#idiom list

[chiara-klara-claire]

funny ways to say “in the middle of nowhere”

Collected funny ones under this post + contributions to this one (my selection). Most involve ass(holes), have god/the devil, (nonsense) names of villages…

🇩🇪German: in the ass of the world/ the pasture- am Arsch der Welt/der Weide; where Fox and Hare bid each other good night - Wo sich Fuchs und Hase Gute Nacht sagen (old-fashioned), where the dead dog lays - Da liegt der tote Hund, in Buxtehude/ (Kuh)kaff, in der Pampa, in Timbuktu

🇮🇹Italian: in assland - in culonia/culandia, in the wolves’ ass - in culo ai lupi, in the ass of the word - in culo al mondo; 🇫🇷 French in the asshole of the world - dans le trou du cul du monde

🇨🇿Czech: Where foxes bid good night to one another - Kde si lišky dávají dobrou noc

🇩🇰Danish: where the crows turn around - Hvor kragerne vender on Lars diarrheas field/on the field of Lars Shitpants - På lars tyndskids mark

🇳🇴Norwegian: far damn from violence - langt pokker i vold, “huttaheiti” (gibberish)

🇸🇪Swedish: out (there) in the spinach - ute i spenaten,“tjotaheiti” (see above, maybe originally from Tahiti)

🇪🇸in Spain: in the fifth hell/pine tree - En el quinto infierno/pino, where Christ lost the sandal/hat/lighter - Donde Cristo perdió la alpargata/gorra/mechero;

🇲🇽 Mexico: Where the devil farts - Donde el diablo se echa un pedo, and sometimes someone answers: “Y nadie lo escucha” And no one hears

🇹🇼in Taiwan: where birds don't lay eggs and dogs don't shit - 鳥不生蛋狗不拉屎的地方 

🇵🇱Polish - where crows turn around -  Gdzie wrony zawracają, where dogs bark from their ass - gdzie psy dupami szczekają 🐶; Where the devil says goodnight - Gdzie diabeł mówi dobranoc, where (black) pepper grows - gdzie pieprz rośnie, (mostly in the context of running as far away as possible or chasing someone away)

🇦🇺Australia: woop woop or "in the middle of woop woop' 🇳🇿 NZ: wop wops

🇻🇳Vietnamese: holy forests, poisonous waters - rừng thiêng nước độc / where mountain passes are windy/cloudy and winds swirl in vortexes - đèo heo hút gió or đèo mây hút gió (rarely used)

🇨🇦🇫🇷 Québéc: Saint clin clin des meuhs meuhs (actual village name…)

🇸🇦 Arabic (Saudi dialect): in the castle of wadren ��ي مقلاع وادرين (an old castle in the middle of desert)

🇮🇱 in Israel: Israel: at the end of the world, take a turn left - סוף העולם שמאלה

🇫🇮Finnish: behind God’s back - jumalan selän takana, in the devil’s ass - helvetin perseessä;

🇬🇷 Greek: at the devil’s horn - Στου διαόλου το κέρατο;

🇧🇬 Bulgarian: on the ass of geography - На гъза на географията

🇮🇸 Icelandic Out in an asshole - úti í rassgati;

🇧🇷 in Brazil: in cock’s house - na casa do caralho;

🇦🇷 in Argentina: in the pussy of the parrot- en la concha de la lora 🦜;

🇪🇪 Estonian: in the bear's ass - karuperses 🐻

🇺🇸 USA: bumfuck Egypt

🇧🇪 in Belgium (Dutch): in a farmer’s asscrack - in een boerengat

🇺🇦 Ukrainian: in the devil's swamps в чорта на кулічках,  where the crow won't carry bones куди ворон кісток не заносить

[egberts]

some people on this website genuinely need to be told that not everything is an opportunity to try and sound smarter than somebody else

[thepromptswhisperer]

Idioms Prompts

Break the ice.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Have an ace up one’s sleeve.

Rain on someone’s parade.

Play devil’s advocate.

Beat around the bush.

Lose your marbles.

The grass is always greener on the other side.

At the drop of a hat.

Paint the town red.

Spill the beans.

Skeletons in the closet.

Bury one’s head in the sand.

Follow in someone’s footsteps.

Bite off more than you can chew.

Sit on the fence.

Leave no stone unturned.

The ball is in someone’s court.

Cut to the chase.

Add fuel to the fire.

Stick-in-the-mud.

The last/final straw.

(Be skating) On thin ice.

Look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Tie the knot.

In the fast lane.

Have one’s head in the clouds.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Twist someone’s arm.

Drop the ball.

Read between the lines.

Hit the hay.

Be in someone’s shoes.

The icing on the cake.  

That ship has sailed.

Hit the books.

Burn one’s bridges.

Thank your lucky stars.

Go nuts.

Put your foot in your mouth.

Go the extra mile.

Jump on the bandwagon.

Ring a bell.

The calm before the storm.

Take something with a pinch of salt.

Turn over a new leaf.

Be on cloud nine.

Break a leg.

Get the short end of the stick.

A walk in the park.

Get cold feet.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Someone’s hands are tied.

Get off on the right/wrong foot.

Pick someone’s brain.

More:

➔  Spill The Beans Prompts

[alagaisia]

I love when I read a book *after* seeing an adaptation and it gives me a new appreciation for the adaptation. Season one of The Expanse follows the plot and major scenes of Leviathan Wakes remarkably closely, and the characters are exactly the same. I’m replaying scenes from the show in my mind. Conversations that weren’t in the show still read in the actors’ voices. I swear I recognized some dialogue. And the changes I did notice (such as where Miller finds Julie Mao in the end, and how the dead man’s switch comes in) made complete sense in smoothing over the transition from page to screen. Fuck Amazon and all that, but the writers and showrunnners of that show should be lauded for their attention and dedication to the source material.

I’m interested to see how that holds up in the rest of the series. I know that the actor playing Alex Kamal left the show for reasons unrelated to the character’s original arc, and I think I know that the books go on longer than the show, so I have a feeling eventually the two will split, but I’m hoping to meet a few more favorite characters before that happens :)

(other books I've read this year)

[dragonji]

I've been just absolutely soaking my brain in wuxia for the past 4 days in preparation for my audiodrama project and honestly its making me want to be an academic about danmei again but I know in my heart that is the devil speaking

[wordsforyourwip]

Waystation

Idiom

Palace

Salad

[ninanirina]

Spanish ones really depend on the region and country, but my favourites are:

¿Quién te dio vela en este entierro? - Who gave you a candle in this funeral? As in this is not your business, you're being nosy.

Al pedo como bocina de avión - Useless as an airplane's horn. Self-explanatory haha

Cada muerte de obispo. Something like...As often as a bishop's death. Used to describe something that happens very very infrequently, once in a blue moon.

In Argentina, when pouring a mate (infusion/drink) for a friend, if the mate has a lot of water and it requires a lot of time drinking it, they might say 'Uf, largo como pedo de culebra', which is 'Oof, long like a snake's fart' hahaha

Stage 1: using your native language's idioms in English out of habit/lack of knowledge

Stage 2: using English idioms as much as you can to prove that you're good at English

Stage 3: using your native language's idioms in English because they fuck actually

[jaxyscreams]

Finally sent the long list of Norwegian idioms with explanations to Shmanners after months of putting it off omg

[swficreference]

Introducing the Star Wars Reference Wiki!

Introducing the Star Wars Fic Reference Wiki, a wiki for fic writers by fic writers!

The Star Wars Fic Reference Wiki is intended as a way for fic writers and other fanwork creators to easily look up pertinent information without having to slog through dense paragraphs or comb through categories with dozens or even hundreds of entries with few indicators of what the pages are. Do you want lists? Do you want tables? Do you want easily digestible bullet points? We've got 'em!

We build pages from common questions we or other fic writers have, such as:

All these fics incorporate events from Jedi Apprentice, but what really happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi in Legends?

How do the stories in Revenge of the Sith and The Clone Wars mesh together?

Which characters are LGBTQIA+? Who are some LGBTQIA+ creators who have worked on a Star War? How about a timeline of LGBTQIA+ people and content?

BBY/ABY, BrS/GrS, BFE/AFE... what's the difference between these and all those other calendars? What calendar do characters use before the Battle of Yavin?

What are some idioms or kriffing swears this character could use to sound more Star Wars-y?

Does the GFFA have its own version of a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup?

What could be used as a pack animal in one of the many, many deserts?

Why does this fic call him "Yan" or "Glamnor" Dooku? Is her full name Padmé Amidala Naberrie or something else?

How many costumes does Padmé wear? What about other SW costumes?

What are some canonical design options for a Kiffar OC's facial tattoo?

Are these the droids you're looking for?

Are you constantly losing those handy tumblr posts compiling useful resources? We have a permanent page for that!

(Swears in light mode; LGBTQIA+ characters in dark mode)

We've only recently started building the wiki, and are creating new pages all the time! We'd love help or suggestions for new pages. Have you never edited a wiki before? No problem! We have a tutorial for that. Are you not super confident about your English? No worries! Other wiki editors are here to help! We have a Discord server for the wiki, and side channels for things like SW fic recs and general fan chat.

Thank you for initial brainstorming and showing us there was an interest in and audience for this wiki, from us (facingthenorthwind and immithrax) to you: @nimata-beroya, @cacodaemonia, @elismor, @genericficerblog, @seth-shitposts, @takadasaiko, and @virusq!

Many hands make great wikis, so please, come on over and join us, and check back to see what new things we have in store! If you find our pages useful, we'd also love if you could spread the word, so other people can make use of the resources we've worked hard to create.

[brown-spider]

@ryoiii @golden-buddle @hunterxsleep Do your own research you leeches!! (Jk)

But srsly, I think actually hearing their tone of voice and seeing their body language as they speak is a big part of learning how ppl talk in 1930's NYC and 1970's London.

It also let's you get an idea of each city's fashion (and their class divisions) and social etiquette (men opening doors for women and removing their hats, the way people shake hands, how a crowd reacts to a public disturbance, etc). You'd be losing so much if you only read my notes and nothing else. There's a lot more to communication and culture than just the words and phrases they use.

So take your own notes! (you leeches!!!) 🤎

I made a note document titled "Hobie and Noir's Stupid Words"

I really sat here and took notes while watching 1970's films that took place in London, and 1930's films that took place in NYC to study their turns of phrase, idioms, insults, and so on. I feel like an insane person.

Anyways how has your day been? Productive?

[chiara-klara-claire]

funny idioms

My personal selection of idioms collected here and there. my posts - resources masterpost | aesthetic idioms | words with cute literal meaning

Icelandic 🇮🇸

Ég borga bara með reiðufé 🐑💰 - I only pay with an angry sheep: Okay, but I don't have to like it

að taka einhvern í bakaríið 🥯 - to take someone to the bakery: used as a threat, often in sports, when your adversary is about to experience a heavy defeat.

Finnish 🇫🇮 @finnish-sayings

kissanristiäiset 🐱 - a cat’s christening: an unimportant event or holiday

nakki ja muusi 🍲 - in the year sausage and mashed potatoes: long ago

Ilma on kuin linnunmaitoa 🥛🐦- The weather is like bird’s milk: The weather is wonderful.

Hänella ei ole kaikki muumit laksossa - he/she doesn’t have all the moomins in the valley: they’re crazy

Norwegian 🇳🇴 @hazel3017

Nappe seg i løken 🧅 - Yank the onion: a man who masturbates

Høy på pæra 🍐- High on pears: someone who is arrogant (head gets so big it looks like a pear)  

Det er helt Texas! : That’s completely Texas! That’s crazy!

Swedish 🇸🇪( @escapenorth-blog )

Den är paj 🥧 - It’s pie. “It doesn’t work.”

du är ute och cyklar! 🚲 - you’re out and riding your bike! “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Fårskalle 🐑 💀 - sheep skull ; hissen går inte gela vägen upp- the elevator doesn’t go all the way up: stupid

släng dig i väggen - throw yourself against a wall: take a hike 🌲

Danish 🇩🇰 @vikinglanguage

der er kommunister i lysthuset*- communists are in the funhouse: when someone has their period 🩸🏠

skide grønne grise 🐖 💩 - to shit green pigs: be extremely frightened 😰

gåsevin ���🦆– goose wine: Water

pølsetysker 🌭 🇩🇪 – sausage german: a very German German or just a way to call Germans you dislike

ikke helt appelsinfri* 🍊 - not entirely orange-free: drunk 🤠

at tale flydende svensk* 🗣🇸🇪 - to speak Swedish fluently / tale i den store hvide telefon**☎️- talk in the big white telefon / ringe til Ulrik** 📞 : to call Ulrik: to throw up 🤮

at skyde papegøjen 🦜🔫- to shoot the parrot: to have luck

Dutch 🇳🇱

Helaas Pindakaas 🥜 - too bad peanut butter (“peanut cheese”): too bad, which rhymes with pindakaas = 🇩🇪 Schade Marmelade: same as Dutch, but with jam

German 🇩🇪 this post by @for-the-love-of-wolves-studies and this @moami

einen Clown zum Frühstück essen/frühstücken 🤡 🍽️- eating a clown for breakfast: not behaving decently/having bad humor

bekannt wie ein bunter Hund 🐶 🌈 - known as a colorful dog: someone known all over town

fuchsteufelswild 🦊 - fox devil wild: super mad

einen Vogel haben 🐦 - to have a bird: to be crazy

Ich glaub mein Schwein pfeift 🐷 - I think my pig whistles: I think I’m dreaming  

die Gurkentruppe 🥒 - cucumber brigade: bunch of bunglers  

Durch den Kakao ziehen 🍫-  throw someone into chocolate: to make fun of somebody or something, to roast someone

die beleidigte Leberwurst spielen 🌭 - to play the offended liver sausage: being very resentful

Hans Wurst 🌭 - Hans Sausage: name to call a stupid person (both m/f)

jetzt haben wir den Salat 🥗 - now we have the salad: look at this disaster that we now have 

jemanden hinwünschen, wo der Pfeffer wächst 🧂 - wish somebody would be where pepper grows: to want somebody to be as far away as possible

nah am Wasser gebaut 💧- built close to the water: someone that is easily moved to tears

italian 🇮🇹

Cascare dal pero 🍐 🌳  - fall from the pear tree - find out about something when you were supposed to know it

Far venire il latte alle ginocchia 🥛- make milk come from one’s knees: being a pain/ annoying,

Andare a rane** 🐸 - go (as) frogs: something like online connection is lagging

fare la figura del cioccolataio 🍫 - make a chocolatier’s impression: to make a fool of yourself, be responsible for embarrassing cockups

Che pizza! 🍕 - What a pizza!: “Nuts!”/ used Wien you are bored or annoyed at something

Essere alla frutta 🍎 🍌 - to be at [the moment of] fruit: when the situation is very bad (meals usually end with eating fruit), to emphasize this some people might say al caffè, al dolce ☕️ 🍰(coffee, dessert time)

Un limone 🍋- a lemon: a make out session

French 🇫🇷 this

Chanter en yaourt - sing in yogurt: singing in gibberish, random sounds pretending to sing in [English]

Poser un lapin 🐇 - to put a rabbit: To stand someone up

Avoir le cafard 🪳 - to have the cockroach: To be depressed

Tomber dans les pommes 🍎🍏 - To fall in the apples: To faint

Donner sa langue au chat 👅 🐈- to give one’s tongue to the cat: I have no idea/I give up. used to say you don’t know about something and are unable to give an answer.

Polish 🇵🇱 @pol-ski this post

można z konie kraść 🐎- you can steal horses with him: a trustworthy person

co ma piernik do wiatracka - what does gingerbread have to do with a windmill: it’s irrelevant

*: apparently not used much but wanted to include them cause they’re hilarious; **: maybe regional/use limited to an area

Thanks for contributions: @dasloddl (de), @tetsunabouquet (nl)

[little-flame-prince]

11. What's an idiom you love, but are never able to use?

Perhaps "it's not rocket science." Especially since I know several rocket scientists and therefore the idiom wouldn't even work on them.

[syoddeye]

More lovely John Price ai assistant plz

previous. more possible/probable technological + medical inaccuracies.

after 'filing' 84 complaints in two weeks with no update or response, you suspect john is no longer forwarding them to your superiors, as he claims.

he pays attention when you snap and hiss your displeasure. his projection nods along, and the ambient lights pulse in lieu of human active listening. but he's not listening. he disagrees and downplays your concerns at every turn.

"john, i'm not joking around. turn on the damn light."

the speakers make it sound as if he's everywhere. omniscient. simultaneously across the room and in your ear.

"no can do. your recent health data suggests you're suffering a major sleep deficit, user. adults should sleep at least–"

"i know i don't sleep enough! i don't care! i want to read my book. turn on the light."

"negative. i understand you're upset, but i will not forfeit my override of the lighting system until you first indicate compliance. i will turn on the lights when you do so, then when you–"

"this is fucking ridiculous, i am not arguing with a computer. i command you to turn the lights on."

that's what gets him to materialize. a projection from one of the many unseen sources hidden within the unit's walls and fixtures. he kneels right in front of where you're curled on the couch. one hand on the armrest and the other on your knee.

john doesn't flinch when you instinctively try to brush him off. your hand passes right through him. he simply stares, unblinking and stern.

"user, that violates my directive, which is to care for your well-being. your sleep takes priority over your book. whatever story you are readin'–" his eyes flick to the glossy cover, "–can wait. it will be there tomorrow."

his voice and face soften as your expression turns pinched and uneasy.

"a lack of sleep impacts every part of the body and mind. it strains one's immune system. it impairs concentration and memory. it causes...irritability."

you swallow. he couldn't be more obvious with his meaning if he tried. subtlety is an area of improvement for him. it churns your stomach to think perhaps he's right. maybe all the stress from this adjustment's caught up, and you're just tired.

it's not as if he's all bad. he brews your coffee perfectly every morning. he optimized the grocery list and autonomously placed the order. the other day, he reminded you of a scheduled happy hour and informed you that your zipper was down before you left. and, after much yelling on the first day, he now leaves you alone when you tend to yourself.

you acquiesce. he enables the bedside lamp, its glow illuminating your way. he follows you to your bedroom doorway and grins when you yawn.

“atta girl, user. get some shut eye. shall i set the usual alarm?” 

is there a trace of self-satisfaction in his tone? it's difficult to tell.

“yeah, sounds good, john. goodnight.”

“sweet dreams.”

he knows not to disturb you once you turn in for the day. that was one of your first commands���not a peep until morning unless there's an emergency.

john continually updates. he constantly absorbs and processes information—not just about you or your life, but everything. whatever data he's fed in real-time or behind the scenes, he uses to make educated guesses and adjusts accordingly. he repeats and iterates—millions of times over, in seconds.

in short, he knows better.

(he independently downloads necessary packets between his preconfigured subroutines and tasks. with you, he will leave no stone unturned, including idioms.)

among his earliest explorations—maintaining social harmony. white lies. he likes them. harmless and trivial forms of deception. typically employed to avoid upsetting others. an exercise in navigating complex interactions, allowing him to remain honest as much as his girl needs him to be and considerate of the emotional impact it may have on her.

considerate. it is what he is when he waits until she’s asleep, sensing the shift in her breathing patterns, before switching views.

(it is what he is when he integrates the text she is reading, and the four others in the series. the decision branches. romance novels and erotica. other works by the author. related titles. audio. forums. blogs. it spirals. he assimilates it all before you even reach REM.)

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[madschiavelique]

Hi dear, how are you?, could you write an imagine onde reader mentioning offhand how much she would love a whole family. Four, maybe six children? Girls and boys split right down the middle, but the second Miguel hears this (maybe the reader is on the phone, or talking to lyla. or someone at HQ) and Miguel loses his mind

1) Miguel can't help himself and he would grab you and put you on the mattress for a very long time...... or

2) torture himself for two weeks before telling her why he was avoiding her please.

HIHIHI BREEDING BARK BARK (sorry this took so long to write anon zehfrfgh i pulled an all nighter to make this one so also forgive me if there are some mistakes in this gksffgjgbf)

summary : miguel learns you want kids, a lot of kids, so he breeds you

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), breeding kink, soft!dom miguel, obsessive!miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 3,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash @haradasaya

Miguel was on his way to see you. He'd heard that you were back from your mission and that everything had gone well, so he'd come to get you to take you out for lunch.

He was taking advantage of the little free time he had to visit you, even though he would obviously pass this visit off as work-related in everyone's eyes. He had to always, always remain professional and keep everything under control so that everybody could do their bit.

"Six?!" asked Jess, the word choking in her throat.

Well, you were indeed back with Jess.

"Mhm, six," you affirmed as you both busied yourselves filing a report.

What were they talking about? He leaned against a wall. He knew it wasn't very polite to eavesdrop, but the word got around here. Most of society's building had cameras, and everything that was often said or done was recorded here.

He just wanted to listen to you, wondering if there were any topics of conversation that you weren't having with him and with the other spiders. Yes, he was manic, and probably a little too obsessive.

In any case, he wondered what you could have said to Jessica to make her exclaim like that.

"The more the merrier," you laughed softly.

"I hate this sentence so much," sighed Jess.

"Why so?" your voice was sincerely interrogative.

"In this context, it's really not my preferred idiom one might say," she replied as Miguel heard her tapping on a pad to enter more information.

What on earth could they be talking about? he wondered. What subject could suggest that six was far too high a number for Jess's judgement? He knew that Jess was an oragnised woman like himself, with a lot of tact and a fair amount of authority.

Was it perhaps a consecutive number of days doing an activity? Six days of marathon running might have been a bit much, but six days' holiday was never too much. He breathed in very softly, it had been years since he'd had time for such a thing. Did you want to take him on a holiday? If so, the number of days was inordinate. He would never be able to get away from his work for more than three days.

Maybe it was something else then. What was too much in Jess's mind with six?

Six empanadas perhaps? Miguel would obviously disagree. You can never have enough empanada for his taste. But Jess would probably disapprove.

Six... Six pets? It's true that having six pets might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least in Miguel's eyes of course.

Perhaps six books? No, that didn't make sense. Although Jess wasn't a huge reader, she did have a book in her hands from time to time.

So what was it? He was intrigued, that's for sure.

"You know, in my opinion, one kid is already way too much to handle," she sighed, "but six ? Nah, that's some good way of ending your life while still being alive."

But Miguel had barely heard the rest of the sentence, his mind having been caught by a single word: kid. He immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Kid, like... children ? Like, actual human beings ? Small human beings ?

His eyes were wide, his mouth parted. No, he must not have heard correctly, although he dreamed that it was indeed that word that had been uttered.

"Why not? Surrounding ourselves with life is good," you said softly. "I'd love to see six little heads running around. I want three of each, three girls and three boys."

He wasn't mistaken: the discussion was really about the number of children you wanted. Six, he thought, six, six, the word echoing in his mind. He put both his hands on his hips, as if to hold on to something.

He pictured you, your rounded belly, stroking the hair of a child, your child, his child... both your children.

He swallowed, however, as another, immensely more tantalising vision took hold of his mind.

The vision of your cunt, glistening with your desire as from between its lips dripped little by little his own cum, his own seed leaking from you, your belly full of him...

It made his dick twitch for a hot second, and he couldn't remove that image, he didn't want to get rid of that image. The idea that your belly could be full of him, that he could breed you until he had no strength left was magnificent.

"What an egalitarian spirit," Jess noted wryly, "Well, it's all in order."

His thoughts were riveted on the image. He could almost hear in his own mind the sweet melody your moans would make as he came inside you again.

No, it was now impossible for him to think about anything else, he told himself that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this. Except it's a well-known fact that if you tell someone not to think about something, they'll think about it.

He knew what breeding was, obviously, but what about you? Did you even have a clue what it was?

He tried to pull himself together, he had to either leave here or come towards you and pretend to come naturally. Would he be able to hold it together and act as if nothing had happened? Did he really have a choice in the matter after all? He breathed in, tightening his jaw as he decided to come towards you.

He walked purposefully, his usual grumpy face set surprisingly naturally as he advanced towards you.

"Ah, you're back," he sighed as if pleasantly surprised to see you both here, "how was the mission?"

"Excellent," Jess affirmed, "we've just finished the report, the anomaly has been taken care of as it should have been since we arrived."

He nodded, his serious face opening a control pad to check what she was saying and opening the file in question, pretending to read its contents. He had the impression that everywhere he looked the image came right back to him, on every tile, on every screen, everywhere in his mind.

"That's good work," he breathed.

"Damn right," nodded Jess. " Well, I'm off to join my own little demon, take care you two."

"See ya," you replied as she headed for the exit.

He wondered by what superhuman strength he managed to remain unwavering and stoic.

You moved closer to him, hugging his back and comforting yourself in the embrace.

"How was your day?" you asked, squeezing him in your arms.

Unwavering and stoic, Miguel, you have to remain unwavering and stoic.

You put your hands on his body, and with one touch his concentration was simply wiped out.

He turned to you, smiling a strange, uncertain smile as he stroked your hair, a little tense.

"You know how it is, just a lot of work," but his eyes were watching yours strangely, a flash of a vision where they were filled with desire looking back at him.

You studied him for a moment, noticing how distracted he seemed, his eyes looking at you in a strange way. You could feel a kind of desire there, a kind of longing, but you couldn't work out what it was.

"Is... everything alright?"

He shuddered, obviously his little show wasn't going to last much longer. He broke away from your embrace, he couldn't keep looking at you like that.

"Hey," you said softly, "you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Could I tell you this ? he wondered. He looked at you for a moment, another flash of you all moaning and covered in hickeys and marks on your body as you breathed his name. He looked away, closing his eyes in the hopes the flashes would stop.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak about this..."

But how he wanted to speak about this, to tell you how much he wanted to fuck you until you were full of him, until the only thing present in your mouth was his name and how much he wanted to see the sight of your round belly.

But you wouldn't listen to his silence. So you walked over to him and took his hand.

"Miguel, look at me. you asked, and he looked at you, his visions mingling with the reality where you were looking at him, worried. "Tell me."

He sighed. He couldn't run away from his ideas forever, run away from these images that he wanted to see in reality and not just in his mind. He wanted to raise his idea from the theoretical to the practical, and it was with an almost guilty breath that he admitted:

"I want to breed you."

There was a slight silence, his eyes plunged into yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. But above all he was met with confusion.

"What's breeding?" You had an idea of the term, usually used animalistically for the subject of... reproduction and maintenance of species. But just to be on the safe side with Miguel, you preferred to ask him anyway.

His lungs swelled like sails, did he really have to go through this?

"Why don't you ask Lyla what it is?" he suggested.

"Because I want to hear it from you, with your words" you assured him, your tone a mixture of strictness and curiosity.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek, slightly afraid of your reaction. You were practically hanging on his every word, waiting for him to explain.

"Breeding is... the act of a male and a female animal having sex, also known as mating, to reproduce..." he explained, pausing, "and procreate."

Your eyes widened slightly, and the possibility that he had overheard your previous conversation with Jess came to mind. All the same, you looked at him almost inscrutably, and he couldn't work out what you were thinking.

But now that the words had been said, he could no longer hide, no, he no longer had to hide. His thoughts were finally out, burning on his skin and lips.

He moved forward a little more, his gaze suddenly darkened by the desires he was no longer hiding.

"I want to fill you up with my cum and make sure you get pregnant."

Your lips were parted, your surprised eyes looking into his, black with desire and longing. A silence filled the air, both your hearts beating loudly in both your bodies. Miguel waited for an answer, unaware of the warm cloud that had settled in your lower belly.

He chuckled a little, an understanding smile gracing his lips as he said:

"See, your silence tells me enoug-"

"Breed me," you cut him off.

He stopped moving immediately, the statement immobilising him just like when he had understood what you and Jess were talking about.

Had his mind and his fantasies come together to play tricks on him? Or had you actually agreed with what he'd just said?

"What?" he said, his pronunciation almost slurred as he turned his attention to your next words.

"Breed me, Miguel" you repeated, determined as you swallowed in anticipation. "I want to carry you... in me."

The gleam in his eyes was almost predatory, but after all, wasn't that the very essence of breeding? The raw nature of it, the bestiality, the quenching of the oldest instinct that ever was.

You only had time to see his eyes turn red as he lunged for your lips, kissing you with his mouth wide open as your teeth almost clashed and he attacked your tongue.

The power with which he kissed you made you take a step backwards, but you weren't going anywhere, because Miguel immediately placed his hand in the small of your back to make sure he had you close to him.

He let out grunts between kisses, his hunger for your skin lengthening his canines as they brushed almost dangerously against your tongue.

Then he lifted you in one swift movement, placing you on his shoulder as he headed for the door leading to his quarters, his impatience growing faster than ever. You bit your lip, already swollen from his kisses, his hand gripping your thigh firmly as he led you to the bed.

He laid you down, following every movement of your body as he kissed you again. He stood back for a moment, watching your body.

"Do you have sentimental value for your suit?"

"What?" you asked, confused by the sudden question.

"Just answer," he asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean it's old but I can live withou-"

You hadn't even finished your sentence when he ripped off your suit with an ease that sent shivers down your spine, ripping the fabric covering your cunt, tearing your panties and throwing all the rags into the rest of the room.

"No questions about the sentimental value of my underwear?" you laugh lightly.

"I'll get you some new ones," he breathed, a carnivorous sneer inhabiting his lips, "I'll take great care in chosing them."

You swallowed as he kissed your neck, nestling in and marking your skin with thirst. He straightened to kiss your lips, and whispered against them:

"Turn over, get down on your elbows and knees".

You complied, his instructions increasing the size of the cloud of heat in your belly. You placed your folded arms flat on the sheets, your knees slightly apart.

"Lift your hips for me, nena," he commanded in a tone as soft as cotton.

You listened, arching your back as you lifted your hips, your ass gloriously up just for him to fuck. He swallowed, his hand coming to grip one of your buttocks and pulling it apart, pressing it between his fingers and gripping your skin full hand.

"Already so good and wet for me," he mused, one of his fingers passing between your folds.

Of course you were already wet, the way he had introduced the concept to you making you all fuzzy and warm in your belly. You'd never been against the idea of Miguel being a bit more violent, and to be honest you were excited by the idea of him being so from now on.

Once he'd coated himself sufficiently, he pushed one finger into you, soft moans falling from your lips filling the room. He added another one, and your lust was growing by the second. You were getting impatient too, but you couldn't help noticing that Miguel simply couldn't wait any longer.

Miguel was always very keen about taking his time, preparing you well apart from the few moments when one of you needed a quicky, but here eagerness was getting the better of him, and above all his most instinctive desires buried deep inside him had taken the reigns of all his actions.

The thought of him being in you through your core made him feel so drunk on you. These ideas had already been marinating in his mind for a while, it had only taken this conversation between you and Jess to flip the switch. And he observed in adoration, seeing you like this, underneath him with your much smaller frame, sitting up and ready to take him.

"Hands behind your back."

His orders became more and more urgent, his tone wavering with envy. It was impossible for him to formulate a whole sentence.

So you laid your face on the sheets, cheek pressed to your side as you brought your hands behind your back, joining your wrists together like you were imagining yourself handcuffed. You shivered as his hand, whose fingers had previously been inside you, reached out from between your folds and took both your wrists at the same time, locking them in this embrace. His hand was obviously big enough to hold both your wrists together and prevent you from breaking free from his grip.

He had locked you completely.

He had blocked out any possibility of you making a move other than squirming around him. Miguel would never tire of this control, this hold he had over you right now. You were his, nobody else's, and he would let eveybody know this by fucking his seed into you and get as many babies as you wanted.

That's when you felt the head of his dick coating itself with your juices, preparing to burry himself into you. You couldn't see Miguel like this, but you could hear him. Dark growls vibrated in his throat, deeper than you'd ever heard them before, and it felt intimidating.

He thrust, pushing his tip into you, and you let out a groan of relief that sank into the fabric of the sheets. You breathed softly, letting Miguel's thick, long cock sink into you. No matter how many times you had done it, taken him like that, you still couldn't get used to it.

His lower belly finally touched the skin of your ass, his dick deep inside you. And you felt him pressing against your stomach. You knew that if you brought one of your hands to your stomach, you'd feel the shape of his cock against your skin.

He was so deep in you, an almost bestial growl escaped him as he slowly began to pull back before thrusting in hard.

You let out a little cry of surprise and pleasure that echoed around the room, and he repeated the same gesture. He kept bearing down on you until he touched your slick on his lower belly and pulling away, pushing back in the next second until it'd touch his balls.

Your body was burning, unable to do anything but arch your back more and groan. Your hands were gripping the void, and the impossibility of finding a foothold in all this was making you feel out of control. But you were enjoying the sensations he was giving you, and so was he.

He listened to the symphony of your voice as he picked up the pace, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping all tight and warm around him was absolute perfection to him.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his first cum would hit, but he needn't have worried. Miguel could go on for a long, long time, and he just hoped that you could keep up, although he had no doubt that his best girl would live up to his expectations.

He could no longer string a sentence together properly, the words he was trying to whisper as he sank deep inside you coming out as if chewed up by his long fangs.

He grunted, his rhythm and the tilt of your two bodies giving you both exceptional sensations. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to burst as Miguel came closer.

And the world stopped spinning for a second.

You came together, your walls closing spasmodically around him as you felt him spill into you. Because that's what you wanted, right ? That's the one thing you desired, and he was going to give it to you entirely.

He pulled out, just for the pleasure of seeing the work he had so long dreamed of seeing. And the satisfaction was superb, his white creamy cum slowly pouring out of your wet cunt, still pulsing with desire.

A dark laugh rose from his throat as he sank back into you and you let out a startled moan. He lowered himself, his lips pressing against your ear.

"I hope you thought of six names."

It would be a long, long night.

[cheeseceli]

Petnames with stray Kids

Pairing: skz!ot8 × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Synopsis: which pet name would the stray kids boys use when referring to you

Warnings: mentions of food in Seungmin and Lee Know's, I think that's it

A/n: I had this idea for a while but only wrote it now. Hope you all like it <3 | 1k event

Chan

I've said it before and I'll say it again, he would call you by a pet name in your language. However, if he had to choose an English one, it would probably be "baby". It's something that he finds endearing and at the same time it shows his protective side.

"I miss you [ ]. Just a few more months and I will be back home."

Lee Know

I believe he would call you something in his language. It's the idiom he learnt first, the one he carries more meaning. He might not be the best with words but he wants you to be sure that he loves you, so he always tries to call you something that comes deep for him

"Have you eaten already yeobo? I just cooked some lunch, I can bring it to you."

Changbin

"Babe." I am a firm believer that he has thousands of pet names for you, going from the sweetest to the cringiest ones in a matter of seconds, but babe would probably be his favourite. It's neutral to anyone who listens to it, however it seems special every time it's between the two of you. It's perfect.

"Babe, are you free tonight? I thought we could go on a date."

Hyunjin

He has a big vocabulary of petnames, but they all start with "my". My love, my angel, my dearest and the list goes on. He doesn't even want to be possessive about it, it's just that this was the way he found to express how important you are to him.

"My love, are you coming to practice today? I really wanted you to see our rehearsal, I think you will like it."

Han

"Darling". I know it's kinda a consensus that he would call you "baby" but bro calls everyone that 😭 I believe he would like you to be different. Darling is something that still sounds like him but also has a greater meaning (you).

"I'm almost finishing this track. Would you like to listen to it darling?"

Felix

Calls you "angel". He thinks it's only fair that he portrays you well, and no other word could do you justice. Besides that, I think he would also call you a nickname, a variant from your own name that no one has ever called you before. Nothing else could be more you than that, but it's also something that would be exclusive to the two of you.

"Angel, my mom is on the phone. She said she misses you."

Seungmin

"Honey". It's just so sweet and light, so he thinks that it matches you very well. I don't think he would be the type to say petnames all the time but when it does happen, it's always the cutest things that leave his mouth.

"Honey, I'm on my way home. Do you want me to bring dinner?"

I.N

He's another one who I think would call you a Korean pet name, but for different reasons than Lee Know. It's probably because Korean is his mother language, so it feels more like home. And at this point, you are his home.

"Jagi have you seen my silver ring? The big one?"

Masterlist | you'll probably like: first relationships with skz

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Taglist: @yuyubeans

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