#god I am so weak polyglots

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[greenninjagal-blog]

15 Anxceit?

Y’all really out here asking for that angst, aren’t you. Do you guys know the last time I wrote Hurt/Comfort? It’s been Eons. I’m rusty. 

Summary: Virgil gets kidnapped. 

Words: 2604

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Prompt page

Keep Breathing

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to trust me, Okay?” The voice says over the phone. “You hear me, Love? Virgil?”

Virgil can hear him. He can hear him so clearly it hurts worse than the throbbing in the back of his head, or the bruising on his ribs, or the knife wound in his shoulder. Virgil can’t remember the last time words had cut so cleanly through the crackling air like a blade all on their own.

He shouldn’t have been surprised though. Given who was speaking. Dee always did have that way with languages, slipping his tongue around foreign syllables and phrases and lulling Virgil to sleep on restless nights with just his voice, a book, and fingers treading through his hair.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” Dee tells him, in perfect English. “I promise.”

Virgil exhales shakily, just one breath away from sobbing. There so many things he wants to say, but they all get caught up in the lump in his throat.

He wants to scream, but he knows where that will get him, knows what that would do to Dee. He wants to cry and beg and curl up in a ball where nothing can touch him, but the first two haven’t done anything in the past endless hours, and the last one has been made impossible by the way his arms were zip tied behind his back and around the pole. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to pretend like the voice of Dee over the phone is him really just sitting next to Virgil on the bed talking him out of a panic induced spiral.

“Just breathe for me, Liebing,” Dee says. “Just breathe. I’ll get you out of there.”

Virgil inhales sharply. “I-- I know,” He manages with a wet laugh. “I kn-now you will. And I-- I’ll kill you m-myself for this.” 

He thinks Dee nearly laughs, one of those wet, terrible laughs of his that only came out when he was nearing his breaking point, but the phone is pulled away from his ear at that moment. He strains after it in a panic, but his captor give him a sharp kick  to the side and Virgil falls back against the pole, with his shoulder screaming in pain.

“There,” The criminal says, “Proof of Life, Mr. Ekans. Your lovely fiancee is still breathing, although if you don’t follow my orders exactly, he won’t be for much longer.”

Virgil thinks if he wasn’t so terrified out of his mind, he might have found that funny. Dee? Following someone else’s orders? Ever since Virgil had met him in Third grade Dee had avoided rules like the plague. When he had disappeared after highschool, Virgil had thought that Dee had gone off and died somewhere in a ditch, but he had returned just seven years later, with that same smirk and that spark in his eyes like he knew everything Virgil was thinking in any moment.

They hadn’t been friends, but they had been acquaintances. Once or twice they had been lab partners in Chemistry, and they had nodded to each other in the halls.

It was ridiculous that Virgil hadn’t even noticed how much he missed that normalcy, that routine, that quiet interaction, until the day before Graduation when Dee had invoked a Senior Skip Day and Virgil had ghosted between classes without seeing him at all. It was even more ridiculous that Virgil had turned that sad feeling over in his chest a billion times and realized somewhere north of 3:24 A.M. that he had had a crush on Dante Ethan Ekans for three years based just on nods in the hallways and that one time Dee had offered him part of a sandwich when the school lunch had looked particularly terrible. 

Then Dee hadn’t shown up to Graduation. Or the last day of school.

Virgil had found out the week after from gossip in a friend group that Dee had packed up his bags and gone for a journey to find himself with no returning ETA. 

And again, Virgil hadn’t been friends with him so it hadn’t made sense that he felt angry not to have been told this directly. But the weight of that realization had crushed his tentative heart where it was in his chest. 

There had been other boys, because seven years is a long time and boys were pretty, but they had never worked out. They had asked too much of him, or expected something different, or loved too brashly. At the end of each relationship Virgil had found himself lying on his bed wondering what had happened to the brunette boy with the nearly yellow eyes who once helped him light a Bunsen Burner. 

Virgil had gone to college. He had gotten a BA in Culinary Arts, with an emphasis on Baking and Pastries, which literally no one had seen coming, including himself. He had gotten a lease and opened up a bakery three counties from where he grew up and sent his mother danishes on the weekends when he couldn’t visit. 

Then two months later, Dee had walked right into his bakery like he had never left. Virgil had nearly dropped a pan of muffins at the sight of him. That smile was the same, and those eyes, and habit of picking at his nails when he was nervous. But he had yellow highlights in his hair and a tattoo of a snake on his back and three scars over his knuckles.

“You might not remember me,” Dee had said as if Virgil had ever been able to forget him, “But we went to high school together and I...I’ve traveled all over the world and still think you are the most amazing thing in it.”

And Virgil had remembered why he had fallen for Dee in the first place all over again.

When Dee had asked Virgil to marry him four years later, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes.

Because it had been Dee, and Dee had chosen to stay in that town with Virgil, had chosen to pick up a business job, had chosen to to go on several dates with Virgil, had chosen to stay through every fit and fight and argument, had chosen to get down on one knee and offer Virgil that ring that was on a necklace around his neck right now.

Dee had also casually forgotten to mention that he was freaking loaded until the moment that Virgil had been walking out of his bakery nearly dead on his feet last night and someone had swung a crowbar directly into the back of his head.

“And I’m not sure I need to remind you what will happen if you call the police,” Virgil’s captor says airily, “But I will anyway--”

Without warning the man turns back to Virgil and swings his heel directly into Virgil’s wounded shoulder. Agony rips through Virgil’s entire being, drowning out all of his thoughts until all there was left was a burning, blazing pain and his own screams. Tears streamed down his face, choking him as he wrestled against the bindings in an attempt to curl around the injury. His vision turns white and black like TV static and his sobs echo throughout the empty warehouse like they were mocking him.

Faintly, he thinks he can hear Dee’s voice.

Faintly, he registers the captor over him, is delighting in Virgil’s pain.

Faintly, he recalls the price the man just put on Virgil’s life, and that Dee didn’t hesitate to agree to it.

The criminal over him ends the call with a click of a button, and Virgil whimpers. His shoulder feels like someone was holding an open flame to it, his wrists burn where the zip tie are latched far too tightly to his skin.

“Hmm,” the man says softly, “I can’t say I see what he sees in you.” He reaches down and holds Virgil by the jaw, turning his head from side to side to examine him, as if he’s a piece of meat for sale. Virgil’s skin burns coldly at the touch, like its frostbite threatening to take over his whole body and kill him on the spot.

“Liebing,” His captor says, teasingly. His free hand shifts to his pocket and he brings out that switchblade again-- Virgil tenses to get away from it, even with his shoulder weeping lava. With a shri-ckk the metallic knife slips out, still streaked with crimson where it had been lodged in Virgil’s shoulder earlier when he had talked back too much.

The man uses the blade to lift a piece of Virgil’s sweat matted hair from his face. It’s close, too close, and Virgil’s lungs beg for air he doesn’t dare give them.

“P-please,” He chokes.

“P-please,” The man mimics, with a cruel smile. “Your future husband seemed to be in an awful hurry to get you back. He has twenty hours; I wonder how much fun the two of us can have while we wait.” 

Virgil squeezes his eyes closed, trying not to shake. The knife tip boops his nose and the man laughs releasing him easily. In another moment Virgil hears the sound of tape ripping and feels the sudden force of his mouth being covered.

“Shhhh,” The man says, using his thumb to rub away a stream of Virgil’s tears.

Virgil doesn’t dare open his eyes until he hears those footsteps retreat all the way across the warehouse and the door opens and closes as the man leaves him alone.

Virgil twists his wrists again, but it only succeeds in turning his hands into a sticky sweltering mess and his shoulder whines in pain again. He grunts through the duct tape hanging his head to his chest.

Dee promised him he’d be okay. Dee didn’t make empty promises. He lied sometimes, like he lied when he called in sick to work that time that Virgil took off and they spent the entire day cuddling and watching conspiracy theories on TV, or that time that Virgil’s baby cousin Ed’s hamster died and Dee had told him it had gone on a perilous journey to defeat a dragon that was too dangerous to take Ed with him, or that time that they had gone for dinner at Virgil’s parents and Dee had told his mother that the potatoes were the best that he had ever had while shoveling it into a napkin under the table.

Dee lied, but he did not make empty promises. 

He promised Virgil he wasn’t going to leave again and then he got a job in office building; he promised Virgil to find that one brand of chocolate Virgil liked even though he had to go to eleven different stores to find it; he promised him that they would leave that business dinner party the second that Virgil got uncomfortable, even if that was only twenty three minutes in; he promised him that one day they were gonna get married on a beach with the sea salt dusting their tuxes as they said “I do”.

So if he said that Virgil is going to be okay, Virgil is going to be okay.

Virgil doesn’t know what to do if he doesn’t cling to that pathetic hope.

A flicker of shadow draws Virgil’s attention, and his head snaps up, preparing to...to...protect himself from whatever he could. Instead his breath stutters to a halt.

The shadow is a figure on the roof, someone who is slim but fit and easily opens the glass pane to lower themselves inside. The shadow is a figure who manages to slip from the catwalks to the warehouse floor in barely a minute.

The shadow is a man who kneels beside Virgil and peered at him behind square glasses, “My name is Logan Ackroyd. I’m here to escort you out of this situation, but first I must know where your captor went.” The shadow is a very real person and Virgil can’t tear his eyes from the yellow bold letters F.B.I. on his jacket. 

“Mr. Storm,” Logan says sternly, like Virgil is back in school and one snarky comment away from getting detention again. “Please quietly look in the direction where your captor went.”

Virgil’s eyes flicker to the far door, his breath noticeably short and reckless and violent. With every inhale he feels like he’s getting less and less oxygen in his body. 

“Prince,” The FBI agent says into a comm, “He’s at the North Entrance.” Then he swiftly moves around Virgil to his hands. Virgil can’t help but flinch at the motion, drawing a nauseating screech of pain from himself.

“Apologies,” Logan says, “I am going to cut you loose. Please refrain from moving unnecessarily. There’s a medical team on standby. I can see your shoulder wound, but are there any other locations that will require immediate attention?”

Virgil lets out another sob, a relieved sob as he shakes his head. Or possibly doesn’t. He doesn’t know if its even noticeable from how the rest of his body is vibrating like all his atoms are slowly pulling him apart.

“I’m going to do a breathing exercise, Mr. Storm. Can you please breathe with me while I count?” Logan says calmly again. Virgil’s head spins at how calm he is when there’s nothing calming about this situation. Still the counting is even and steady, flowing over Virgil like the sound of a timer while he’s working in the kitchen. When he closes his eyes, he can even pretend its Dee counting for him, whispering praises when he manages to hold his breath for that endless seven seconds.

“It’s going to be okay.” Logan says, as he cuts through the zip tie and picks his way under Virgil’s uninjured arm. He peels off the duct tap to make it easier to breathe and Virgil falls against him without meaning to.

He’s breathing. Like Dee told him to do. Just keep breathing.

The next thing he knows there are police and FBI all over the place. There’s a several medics that come rushing to them, who help guide Logan and him outside to a standing ambulance. The noise is loud and quiet at the same time: like a screaming match drowned out by the buzzing in Virgil’s head.

He tries to focus on Dee, what Dee said to him, what Dee has said before: all those times he asked Virgil what new language he should try on Duolingo , all those times Dee tried teaching Virgil new phrases over romantic TV dinners and store bought wine, all those times that Dee idly said how much he loved him in the middle of a conversation with no prompting. 

Just keep breathing. Dee had said.

“Virgil!” 

The voice is a strike of lightning in the swirling madness around him. Virgil hiccups a sob and suddenly Dee is right there in front of him, pushing Logan out of the way to get closer to him.

“Virgil,” Dee says again gently taking his face in both his hands. There are tears in his eyes and his mouth spouts out words like a waterfall, “Virgil, Liebing, Love, Angel, Darling, my Sun, my Soul,--”

Virgil lets out a wail and flings himself into Dee’s arms, completely ignoring the medics and the burning of his shoulder, because this was Dee and Dee was...

Dee was safety. He was everything.

“Its okay,” Dee sobs with one hand in Virgil’s hair and the other warped around his waist holding him as close as they can get.

And Virgil believes him.

[embersrevived]

pssst... Julian would be Ilya Barbarossa (barbarossa means literally "red beard"... and quite ironically, the plague-doctor-jules mun is greek, like the Barbarossa brothers)

Credit: taken from Wikipedia article entry for Hayreddin Barbarossa

((Ahhh, how very intriguing!! Thank you so much for this fascinating tidbit, I had no idea actually! I’ll definitely have to research more / look into the Barbarossa brothers, and “Ilya Barbarossa” sounds so neat!! I love this, thank you so much for sharing!))

@your-dark-magic-man-mysterio / @plague-doctor-jules

[def-sol]

Helloooooo it is meeeeeee, your local WayV hooooooe, whatuuuuuuup 😂 the bad alive stages are killing me,,, how are you holding up these days, darling? Also random request but would you share your favorite like 5 or so things about Ten? (I’m low key wanted to say 10 but no pressure 😂) ~ Rai

Goin through it but trying to figure shit out, the usual life and self reflection stuff I guess 😬 I hope you're doing okay and staying hydrated!

I haven't watched all the stages yet because I can only handle so much of Ten being a demon in one day! Here's 10 things I love about him!

1. His vocals are so soft and angelic and pretty yet he's good at putting his emotion into it! When I heard Dream In A Dream I was absolutely smitten and then I saw the New Heroes mv and my heart did flips.

2. His art skills! I highkey wish he could design a tattoo or something for me. I absolutely love his drawings and the fact that he designed his own tattoos is so cool.

3. He's a polyglot! How cool is that!?

4. Dance. Do I even need to explain? He's easily one of the top dancers in the industry, he makes each work his own and fills it so full of life! He's fantastic at any style and you can just FEEL his love for it! I definitely recommend his hit the stage performances if you haven't seen them! Also his solo freestyle videos!? *chef kiss*

5. His many piercings, he always wears the prettiest jewelry and I might be a sucker for people that aren't afraid of pain enough to get that many (lookin at you Hongjoong and Changkyun)

6. He's a cat dad!!! Need I say more!?

7. His very quick wit and sarcasm

8. I know it's cheesy but I love his smile! He's got beautiful teeth and the way his eyes squint a little! Ugh my heart.

9. God tier work ethic. He doesn't half ass things, when he works he works HARD. We can definitely see the fruits of his labor!

10. The way he interacts with his brothers! His relationship with Yangyang is so cute and hilarious, I love that he basically treats Yangyang as his baby but also torments him and the others like a brother would! How close he was with Johnny and Taeyong was so precious and I miss their interactions a lot.

In conclusion: I am WEAK for this man.

[giscla-blog]

( SARAH BOLGER / FEMALE/SHE/HER ) LONDON WELCOMES GISELA HABSBURG, THE TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD CROWN PRINCESS OF BAVARIA. I HEARD SHE IS DESCRIBED AS INTELLIGENT AND LOYAL BUT ALSO PASSIVE AND TACITURN.

hi! i’m roxanne ( 18, she/her, cst ) and this is my lil peach gisela! i’m working on her dossier/connections page, but in the meantime, here’s an intro! please like this post or send me a message if you would like to plot ( i truly am a bumbling idiot at the moment pls forgive me for any mistakes i literally forgot to put the second part of this sentence i’m gonna implode ) !

gisela is the only surviving child of the king of bavaria. of course, he would have preferred that a son survive him, but what can you do? however, he is over the moon about his daughter’s engagement to the heir to the richest country in europe.

gisela is often referred to as the ‘pride of bavaria’, for this sole reason. she is its only ( legitimate ) hope for continuity. when her father dies ( and to be totally honest, it’s not looking too good for him in the coming years ), gisela will become queen, but only under the terms that she marry. she cannot be an unmarried queen. some are concerned that, in the event that she does become queen, that bavaria will be ruled by a foreigner ( aka her husband ). thus, some are calling for her to sign a regency, and her mother would act as queen regent on her behalf.

gisela often remarks to herself that “i am my father’s pride, but she is my father’s joy”. the ‘she’ in question refers to her father’s string of mistresses that could satisfy his sexual appetite and that bore gisela many illegitimate siblings. she is jealous of her brothers that spend a lot of time with their father, as he clearly favors them over her; thus, she constantly reminds herself that he will be proud of her once she is married.

since she was born, she knew that she would never hold any power that she did not marry into. and she was educated accordingly. under her mother’s careful supervision, she was raised to impress and charm suitors with her many talents in academics and the arts.

in the arts, she was well-versed in court dances and singing, and was considered a virtuoso of the violin and piano among her tone-deaf peers. ( as an adult, she doesn’t sing or dance for pleasure. she only dances as a means of strategy. she does find solace in her instruments, though. ) academically, she excelled in many areas. ( of course, she was never taught politics or constitutional law or economics, as those matters would never be important to her. ) however, she was fascinated with languages. well, it was partially forced on her; if she was to marry a foreign royal, she should be able to not only communicate in his language, but also seduce. as a result, she is a polyglot. ( a full list of languages can be found in her dossier. ) in spite of her mother’s insistence that she learn as many languages as she could, gisela found that she had an affinity for it, and learned many languages on her own.

though she found things about it that she enjoyed, gisela grew to despise court life. it was especially lonely, as she was an only child. her playmates were merely the children of the courtiers trying to get closer to the king. as a result of spending a lifetime surrounded by women bounded in corsets, gisela grew to adore her father, though she rarely spent time with him.

her family is slightly controversial because bavarians are traditionally catholic. though her grandfather broke away from the catholic church years ago, many europeans are still convinced that it’s just a facade and that bavaria is still loyal to rome. this may be true about some bavarian royalty and nobility, but gisela herself is a devout protestant. part of the reasoning behind gisela’s betrothal to george is to strengthen bavaria’s alliances with non-catholic countries.

ah yes, the betrothal. no one had expected her to be betrothed to the heir to the english throne. in the very least, many thought that she would marry another german prince. perhaps a prince from outside of the german confederation. for years since her eighteenth birthday, eligible princes paraded through the bavarian court. all of them perfect, but not perfect enough. gisela was taunted by her increasing age and the decreasing age of her father’s mistresses. ( “younger than she are happy mothers made,” people would snide in the hallways. )

objectively, george and gisela are a perfect match. he is a prince, an heir to a throne. she is a princess, also an heir to a throne. he is anglican. she is protestant. he is young and healthy. she is young and fertile. what more could someone want out of a marriage?

gisela is actually extremely wary of this marriage. the engagement was quite sudden; overnight, actually. they’ve been formally engaged for quite sometime now, and her father’s declining health has forced gisela to make a trip to london, she wants to win his affection, mostly for everyone else’s sake but hers. for her father, so he can pass with peace of mind. for george, for the sake of successful childbearing, ifyaknowwhatimean. ( that, and her biggest fear is that he will turn to mistresses, like her father. in addition to that, she’d also simply like to be his friend. ) for her mother, because she knows that her weak heart can’t handle the throne. she wants so desperately to make everything easier for everyone!

although, even though she’s here to be a catalyst for progress in their engagement, she can’t gauge how it’s going to go. they’ve not corresponded a lot, and any interaction was severely supervised and choreographed. like i said, she yearns for his affection ( again, not for herself, but for everyone else ) but would settle for his companionship. she is naive to the nuances of romantic love, and is no seductress.

truly, if u deadass got to the end of this god bless ya