#cyril matter

[artfulfashion]

Francisco Henriques for Joop! Spring-Summer 2023, photographed by Cyril Matter

[widevibratobitch]

cunt.

[just-just-gyllenhaal]

Cyril Matter Stronger Portrait(2014) pic...

[likesaly]

Thanks @nadastic for sending the video in /LH

Basically the game:

The og screenshot:

[funkyhighway]

delicious thought i had where the comic returns after another time skip but everything has thoroughly gone to SHIT (after all, june's basically another human now, so without her magic they cant rlly seal away the corruption)

i bet he would still give it his all though (maybe he now has to go through hardmode game progression to defeat the naiad instead?)

maxx and cyril really do live rent free in my brain 😵

[froqpi-art]

whenever i have artblock i draw my ocs 🫶

[rain-filled-garden]

🥀} Thanks to the fact that Cyril likes to keep his nails in a long to semi-long, pointed "claw" shape-- there are a few things one can expect should they end up in bed with him. The most obvious being scratches wherever the vampire feels fit to leave them-- and somewhat often to the degree that he'll bead up at least a hint on blood in his wake.

🥀} Another thing, however-- is thanks to his position preference for topping, preparing his partner may not always be the... easiest task-- At least not if one were to want so done with his fingers. Or more accurately, should he decide that's the manner he wishes to do said task. Or that he wishes to bother with it from the start--

🥀} There are ways around this, of course-- But, it should be noted that one favored by the vampire is to simply "request" (*read: order), that said partner do it themselves instead. After all, if they desire him that badly, then they should work for the privilege a bit-- shouldn't they~?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i guess macabees kissing happens every time too lmfao

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[artfulfashion]

Paco Diouf for Joop! Spring-Summer 2023, photographed by Cyril Matter

[bubblegumrabbitwriting]

CoG Demos | CoG Forum

(130k words | last updated: 20/01/25 | Prologue & 73% ch1)

Blink

You were born in a concrete box, forged for one individual purpose and sharpened by experience. You thought you would die there. But against all odds you didn't. You escaped. Thrust into a city of noise and shady undergrounds, concealed beauty and dangerous company. Will you build a new life for yourself, or will you risk it all for the chance to bring everything down? It's your choice operative.

Play as a superpowered assassin with years of experience in the art of exhausting human life as they navigate the multi-levelled, smog-ridden city of New York, aiming to destroy the company that held their leash and maybe become something more than what they were created for.

Features:

Play as male, female or nonbinary.

Fully customizable main character.

5 romance options to choose from or not choose at all.

Forge a new future for yourself or throw it all away for revenge.

Find purpose in a life you have no idea how to navigate.

Romance Options

The information broker: Echo [f]

Supposed best friend of your employer and owner of one of the biggest information networks in all of New York, with connections to every organisation, criminal or otherwise, in the city. A charismatic figure with a soft spot for you, but is it all a mask for something more refined underneath?

The undying memory: Cyril/Cynthia [m/f]

A constant and reoccurring figure from your past, your lives bound together for almost as long as you have been alive, but that all changed after they left you to fend for yourself. Yet there is a pull that drags you towards each other, no matter if you like it or not. Is it fate or just a dependence neither of you can leave behind?

The shadowed stranger: Achille/Aimee/Avril [m/f/nb]

Charming, sly, and elusive. In the past 2 years that you have been navigating the criminal underworld, you have met your fair share of their type, but something is different with them. A glint in their eye so similar to the one you see reflected in the mirror, will they drag it to the surface or convince you to drown in it?

The sober veteran: Salem [f]

Stern and cold, she has been hardened by too many years seeing the darkest sides of the city. In a never-ending war to create a better place, she has learnt to stay steadfast to her beliefs and always trust her instincts. So why does seeing you act give her so much doubt?

The caring silencer: Harper [nb]

Quiet and thoughtful, they approach everything with a gentleness and caring that is as rare to see in the city as a clean pavement. It makes you wonder how they have survived as long as they have, especially with the job they carry. Could a far darker side lie underneath the surface?

RO physical descriptions

tagging: @interact-if

[emblemxeno]

^^^

Not only is illiteracy more common than one would think (close to one out of 8 adults in the world are illiterate, and the number probably skyrockets when accounting for adolescents), but literacy itself is treated as almost a necessity in the modern world. You need to read to write emails, communicate through text, draft reports, read instructions to operate machinery, read a menu and take orders, etc. Illiteracy therefore is treated as a stain on an individual in modern society, something met with pity or confusion at best or shame and mockery at worst.

And since Cyril is a kid who just got out of slavery and has the whole “work = survival” thing embedded into his brain, and he knows what it’s like to be discriminated against? Yeah, he’s gonna focus on working in order to stay and not even chance a risk at telling people he can’t do something vital, especially in a place like Garreg Mach. Even if Rhea and Seteth would understand, well, there’s never a guarantee.

Anyway, it all boils down to the fact that people can’t understand that children in both real life and fiction have agency (especially if they were forced to grow up early) and that Cyril can effectively hide weakness. Instead they think he’s been brainwashed and abused by Rhea who laughs maniacally every time Cyril spends 10 minutes trying to understand a shopping list. :/

"Rhea not noticing that Cyril can't read is proof that she doesn't care for him enough to notice something so obvious" tell me you've never met an illiterate person without saying you've never met an illiterate person

[dyns33]

Family's fever

I have so many, sooo many, Alfie and his wife stories waiting to be posted.

It was only pain.

For a moment, Alfie wondered if he had died and gone to hell, where his body burned and caused him a martyrdom such as he had never known.

The first time was during the war. Between the trenches, the bombs, the fighting, it had completely destroyed his back, and it had never healed. As if he had stayed there. Maybe it would have been better.

A panting breath was heard on his right, but fatigue was stronger than his survival instinct. So Alfie remained motionless, waiting for the intruder to strike.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, until a light made him wince, immediately soothed by a cold, damp cloth placed on his forehead and eyes.

"My poor darling, you are even hotter than yesterday."

The soft voice and the hand caressing his cheek almost made him forget the torture he had been living for several hours, at least enough for him to find the strength to move his eyelids enough to see what was around him.

First, he discovered that the danger blowing was a dog, which barked happily at seeing him awake, resting its big head on his hand.

The animal seemed familiar, like the room, but Alfie's foggy mind forgot his questions when he laid his eyes on the woman who was now sponging his sweaty neck.

"… I'm dead."

"Not yet, Alfie. But if this continues I'll call the doctor, no matter what you say."

"Doctors are quacks."

"Like you've been telling me since you caught that cold. And yet you did send one to my house when I was sick."

"I couldn't leave such a beautiful angel to die."

"Ah, maybe you're feeling a little better, you're talking nonsense again." she joked, massaging his shoulder.

However, Alfie wasn't joking, and he didn't understand why his angelic vision didn't take him seriously. He was very serious.

Never in his entire life had he seen such a beautiful woman. If he could have gotten up without crying out in pain, he would have taken her hand to kiss it reverently, before apologizing for having the impudence to touch her without permission.

Maybe she wasn't entirely wrong about his fever, because he laughed, repeating that he really was saying ridiculous things.

Obviously he was mumbling his thoughts without even realizing it. Or maybe it was madness. Alfie had always been a bit crazy, and being stuck with his brigade in the middle of the bombs hadn't helped matters.

His mind was still lucid enough to see the wedding ring on his angel's hand, though, and to know what it meant. Of course, such a woman was married. All the men had to grovel at her feet, begging her to be their wife, and one of them had been given the privilege of being chosen.

"Lucky bastard."

"If I make some soup, will you try to eat it ?"

"Anything for you, видение рая."

"Good. Thanks for finally being reasonable."

"I'll need strength to question your husband." he sighed, patting the dog on the head as it came closer to lick his face.

"…Excuse me ?"

"I wouldn't kill him, I wouldn't want to hurt your tender heart, but I have to check that he deserves you. And if he's not worthy, I should train him until he is."

"… Okay, I'll call the doctor. Cyril, stay here."

Obeying his mistress, the dog guarded the sick man despite his protests and pleas. Alfie would have liked her to stay by his side a little longer. There was no hope that he would see her again.

He frowned when a small man in his lab coat entered the room, putting his briefcase on a table and asking him a lot of questions. Damn doctor.

The man only got his attention when he turned to the angel and called her "Mrs. Solomons.", which made him frown even more.

Hmm.

Alfie knew only three "Mrs Solomons", his grandmother, may she rest in peace, who had always hated being called that, his poor mother who was no longer of this world either, and his sister who had long since taken the name of her stupid husband.

Even if he was not well, he could still recognize these three people, he was certain of it.

"He talked about having a discussion with my husband."

"Mr Solomons often speaks about himself in the third person… As he often speaks to himself."

"I agree, but could the fever be playing on his memory ?"

"You are me wife ?"

The sad smile she gave him as she came back to sit next to him seemed like a sufficient answer, but Alfie couldn't believe it.

Him, married to this perfect being ? Impossible, there had to be a mistake. Someone was playing a joke on him, there was no other explanation, or the devil had decided to punish him for all his sins by torturing him with a twisted scenario, mixing pain, sweetness and vain hope.

But Alfie didn't really believe in this bullshit, and he didn't see anyone suicidal enough to play such a trick on him.

"But why are you married to me, love ? Did I threaten you ? Did your father have debts ? Would I have become rich ? No, an angel like you doesn't marry an old fool like me even if he is rich."

"Maybe I fell in love." she sneered, capturing his attention enough for him to let the doctor take his pulse on his other arm.

"Ah ! I tricked you, my poor treacle ! I blinded you and made you sink into madness to have you. Damn me ! I mean, I am honored that you love me, even if using such subterfuge to have you is terrible."

"I knew exactly where I was going, don't worry. Doctor ?"

"He is simply exhausted by the fever and his back, which makes him delirious. But he will be better soon, I will write you a prescription."

Still not convinced that he could have married the one who was called Y/N, Alfie stared at her with wide eyes in silence, captivated by her every move and accepting everything she asked of him, wisely eating his soup, taking his medicine and letting her change his soaked shirt.

He thought he was going to have a heart attack when she entered the room in her nightgown, lying against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Try to sleep, okay ?"

"But if I sleep, you might disappear." he whispered like a child.

"My sweet idiot. I promise to be here tomorrow morning, sleep now."

As promised, Y/N was still there when he woke up, noticing that his fever had gone down and his memories had returned.

She gently mocked the event when he had fully recovered, and even though he claimed not to see what she was talking about, unable to not make the pout that always betrayed him whenever he tried to hide something from his wife.

Alfie was not ashamed of having been sick. He was still human. He wasn't ashamed of saying strange things either, because it wasn't a change from his usual behavior, nor of falling madly in love with Y/N ​​again, which was perfectly normal.

What he didn't like was the expression on her face when she realized he wasn't joking when he said he didn't know who she was.

"I was worried, you know."

"I know, love. Sorry."

"You really need to stop covering up all over London when it rains."

"Tell your brothers to stop making trouble all over London and I can stay in my office."

"At least this time you were a decent patient. All the other times, you were impossible to hold, refusing to stay in bed and not scare the doctor away. Do you have to take me for someone else's wife to listen to me ?"

"Of course not." he mumbled, pulling her closer. "Other times, I was only able to handle myself, you didn't need to waste your time on me."

"I never waste my time on you, Alfie."

Ah, Y/N. His sweet love. Of course he had taken her for an angel fallen from the sky. That was kind of what she was, even if it wasn't God but Thomas fucking Shelby who had put her on his path.

No doubt her brother was still as shocked as he was that she could have fallen for the idiot he was.

Even in good health, Alfie sometimes wondered how he had done it, how fate had been able to give him such a gift.

"Stop mumbling nonsense, Ollie is waiting for us outside."

"Yes, мой ангел."

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, guessing what he had said and taking his hand to urge him to leave their house, because she knew very well that if she gave him time, he would have pulled her even further onto the couch, and they would have been very late.

[caffeineaddictwriter]

Alfie Solomon’s with a baking obsessed wife!

Description: headcannons of Alfie with a reader who has an obsession with baking!

Warnings: bit of sexual touching, f! Reader.

•can easily get used to coming home to a kitchen table stacked with trays of baked goods.

•will always give you money to go buy baking supplies no matter the cost or time.

•will wrap his arms around your waist when your mixing something and slowly inch one of his hands up to your breasts.

•always showing off his baking wife.

•likes to rub it in tommys face whenever they have a meeting, will always have cakes that you’ve baked but won’t let Tommy touch them.

•will always be willing to be a tester for new recipes you come up with.

•once death glared Ollie for a solid week because you gave him a bit of cake first.

•scolds you when you give Cyril some of your baking but in reality he loves seeing the beast content as he eats a bit of your sweet treats.

•is so used to the smell of baking when he comes home that if he doesn’t smell it he goes into panic mode.

•will go all soft mode if you start criticising your own baking.

•if you get the need to bake in the middle of the night you bet your ass he’s joining.

•he’ll drink a cold whiskey as he helps you with whatever you need him to do.

•he gives you some of his mother and grandmothers recipe books and almost cries when you make a dish from them.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to thepalmofyourfreezinghand

Title: Me? Possessive? Never

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James and reader are in an arranged family to combine their families and wealth. They hate each other but soon grow to like each other. Dare they say that James might also be a bit possessive?

Warning:I don't think so? Unless possessiveness could be classified as one?

Written and posted via phone

If there was one thing that James Beaufort and Y/N had never expected, it wasn't that their parents would put them into an arranged marriage. It mostly for the sake of their parents and their businesses. The Beauforts created clothing. The Y/L/Ns created jewelry and other to be worn accessories, watches being amongst those. It was only smart and logical that the two families did what they could to help their businesses, apart from potential contracts in which they made material to compliment the other. 

And of course, they did this at the expense of their own children. 

Y/N had hoped and prayed that Elaine would picked by his parents to marry, but she had unfortunately picked the short straw. Being two of the richest families within England, her and James often butted heads over whose family was more superior. It was amusing at first, and then it got old. But when word spread that Y/N and James were to be wedded, It had suddenly become the talk of Maxton Hall, and in that moment, James and Y/N had never hated each other more. 

Regardless of what they thought of each other though, their parents forced them to go on outings together. They sat together at any meal they ate together and were always forced to be each other's plus one to events hosted by either family. Both James and Y/N felt as if they were being punished and never enjoyed themselves for a single minute. 

Until they did. 

But it was almost as If they also never knew it. 

They would be the last to admit to not only themselves and each other, but to everyone else that slowly inside of themselves, they have grown to expect banter and teasing from the other. And when that did not happen, they had grown to miss it. If James was not at school, Y/N had missed him, and vice versa, but you would never hear either of them admit it. Smiles were less snarky, more genuine, but only when the other wasn't looking, and even then, they never realized it. One watching the other when they weren't looking. They were changing their attitudes towards each other, and never once did they know it.

But everyone else did.

—

They were at a party hosted by none other than Cyril. Y/N had gone out and mingled with the many others that were there. James watched her from across the room, rolling his eyes as he only assumed they were asking about their engagement. It wasn’t like everyone already knew, but after several weeks of being talked about anywhere, he had only hoped it would die down. 

His eyes roamed over her appearance. She was dressed pretty casually. Parties like Cyril’s gave her the chance to do so. Gave them both the chance to do so. They were away from the judging eyes of their parents, therefore, able to wear and do as they wanted. Y/N though had simply decided to wear leggings and flannel with a white shirt underneath. James has come to know that that particular outfit was one she always wore when she wanted to be comfortable. And she definitely looked like it. 

James took a sip of his drink as Alistair came to stand next to him. 

“Staring at her an awfully lot.” Alistair stood shoulder to shoulder with James, who turned to look at him as he came up. 

“She's competition. Just watching. Is that wrong?” He asked. 

“You guys are getting married in a matter of months. I'd say that hardly makes her competition.” 

“We aren't married yet.” James flashed his friend a smile before turning his attention back on Y/N. His eyes tuned in on the person she was now talking to. He took In the guy's appearance. About as tall as James, kind of lanky. The guy didn't have a lot of muscle mass to him and James had already figured he could easily take him, not that he would, obviously. 

“Who's the guy?” Alistair asked. 

“Don't know, don't care.” James let out an annoyed huff, bringing his drink to his lips in an attempt to hide his grimace. He wasn't going to admit that the guy didn’t sit right with him.

“Don't care? Your glaring lasers at the guy.” He scoffed. “Yea. You don't care.” James looked briefly at his friend before back at Y/N and the mystery guy. Y/N looked disinterested, but kept the conversation going regardless. He had watched as the mystery guy's hand had come up and made contact with her, and James would admit, the guy was ballsy. 

His eyes glared slightly. Alistair caught the movement and smirked. 

“Do you like her?” He asked. James was caught off guard by the question, finally tearing his eyes off of Y/N. 

“What do you mean?” James decided on the playing stupid route. 

“You know what I mean. I've seen the change in the way you look at her. It might be easy to lie and cheat past Cyril because of his lackadaisical attitude. but not me. And the way you are staring at that guy right now, as he gets all close.” James turned his attention back to Y/N. The guy had brushed some hair out of her face and placed his hand on her bicep. He watched as it trailed down and went for her hand but she pulled it back. 

A breath of relief got caught in James' throat. Was he relieved that she pulled her hand away?

“And now he's touching her. And you don't like it.” James clenched his jaw as he turned to Alistair. His eyes searched his friend's face, but what he was trying to find, he didn't know. Alistair raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to do James?”

James turned his attention back to Y/N. The guy now had a hand on her waist and she had started to look uncomfortable. He decided to that as his silent que.

“That's for the pep talk Alistair.” James cleared his throat, and proceeded over to where Y/N and the mystery guy were. 

His arm had come up and around Y/N's waist,pulling her away from him and against his own body. Her back thumped against his chest and his gaze leveled with that of the guy in front them. 

“James.” Y/N was surprised at the possessiveness. James had never acted like this before, especially not towards her. Her gaze turned to him, trying and failing to read him.

“Hello, sweetheart. Who is this?” He asked. Y/N swallowed, looked up at James and then the guy before them. 

“This is my ex. Oliver.” She stated. Her tone was bored, tired. James caught on that she didn't quite like the guy. Which was obvious, considering he was an ex. 

“And you are? 

James looked over at the guy. He sized him up and down. 

“James Beaufort.” He answered. “Her fiance.” Oliver had seemed to clam up. He swallowed nervously, his eyes moving back and forth between James and Y/N. James gave him a cocky smile, his fingers slipping underneath her flannel, palm settling on bare skin. “Also the heir of the Beaufort clothing line business. But we won't get into that.” James tilted his head slightly, maintaining the cockiness in his attitude.

Oliver caught sight of it, shuffling nervously in place. 

“Well, it's, uh. Good to meet you. I didn't know she was engaged.” 

“Personal information. We've only told those we are close to.” James explained. Oliver looked at Y/N. Y/N had a smile of amusement on her face. She enjoyed seeing Oliver squirm, especially if the main reason for it was because of James. Was he jealous? Did he see Oliver touch her? 

Oliver didn't have much to say after James joined the conversation, if you would call it that. 

“Mostly friends and family. People that we like.” Y/N added a sneer in her words as she spoke to Oliver. He winced. It was awkward for a few moments, as the three looked between each other, until Oliver extended his hand out to James. 

James only stared at it, before staring at Oliver. After a few moments of silence, Oliver withdrew his hand. He politely excused himself and left, leaving just the two to by themselves. 

The two watched him leave, and just as Y/N was about to question James, he spun her to face him and pressed a kiss to her lips. His hands found her cheeks, holding her against him. Y/N was engulfed in shock at the action, before her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing herself further against him. James was relieved when she sunk against him and begun to kiss him back. 

It confirmed to him what her feelings were, and it was now evident that they felt the same way towards each other. 

They finally pulled away, breathing heavily and looking at each other. It was silent for several moments. 

“I'll be honest. It's kind of hot when you're possessive.”

“I wasn't being possessive.” James defended himself. Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile on her face. He flashed one back, before pulling her back in for another kiss. James knew he could get used to that, and something told him that she felt the same way. 

---

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty

[unhonestlymirror]

Panč jor fir in ze fejs pakuļ jon nie źmieńšycca da pameru kapejki

У кожным куце мне кажуць, што ў краіне дзве дзяржаўныя мовы, не скардзіцеся.

На самай жа справе мяне гадавалі ў асяроддзі толькі адной мовы, толькі зрэдку ўжываючы іншую.

Прайшоў час і цяпер расейская мова ў маёй галаве падобна на тоўстую цётку з торбамі у аўтобусе куды прадаюць квіткі. Гэтая цётка мэтна купіла 1 квіток (яна ж адна) і распаўзлася на 2 месцы ўлучаючы тваё. Ты глядзіш на яе, а ў адказ толькі лаянка. І што ты ёй зробіш?

Расейская мова ў маёй галаве падобна на метастазы. Яна прарастае ў самых нечаканых месцах і падсілкоўваецца навакольным асяроддзем. Яна не дае іншым мовам нават маленькага шанцу, колькі б я гадоў іх не вучыла. Нават гэты тэкст мне з пачатку даводзіцца набіраць на ёй.

Звычайнае чытанне на роднай беларускай ці ангельскай прыносіць боль.

Але цібывае аднаўленне без болю і цяжкасцяў?

У дзяцінстве ў мяне быў кароткі досвед вывучэння замежных моў сярод носьбітаў. Гэта як выдраць штэкер і ўключыць яго ў іншае гняздо.

Але гэта гэта значыць для мяне?

Страх з'ядае мяне жыўцом...

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They tell me on every corner that there are two official languages in the country, don't complain.

In fact, I was raised in an environment of only one language, only occasionally using another.

Time has passed and now the Russian language in my head looks like a fat aunt with bags on a bus where tickets are sold. This aunt purposefully bought 1 ticket (she's the only one) and spread out into 2 seats including yours. You look at her, and all you get in response is swearing. And what are you going to do to her?

The Russian language in my head looks like metastases. It grows in the most unexpected places and is fueled by the environment. It doesn't give other languages even a small chance, no matter how many years I've been learning them. Even this text I have to type on it from the beginning.

Ordinary reading in native Belarusian or English brings pain.

But is recovery possible without pain and difficulties?

As a child, I had a brief experience of learning foreign languages among native speakers. It's like pulling out a plug and plugging it into another socket.

But what does it mean to me?

Fear is eating me alive...