deadpanned, his tone the calmest he had been this whole time. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.” 

Those were your husband’s last words as he walked away, leaving you sobbing and shuddering with a lost soul and sore heart. While weeping and gasping, you had to endure watching his figure fade from view, all while wanting to stop the uncomfortable distress that heightened with his departure. You were huffing, panting, trying to stop your trembling.

The second Naoya slammed the door behind him, Maki ran up to your side and embraced your shaking form, all while you bawled and clutched at yourself. Her expression remained strong, but her palms were damp as they pressed onto your back, her arms quavering slightly as she soothed your cries.

“Sh, don’t cry. My sister and I are here, okay? Mai and I will protect you. Everything will be alright.”

Despite her reassurances, she sounded nearly as broken as you appeared, especially when your hand violently trembled because nothing could save you from the agony that drowned your tattered soul. You felt the disgusting urge to throw up—you were completely broken inside. In a futile attempt, you sought to regulate your breaths with one deep inhale.

Yet, at some point, Maki peeled back and she mouthed something.

Was she talking to you? 

Why…why could you not hear her?

She sounded so muffled, as though you were underwater.

Why did everything sound so far away?

With your throat constricted, you could not breathe. Gagging. Gasping. Big, huge gulps of air, but the oxygen failed to enter your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You could not fucking breathe. 

You gripped the fabric by your chest and your other hand sought for something else to hold, but you ended up on the ground anyway. Choking. Coughing. Was something foaming at your mouth? Something warm and wet spilled from your orifices. Were you vomiting? Why were you vomiting?

Holding your body upright, Maki was the only reason that you had not remained on the floor like a fool, but even she stared at you with concern and…horror? Why did she look so scared? Was she screaming? She looked like she was screaming, but her face appeared all contorted like you were looking at her through a fish-eye lens. 

After a while, you could not even see her or her sister anymore because your vision turned spotty and then black. 

See! 

Open your eyes, and see! 

Why could you not see?

When your hearing returned to some degree, the sounds that filled your ears were frantic shouts and endless clamor.

“Call Toji! He’ll know what to do. Hurry, where is your phone?” It was Mai. Scrambling. Bags were being opened. Items being tossed. “Call Toji, now!”

A phone started to ring.

Buzzes and buzzes and more buzzes as the waiting intensified.

Then voicemail. 

Hello, this is Toji Fushiguro.  

“He is not picking up!” 

Unfortunately, I am unable to pick up the phone right now. 

“Get…”

But please leave your name and number—

“Get Megumi.” 

—and I will return your call as soon as possible.

“What about Tusmiki?”

“Tsumiki is still in London at university, idiot! Call…Call Megumi!”

“Okay. I know, I know! I’m calling him already!” someone screamed back. Was this Mai? Was this Maki? You could no longer tell, but the same person shouted, “Wait, wait. He is calling back. Toji is calling me back.”

“Then pick up the phone!”

“Toji…” one of the twins started, the cracks in her tone making her sound like she was weeping too, and her words composed your last bits of memory before the world dissolved completely. “Please…help us.”

Even labeling Naoya Zenin as ballistic would be far too much of an understatement.

The rage, wrath, and sheer indignation that swelled in his every capillary surpassed the twenty-five years' worth of virulent rancor that he had for his fucked-up family.

Since when did you get so goddamn arrogant? Naoya wanted to hurt you, ruin you, and do everything in his power to sabotage you. 

Not just you, though. Because that would be too easy.

But also his father, his cousins, his ex-coworkers, and—most importantly—Toji. 

Such ill feelings were what led the Zenin CEO to practically leap into the Mercedes-Benz that awaited him at the entrance to his family home, and he immediately ordered his chauffeur to press on the pedal toward a very certain condominium several kilometers away.

Fifteen minutes later, a very surprised Mari opened her door and an enraged Naoya greeted her, shoving her against the wall and colliding his lips into hers for a fierce kiss. His actions lacked passion, only charged with aggression as he stripped her and threw her onto the living room sofa. He could hardly care that he treated the woman as though she was nothing more than a prostitute, while the latter mistook her boyfriend’s rage for desperation, and she begged for him to pull at her hair and force his tongue down her mouth. 

At some point, Naoya drove his mistress’s face into the couch cushion and dragged her hips to have her ass raised high. He was too clouded by fury and too blinded by anger to think twice before he forcefully penetrated the woman. He fucked her raw and held her close, jostling her body as though she was a ragdoll, eliciting her loudest mewls that cried for his name. 

“J-Just like that!” she whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he pummeled into her dripping hole, paying no mercy for destroying her with his ruthless pace. Her knees gave out from under her, and she crumbled from the sofa and into the carpet, only for him to tumble too to follow the socket he needed to keep his dick soaked. 

“I need to break you,” he hissed.

Fuck, he was going to come soon. 

His nails left crescent marks on her flesh, his hands burning her scalp as he tugged her strands and met her buttocks with hard thrusts, and he knew he was going to come. 

Feeling the first of his seed trick into his mistress’s life-giving cavern, he toyed with the idea of giving Tsumiki and Megumi a baby sibling. That would be fun. He could then imagine the subsequent mortified reactions from his deplorable cousin and from his wretched wife (whom he would hardly call himself married to anymore, anyway). The fantasies, everything that he would do to spite those who had wronged him, had Naoya cackling as his viscous cum spurted from his tip and deep into his mistress’s womb.

He pulled out once he made sure that every single drop had been milked from him, his ejaculate dribbling from her pussy like someone had taken a bite from a cream-filled donut.

Rolling into the carpet and onto her back, a panting Mari took two fingers and pressed his precious seed back into her cunt. “That was so hot.” A lazy smile pulled across her face. “Thank you for the unexpected visit.”

Naoya completely dismissed her comments as he tucked himself back into his pants, not in the right mood to respond. 

“Cool. Clean this mess up,” he demanded instead, “I’m leaving for work.” 

He ignored the woman’s ensuing pleas to stay at least five minutes longer. Unlike her, he had better things to do, and he rushed out as he fetched his phone from his back pocket and surveyed for any messages he might have missed while he had been away. 

But when he turned on his screen, his most recent notification had his blood turn cold.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The absolute fury in the argument, the complete panic between the twins, and the maniacal temperament in our husband…so much packed in this chapter! If you can’t tell already, my favorite POV to write from is Naoya’s, ha. Also, I took some creative liberty here to convey the intense emotions, so let me know what you think! Hugs to all.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think it's super important to call out racist tropes in fanon, but I also think it's important to help provide a bit of education so other creators know how to avoid these tropes and what to do instead.

With that in mind, one of the most common things that us fans of color have been pointing out in the OFMD fandom is racist depiction of Ed's hair, so here's an intro to avoiding some of these harmful tropes and what you can do instead.

Why does Ed's hair matter so much?

For people of color like Ed, our hair isn't just hair. Our hair is also about our culture and self-expression, and taking care of our hair is a skill distinct from caring for White hair. Our hair is an expression of personal and communal identity.

Controlling and stigmatizing hairstyles is an important way that people of color have been and continue to be oppressed. Across the history of European colonization, you'll find countless stories of cruelties such as forced haircuts, and this legacy lives on today when kids of color are told they have to change their natural and cultural hairstyles to meet school dress codes. Depiction of hair matters so much because of this history.

What are some things to avoid?

Common racist depictions of Ed's hair that you will want to avoid include:

Depicting Ed's hair as dirty and unclean when he's always shown to have very neat, well-taken-care-of hair in the show

Implying that he does not know how to care for his hair

Implying that he needs a White man to help him take care of his hair (White guys are not going to know how to care for Ed's hair texture!)

Depicting him using items that aren't meant for haircare on his hair (like forks, broken tools, etc.). Ed surely knows what a hairbrush is and how to use one.

Implying that Ed does not have a hair care routine or care much about his personal hygeine. You do not get to have that much beautiful, well-groomed hair without caring about maintaining it.

Implications that Ed is unusually rough/thoughtless about his hair, such as cutting off tangled sections or leaving knots to get worse

Avoid language that implies Ed's hair is unusually unruly and unkempt, such as describing it as "matted." Personally, I even bristle hearing it described as a "mane" or "wild" because it's always very neatly-groomed.

What are some ways to talk about Ed's hair that are okay?

I recommend writers and artists considering a project involving Ed's hair do some research on their own - browsing natural hair care subreddits is a pretty easy way to learn quickly what goes into caring for our hair and some of the common everyday struggles we might have.

You don't need to depict Ed's hair as perfect all the time! On lazy days where he doesn't style his hair, he might have frizz going on, and he might be frustrated by the effort and time it takes to maintain his hair while they're on the ocean and the salt air is constantly wreaking havoc.

It's also okay to write about Stede helping Ed with his hair. Stede will need to learn how to work with Ed's hair, but there's nothing wrong with scenes where Stede helps Ed with putting his hair up into a fancy style or washes it for him just because they both want to spend time together. The issue arises when you have implications that Ed needs that help and isn't capable of caring for his hair on his own.

What are some ideas for scenes involving Ed's hair care and routines?

There are so many wonderful scenes you can write about Ed's hair care routines! They can add dimension to domestic moments and make Ed's life feel more real. Here are some ideas I love.

Stede being excited to find new hair products at the market he knows Ed will love

The men of color on the Revenge having self-care nights to help each other care for their hair and skin

Ed patiently teaching Stede about how to care for his hair and trusting him to help him wash it

Ed having fun after settling down at their inn with experimenting with fun floral scents in his hair products

Ed teaching Stede how to put his hair in an elaborate, fancy style passed down from his mother

Stede carefully writing down Ed's hair care routine, from how he likes to rinse his hair with cool freshwater after a swim in the ocean to how he uses coconut oil to minimize frizz, and Ed being touched by his obvious care

In the show, Ed's hair looks amazing even at his lowest moments, so you could make art of him finding comfort in his hair even in the darkest times

There's so much you can do! I'd love seeing the balance of fics about Ed's hair shift towards mostly loving, thoughtful, non-racist depictions, so let's make that happen!

[antimony-medusa]

MCYT on Ao3 — January '24

The state of MCYT on Ao3, just for fun. Yes I do this every month, I like numbers. This time the period we're covering will include many holiday exchanges, so I'm excited to see if that's represented!

The Cube SMP (8 works)

Slamacow Minecraft Animations (Web Series) (10 works)

iDots SMP (23 works)

30 Day SMP | Free Trial SMP (27 works)

Legacy SMP (28 works)

Cogchamp SMP (29 works)

Content SMP (30 works)

Epic SMP (32 works)

Art of Survival SMP (36 works)

Dominion SMP (38 works)

Shady Oaks SMP (49 works)

X Life SMP (51 works)

100 Hours Hardcore SMP (54 works)

IvoryCello's Prison Escapes (Web Series) (56 works)

Bear SMP (60 works)

SadSMP (66 works)

My Inner Demons - Aphmau (Web Series) (67 works)

Mer SMP (82 works)

Area Unknown SMP (89 works)

Kaboodle SMP (91 works)

Tortillaland SMP (115 works)

House Builder Gang SMP | HBG SMP (135 works)

New Life SMP (169 works)

Slimecicle Cinematic Universe (Web Series) (174 works)

WitchCraft SMP (182 works)

Pirates SMP (213 works)

Rats SMP (234 works)

SMPLive (295 works)

SMPEarth (304 works)

Mianite (Web Series) (379 works)

Outsiders SMP (393 works)

Afterlife SMP (395 works)

MindCrack RPF (504 works)

MyStreet - Aphmau (Web Series) (543 works)

Evolution SMP (693 works)

Minecraft: Story Mode (Video Game) (824 works)

Karmaland SMP (842 works)

Fable SMP (1,012 works)

Lifesteal SMP (1,546 works)

Origins SMP (1575 works)

The Yogscast (3,215 works)

Empires SMP (6,408 works)

QSMP | Quackity SMP (7,375 works)

3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series (10,336 works)

Hermitcraft SMP (20,093 works)

Dream SMP (85,051 works)

Minecraft (Video Game) (110,119 works)

Video Blogging RPF (279,422 works)

Some notes:

No new tags that I saw this month, though as always I could have missed something! As you can see, we already have quite the assortment of canonized tags.

Fics are still primarily in english, but we have three exceptions with significant spanish fics. Karmaland (740 of 842 are in spanish, from 731 last month), Tortillaland (110 of 115 are in spanish, the same as last month), and QSMP (752 of 7,375 are in spanish, from 668 last month.)

QSMP also shows 39 fics in French, up from 30 last month, and 405 in Brasilian Portugese, up from 375 last month. While I did not check every language this month, I checked on the languages I knew had a fic in QSMP and we see 1 fic in ASL (probably a misclick as it appears to be in english), 1 fic in Bahasa Malaysia, 1 fic in German, 1 fic in Esperanto, 1 fic in Filipino, 5 works in European Portugese, 5 fics in Русский (Russian), 1 fic in Suomi (Finnish), 1 fic in Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese), and 3 fics in 中文-普通话 國語 (Mandarin Chinese, I believe), all the same as last month. New is two fics in Polski (Polish), one fic in Svenska (Swedish), and one fic in Dansk (Danish).

In the small and micro fandoms (under 200 fics), some of the most active small fandoms have grown out of this category so we only saw small amounts of growth. The standout fandoms all saw an increase of 6 works, and that was a tie between Content SMP, New Life SMP, and Witchcraft SMP. Note that Content SMP was coming up from only 24 works, so 6 new works is an increase of 25% of the fandom, truly impressive.

In the midsize fandoms (200-1000), Fable SMP has broken that 1000-fic mark and can no longer qualify for our standout fandom! Instead, our most active fandom was Evolution SMP, with 33 new works, followed by Mystreet with 20 fics and Minecraft: Story Mode with 24 fics. Mystreet and Story Mode are both new fandoms so it's unclear whether that's people retagging old work or true new fics.

For the post-canon big fandoms: Empires went up by 178 works, singificantly more than last month's 117, but not beating the previous month's 240, and Dream SMP's increase of 918 beat the previous month's 767, but is still only the second time I've seen this fandom fall under a thousand works plus a month. Hermitcraft is between seasons right now, but still experienced that holiday exchange boost, as its increase of 784 beat both last month's 574 and the previous month's 651. For active fandoms, traffic series posted a staggering 831 fics, which is its highest ever number, beating April 2023's 671 fics. QSMP saw 865 fics, which is part of a three month decline (894 last month, 913 the month before), but still posting numbers that are only exceeded by DSMP.

Overall, the number of fics posted under Video Blogging-RPF (the umbrella fandom that contains all MCYT) is 4,223 fics, a significant increase from last month's 3,489, and the previous month's 4,035, but still exceeded by October's record 4,702. Notably, it's higher than the summer numbers and almost exactly the same as the number we saw last January, 4,235 new works.

Detailed breakdown under the cut

The Cube SMP (8 works, 8 last month, 0-fic increase)

Slamacow Minecraft Animations (Web Series) (10 works, 10 last month, 0-fic increase)

iDots SMP (23 works, 22 last month, 1-fic increase)

30 Day SMP | Free Trial SMP (27 works, 27 last month, 0-fic increase)

Legacy SMP (28 works, 28 last month, 0-fic increase)

Cogchamp SMP (29 works, 29 last month, 0-fic increase)

Content SMP (30 works, 24 last month, 6-fic increase)

Epic SMP (32 works, 32 last month, 0-fic increase)

Art of Survival SMP (36 works, 36 last month, 0-fic increase)

Dominion SMP (38 works, 33 last month, 5-fic increase)

Shady Oaks SMP (49 works, 47 last month, 2-fic increase)

X Life SMP (51 works, 50 last month, 1-fic increase)

100 Hours Hardcore SMP (54 works, 54 last month, 0-fic increase)

IvoryCello's Prison Escapes (Web Series) (56 works, 54 last month, 2-fic increase)

Bear SMP (60 works, 59 last month, 1-fic increase)

SadSMP (66 works, 66 last month, 0-fic increase)

My Inner Demons - Aphmau (Web Series) (67 works, 64 last month, 3-fic increase)

Mer SMP (82 works, 80 last month, 2-fic increase)

Area Unknown SMP (89 works, 87 last month, 2-fic increase)

Kaboodle SMP (91 works, 87 last month, 4-fic increase)

Tortillaland SMP (115 works, 115 last month, 0-fic increase)

House Builder Gang SMP | HBG SMP (135 works, 134 last month, 1-fic increase)

New Life SMP (169 works, 163 last month, 6-fic increase)

Slimecicle Cinematic Universe (Web Series) (174 works, 169 last month, 5-fic increase)

WitchCraft SMP (182 works, 176 last month, 6-fic increase)

Pirates SMP (213 works, 195 last month, 18-fic increase)

Rats SMP (234 works, 229 last month, 5-fic increase)

SMPLive (295 works, 286 last month, 9-fic increase)

SMPEarth (304 works, 289 last month, 15-fic increase)

Mianite (Web Series) (379 works, 373 last month, 6-fic increase)

Outsiders SMP (393 works, 374 last month, 19-fic increase)

Afterlife SMP (395 works, 390 last month, 5-fic increase)

MindCrack RPF (504 works, 503 last month, 1-fic increase)

MyStreet - Aphmau (Web Series) (543 works, 523 last month, 20-fic increase)

Evolution SMP (693 works, 660 last month, 33-fic increase)

Minecraft: Story Mode (Video Game) (824 works, 800 last month, 24-fic increase)

Karmaland SMP (842 works, 824 last month, 18-fic increase)

Fable SMP (1,012 works, 945 last month, 67-fic increase)

Lifesteal SMP (1,546 works, 1,461 last month, 85-fic increase)

Origins SMP (1,575 works, 1,541 last month, 34-fic increase)

The Yogscast (3,215 works, 3,213 last month, 2-fic increase)

Empires SMP (6,408 works, 6,230 last month, 178-fic increase)

QSMP | Quackity SMP (7,375 works, 6,510 last month, 865-fic increase)

3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series (10,336 works, 9,505 last month, 831-fic increase)

Hermitcraft SMP (20,093 works, 19,309 last month, 784-fic increase)

Dream SMP (85,051 works, 918-fic increase)

Minecraft (Video Game) (110,119 works, 438-fic increase)

Video Blogging RPF (279,422 works, 4223-fic increase)

[dozyisdead]

I’ve never really thought about how lonely it must be to be a “First” until I got into F1. I’d like to explore that a little bit with you guys if you don’t mind.

1. Sir Lewis Hamilton

We all know what makes him a First, but there’s layers to it. Lewis is the First Black driver, First Black point scorer, First Black race winner, First Black championship winner. He is a lot of Firsts, and he’s set and broken so many records, he’s become so decorated. He’s a master of his craft, but that is where it gets lonely. I don’t know if many realize it, but racism is rampant in the world, despite how many will deny it, and it’s very rampant in Europe. Yes, I can’t speak much as an American, but at the same time we do not deny it and try to hide it so vehemently as some of Europe does. And in that world Lewis has talked about being called racial slurs from a young age, when he was still in karting. There’s a specific interview I keep thinking of, and it breaks my heart every time I think of it. Lewis has been set alone from the second he started, and he has never been to blame for it. But him being a First has become so Important, and I know he has people that make it known that he is not alone.

2. Zhou Guanyu

I don’t think people realize this, But Zhou is the first and only Chinese F1 driver to ever race. He has become a pillar of movement in that act, in a way like Lewis. I know there are obvious differences in their positions, but it’s still a monumental feat. We have know that F1 is dominated by Europeans, and yes there have been asian drivers before him, but to be the First for your country? It’s a position filled with pressure and can often be isolating, especially when you take language and culture into consideration. Not only is he one of two Asian drivers on the grid, he’s the only one who speaks his language. And I’m speaking from the perspective of someone who’s learning other languages when I say English is hell to learn. It’s my first language and I do not understand it at all, I can’t imagine how hard it is for someone who’s uses completely different characters like Yuki or Zhou. But Zhou, he is loved, and I wish people would acknowledge the steps he has made as a First, as someone who opened a door for others.

3. Logan Sargeant

The first American on the gird to score points in over 30 years. Yes, there had been other American drivers since Andretti’s 1993 season, Scott Speed and Alexander Rossi, but they did not score points. There’s actually something that I would like to point out regarding one of his predecessors, Mr. Speed, as they both completed a season and a half. But, that’s beside the point. Logan, be the first in a long time, in this century, is a lonely thing. There’s other drivers who I think can attest to that, but I feel like it’s a very unique thing, especially when you come from a place where something like F1 isn’t as big as say NASCAR, or even Indy. It’s a little film of separation that you can feel, no matter if it’s as thin as a spider web.

4. Ralf Schumacher

The First openly homosexual former driver who raced in F1, it’s a beautiful feeling to know he’s become comfortable enough to share it. I can imagine the hell it caused him mentally and emotionally to be in such a position that made it to where every moment could be taken out of context. And I would like to point out the impact he made, by not revealing it until later. The fact that we knew him first as a good driver and not as “the gay man in F1” is so important and people might not understand that. He is a First of ground-shaking proportions, and I sometimes wish we could have known sooner, but I also understand him so well. I’m the first openly queer person in my family, and as the first openly queer person in a partially south asian family, it’s terrifying. I can’t imagine how it would have been for him, in what we call the peak of motorsports, in a sport that has so much distaste for even women participating, if someone who was queer was to try. He has put himself on a pedestal that shows others that it’s okay to exist in that world, not just drive. You, Ralf Schumacher, have done so much more than you can think.

There are MANY more, I know, but those three have stood out to me recently. Everyone has their own little pedestal that they stand on, that shows how unique they are, but there is nothing quite like a First. I have so much love for all of these men, and so much joy and sorrow for them.

Being a First is lonely, I know it well and I have learned it well, but when you are in a sport that gives you no privacy like F1, it becomes even lonelier. They are human, and as other Firsts in our own lives and worlds, we must not forget that.

[jokeroutsubs]

ENG translation: "We are advocates of the fact that it is possible to create in our language"

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin and Kris Guštin in Slovenian magazine Reporter Magazin, originally published December 2023

Original article written by Katarina Keček for Reporter Magazin; photos by Primož Lavre and Urša Premik; English translation by @kurooscoffee and another Joker Out Subs member, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Also available in audio version on Spotify, read by IG GBoleyn123:

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post!

After a fantastic recent concert season with the currently most popular Slovenian music group Joker Out, who have already broken all boundaries at home, the boys are now ready to conquer the world's music stages. European first, said the band's two members, guitarist Kris Guštin and singer Bojan Cvjetićanin, modestly, when we met in their rehearsal room, "Then we'll think ahead." A few days after our conversation, Joker Out embarked on a new tour, which will include 13 European countries, including France, Belgium and Italy. Among others, they will be playing at some of the world's most iconic venues, such as the O2 Shepherd's Bush Empire in London and the Academy 2 in Manchester. A musical success that has no comparison here.

I'm sure you have given hundreds of interviews over the years? How do you cope with them?

Kris: If the questions are good, the interview is also good.

Bojan: During Eurovision we had about 40 interviews a day. Let's say two of them were a little different in terms of questions.

What kind of questions don't you like?

Both: Where did our name come from? When was the band formed? The kind of thing that everybody can find on Google.

Eurovision was a big breakthrough for you abroad, but you also said that you would not do a competition like that again.

Kris: We didn't say that.

Bojan: We have another one in January. We're playing at a festival in the Netherlands, it's a kind of show where you present yourself. It's a competition in a sense, but it's not very specific like Eurovision.

But these music competitions can't be real competitions. They are about the taste of the listener, just as art is about the taste of the observer. How are you going to evaluate a quality, a song?

Bojan: Eurovision is a really interesting experience and has a very specific concept. It's a three-minute spectacle contest, there are tangible standards, but on the other hand there are not. This spectacle may be different from what any of us would think of as "spectacle", let's say a lot of fire, explosions, and fireworks, but if the story is properly told in the flood of all these fires and explosions, just one deep silence can make the performance spectacular. For us, the competition was more about whether or not we would make that breakthrough. A contest against ourselves.

When you were at Eurovision, did you have in mind the country you were representing, or did you, first and foremost, see yourself in this contest? As an opportunity for the group to present itself?

Bojan: It was absolutely important for us to sing in Slovenian at this festival because we are advocates and representatives of the fact that it is possible to create in our language and that it is right to create in our language. It's right to speak it and it's right for the language to develop. The younger generations of Slovenians are also gaining an appreciation for the Slovenian language and an understanding of what it can be used for. The aim was to show ourselves. In the end, it is true that a country wins, let's say Sweden won, or Finland won, but the most important thing for us was that when someone says, "Do you remember Slovenia in 2023?" that it will be a positive image and a positive memory. We managed to do that, which is a big enough victory as far as we are concerned. At the same time, we did everything we could to represent ourselves and Slovenia in the best possible way.

Despite all this, we welcomed you home with great joy, we did not blame you for your result in the competition, because we saw that you gave your all.

Bojan: I was honestly happy to see the positive reaction, even though objectively speaking we had a pretty poor placement.

Kris: After a long time, us Eurovision performers also had the same kind of support of the nation at home that our athletes have.

It's interesting that you hold on to the Slovenian language so lovingly and don't give in to the prejudices that claim that Slovenian is not a poetic and melodic language. You write songs in various languages, but mostly in Slovenian.

Bojan: For me, it is most natural to write songs in Slovenian. My thought process, during my subconscious existence, is in the Slovenian language.

Your parents are not of Slovenian nationality, they both came from Bosnia during the war in 1991, with the last Unprofor convoy. Kris's mother is also Dutch, and you both love the Slovenian language.

Kris: My mother moved to Slovenia before Slovenia joined the EU and, as she explained to me, it was very difficult for her at that time too. All the bureaucratic stuff dragged on, just like it would for someone who came from Bosnia.

Bojan: I never had any problems with my parents being from Bosnia. I was at a school where there were quite a lot of children who had parents from the former Yugoslavia and we had no problems with that. I coped with the Slovenian language quite well from a very young age. However, this does not change the fact that the living conditions of many children at our school were of a lower standard. I don't know what was going on in their homes, because I know that for many it was not so rosy at home, but we children did not feel any revolt or hatred from our classmates at that time.

Your parents are both doctors, and they have made a new home in Slovenia. Do you still go to Bosnia?

Bojan: Yes, more and more often. I feel very Slovenian, I think and speak in this language, but on the other hand I am immensely proud of my roots and I also feel Bosnian, Serbian, at my core, and it seems to me that the fans from the former Yugoslav countries have now taken us very much as their own because of that.

You had very successful concerts in Zagreb and Belgrade. Interestingly, the visitors knew all your songs by heart, and what's more, they sang them with you in Slovenian. We haven't been used to that since the days of Lačni Franz* and Videoseks.*

*(The only two groups prior to Joker Out who succeeded in ex-Yugoslavia region enough to have the audience sing their songs in Slovenian)

Kris: Isn't it interesting that we find it bizarre that Serbs are singing in Slovenian, because before it was always the other way around?

Bojan: I also never understood before that Croatians or Serbs didn't understand us. As in, is the difference in languages really so big that you don't understand us? We can understand you. The fact is that Slovenians have been in contact with the Serbo-Croatian language in one way or another since we were very young, we all go to the seaside in Croatia, and we also listen to music from those parts en masse.

But the young people of your generation speak to the locals on the Croatian coast in English because they no longer understand their language.

Both: Yes, that's also true.

How come these Balkan languages don't cause you any problems?

Bojan: It's my mother tongue anyway, so I don't have any problems.

Kris: It seems very stupid to me that Slavs should communicate in Germanic languages. Even with the Czechs at Eurovision we communicated in both languages and it worked. It seems to me very inauthentic to speak English, but on the other hand I understand, because young people in Slovenia today are surrounded by English, maybe even more than Slovenian, and it is much more natural to them than to struggle in their own language or in a language that is supposed to be related to their own. It would be interesting if "interslavic" was introduced in all countries with Slavic languages as a second or third language. This is a mixture of all the Slavic languages, which is supposedly understood by all the members of the Slavic peoples. A language that is similar in its own way to all of us.

Esperanto, invented in the late 1980s as a counterbalance to the overuse of English, was a similar project. I do not know how many people still use it today.

Kris: Introducing a new language is not the easiest cultural process.

You have a big tour coming up, actually the first tour of European capitals.

Kris: Yes, first we're going to Skopje, then Munich, The Hague, Amsterdam, Madrid and Barcelona. On the 11th of December we're going back to Slovenia for a week, when we're planning to record some more in the studio, and then we're going to do concerts until the end of the year in Slovenia, in Celje, Maribor, Novo mesto and Ljubljana.

These tours must be exhausting. Every day travelling, buses, different cities, masses of people wanting something from you.

Kris: We have six concerts coming up now.

Bojan: We've just played nine concerts in fourteen days, we were in Lithuania, Poland, Czechia and Croatia.

Do fans in other countries remember you only from Eurovision or do they know your other songs as well?

Bojan: The most fascinating thing is that they have learned all the songs from the past too. We actually managed to break that barrier with just one song, but people learned two hours of material in another language. I don't know how many hours they had to devote to it, but they did.

Are you surprised by such enthusiasm? None of you could have planned this.

Kris: We went to Eurovision with this intention, so we can't say that we were completely surprised by the success. The ultimate goal all along was to make a breakthrough abroad. But we were absolutely surprised by the scope of the response. It could have been that Carpe Diem would have been very successful abroad, but the other songs would not have caught on. But we get to the concert and there is no feeling of waiting for this greatest hit, from the first minute people are "in it" and singing.

Bojan: If we sometimes dropped a song from our repertoire that we didn't want to play in Slovenia anymore, one of them being "Proti toku" because it was totally getting on our nerves, there were revolts on the internet and people were carrying banners at concerts saying "Play Proti toku!"

Kris: When we released New Wave with Elvis Costello, we thought that foreigners would prefer to listen to the song in English, but somehow everyone demanded it in Slovenian.

Bojan: They learned the Slovenian version and that's what they want.

I could say that you are kind of the pioneers of a new wave of Slovenian music, one for which Slovenia is obviously too small. None of the previous Slovenian Eurovision representatives have impressed Europe so much.

Bojan: I really don't remember us having any artist like that before. When Sestre went to Eurovision, they rode the wave at the time too, they were doing a lot of international shows too. I mean, it was a different concept, it was a project, but it still worked. Mostly because they actually had a vision, a plan and also a background behind them, there has to be some kind of support mechanism in the process. We didn't have performers in the sense of, okay, you showed up at Eurovision, now do a one-hour concert for me. Most of the performers couldn't do that because they didn't even have enough songs.

Kris: It's not only a problem in Slovenia, you find it everywhere, even among foreign artists. The Norwegian representative was fifth in Eurovision this year, she's very popular, but she only had one song on the market after the contest was over. Now she is going to release an album, but she hasn't had enough material so far.

Have you been preparing on your own to go abroad or do you maybe have some very professional agencies behind you to promote you and push you forward?

Bojan: With the people who are with us, we are our own management. We've never had someone above us who was our boss. We have always been our own bosses. We have our own people around us, but we have reached a level of performing in Slovenia that requires you to have a big team around you. We have about 30 people accompanying us on a regular basis, including the driver. When this success story happened, this breakthrough abroad, we were able to channel our system in a new direction, to at least somehow "patch up" the line up abroad for this year.

Do you cultivate a system of democracy in the band? How do you agree on certain things? By raising your hands?

Bojan: There hasn't been a need for that so far.

Kris: Usually the majority wins, within reasonable limits, of course.

Where do you find yourself more, live performances, making music, travelling, mingling with fans?

Kris: It really depends on the time period. It has to alternate. Solely playing infinite concerts is really fun for a while, but then it becomes tiring. The number of concerts we have played now is just about on the borderline for us to go back to the studio again for some time. On the other hand, spending infinite time in the studio isn't good either. During Covid, we were locked in for two years and we were just making music the entire time, and somewhere in there we kind of lost motivation. In the studio you also realise why you love the stage.

Are you tired after concerts, after a few hours of jumping around the stage?

Kris: The concert itself tires you out much less than the travelling. If you're lucky enough to be able to afford a private bus that takes you from concert to concert, then it's a lot easier. You get into it after the concert, fall asleep, and wake up in another city. The tour that is ahead of us, however, is made up entirely of flying, and that is the worst. Hotels, rushing, packing, taxis, airports, the atmosphere in airports is really unpleasant, no one is happy there, the hours drag on... that is the harder part. The concert itself doesn't tire me out that much. Most of all, we could play two concerts in a row if the atmosphere is right.

All that requires psychological and physical fitness as well. Do you practice any sports?

Kris: I used to be a more sporty person, I regularly played tennis, but ever since Eurovision, I can't find the right time to go back to something regular. I also used to play football recreationally every week, that's gone too. When on tour, I can only afford to run or to go to the hotel gym. But I haven't gotten to the point where I could make peace with that yet.

Bojan: I currently don't exercise at all. I used to train judo for a long time, but now, unfortunately, I haven't yet forced myself to go to the gym or go running when I have a free day. I'd like to start doing that, but I'm the type of person who needs a companion to pull me along and motivate me every day. I'm most drawn to football, martial arts, or extreme sports, but now I don't dare to do anything anymore because of injuries. Lately I've been going horse riding when I'm home. I find that horses calm me down.

Do you follow politics, are you interested in what's going on in Slovenian society?

Kris: Even a year ago, I was a lot more interested than I am now. Not just because we had a different government, but because I had time to think about it. I studied international relations for a while, I'm currently doing my master's. Otherwise I'm a chemical engineering graduate who switched to another university. I used to follow Slovenian politics a lot, but now I don't know if I feel like a fully qualified citizen of Slovenia anymore, since we've spent more than half a year outside of it. When I walk through our city now, I see it with different eyes. I see it almost as if it was any other city in the world, I pay attention to things like architecture or the atmosphere people create. Before, I used to walk through Ljubljana, it was my city, but I didn't pay attention to what was around me. Now I feel like half a stranger, which is weird in a way.

Bojan: For me, Ljubljana has now become a kind of base, a safe haven. I also see it differently than before. I agree with Kris that there are plenty of things that I didn't notice at all and I only see them now. I always perceived Ljubljana in a kind of romantic way, pretty much only the centre, even though I didn't live there from a young age. Only now that we've travelled around countries like Poland, Lithuania, or Finland, I see a lot of architectural similarities, but it has started to bother me that Ljubljana is so diverse in this aspect.

Is this diversity not a good thing?

Bojan: I don't know. Ljubljana smells nice to me, when I was walking around yesterday, I felt like Ljubljana was the last stage of a place. It's hard to say that this is a city, let alone a capital city of a country. Last night I was walking around the capital city of Slovenia at half past nine, and it was literally like I was in a "zombie land". There was no one anywhere. Incredibly weird, but on the other hand, nice.

Kris: That's pretty weird.

Bojan: Everything is getting more rigid, people are locking themselves up in their homes more and more.

Where can young people of your age go out in Ljubljana?

Kris: I'm facing this problem too.

Bojan: I think that in Ljubljana, we have quite a lot of choice when it comes to the number of places meant for parties. When they are open is another problem. We have a number of high quality clubs: K4, Cirkus, Orto, Shooter... for such a small place, we have a lot of clubs. The problem for me is that Ljubljana is a completely dead city in the summer. You can't go anywhere in the summer because everything closes down except Metelkova. For a tourist who's 20 or 25 years old and comes to Ljubljana in the summer, when it's wonderful, it's the most beautiful in the summer, it's a city where they have nothing to do.

Kris: There are plenty of places to hang out, but none of them appeal to me. I used to like going to K4, not anymore now, the last club I visited was Gala hala. It was awesome there.

When you come home nowadays, do you want to go to parties, go around the town?

Bojan: No, not at all. We're not really enthused about going out. When we come back home, we find other ways to relax. When I'm home, it suits me to be able to rest. Otherwise, what I like best is going to a concert.

Kris: That's what I like best too.

The band members constantly stick together, you even go on holidays together?

Kris: We already went together, it was awesome, we function great. The only concern is that we're constantly together. It's not good to be together all the time, each of us has his own life and things to do.

But, Bojan, you even went on holiday with your parents this year? How come?

Bojan: Yes, after eight years, we went on holiday together again. I was supposed to go to Thailand with the band, after the concert in Stožice. I got tonsillitis on the day of departure, so I avoided the long journey. When I felt a little better, I went to my grandma in Banja Luka, and after that, I went on holiday with my parents for five days.

Do they look at you differently in Banja Luka than in Slovenia?

Bojan: They don't recognise me on the street there nearly as much as it happens in Slovenia, it has only happened to me a few times.

Kris: The level at which I get recognised on the street is still okay for me. Bojan is more exposed and definitely has a different perspective. Maybe the most annoying thing is that you are expected to constantly be smiling and ready to take photos. We really are like that most of the time, but there are days when you're not in the mood to socialise, but you still have a concert. Afterwards, a lot of listeners are waiting and would like to hang out with you. I'd like to tell them that I am very grateful that they're there, but that I really don't have a never-ending social battery to be able to talk to all of them.

Bojan: It is ungrateful to talk about recognisability as something negative, because it's simply a consequence of everything we have and it's an expected side product. If I'm in a public place, I know that everyone around me is listening to what I'm talking to someone about. It has become uncomfortable to talk about anything personal with anyone, because you always feel like someone is eavesdropping.

What's your favourite thing to do when you finish a gig?

Kris: The first thing I do is to take a shower. I hang out a little with the team, with the band members, sometimes we go out to take photos, but otherwise, as soon as possible I drink a glass of water and go directly to bed.

Bojan: I'm such a good boy. I always take at least one hour for taking photos with fans.

I haven't yet come across you getting caught drunk or high on various substances, which isn't rare in the music world, it's more like a rule.

Bojan: I view all these extreme excesses as filling a void. For 99 percent of these performers who are said to do this, the roots of those voids are very clear. They come from personal trauma, mostly from childhood. Thankfully all five of us in the band come from very stable and happy families, none of us lacked for anything, quite the opposite, we all had everything endlessly. We have maximum support from all the people around us. We don't feel the need to rebel against anything, because we actually have nothing to rebel against. All these bands that did a lot of drugs and alcohol actually mostly broke up very quickly.

Bojan, you appear to be very energetic on stage, you're spontaneous and charismatic, you have the public eating our of your hand. Do you unleash your alter ego on the stage? Is that a different Bojan?

Bojan: You'd have to ask the guys from the band who spend the most time with me. As far as I know from the stories from people who have known me since I was little, I have always been loud and very talkative. I always liked performing and I wouldn't say that I put on an act on stage. On stage, I let myself go to the max, I think that I really mould myself into what I think belongs on stage. It's not a different Bojan on the stage, he just does some things that belong on stage.

Kris: Bojan on stage is in a higher gear. It's the same for the whole band.

Bojan: People can feel other people. Everything that happened to us is also in large part a consequence of people actually feeling that we are the same people on stage as we are when we come off the stage. We're real here, there's no acting, we also don't think that we're any better than them. We're all friends, they're below the stage, we're on the stage, and we have fun together.

Kris: It's also true that I feel more free on stage. We're allowed more. I enjoy the fact that our concert is a sort of a valve, even though I hate that word.

Like every ordinary woman, I can't skip past your fantastic stage clothes. All my female friends want to wear them.

Bojan: I would also like to wear them in my private life, but I already have a closet full of clothes that have piled up throughout my life, and they aren't like the ones we wear at gigs. But I would like to walk out of my room every day dressed in a way that made me look like I'm in Miami in the 80s, or like a mix between a "drug dealer" and a "drug cop".

Kris: My sister has already looted my closet. I looted my dad's.

Bojan: I have looted the closets of my parents and my sister.

Kris, your dad is a famous musician. Did he help you at the start, what kind of advice does he give you?

Kris: My dad only helped me in the sense that I sometimes showed him what I had written or what we had recorded in the studio, and he gave his opinion. But that hasn't happened in a year now, ever since I moved out. Before that, he could hear me through the walls when I was playing.

Bojan: I've also become independent. Although now when we come back from a tour, I still like going back home the best.

What does independence look like?

Kris: I like it. I can't imagine going back home anymore, even though I love my family immensely. But us not living together anymore has only made our relationships better. I like having my own peace, but I also like coming back home for lunch.

BIOGRAPHY In 2017, five friends started a band called Joker Out. They had all been musically active before, but they achieved the first big success as a band as the winning group of Špil liga in Kino Šiška in Ljubljana. After this victory, the boys became sought-after on all Slovenian musical stages. They released two albums, Umazane misli in 2021 and Demoni a year later. In those two years, they also received two 'Zlata piščal' ('Golden Flute') awards, in 2020 for newcomers of the year, and again next year for artists of the year. This spring, RTV Slovenia sent Joker Out and their song Carpe Diem to Eurovision where, despite a lot of attention from fans, they ended in a modest 21st place. Despite that, European music enthusiasts have welcomed them as their own, their popularity is growing quickly. Joker Out are currently filling the biggest European concert stages, which no Slovenian musician has managed before.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post!

[najia-cooks]

Sopa de mora salvadoreña (Salvadoran black nightshade soup)

American black nightshade (Solanum americanum)—not to be confused with bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) or deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna)—is a widespread flowering plant in the genus Solanum which grows throughout central America and Mexico, and into the northeastern United States. The genus Solanum, within the nightshade family Solanaceae, also includes tomatoes, potatoes, and eggplants.

The ripe berries of this plant, perhaps unsurprisingly, taste something like a very small tomato—but this dish concerns the plant's leaves. Sopa de mora is an earthy, savory, slightly spicy soup eaten in the countryside of El Salvador. It is made from the leaves of hierba mora, or black nightshade, in addition to squash, potato, chili, and sometimes chicken; a beaten egg or two may also be added and cooked, without stirring, directly in the soup.

A similar soup, made from black nightshade and broken pasta, is eaten in Guatemala under the name "caldo de quilete," "sopa de quilete," or "sopa de macuy." "Macuy" presumably derives from the word "majk'u'y", from Kaqchikel: a language in the Maya family spoken in central Guatemala.

Recipe under the cut!

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Note that, despite the fact that black nightshade leaves are eaten all throughout the plant's native range, they contain varying amounts of toxic compounds including Solanine, and should be eaten in moderation. Avoid unripe (green) berries, and do not eat leaves raw. Some people advise pre-boiling the leaves and discarding the boiling water to remove toxins.

Ingredients:

Large bunch of American black nightshade (Solanum americanum), Eastern black nightshade (Solanum ptychanthum), or European black nightshade (Solanum nigrum) leaves, washed and chopped

1/2 white onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1 tomato, diced

1 jalapeño, sliced

1 small russet potato, diced

1 chayote fruit (güisquil), diced (optional)

1 small carrot, sliced (optional)

Water or vegetable stock

I used water, and found that the vegetables and leaves gave the soup plenty of flavor; but it's not unusual to use vegetable or chicken stock.

Instructions:

Sauté onion and garlic on medium in a large stockpot until onions are softened and translucent.

Add garlic and sauté until light golden brown.

Add tomato and salt and sauté until softened and nearly dry.

Add remaining ingredients, plus water to cover. Boil until vegetables and leaves are softened, 15-20 minutes. Taste and adjust salt.

Identifying American black nightshade

These are quick notes rather than a complete guide. Don't forage unless you know what you're doing!

Leaves are alternate; ovate or lanceolate; with entire to undulate to blunty dentate margins. Flowers are about 1cm in diameter; white to light purple; with yellow stamens. Berries are green when unripe, and glossy and black when ripe. They grow in clusters. Calyxes are smaller than the berries, and curl away from them. Ripe berries, unripe berries, and flowers often appear on the same branch.

Avoid the green, unripe berries, which are toxic.

Lookalikes

Bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) is poisonous. It has berries that are green when unripe, and bright red when ripe. Black nightshade has berries that are green when unripe, and black when ripe.

Deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna) is poisonous. It has a calyx extending far beyond the berry, and the berries grow singly. Black nightshade has a calyx smaller than the berry, and its berries grow in clusters.

Eastern black nightshade (Solanum ptychanthum) is also in the Solanum nigrum complex and is sometimes considered synonymous with American black nightshade. It is edible, and may also be used in this recipe. Leaves are alternate; ovate or lanceolate. Leaf margins have 2-5 blunt teeth at the base, but become smooth and pointed at the tip. The base is rounded or cuneate (wedge-shaped). Petioles are winged with extensions of the leaf blade.

Flowers are about 1cm in diameter; white to light purple; with yellow stamens. Berries are green when unripe, and glossy and black when ripe; and grow in clusters.

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part One: Severance

For @painlandweek Day 1: Language of Love: Acts of service (because killing a b*tch and plunging into obscurity to rescue your other half counts); and Sickfic (because Charles is not having a good time, poor boy).

You can read it here on AO3:

Part 2 Part 3 Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

“Crystal, you've seen him without me. You have never seen me without him.”

When Charles is taken by a powerful and mysterious entity, already hurt from protecting Edwin; Edwin loses his mind. He will stop at nothing to get his partner, the love of his life, back.

It's not like it's the first time he's had to do it. (He honestly thought that at least the European supernatural community had learnt their lesson about taking Charles away from him. It seems like a reminder is due.)

Part One: Severance

As soon as Charles was dragged through the glass’ surface with a cutoff scream and every mirror in the room shattered, Edwin felt his non-existent heart stop. Not again, not again, he thought, as he shifted throughout the shards for any kind of response to his magic. Nothing. Completely inert.

Ignoring Crystal’s sputtering questions, he ran outside the church to check the surrounding grounds. The day had already been gloomy, and now the dim grey light gave a sinister feeling to the whole place. The graveyard in which the old church was located did not help matters. 

He checked every metre of the place, hoping, hoping, hoping that Charles had just been transported somewhere near. (His brain tried to tell him that, logically, Charles could only have gone to another mirror or reflective surface, and all the mirrors inside the building were broken and there was no body of water on the property. For once, Edwin ignored his brain with all his might). 

He even cleaned the decades of filth from windows on the outside, because maybe then they’d be reflective enough that Charles could come back. But everything was useless, he was gone. He was gone, he was gone, Charles was gONE.

Ghosts didn’t have hearts that beat nor did their lungs need air, but Edwin kept taking more and more air in and he still couldn’t breathe. He was choking. He tugged desperately at his bowtie, finally opening it along with his shirt. His hands came away wet from his neck, and that’s when he realised that he was crying.

That last loss of control pushed him over the edge and he crashed to his knees on the leaf covered dirt. He pressed his muddied palms to his eye sockets and pressed until he saw colours burst behind his eyelids. 

He needed to think. He had to use his brain. He had to come up with something. He was so useless, so stupid. Why couldn’t he fucking think?

Edwin began hitting his forehead with his hands, because his brain wasn’t working and he needed the panic to stop so he could think. Thud-thud-thud. Sob. Thudthudthudthudthudthud. Stupid, stupid, stupid-!

“Edwin! Edwin, stop!” That was Crystal. She was kneeling next to him, trying to tug his hands away from his face. 

“H-he’s gone.” Edwin cried. He began grabbing and tugging at his hair, then digging his nails on the skin, leaving streaks of dirt to mix with the tears and drops of blood. “Charles’ gone, Crystal. I ca-can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere!” 

He curled into a little shivering ball, face between his knees and arms around his head, as he rocked back and forth. Still, Crystal could hear his heartbreaking sobs and had to sniff not to burst out crying too. 

“Hey.” she said. Edwin didn’t seem to notice. “Hey!” She yelled, grabbing his shoulders and making him look at her. “Stop. He’s not gone-gone, alright? We can still find him. He’s counting on us.” Those green eyes kept spilling tears, but at least she could hear him taking in more air than before. “Breathe with me, Ed, okay? C’mon.” 

A few minutes later, Edwin was still shaking, but seemed more in control. He was trying to wipe off the dirt on his hands, at least, and his hair was slowly returning to its regular state. Finally, he took one last big breath in. 

“Right.” he said, as he smoothed down his coat. “That’s enough of that.”

In a blink, the boy in front of her was back in his immaculate uniform. Crystal didn’t know why, but she felt a shiver go down her spine as she looked at him. The only difference from his usual spotless image is Charles’ bag-of-tricks, which he had retrieved from inside the decrepit church. He had a death grip on it, so she knew he wouldn't accept her carrying it. 

“We need to get back to the office, right? To figure out who took him?” she said more than asked, as they began walking towards the gates of the cemetery. 

“Yes, that is indeed the first step.”

“Do you wanna go ahead and I’ll meet you there?” Crystal didn’t particularly feel like riding the bus on her own back to the city, even more so when the skies were beginning to darken; but she figured she had to offer, at least.

“That won’t be necessary.” he answered, retrieving a pair of glasses from his coat pocket. 

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Charles would never forgive me if something happened to you because I was careless of your safety. We can begin the investigation with my notes and some of the books inside Charles’ bag.” He cleaned the lenses of the spectacles, and put them on, “I’ll join you as a passenger, since it’s safer to travel in numbers at night.” ended the elegant lady in the dark blue pantsuit. Not a minute too soon, as the turn at the end of the road led directly to the bus stop, and there were people already boarding their vehicle. 

“I thought there was the possibility of losing an arm to the bag?” she questioned, suspicious, as she paid for their tickets.

“As you can imagine, there’s an infinite number of levels. It’s true that Charles is the only one that can (mostly) navigate all of them safely; but I’ve had to learn too, for instances such as these. He usually leaves my books on Levels Three or Four, since I can reach those without much strain in an emergency, if he’s…not around.”

They choose to sit on the back, as to spread the books in the seats between them.  

“Let’s get you started with Reflection Manipulation for the Souls” Crystal nodded as she accepted the book. “It might be useful to shed light on what creature could affect the mirrors and glasses in such a way.” 

“And you?” she asked.

“I’ll search for a location spell. They don’t ordinarily work on ghosts, as we don’t have an actual physical presence.” As his hands began leafing through the book, she caught a glint of gold on his wrist. It felt familiar. Charles’ necklace. “It’s only a remote possibility, but I’d like to focus on that until we are safely back in the office.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you found his necklace!?” at the looks her loud tone of voice got, she got close enough to whisper. “I could have read that!”

“I doubt you could get anything substantial out of it, Crystal.”

“Why not?” she said back, before touching the metal and tapping into her powers.

She went still as her eyes clouded over. Edwin cursed under his breath as he waited for her. He smiled nervously at the man gawking at them, probably at ‘her’ vocabulary. (He rather thought this was one instance in which he could curse as much as he wanted and not feel any shame, in fact.)

“Fuck.” Crystal gave a full body shiver as she came back. “All I could feel was…cold. Wet, cold, dark…there was no end to it.” she murmured, tearing up a bit. “Do you think…?” Edwin cleared his throat.

“Let’s hope your reading was about his death and not his current predicament. He hates being cold.”

Both of them swallowed, thinking about the cheerful boy they loved plunged into an icy darkness by unfeeling hands. Without saying another word, they returned to their respective books, noting down anything that seemed useful. (Edwin didn’t even lecture Crystal for marking down the pages of the book. But then again, that edition wasn’t as old and therefore as delicate. Or so the ghost told himself, when he noticed and ignored it.)

—-- —-- —-- 

Many hours later, with dawn already about to rise, Edwin finally found what he needed. Crystal had fallen asleep a few hours ago, after compiling a list of possible beings that could have done such strong magic. To their dismay, witches had been at the top of the list, of course. Bloody witches. While Crystal cursed herself (and the universe) to sleep, the boy ghost kept going. 

After revising every note he had taken for their latest case, and all the spells available to him; he’d reached the point where he had to admit he was not able to trace Charles. Even those incantations that should have worked didn’t. He felt he was at his wit's end.

So he took advantage of the relative solitude to look over their most obscure volumes. Those he and Charles had decided the living girl didn’t need to know about unless it was necessary, for the danger they represented. (Those texts resided inside a designated shelf, and were protected by powerful enchantments. Crystal knew not to touch them, but not much else.)

Danger was meaningless to Edwin now, though, without Charles by his side. 

As he surveyed the contents, he felt in his core this magic was going to work for him. He may not be able to locate Charles, not even with this new magic…

But he could trace their latest ‘client’, the one that had led them to the old church, fought them and then vanished. 

This man had a lot to answer for. And he would.

—-- —-- —-- 

Half a world (or just half a city, Charles certainly would not know) away, the other boy ghost broke the surface of freezing water, gasping. He dragged himself to the rocky shore, teeth clashing. The bloody witch’s magic had taken almost every single layer he had had on, leaving him only in his sodden jeans. 

Never, not even while being attacked and then dying, had he felt more vulnerable. Nor as cold. He had to give her props, tho. He had frozen to death, and she had managed to beat that.

As he tried to prepare himself for another few hours in her dungeon, where he would be able to clothe himself and warm up only to be plunged back into the cold darkness, he wondered…

Was this what Edwin had felt, once he accepted the never ending cycle of his torture? This helplessness?

(Deep inside, he knew the answer was not. Because Edwin had escaped Hell on his own, with no one on his corner. He was the strongest person Charles knew. So he had to be strong now and not give up, because he knew Edwin and Crystal were out there, looking for him. He had no doubt.

(But it was so hard. So hard).)

[ms-rampage]

Fluent When Upset

König x Y/n (fem-reader)

Warnings: Language

Authors note: This is my first time ACTUALLY writing König. I sort of based it off on this

I apologize for the butchered German 😂😅

You have been living in Austria for 3 years now. You and König have been together for 5 years. As time went by, and you discovered you were pregnant with a baby boy that König was absolutely excited about.

Aside from all that, you did struggle to learn the German language once you settled in, the only time you did speak it properly (or at least you think it is) when you get mad or annoyed, and König rarely to never upsetted, nor annoyed you. It only comes out when you stub your toe on the table, or when you hit your head, or when someone on a bike or scooter nearly hits you when you cross the street.

This day, you went to the store to do a little bit of grocery shopping, and you took your son with you in his stroller. He needed some fresh air after being in the house all day. König was on the fence about going with you. He went against his anxiety, and went with you two.

"You don't have to come." you tell him, while putting your jacket on, "I just need to buy a few things for dinner."

"I know, liebe, I just want to make sure you're both safe." he tells you, figetting with the bag on your sons stroller handle.

One of the few times, your husband takes off his sniper hood when he's at home and isn't expecting company. He has those tired, sad European eyes that you fell in love with. He was always worried and concerned about your well-being, even more so after having your son.

"We'll be fine, I know how you feel about crowds, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable." you reassure him.

"I know, but I know your German isn't good." he tells you with a slight hesitation in his voice, but he wasn't wrong. Your German is okay at best. You know the basics but not enough to hold onto a conversation.

"Well, you got me there." You chuckle, checking to see if your son is secure in his stroller. It was only a 10 minute walk to the store. König had never heard you speak German, maybe one or two words but never a full sentence.

After buying what you need from the store, a little grocery store that sells everything. You were always careful when crossing the street, especially when you had your infant son with you. You had the right away to cross, you had the green. König standing next to with one of the bags of groceries in his hand and the other around your waist.

Taking a few steps onto the street, some asshole decides at the very, very last second to go forward when he had the red light. A few feet away from hitting the stroller, that absolutely sent you into a verbal rage.

"Scheiße!." König exclaims, pulling the stroller back.

"Arschloch!." you yell at the driver, looking back at the other cars stopped at the light to see if there's another jackass that will do the same, then back in the direction of the car that nearly hit you and your child that is long gone now, "Siehst du uns nicht! Verdammtes arschloch!."

You both continue crossing the street while you yell at the driver who can't hear you anymore, but you just wanted to voice your opinion on drivers like them.

"Wir hatten gleich das recht, und ich schiebe einen kinderwagen!." you continue to shout as if you were a native speaker.

When you get to the other side, König is wide-eyed, mostly because of how your German is.

"Liebe, where did you learn that?." he asks, moving you to the side. Away from others walking by.

"I don't know, probably from having the TV on throughout the day. I picked up on a few phrases, and also the neighbors." you tell him, checking on your son who is asleep.

He kisses the top of your head through his hood. "I guess I did need you to come with me to the store." You joked as you two continued to walk back to your apartment. To König you German did sound broken, but hey, you were yelling at some dipshit who had zero patients for pedestrians.

[lovethetasteofnothing]

You have a thing for accents, they find out/ you have an accent - TF 141, Los Vaqueros + Farah + Valeria + Alex

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙

includes: captain price, simon "ghost" riley, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, kate laswell, farah karim, alex keller, alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, valeria garza (everyone getting fed today; yes the boys get their smutty content too)

gn!reader, except for laswell x fem!reader (she's a lesbian, argue w the wall), fem terms of endearment

warnings: nsfw content, dirty talk (like a lot), degradation kink, praise kink (yes, you get both) reader has a tendecy to repeat words they like the sound of (pretty much copies the way they say it bc it sounds nice), multiple themes idk what i'm talking about atp

word count: 2.5k+, aprox. 250 words/ character

enjoy <3

Captain John Price

he doesn't notice it at first, he just thinks you're smiling because his dad jokes are good

you say he sounds like a regular British dad at a football match (yes, football, I'm European too)

it makes his day because if he hadn't joined the military he would have probably been one by now

you call him Bravo 0-6 sometimes, you say it in his accent because why wouldn't you

repeating his favorite phrases from missions that he brags about because you think it's cute

insert cute Price smiley face here when he hears you(bc i love it so much)

you asked him for wa-ah once, he still isn't over it

you call him a lad/old man if his accent becomes really prominent

but you can't help the way his words make your heart race and the way he says them...

your underwear is sopping wet, your honor!

you freeze up and blush when he pulls off the filthiest sentence in a British accent

when he starts talking dirty during sex you can't help but moan louder/twitch/squeeze around him

that's when he figures it out

it kind of just connects in his brain and he uses it to his advantage

"look at the way you're taking me so good, princess"

will not let you live, constantly teases you about it

he'd call you 'princess' and 'duckling'

you quack at him if you're reallly feeling silly

recorded you doing it once, his favorite video of you by far

Simon "Ghost" Riley

you call him posh just to annoy him

gives you the hardest side eye of your entire life and you take it back

you tell him the Queen died and he doesn't have to keep the act up when he really pushes it (he calls you a tosser)

insert one of his dad jokes in here

you only laugh because you love him and your humor is broken

probably uses 'bloody' on the regular; calls you 'luv' and 'pet" 100%

like that man could just pull out a "What in the bloody hell did you just do, pet?" and you'd turn back time to make him happy

calls you his princess. emphasis on 'his" because it's never missing

definitely also the type of person to just copy whatever you said if he likes the way it sounds

when you're arguing, you just copy the phrases he said as arguments

good that the mask hides his smile or he'd always lose

loves the fact that you use terms of endearment in your native language for him (for my multilingual babes)

struggles to learn your native language but still tries

listens in on your conversations just so he can learn it better

upset when he can't learn bc his job doesn't give him enough time

turns into a big softie if you scold him in it

you record phone calls and save voice notes so you can listen to them while he's gone on missions

just the sound of his voice is so hot comforting

dirty talker supreme! i feel like he'd praise you more but there's a hint of degradation

just like a sparkle and he'd ask you five times beforehand if it's okay with you

you can't help it when your brain goes blank, the sound of his voice filling up every single corner of your mind (his dick does the same)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

you also call him posh

actually pulls out a posh accent to egg you on

you're both laughing so hard by the end of it

pulls out the most British of British sentences and leaves you shocked because the only word you understood was 'and'

clap because that's impressive

loves your accent if you have one

makes you say a word three times because he's fucking head over heels for the way your voice sounds

dirty talk champ!

but only when he feels like it

makes you beg for him to do it because he thinks you look cute on your knees so pouty

"my love, look at you getting all wet just from the sound of my voice. isn't that cute?"

his laugh!!

makes you laugh too even if nothing is funny

sends you long voice notes with how his day went or cuddles you on the couch while doing it

and you just sit and nod while listening, not saying a word

not because you're bored but because you love listening to the way he emphasizes certain words

type of boyfriend to send you a podcast of a debrief of his activities

he does it while coming back from missions even though his voice is so tired

and it just makes your heart skip a beat because it tingles your brain in the right spot

groggy morning voice, his accent all over the place, stumbling over his words because he got home late last night and barely slept

mumbles incoherent compliments? confessions? before you kiss him and make him get more rest

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

literally pulls out the most Scottish sentence out of his ass

and you fold for some reason???

he's confused because he's used to Ghost telling him to speak English but you just nod along

you also ask him to translate because you don't understand

you pick up some of the phrases he likes to say and use them around your friends before you realize they won't understand

you try to decipher his accent sometimes

you either nod along even though you don't understand and hope you don't need the context

or you ask him to use less Scottish terminology/tone down his accent

you'd repeat certain phrases he says, out loud when doing random things

it melts his heart

he'd say the funniest joke ever and laugh at it for 10 minutes before realizing you didn't understand him

he explains it, you laugh because you don't want to hurt his feelings (it was a dad joke)

giggled a little the first time he talked dirty, you were flustered already and couldn't hold it back

you make him send you voice notes/ call you when you're masturbating now

his fucking pleasure tbh, has to hide from his team so they don't hear him spewing the filthiest shit known to man

someone caught him once, he said he was talking to his mom

Gaz is now confused as to why he would use 'cunt' in a conversation with his mom

starts saying his Scottish lover's speech and you mumble parts of it because you already know it by heart

you actually start saying it with him at some point

Kate Laswell

really concerned? but also not surprised that you have an accent/voice kink

like wdym call you 'her angel' again because you need to hear the way she says it

pulls out American mom slang on you

you call her mommy as a joke, it wasn't a joke

she catches on because it's not the first time you did it but doesn't say anything about it

understands people with heavy accents like almost perfectly

"i have to"

would pick up little words in your native language

you would also pick up her mom monologue

so when soap does something dumb and you start scolding him like Laswell would you're a little shocked

she'd be somewhere nearby and hear you, little proud smile on her lips

you have to explain whatever slang you're using to her

finally understands what gaz and soap say afterwards

i dont think she'd be big on dirty talk

so when it slips out once, you stare at her in confusion before processing her words

you beg her to do it more often

literally sitting on her lap while she does her paperwork (surprising that she even let you do that)

and you whisper sweet nothings in her ear, trying to convince her to take a break and relax

"come on, hun, you know I can't do that. people depend on me" in that cute concerned tone of hers <3 <3

pulls out the filthiest flirting tactics known to man when a little drunk

"how about you sit there and look pretty for me?" and you do

she pulls you in her car and fingers you until you're screaming while whispering about how cute you sound

it changes your brain chemistry

Farah Karim

disappointed but not surprised

she feeds into your kink thing just because she can

catches you staring in awe when she speaks in Arabic, finds it adorable

lowkey find the way she talks mesmerizing

like you can listen to her voice and watch the way she gesticulates for hours on end

has that leader/public speaker charisma to her that gets you hooked

barks orders at you because she forgets she's not on mission

apologizes immediately because you're her baby and she feels bad about it

also scolds you in Arabic before translating

bilingual queen chastises you in two languages because you did something dumb

but you die inside whenever she praises you

"my good girl, you did well" like yes ma'am, yes you did and you'll do it again if it means you can hear those words coming out of her mouth again

tries to do dirty talk but fails miserably (her face is too serious istg)

makes you un-horny not because it's that bad but because you're laughing so hard for like 10 minutes, you have to comfort her afterwards bc she's sulking not amused

you just weren't used to it

asks Alex for tips on how to improve (she's really sacrificing her dignity for you)

decided to use her new skills when you were close to climaxing because you'd probably be too dazed to care at that point

you weren't, you still remember her words to this day

you play back every single filthy thing she ever said when you masturbate

Alex Keller

our American boy™

you make him do the college bro accent

you both end up laughing on the floor because you joined in and made it funnier

pure chaos ensues

if you have an accent he'd look at you with the most lovestruck eyes

literally grinning ear to ear if you speak in your native language, this man is the biggest simp known to exist

wants to hear jokes in your native language even though they make no sense when translated

he can mimick some British slang/ can say some words in a British accent

you tell him to stick to his American English because he's hurting your ears

you mimick him lovingly when he uses really American phrases/ his accent becomes really white boy™ from the USA

he flirts in frat boy sometimes but it's Alex so you find it cute

another dirty talk champ!

like his voice is so smooth and soothing while he says it. his face is just unbothered, maybe a little smirk under his mustache

"such a sweet angel, already soaking for my dick, hm?"

insert ocean cosplay here

I feel like he'd mimick Siri and be on point

also reads you books while you try to sleep, his voice really does wonders whenever you have insomia

you make him record himself reading so you can listen to it on repeat while he's on duty

Valeria Garza

she figures it out in the first week of dating you

you still don't understand how she did it, you weren't that obvious

she said Chicago once (literally went feral over cartel mommy)

it plays on loop in your mind at random times and you have to ask her to say it again so it stops, she refuses sometimes just to see you suffer

you also copy her facial expressions and her gestures when you repeat something she says

lowkey impressed by how spot on you are, thinks of ways to use it for her own benefit

teaches you Spanish!!! she'd do it herself and give you hw while she's gone on business trips

she'd bend you over her lap and spank you for every question you got wrong

speaks whole dialogues with you in Spanish just to encourage you to learn, would not translate if you didn't understand (her lap looking hella empty rn)

so happy when you can finally understand most of her sentences but doesn't show it, just praises you

"Qué bonito... que bien ahí. Well done" (iykyk, I watch that scene religiously)

Spanglish all the way when she's fucking you

She'd just slide her strap in and degrade you

"Such a greedy slut for me. Aren't you, muñequita?" she wouldn't move until you confirmed it with words

"Eres una chica tan patética" (google translate pulls through until i actually learn Spanish)

she started arguing in Spanish with you at some point, you got wet

she had to stop when she noticed you were looking at her like that

Alejandro Vargas

literally frat boy flirting archetype

but he's so nice and you can't help giggling when he calls you those cute nicknames in Spanish

you start calling him Vaquero because really look at him, tell me he wouldn't be a ranch hand if he weren't in the military

spews out the most toe curling, smutty sentences in Spanish because he knows you don't understand

literally only does it so he can see your cute confused face

would also teach you Spanish

had a period of time when he would refuse to use English with you because you needed to learn

he stopped when you cried in frustration (literally lasted 3 hours)

big simp if you have an accent

just smiles while you talk and when you ask him why he just shrugs

learns random cute phrases in your first language and says them while you least expect it

you had to stop for a second and take it in before blushing

you sometimes share one singular multilingual braincell

when neither of you can remember the word in English or in any other language

the toaster is now officially the bread torch

figures out you have a thing for accents when you keep talking about how nice he sounds while speaking Spanish

it's being used against you

"Eres un cachorro tan guarro~

makes fun of you because you listen to his voice notes on repeat sometimes

he caught you doing it once and now he brings it up biweekly

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

my fav vaquero (sorry Alejandro) bc he's just so sweet

literally praises everything you do, bonus points if it's in Spanish

makes your heart beat so fast

if you get mad he'd wrap his arms around you while trying to calm you down

"Calma, bebé. Take it easy"

and it works? like the moment you hear his voice and his gentle words you're calm again

there's something tranquil about the way he says stuff

mostly uses Spanish right after waking up

gruffy voice + him whispering sweet nothings in your ear

and you understand most of it because he took his sweet time to teach you

corrects you in the sweetest way possible

so happy when you learned how to roll your Rs

begs you to say it again because it makes his heart flutter

soft dom who loves to praise you even if you're being a brat

"Ah mi princesita, you're being so cute right now. " while he's pinning you down and pressing kisses to your whole body

literally kills you with kindness

like you're really going to be a brat after he calls you all those sweet names???

literally giggling and moaning at the same time because you're flustered

like this man is really telling you he loves you while he's balls deep in you

struggles to learn your native language

powers through tho

stumbles on his words and you help him out (that cute boy smile on his face when he gets it right)

rarely yells but when he does...

he got mad at someone over the phone and you overheard him

changes your brain structure

and then he picks you up to complain about it, his annoyed voice literally fueling scenarios to your brain

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, fluff, first love, drug and alcohol abuse, mental health struggles, character death, familial grief, reference to sexual situations, *explicit sexual situations (smut warnings will be mentioned pertaining to each chapter it occurs in).

Words: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged and even has just read this story so far. It really does mean a lot and I appreciate the support and your time! Thank you.

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Content***

The Beginning: Interlude i

2039

She can’t keep her concentration. 

Not when he’s glancing around her house with the curiosity of a child, brown eyes scanning around the walls littered with years of photographs, decor, memorabilia, and souvenirs.

One photo in particular catches his eye. 

Possibly one of the first pictures she had taken after leaving the band consists of her holding a seven-year-old Collins on her hip while Kayce holds six-year-old Rhett on his back, the twelve-year-old in the picture smiling ear to ear with his aunt in front of the house she now lives in. 

It was bought without Jake’s knowledge in December of 2023, and was kept from him until the brief break in the tour after they finished their European leg. 

“I’m assuming that’s move-in day?” He points to the photo he’s so transfixed on, and she pokes her head from the kitchen to take a look. 

“Yeah.” She nods, clearing her throat with the discomfort of the conversation before ducking back into hiding, eyeing the frozen lasagna in the oven. 

He pieces together what parts of her life he hasn’t been here in person to witness…everything from vacations through various stages of her niece and nephews lives, to prom pictures, to photos of weddings he was invited to but couldn’t attend due to scheduling conflicts. 

Kayce’s, Collins’, and Rhett’s senior portraits are closer toward the hallway, and although they’re even older now than when the pictures were taken, it still blows his mind to think how fast time has flown by, and hurts his heart to think that he’s missed so much of it with her. 

 “Shit,” He hears her say under her breath, the top of the oven burning her hand, causing her to nearly drop the pan. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he sees another smaller fan perched on the kitchen counter, blowing on her and causing the stray strands of her hair to billow in its breeze. 

She’s chunking the lasagna onto the stovetop, discarding the hot pads from her hands, and examining her wound. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” She continues to herself, hissing through her teeth while her facial expression shifts at the sight of the very top layer of her skin rolled back.  

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks, making his way to her. 

“A little but it’s fine.” Coley assures him, flatly.

“Get some mustard on it.” He advises, and she rolls her jaw. 

“I don’t want mustard on it.” She insists, and he rolls his eyes and moves to her fridge to grab the yellow bottle anyway. “Mkay, I know you’re hard at hearing now since you’ve shot your eardrums through the years, but I said—”

“—I know what you said. And I also know you’re just gonna sit there and whine about it hurting instead of doing something about it.” He quickly rebuttals, popping the top of the bottle, and she holds her hand to her chest. 

“...Does it burn?” She inquires of him, raising her brows. 

“Not any worse than what it already does.” He shrugs, the woman still looking at him unconvinced. “If I have to fight you like I had to when you stepped on glass at the lake, I will.” 

Deciding not to have a rerun of him practically sitting on her while using his dad’s pocket knife to get the shard of broken bottle from the sole of her foot, Coley holds her hand out to him for him to generously graze her burn with a dollop of mustard. 

She’d seen him do it to himself over years of him getting burned cooking, but didn’t think it would actually work. 

Jake waits patiently for her mumbled out, “Thanks,” before he’s replacing the bottle in the fridge.

He’s about to step back to the living room, feeling an icy (regardless of the house being so obnoxiously hot his shirt is beginning to stick to his skin) unwelcome from her, despite the fact she invited him inside after he gave her a little more insight as to what the band is working on with Connie, until he sees her open a cabinet above her head and stand on her toes trying to reach a plate because her niece enjoys being tall and putting things out of her aunt’s reach.

Coley’s bracing herself on the counter to climb onto it when Jake steps behind her and reaches over her head.

She nearly melts to the floor from his close proximity, his warmth against her back, allowing her to get a good whiff of his cologne mingling with the same way he’s smelt since they were teenagers.

Jake’s struggling not to acknowledge that she’s nearly bent over the counter, her knee hiked from where she was about to hoist herself up.

“Thanks.” She says as soon as he hands her three plates and steps back so she can go back to standing.

“No problem.” He assures her with ease, hoping it’s enough to disguise the breath he’s struggling to catch while thinking of the most unattractive things he can to try to eliminate the discomfort below his belt.

“Can you go back there and knock on the last door on the left and tell Collins dinner’s ready?” Coley asks him, needing him to get away from her momentarily.

“Yeah,” He gladly takes the opportunity to escape, and steps to the hallway, a large smile soon overtaking his face. 

The whole hall is like a shrine to her time with the band. 

It’s paid tribute to with pictures of her, him, and the guys from their years of performing and touring—none of which fall in a particular order. 

He cringes at the couple of ones from their earlier shows, horrified with his hair and his clothes before taking note that his brothers are also very much styled like dorks—he’s sure Coley probably thinks as much of herself, too, but he’s too biased to think she never looked good. 

Then, of course, he makes the mistake of not looking away from the wall of the memories, stepping along the wood floors to take in many of the other pictures of later shows. 

One that he’s surprised to see is of their last show together. 

After the high of playing one of his dream venues, in the midst of taking a final bow and waving farewell, he kissed her. 

The silhouette of such is casually framed on her wall. 

It was public knowledge by that point that they were a couple, but never had they dragged their private life onto the stage aside from some looks and silent flirting. 

He assumed this would be the last picture he’d stumble across in her home—or at least without his face scribbled out of it. 

Collins' door swings open, the young woman stopping when she sees him, curiously stepping to his side to see what he’s looking at. 

One might argue it was perhaps one of the last few normal moments they shared together before it all went to hell. 

“God, that was forever ago.” She mumbles, gazing around at the photos surrounding it with gray eyes. “So much has changed since then.”

The ones that she’s in all range from infant to seven years old. 

Collins can tell which ones are post-accident or pre-accident just based on whether her mother or father is present in any of them with her or her brothers…Jake can tell the difference between pre or post-accident based on how exhausted Coley looks despite the smile on her face in every picture. 

“Your aunt said dinner’s ready.” He tells her, pulling his gaze from the photo that elicits the memory of the moment. 

“…I told her I was going out with Dominic.” Collins sighs at her aunt’s lack of listening skills. 

“Glad to know that hasn’t changed .” Jake says to her in reference to Coley only hearing half of what she wants to. 

“Tell me about it.” Collins scoffs, stepping to the kitchen. “Dominic’s about to be here.” She continues while her aunt blinks at her with a blank expression on her face. “I told you last night, remember?”

“Um, given the circumstances it kinda slipped my mind.” Coley scoffs, motioning toward the hallway that Jake’s making his way back up to join them. “What time are you gonna be home?” 

“Late.” Collins shrugs. 

“Where are you going?” Her aunt asks, next. 

“We haven’t decided yet.”

“When you do decide, please let me know.” 

“If it doesn’t slip my mind, given the circumstances.” Collins assures her, hearing the horn of her boyfriend’s car outside. “Bye, see you later,” She hugs at her aunt’s shoulders. 

“Bye. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye, Jake.” She pipes in passing. 

“Bye, Collie.” He says without a second thought, her childhood nick-name being the only thing he’s ever called her by unless she was in trouble for something. 

Collins smiles to herself upon hearing it as she walks to the door, while Coley tenses up. 

“He just honks the horn and she goes?” Jake asks once Collins has shut the door, locking it behind her. 

“Yes, Jake.” Coley replies while he takes the extra plate and puts it back up since it’s just the two of them, now.

“Kind of a dick move.” He mumbles, turning to face her.

 “Not everybody can be the pillar of chivalry that you are, Jake.” Coley’s voice is nothing short of smart-ass. 

He leans against the counter, forcing himself not to get any closer to her despite wanting nothing more, and her skin grows warm when she notices that he’s watching her. 

Jake doesn’t dare comment on the lack of sides, or bread, to accompany the lasagna, but one thing he can’t help but ask as she hands him over a plate of the pasta is, “Do you have any wine?” 

Coley pauses, knowing that he surely knows that she does. 

Cigarettes were tossed out twenty years ago, and she could cut back on drinking beer and hard liquor, but wine was a vice that she’d never not have access to. 

But it feels like a trap to get it out, now, because it’s like giving a mouse a cookie—especially when the cookie is wearing a shirt that’s not buttoned as it should be, and has a couple necklaces tucked behind one another splayed across the smooth skin of its chest.  

Yes…if one gives Coley and Jake wine, they’re going to reminisce, realize they miss one another, and decide they’re wearing too many clothes. 

At least that’s how the story went the last time they saw one another. 

“I do…but you need to be able to drive home tonight.” She quips, making it perfectly clear that his welcome does indeed have an expiration date. 

“Ouch.” He hisses through his teeth sarcastically, “Is your boyfriend gonna be home soon or something?” 

“If I had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t be in my house.” She promises him. 

He could easily dig up the past, throw in a comment or two that would irritate her even more, but he just keeps his mouth shut. 

“I have beer.” Coley offers, next, knowing he won’t turn that down.

She pauses and reaches into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and grabbing the bottle-opener that’s magnetized to the refrigerator. 

A soft hiss is let loose from the cap being unsealed, and she doesn’t look at him as she hands the drink over to him, too distracted with putting the bottle-opener back where it was. 

She glances at him momentarily when he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, his throat shifting with his swallow that has her eyes practically paralyzed in a daze that is miraculously broken before he can notice her staring.

Coley merely pretends to have been busy the whole time, reaching for a paper towel to gently wipe the mustard off the back of her hand so she can’t smear it all over her kitchen in the midst of not paying attention to anything but him. 

They’re soon seated at the table, and Jake stabs around at the lasagna, forcing himself to eat a few bites of it to avoid being rude. 

It doesn't go unnoticed, Coley finally poking fun at him with an over-dramatic, “You’re being so brave, right now,” for him daring to at least try it. 

“Ha.” He flatly lets out, looking at her unamused before he cracks a grin. “I haven’t had frozen lasagna since that night Sherri had Collins—or was it Rhett? And we went to help her out since Trace worked nights.” 

Coley had forgotten about that in the midst of all that’s unfolded since then, and her eyes light up as a laugh falls from her lips. 

“And I burnt half of it?”  She adds, and he nods.

“I thought that was gonna finish your sister off, I’m gonna be honest.” He tells her, and she cackles. 

Sherri had awful baby blues at the time, that’s why Coley insisted on helping her as much as she could. 

Jake was an unsuspecting victim that night, wanting to tag along to spend the night and help out at Sherri’s and Trace’s with a newborn Collins. 

The two Payne sisters were both in tears before eight o’clock because Coley severely misread the instructions, and her older sister cried because Coley was crying—leaving Jake and Kayce to keep their mouth’s shut because neither of them were listening to their repeated attempt to reassure them it was going to be okay. 

  It was also the night she and Jake learned to be extremely meticulous about safe sex. 

“That night was the best birth control ever.” She rubs her forehead while he scoffs out through a grin, “Yeah, that fake baby you and Josh had to take care of for two weeks our Senior year was a breeze compared to just one night with a real one.”

“Oh, God, that was a nightmare.” Coley groans, recalling that Josh tried to ditch the simulated baby with her more times than not. “That made me so happy that there was never going to be a chance of him and I having a kid together.”

“Hey, we gotta give him credit. He did pretty damn good with the kids.” Jake takes up for his twin brother. “I think we all did given the very little amount of preparation we had and how fucking young we all were.”

Coley can’t argue it, especially with how sudden all of it happened. 

“Yeah, we did.” She agrees, an awkwardness soon finding them in the silence when the natural point to make, next, is also how suddenly it ended.

But Jake doesn’t dare speak about that, not again, wanting to avoid another fight like the last one they had. 

He’d known her since they were thirteen, and he knew she tended to make rash decisions—if she believed them to be the best option—without letting anyone else know she’d made them until she absolutely had to.  

She finishes her food and heads back to the kitchen with her plate when his phone rings, pulling him out of the room for a couple moments to be berated by his twin brother.  

When he returns to the kitchen, she’s drying their plates off from washing them and offering them to him to put back in the cabinet.

Clearing his throat, he puts them away and says, “I should get going.” 

“Is your girlfriend wanting you home?” Coley downplays her own curiosity as teasing sarcasm, and he pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“Just a ‘61 Gibson and a cat.” He retorts. 

“Does the Gibson feed the cat while you’re running around the world?” 

“You used to not mind all that running around the world.” Jake reminds her partially stern, raising his brows as he steps out of her way while she wipes down the counters.  

“Yeah, well, things change. Responsibilities change.” She offers up a hard pill for either of them to swallow, even fifteen years later. 

Again, he finds himself unable to argue with her out of not wanting to start another fight. 

“I’m supposed to meet Josh at the studio in a few hours and he’s actually gonna be on time—supposedly.” He explains, rubbing at his nose while she replies with a, “Ah,” to which he adds, “Our project meeting is two weeks from Saturday. We’re gonna meet at my house. I can get Josh to send you my address.”

“Are you afraid of having my number in your phone?” Coley teases, not realizing he actually is, wanting to spare her the drunk phone calls in the middle of the night to ask why they aren’t together anymore. 

Jake only laughs her off, not answering her question before she’s asking, “Is it mandatory?” 

“No, but if you don’t show up Josh will probably come find you.” He warns. 

It wouldn’t be the first time his brother has had to hunt her down and drag her practically kicking and screaming to attend meetings. 

“What time do I need to get there?” Coley sighs out, finally looking at him again once she deems the kitchen cleaned up, crossing her arms.

It adds a strain to her glistening chest through her tank-top, and he has to use the will of God himself not to allow his eyes to even dare fall to the exposed skin. 

“Well, it’s set for five o'clock—we’re eating dinner there—but you can show up anytime you want to.” 

“So, it’s set for five o’clock but won’t start until nine o’clock because that is five o’clock Josh-time?” She double-checks, and Jake’s smile practically ignites the room they’re in. 

“Yes.” He nods. “And you can, um, invite Collins and the boys if you want to—for dinner. I know Jules is coming with Danny, so they’ll get to see her if they come.”

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” She agrees. 

“Thanks for dinner.” Jake adds. 

“Thanks for not telling me it was shit.” Coley replies, following him while he grabs his keys and heads to the door, letting out a quiet laugh at her words. 

“Well, I hope your A/C gets fixed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my clothes on next time if it doesn’t.” He sighs once they get onto the porch. 

“There is no ‘next time’.” She shakes her head. 

“…Right.” He shrugs, telling her what she wants to hear while holding an air of mischief in his words. 

“Jake, seriously, no more visits.” She states while he unlocks his car. 

“Okay.” He nods, his tone sarcastic. 

“Jake, no more.” Coley warns and he cranks his car, rolling the window down after he shuts the door to call out, “So, same time next month! Got it!” 

Giving up, she rolls her eyes and throws her two middle fingers up that he gladly returns while backing out of the drive. 

There’s a sense of accomplishment he can’t but feel when the last thing he sees before pulling off is her smile.

That accomplishment lasts only so long before it’s taken over by the same overwhelming thought that she’s asking herself as well: 

“What the hell are you doing?”

.

.

.

.

.

Tag List: @edgingthedarkness , @zooweemama555 , @lizzys-sunflower

[akutasoda]

Hii ^^ Hope ur doing well. Can I Please Request Jouno With A Fem or Gn Reader From Eastern Europe Who doesn’t Really Speak much In Japanese (But can speak English Pretty Well)?

lovers from afar

synopsis - jouno with an eastern european s/o

includes - jouno

warnings - gn!reader, eastern european reader, fluff, wc - 302

a/n: hii! im doing well! how are you?

↪jouno definitely isn't the kind of guy to be picky about any characteristics of his lover. no matter who you were he had deemed you a perfect match and that's all he cared about. he'd love you for exactly who you were.

↪so if his lover was from a different country? that didn't matter to him, why should it?

↪he could tell right away from how broken and rather inconsistent your japanese was but he could tell you were trying. however he would gladly spare you and asked you if you knew english as that way it might be easier to talk.

↪but if you were his lover you most likely would be living with him in japan, mainly due to his job being very important to him and it wasn't like he could just leave it, and so he would take it upon himself to help teach you more fluent japanese if you wanted.

↪and this way, maybe you'd feel more confident speaking with more people that were local residents and not really relying on him as a translator.

↪and in turn, he'd be rather eager to learn how to speak your native language if you were up to it. this way if you felt more comfortable and prefered to speak your native language he could atleast understand you and have limited responses until he fully learned it.

↪ additionally he would be very open to learning about your home country and everything it had to offer.

[specialagentartemis]

I’ve been reading If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho, a translation of Sappho’s poetry by Anne Carson, and last night came upon one I had been VERY curious about how she would approach:

The book. Fragment 102. On the left, two lines of Greek text:

Γλύκηα μᾶτερ, οὔ τοι δύναμαι κρέκην τὸν ἴστον πόθῳ δάμεισα παῖδος βραδίναν δι’ Ἀφροδίταν.

And on the right, Anne Carson’s translation:

sweet mother I cannot work the loom I am broken with longing for a boy by slender Aphrodite

I, of course, being Too Online that I am, am more familiar with this translation, by Diane J. Rayor:

Sweet mother, I cannot weave– slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl.

So of course I wondered, What Is The Truth? Anne Carson provides lots of end-notes on word usage and historical context, but was fully and uncharacteristically silent on this one.

When looking into it, the word Sappho used for the object of her longing is παῖδος, paîdos, which is most commonly translated as “youth” because it’s not gendered. It can mean either a boy or a girl.

So, whether Sappho is overcome by Aphrodite with longing for a boy or for a girl is, in fact, translator’s choice. (There are reasons besides heteronormative assumptions for translating it as “boy”—though the word is not gendered, it’s cognate with a lot of words like puer that mean “son” so may have had a more masculine-as-default assumption (like a lot of European languages do), and when Sappho wrote about young women, the word she commonly used was παρθένος parthénos “young woman, maiden, virgin.” But paîs/paîdos it is not a gendered word and could be translated either way!) 

And honestly now I appreciate the cleverness of ones who find workarounds to avoid gendering the one she’s longing for, to be more honest to what she actually wrote. 

[gothhabiba]

a lot of places just want you to have A Degree which the claim is that it proves you have the ability to pick something + stick to it + stay on top of assignments and manage your time etc (tags left on this post about academia as a class barrier, via @seveneyesoup)

this is putting me in mind of the idea of the "accomplished" gentlewoman in 18th & 19th-century England: how a woman, to be worthy of installment in a heterosexual marriage as the mistress of a home, manager of servants, refuge for her husband (depending on the source of his money) from the harsh world of capital, & instiller of virtue in children, must herself demonstrate virtue and aptitude for certain tasks by collecting a train of accomplishments well before the time when she is no longer of marriagable age (say, mid-to-late twenties).

sometimes there is a direct link posited between the accomplishments she is meant to be obtaining and her ability to make a man a good wife (playing at the pianoforte means she may amuse him); sometimes the link is a bit less direct (maybe he'll like being surrounded by prettily designed tables and painted screens? given the Victorian moralisation of aesthetics & domestic decoration that could make sense); sometimes the reasoning is a bit circular (she may teach her daughters feminine accomplishments and thus enable them to make good wives); sometimes it's hypothesised that the point of all of this is to demonstrate genteel idleness ("look how much time I have to do things that are neither earning money nor immediately necessary to the running of the household").

but, though certain accomplishments were considered necessary for decades together (European languages, pianoforte playing or perhaps the harp, dancing), others (designing tables, netting purses, painting screens) went in and out of fashion, or even through what you might call fads. I remember reading one man in particular complain about how ugly Berlin wirework (a type of needlepoint / embroidery done on a wire frame) was, and how he hoped women would soon tire of it.

so sometimes the point of gaining an accomplishment when it may be considered very dated by the time you have daughters of an age to be taught anything is considered to be demonstrating an aptitude for things-doing, in general. shewing that you are patient, dedicated, quiet, good at managing time and exacting self-discipline, content to stay at home, capable of applying sustained concentration and physical effort to a task (that does not produce money and that, if it is 'fancy' work, may not produce anything necessary at all)...

these are the qualities, supposedly, that enable a woman to do the administrative & planning tasks required to run a household, emotionally support and/or submit to her husband, &c. 'moral' discipline is also necessary to the maintenance of the family as the unit of social reproduction along the lines of inheritance (that is, you want to marry a virginal woman to ensure that your children are 'yours').

& of course this is all economic—making oneself erotically desirable to a man of the appropriate class is the only way to preserve or advance one's rank / class status if one is not independently wealthy (or possessing of a sibling or something willing to support you).

this sort of pre-conditioning reminds me of the amount of social / military &c. disciplining that is required for a proper 'workforce' to be created (proletarianisation); a population must be broken of habits including a tendency to rest—to do things at unpredictable or inconvenient (for the owning class) times—to consult an almanac rather than a clock in deciding whether and when to go to work—or to fuck off for a while with no notice to go do seasonal work—if they are to be a viable source of factory labour.

so the idea of pre-disciplining—of a certain attitude towards time, labour, the self, and society being inculcated in people in order to suit them for a specific type of labour—as well as the idea of 'self-discipline' being a sort of muscle that disciplining the self can train, and whose strength can then be put to performing other tasks than the ones that first exercised it—is a common thread that runs through these different situations.

I think a full analysis of this would also have to explore the tension between the above 'self-discipline' and the mythicisation of the idleness of the Victorian bourgeois housewife (even as many of them really did perform many tasks around the home), as well as the tension between the supposed Very Extra Importance and Busy-ness and the actual lack of a time-discipline of the sorts of sinecures that having the right university degrees + knowing the right people can get you.