#if that wasn't obvious by their french ass names

[plutoeyes]

just made gen and marj's sister anne-marie (aya) and im dropping some facts.

has been referred to as aya their entire life (their mother's name)

full name is anne-marie aleena saad-qureshi

she/her bi-curious (maybe romantically interested in non-men)

probably the only one that didnt have a traumatic relationship with food and who doesn't struggle with an ed.

has migraines most days if she doesnt wear sunglasses.

the middle child; 28 (in order; marjorie (36), eloise (30), her (anne-marie), juliette (25), and genevieve (22)) which made her a little ignorant towards their mothers treatment of her other sisters.

she never calls or replies to her sisters calls (unless its for genevieve), whom she has grown to baby even tho gen is 22.

lives in a flat with her boyfriend who is uncomfortable looking her in the eyes for too long.

pursued many careers, including food critique, but critiqued every food as a 5/5 even if the place was a sanitary hazard.

favourite food is probably vanilla pudding

shes a libra (sep 30)

she was married 3 times (all of which were men over the age of 40)

she is a lana fan (fav song is let the light in)

has a grudge against marj (she feels like marjorie abandoned them with their mother)

[mail-me-a-snail]

YOUR ART *grovelling om the floor like a dog.* May we see your interpretation of the RED Spy? 👉👈

so in my mind spy is of mixed spanish-filipino heritage n went to europe for his studies, a place that presented ample opportunity for him to become who he is today. he eventually followed scout's ma (whom a buddy n i have named sherry) back to america before ditching her and scout entirely

he's never gone back home to manila and has no interest in doing so; a city can change in forty years. anyhow, mann.co and red team keep him plenty occupied as it is.

more headcanons under the cut!

he and blu share a hair pattern, being counterparts, but red spy's pattern is less obvious as he is more self conscious of his appearance and personal grooming than blu is

he knows quite a lot of languages, spanish, german, and french being the top three, and a little knowledge of tagalog

still practices some filipino customs, esp concerning funerals (a common occurrence in his line of work, both for colleagues and as set-ups for a hit)

you will not catch his ass going straight back to whatever "home" he's gotten himself after a funeral. he is loitering elsewhere until the spirits skidaddle

he is still catholic. sorry, spy. it had to happen. does he still believe in god? hard to say!

despises his clone and the other scout. really, he envies their relationship because they've succeeded where he has failed, but he's decided hating them is an easier thing to feel

team leader; he wasn't voted in, but everyone just kinda put him up to it, even if some of them (scout) refuse to acknowledge it

best friends with miss pauling, who is also--to me--a first generation filipino immigrant, so they talk a lot about home

she tells him what he's missed.

all this means scout is also some parts spanish and filipino on top of being american

is genderfluid and aromantic. doesnt care for romance when it pertains to him being in a relationship with someone else (evidently) but he enjoys the game and all its secret rules

[gor3sigil]

Hi ! I’m a 29 year old trans man from France, and I really like reading your blog. You write very eloquently and what you have to share is important. It’s bittersweet for me to finally encounter people talking about transandrophobia. I’ve been trying to talk about it for years. My heart breaks when I think about all the young trans men and transmasculine people who grow up hating themselves because of both the societal transphobia and the transandrophobia of queer spaces. I detransitioned for 4 years, partly because I felt so alienated. A woman I loved and looked up to, who calls herself a feminist, told me that after my first testosterone injection I could not talk about feminism anymore. She said I was now on the side of the oppressor. She stated that she would support me as an individual but that her fight was for women, cis or trans, and I had to stay quiet and let women speak. She, in fact, did not support me as an individual either. When I was an androgynous non binary person she would compliment me all the time. When I transitioned, she started to grow colder and patronizing with me. She blocked me after I made a general post to talk about my experiences and explain, in a very gentle way, how trans men experience misogyny in a lot of spaces, misandry in queer and feminist spaces, and transphobia everywhere, and how our fights are intertwined with feminist fights.

Another trans man from France hooray !! I'm very glad you shared your experience, partly because I relate to it a lot (idk if you've seen the post I made about how I detransitioned for a year and it was partly due to the mistreatment I've been getting because I was a trans dude), and also because it's so important to spread the word. I'm really sorry you went through that. I had the same type of shit from women that I considered my sisters before transitioning, who ditched me like crap when I started using he/him pronouns. Since you're french too, I'd like to point something that I noticed in the french trans community (maybe you'll disagree and that's totally fair), is that anti transmasculinity and radfem ideologies are VERY LOUD in queer spaces and that trans men often play a part in it. I saw 2 separate videos recently from two trans men youtuber (who I will not name publicly for obvious reasons but you can ask me in DMs if you want) who both made videos asking if "Men are trash" included trans men, and both I found... Well, wrong, in a lot of ways. Because the main argument is that trans men who medically transition, do so with the intent of being treated and perceived in society AS men (or if this wasn't the intent, this is what happens anyways), and so basically take the role of men in the patriarchy, so the role of the oppressor. The second video was a bit more nuanced with the idea that not all trans men do transition medically, some don't pass etc but still, I find it appalling to see that almost every transmasc creator I see, who makes content in french at least, talk about transmasculinity in a way that is almost exclusively "AFAB perisex person who wants to be a Neo Cis Man". Which is, at least from all the people I've talked to since coming out in 2017, not the case for a vast majority of people, and even when it IS the case, trans men don't, and I say that with my whole chest, they DON'T have cis men privileges and they ARE NOT in a position of power over women, ESPECIALLY cis women. Well, that's my way of seeing things anyways. I really hope our local activists will stick their heads out of their white, skinny, cis passing trans men asses and start taking a look at the actual experiences of the many more of us. It'd be a nice change of pace. Thank you for your comment and sorry for the rant lmao

[roseonthewindow]

pomio (or whatever im honestly not careing about that) we need to have a Semi serious disscusion about Accountability.

When I first got here and created this character The original intention was a blackhole via lack of Roleplayers the key figure in Isabellas motovation. I had a full small story and everything. I just got stalled due to a family matter and did not have any real time to adress the astetics. lets face it Tumblr's defaults are not the most astetically pleasing thing.

It was one of your shippers that started shit as nausium and since than your punks have been hideing behind you while using mob style tatics to try and get their way...

Here is the bad news. I AM FRENCH itallian Blueblood...if you want to play mob boss... it comes highly unrecomended.

This is a warning to the bad actors in your spesfic corner. (Put under keep reading to spair the ones not causeng issues.) If your not being a little jerk about it most if this you are already aware of, the rest does not pretain to you.

If you are not causing a stink or drama bassed off the vain stupidity of one of your bad actors you have an invested instrest to just ignore me. I am fine with this, you do not have to interact or talk.

Intentionaly attacking me than flat out denying it when it can not be glarringly more obvious is stupid at best. To the bad actors keep in mind I don't accept your "Skunk butt rug" of an excusse. As for the rest I am not putting this in shipping tags as a courtsy to the shippers who are not causing issues.

Xbox gamepass is NOT Neowiz. (Wasn't there a settlement involving that thou I will have to look into it but I think microsoft got in trouble for putting games on gamepass whos developers opted out of that feature but I don't think Lies of P is in that group of affected games.)

Mods are not canon. (This should be obvious to be fair)

The next DLC will destroy most of your conxept of the protagonists name. (And I know the creator will never be sorry about it.)

This comes as no suprise to anyone fimillar with why Ginago started refering to Gepettos puppet as "brother" you know that thing you get when you see the true ending in lies of P.

There is no offical Ship, this is by design, and if there was it would be a straight ship, because, again, by design.

Your treating what the creator designed as an art piece an your personal playgound. He can and will troll you all. As someone that kmows of his pryor works I will laugh at you all leaving when you never get your way. "Keep fucking around, I will make you find out." Is his exact mentality to forced naratives.

To spite this I do NOT hate your ship, I hate your bad behavior and narsistoc desire to look clean while being a dirty bitch. And that is not a refrence to what you ship but the piss ass bullshit attude your retarded asses have taken towards me from day one.

Some of you did this because of one losers spurging and ghastlughting. If my view on this upsets you keep in mind my beef is not with the ship but a few of the shippers who are literaly being loser cry bully baby fucks.

Again if you are not doing this you do not have to worry; I could care less what you do with your ship but when you try to literaly lie to me, bully me, and make attempts to intimidate me with a hate mob, you just pissed me off to a point where I literaly salavate at getting to rip your revisionist ass a new hole.

I do NOT take kindly to people STUPID enough to try and threaten me; but I am going to be generious because most of you were not alive long enough to know what my family is like. Calling me all the progressive slurs will just be taken and SLAMMED back at you full force with reciepts.

Come at me at your own risk, I can and will destroy you... again if you are here because just curious this does not apply to you. But if you are one of the little fuckers starting shit know that yes you ARE an open target for criticisim for your bad attude alone.

Do not get me started on the activisim that never brlongs in a fucking FANDOM. I will tear you and your shit orgnizations down. Again I am not a nice person to anyone STUPID enough to THREATEN me.

[redwineconversation]

Selma Bacha Twitter Space Recap

I'm not translating it in full because it was done by amateur journalists and I don't feel comfortable using their work since they're already not getting paid, but there were interesting points of discussion so I'll do a summary.

As of today she has not entered into any contract negotiations with Lyon, claiming that her priority was her rehab and that she had agents in place to take care of contract negotiations. Reading between the lines it feels like a departure but she also said it depends on how her return to competition goes. At this point in time I would be more surprised if she stays than if she leaves.

She is ahead of schedule for making a return. She is already training with the first team. She implied that she would be back "very soon" which I took to mean maybe ASSE based on the upcoming schedule. I don't think she will play either of the AS Roma games due to the physicality of those two games.

I thought the Space gassed her up a bit and they said some things I really disagreed with, but they also held her accountable. There was a long back and forth about her injury (she basically severed two out of three ligaments in her ankle and was going around on one ligament). As a recap, she injured her ankle in a friendly against Australia in the World Cup, played in the World Cup, played an entire season with Lyon, played the Olympics, then decided to get surgery after the Olympics. The Space pointed out that it felt like she was using her last year at Lyon to rehab and then trot off to a new club. That raised her heckles a bit and she said that she basically sacrificed her body for a year for her club and country but knew she would be able to recover. She also said she understood why people felt the way they did, but she knows what her intentions were. In what is obviously a dig at Mbock, she said she would never disrespect the club (going to Barcelona would be a bit disrespectful but that's nitpicking I guess).

She was asked about Karchaoui's comments about how important it is for the French league for the best French players to stay in France. She said she agreed with the sentiment but pointed out there are basically two attractive clubs, Lyon and PSG, and it shifts the burden to those two clubs to be competitive rather than the league needing to step up. She also said that she feels there is progress being made in the league and it is going in the right direction.

She was asked about Lyon - PSG transactions. She said that while she understands that players have to do what is in their best interest, she doesn't understand why you would leave a club that wins for a club that doesn't. Bacha is a PSG hater first and a Lyon academy product second.

She was also asked whether Lyon has become less attractive as a club with the emergence of Chelsea and Barcelona. Her response was "Lyon never dies". She said that Lyon remains very consistent in terms of being in competitions and winning, but touched back on what she said earlier about how the burden has shifted to Lyon on staying competitive rather than the league stepping up.

In what will no doubt offend the academy propagandists, she said there is a massive gulf being between in the academy and being in the pro team, and that just because you shine in the academy it doesn't mean you will succeed with the pro team. The biggest difference is the level of intensity and the reality is most of the academy players aren't able to handle the intensity of the top level.

She was asked if she has talked to French players who play overseas about how they feel about different leagues. She said she has but wasn't going to name them, but if you read between the lines it was obvious she was talking about Cascarino.

Bacha also said that focusing on making the league being "family friendly" would curb rivalry games, which are the main clashes in a league. They discussed Lyon - PSG games and she said that when you're in a hostile environment, the stakes become higher and you play better football. Booing etc brings out the competitiveness, and she doesn't think muzzling supporters is the way forward.

She was originally meant to be a 10 before the academy turned her into being a defender.

She was also asked how she feels about fans criticism. They brought up how French fans feel very disillusioned about the state of the French team and wonder why they should bother supporting the French National Team when there is never anything to show for it. Bacha responded "are you trying to make me cry?" They pressed her more on it but she said that while she does think that you need to support a team when they're down, it's also up to them to win fans back.

She was asked about scheduling but specifically when you go from club to country. She said that typically, you get called up when you're playing well with your club. If you're playing well with the club, it means you're focused and doing your job. You're physically ready. She said that's why it's an issue when players from non-competitive clubs get called up because their clubs have lower standards, therefore it will affect their performance at the National Team. This was particularly relevant under Diacre's reign of terror.

They discussed the difference between a mental coach and a therapist. Lyon employs the latter. She said she has a mental coach to prepare her for the games and Lyon uses the therapists (there are three) to discuss what happens during/after the games. She said the decision to have a mental coach is personal, some players need them, others wouldn't work well with a mental coach.

They touched briefly on Montemurro. The Space was a little outraged at his comment about how Lyon needs to go as far as possible in the UWCL and that he didn't say the goal was to win. Bacha said that Lyon's goal was to get the UWCL back, and the Space commented on the linguistics of that - "get it back" implies that it belongs to Lyon, winning implies there isn't a possession. Bacha also defended Montemurro and said that he was a very humble coach, and that's why he didn't say in the same terms that she did.

[mercysought]

you're a pain in the ass, but when you do a thing, you do it right. ( from Vince to Viv!! )

the story of a new name // @mindsmade // accepting

   "I'm the best-damned thing that'ver happened to your complaining, sorry ass!"

Her brow arches almost all the way beyond her hairline and she gives him a biting smirk. She pushes the dark blue hair off her face, pushing past the sweat with the back of her half-gloved hand. Her fingers are clammy and covered in dirt like a sad three-day croquette from the french corner. Pulling her beanie, she passes her hand through her hair, looking to the city in the distance. Just a moment of rest before gettin' back to the work.

Vince sure had some lip. Give him a hand and he takes the whole arm sort of deal - but playful. She liked him, only hoped he wouldn't get smoked too soon. Smart mouth mercs often did, 'specially those that weren't locals - wasn't anything personal, it was often just business like that.

Throwing the shovel to the ground for a second, she huffs at the large pickup they had for the job. She fucking hated it with a burning passion which meant she was likely never gonna take a job like that -less they paid double. Then, maybe, she'd agree to get herself in a death box like that.

   "I'm the best at what I do, ." and you're fuckin' lucky to be workin' with me, my guy. Shows you how fuckin' far down she'd fallen off the food chain. Many could blame her but she'd hope that live in Atlanta coulda been different. Same dance, slightly different steps. If it was gonna be this way, she might as well be back home.

Though, she wouldn't deny that seein' some rando pulling iron on Padre hadn't fucking shaken something in her. She couldn't imagine how many things had changed for that to become a thing. No one in their right mind woulda done that, though she guessed there would always be enough gonks to continuously pain the streets of Night City red.

   "And now y'might ask: Viv, babe," she turns to him pulling a crumpled up cigarette box and a half empty lighter. With her thumb she opens the case ripping it off. It blows off in the wind, taken somewhere deeper into the desert. She pauses, giving a look, lighting her cigarette and pulling it sharply. Only once her lungs start burning does she finally proceed moving once more towards Vince, handing him her cigarette box "objectively- the most beautiful and charmin' gal in all of Night City-"

Obvious. Known to all. The best woman in all of JP731 area. The blessin' upon people's houses in Heywood at the young age of 13. "What is it exactly that you do?"

She picks up the shovel again. Yeah, she didn't think she'd be doin' this sort of job again without charging triple. Diggin' even in the late sun made her want to die. Well, maybe not die but as close as she'd likely get. More, she should make sure that new contracts knew that the dead bodies were their problem, not hers. Might need a couple of more jobs before she started makin' such demands but oh well - this was shit and she hated it.

   "Cleanin' people's closets. One could say that I'm a virtuoso."

[frostyreturns]

Frosty Ruins "Here Comes Peter Cottontail 1971"

Just like with Christmas and with anything Christian there is going to be a culture of trying to shift focus away from Christ and onto some goofy nonsense that has nothing to do with it. For the celebration of Christs death and resurrection we have…the easter bunny, painted eggs and chocolate. And now this year we also have the government tranny holiday trying to steal focus.

Now with Santa and all that I understand it and am ok with it more because it still ties in with the theme. Jesus was brought gifts so we bring each other gifts…santa is based on a saint who brought the poor/orphaned presents and the whole idea of giving is consistent with Christian values…it makes more sense. With Easter it's just a whole bunch of totally unrelated nonsense. Rabbits have nothing to do with Christ or the celebration, painting and hunting for eggs also have nothing to do with anything, even the name Easter has nothing to do with Christ. However It's a bunch of nonsense that if people choose to do it as part of their celebration of course there's nothing wrong with that. I've said before I'm totally ok with coopting other celebrations and integrating with other things…Easter is more of a celebration of spring, and even spring can be reflected in the resurrection story. So I personally get nothing from the easter decor and the non-Christian easter traditions but I don't begrudge anyone who does. Even as a kid I wasn't really into the aesthetics of easter…I liked that we got chocolate but that was it.

What I do like however is a good Rankin Bass holiday special, so in this instance I was willing to give it a chance. Though the rudderless nature of the story has the characters all seeming ridiculous. I'm not sure why the host is a leprechaun man, or why there's a caterpillar that's also a frenchman, or why one of the charactes is a hat…like just a hat. I mean is it possible to be more removed from the meaning of the holiday than jewish people writing a song for a french wormguy to sing to a rabbit about painting american flag eggs for july 1st? Almost sounds intentionally far removed doesn't it? The only thing that would make it more obvious of a subversion attempt was if it had witches in it or something…oh wait it does.

The premise for the secular easter story is so thin this story has to contrive a time travel scenario and then borrow and interpose the facets of easter into all the other mainstream holidays. The irony that the villain at one point tells Santa (who yes is also in this) to stick to his own holiday is palpable. I wasn't a fan of the throwing all the holidays in a blender thing and never have.

The plot is too goofy and not even in a magical cartoon kind of way…it's almost like a reflection of politics, they are trying to decide who the new easter bunny should be. One of which is a child hating ass hole who hates easter and wants to ruin it and ruin their home and way of life. So of course they have to follow their constituion and let this guy have a chance even though absolutely nobody thinks they would be a good easter bunny and they cheat to win. Actually it's a perfect metaphor for politics.

But one of the funny parts of the story is that part of the villains scheme to ruin easter is to declare rabbits and chicks will no longer be the symbols of the holiday and instead they would have to make it "spiders and octopuses"…and I'm just here like…ok, that's not any less arbitrary than rabbits and chicks why not?

I do love the stop motion animation style and some of the visual gags are excellent. I'm totally indifferent to the music though. It's not bad, I don't have anything negative to say about it but I also don't particularly like it, so I guess I'll just say it's not for me. I know some of the music was very memorable for kids who grew up with this movie...but mostly it's just the last titular song they remember.

One of the things that most bothers me about this version of the easter bunny is the way they depict the easter bunny as openly approaching children and offering them eggs in person. It kind of ruins the idea of the easter bunny hiding chocolates and stuff, it didn't even get easter egg hunting right…like that's the one solitary interesting thing about the secular easter and they fucked that up. There's no magic or mystery for kids. They just have to… go oh this is a make believe story because on easter I've never seen an acual bunny handing out eggs directly to me so it must be made up. And the way he goes about trying to give them out for other holidays by just making shit up is also annoying and makes the main character less sympathetic.

It was also really weird how they stuffed in a romance thread into the last 10 minutes of the movie with a character they just introduced us to. Overall I'm comfortable saying this was a bad movie with a few small redeeming qualities.

C-

0 Jesuses/10

[aprillikesthings]

waiting for a pizza to arrive and for a cake to cool enough to frost in honor of @malafight's birfday

SO gonna start the next episode

s2 ep7 reunion! (last ep of the second season by Netflix's numbering)

she still sleeps on a hard cot, just a pretty one ;_;

but also don't sleep with your hair up like that you will ruin your hair and your hairline omg

but also why do you sleep with A KNIFE

I mean yay this is the episode where we meet Bow's dads but also, again, trans!Bow headcanons stay winning

THE SOCKS WITH SANDALS LOLOL

aahaha

bless the animators for this one aaaaahahah (she thought she spotted Shadow Weaver)

omg he has a First Ones tattoo that's like us having a tattoo in like cuneiform. Or maybe Latin.

THIRTEEN??????

he says, in front of two princesses who are currently involved in a war

plot plot one of his dads fought in the original war and came back to his village destroyed and vowed to never get mixed up "princesses and their war" ever again

look I know Bow's giving a little speech about his dads but my brain saw this and went "...communion wafers?!"

(my church doesn't even DO wafers we do home-made gluten free bread)

OKAY so I remember when I saw this episode the first time, it occurred to me that in any other show, Bow pretending to go to a boarding school only to ACTUALLY be a rebel fighter would be an obvious analogy for being gay! Oh wait I found that post.

...why does Bow call his dads by their first names

also Adora keeps pronouncing everything in something weirdly close to a bad French accent--like putting the emphasize on the wrong syllables of any given word or phrase on a misguided attempt at sounding smart

another one for the "never pause she-ra" subreddit

also the SOUNDS Catra makes, the voice actor must've really had a good time with this one ahahaha

FANGIE (it took multiple tries to get this one)

but yeah Scorpia's attempt at comfort/cuddling did lead to Catra shouting her actual problem so it kinda worked

but yeah Hordak's little recorder baby heard the whole thing

BACK TO BOW'S DADS

cackling at them correcting "She-Ra." "We think it was 'Her-Ra'"

....i'm gonna have to edit the reddit post to add this one

Watching Bow's dads argue about whether Serenia was a real person sounds like people arguing over whether people from the Bible were real lol (for the record: in some cases we have outside evidence they existed and in some cases we do not)

DON'T GET TATTOOS IN LANGUAGES YOU CAN'T READ, FOLKS (without multiple people confirming the meaning)

also WHY can she read this stuff? did Shadow Weaver teach her? I forget

Bow's dads have a First Ones artifact, they ask Adora what it says, turns out it's a password (Eternia!) and it OPENS and--

whoops!

can we just enjoy the fact that three men are hiding behind a table while two women kick this monster's ass???

the monster just wanted the gem runestone shard they had sitting on display in the library and now it's a nice chill orb again

As someone who, again, was a child in the 1980's, the subversion of some tropes is just very, very pleasing.

That, and the sheer degree to which this is a HUGE analogy for coming out. Like. They hit all the narrative beats of people who are scared to come out only to find out their parents are actually fine with it.

On a personal note: when I was 25 and told my mom I had a girlfriend, her response was, and I quote, "Ew!" To which I responded: "Why are you picturing it, mom?!"

My dad figured out I wasn't straight before I told him, the same way a lot of people did, which was that I was (am) completely unsubtle about checking people out. (My brothers told me about this, side note; they'd overheard him trying to convince my mom I was bisexual and my mom kept saying "but she's had so many boyfriends" and my dad and brothers were like "do you know what bisexual means???")

That said when I realized I was gay and not into men anymore, I told my dad in the kitchen on Christmas after a couple glasses of wine by just blurting out completely apropos of nothing, "I think I'm just gay," to which he responded with a shrug and "Yeah, alright." Like, sure it could've gone better but also tbqfh it could've gone worse, so I'll take it.

(As mentioned on previous posts my dad is dead. My mom is completely chill about my partners.)

on a related note:

oh right this is when we lean Etheria doesn't have stars--up to that point I know I'd just interpreted the lack of stars in the night sky shots as like, an artistic choice

plot plot Serenia is a constellation that only appears over the Crimson Waste in the summer (oh they DO have seasons) and Bow's dads beg them not to go

Catra's just really cute here

anyway the little recorder critter plays Catra admitting to losing Shadow Weaver, Hordak uses a fancy magical device to suck all the air out of the space Catra's standing in and berates her for losing Shadow Weaver and lying about it until Catra passes out.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN

END OF SEASON TWOOOO

Also I'm full of pizza and cake :D

[justasimpleraccoon]

Boy oh boy I just watched the first episode of TFA in french and lemme tell you...

Its goofy as fuuuuuuck.

No shade to the French voice actors I think they did a great job. it's just it's sound so childish? Sure the VO wasn't without some silliness but now it feels like they ramp it up to eleven. It's almost painful to hear and (very funny)

Without further ado here is my thought and complaints about them.

I will also grade them on how much I feel they fit their character.

(fair warning I watched only the first episode in French so things might be different during the rest of the series.)

Optimus Prime : Sounds heroic enough. Fits the mature down to earth persona of Optimus. But it is a bit bland, lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe the inherent charisma of the VO? 9,5/10

Ratchet : He sounds more like a middle-aged man than a grumpy geriatric so it feels a bit weird. But not it's exactly too bad either, it has its own charm. 8,5/10

Bulkhead: Still has a bit of a stereotypical big-boy voice but it's way less obvious. I actually like it better than the original 10/10

Bumblebee: Much more high-pitched. Thankfully not enough to be actually grating to my ear. Actually fits Bumblebee's personality. 8,5/10

Prowl : the picture-perfect annoying cunt. He sounds like a stereotypical obnoxious wise guy. Hearing him just makes me want to kick his pretentious ass. 0/10

Sentinel : Surprisingly less annoying than Prowl. in fact, he sounds a bit bland for such a loud personality. Still pretentious enough thought. 8/10

Ultra Magnus : Again like Ratchet he sounds more like a middle-aged dude. Only it doesn't bring its own unique charm to the table, it sounds boring as fuck. (Also I can hear him fucking breathe, what the fuck was the VA doing) 3/10

Lugnut : Doesn't sound much like his VO but he is charmfull enough on it's own so it passes. Nothing much to say about it. 8/10

Blackarchnia: Sounds like a deeply annoyed middle-aged high-society lady. Deeply unnerving, at least for me. but again decent enough. 7/10

Blitzwing : Icy sounds like a different type of pretentious prick than Prowl, the kind that will insult your intelligence. Hothead is just some angry guy and Random sounds a bit bland. Bare minimum 5/10

Megatron: For some reason they artificially deepened his voice which is a bit weird when you ear it the first time but actually suits him. He sounds like the big bad guy and I think it's sexy of him. 9/10

And now for the crowning jewel of this post, the reason why I have made this post in the first place.

The most uniged of all :

Starscream

Babygirl, all this screeching, and screaming has finally ruined your vocal cords permanently, you sound like you're going through robot puberty and you lost your voice at the same time. You are a ban to my ears, you render me deaf. You're perfect, just perfect.

10000000/10

In conclusion

The VO ranges from bad to decent to good to very good to pure perfection.

Small problem they heavily changed the script so it doesn't exactly flow as well with the VO. And their pronunciations of names and terms is just confusing.

I'm going to do the rest once I'm done watching the first season. It's going to be fun 🙃🙃🙃

[classickook]

see through | rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe is drawn to you and has been trying to get your attention for years, but you don't give him the time of day, always brushing him off and exuding a cold exterior, until the day he finally gets you to warm up to him and admit how you truly feel.

warnings: none (i think?)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: so this ended up going somewhere i wasn't originally planning and i lowkey hate it but whatever, i hope you still like it <3

Y/N felt a presence next to her, the scent of a familiar cologne encroaching on her personal space. Someone was propped up against the edge of her locker, hands in pockets and a charming grin gracing his lips. “Y/N, hey.”

She spared him a quick glance before turning back to her books. “And you are?” She didn’t need to ask that question, she already knew. Rafe Cameron: star quarterback, class president, and a giant pain in her ass. Everyone on campus knew who he was, and if they didn’t, well, someone from his posse would certainly fill them in.

He chuckled, broad shoulders rising with the movement. “Really? Rafe Cameron?” he asked, pointing a finger to his chest. “We’ve only been classmates for three years.”

“Hmm, doesn’t seem to ring any bells,” she said, closing her locker door a smidge too forcefully, and beginning the trek to her next class.

He quickly fell into step next to her. “Hey, did I do something?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like you dislike me an awful lot and I’m trying to figure out why.”

She came to a stop and faced him. “Wow, am I that transparent?”

“What?”

“Look, Cameron—”

“Rafe.”

“Right,” she said, dismissively, knowing full well what his name was. “Listen, I’m kind of in a hurry right now, so could we continue this conversation later?” Or never, she thought.

He scratched behind his ear, ruffling his hair a bit in the process. “Uh… y-yeah, I guess that’s fine. But I—”

“Great!” And with that, she turned around and continued walking to class, leaving the frustratingly charming boy behind her and feeling her resolve slowly begin to crumble.

“Y/N!”

She groaned internally at the voice calling out to her—his voice. She had been trying to avoid him all day, but he somehow always managed to find her and burrow his way under her skin.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rafe said, slightly out of breath from his jog over to her. “I’ve been calling your name. Did you not hear me?”

She forced a smile. “Guess not.”

“Oh. Um, do you think we could maybe talk now? If you have time?”

She sighed. “Sure, why not.”

He coughed nervously. “Great. Um, listen. I really don’t know what I did or if we got off on the wrong foot or something, but could we start over? Maybe be friends? Or something close to friends?”

“Why?”

“I just—I think you’re really great and your input in class is incredible—”

“Class? What class?”

He raised an eyebrow. “French literature? We’ve been in the same class all semester? I literally sit right behind you.”

“Oh. Must not have noticed.” That was a lie. Of course she had noticed.

Rafe felt his cheeks heat but continued his speech like he had practiced. “Anyway, I think you’re smart and talented and I’d really like to get to know you better if you’d let me.”

She thought about it for a moment, or, at least pretended to. Did she want to be his friend? Yes. But did she want to be so obvious about it? After all these years watching him from afar—living his perfect life, top of his class, star athlete, surrounded by slews of other classmates vying for his attention—hell no. She didn’t want to be that girl, and she had spent all this time making sure of it. She would not fall victim to Rafe Cameron’s charms and become just like the rest of his posse. Or, if she was being honest with herself, she just simply didn't think she was good enough for him.

She met his gaze. “I suppose. I mean, we’re in the same literature class anyway. Wouldn’t hurt to have another study partner, so might as well.”

“Statistics and business managment, too.”

“What?”

“We have three classes together.”

“Oh.” She must’ve played her role a little too well, to the point where she truly didn’t notice him at times. The realization stung a little.

“So? Would you maybe want to go grab a coffee sometime? My treat,” he said with an easy smile.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Another lie. She loved coffee.

“Oh, um. Tea, then? Or we could go somewhere else. Whatever you want—”

“I’m just messing with you, Cameron. Coffee would be great.”

His expression relaxed. “Okay. How about tomorrow after class? We could walk together?”

“Sure.” And this time, she allowed something that felt like a genuine smile to the boy.

True to his word, Rafe was waiting for Y/N just outside the door of her last class sporting a sweet yet shy smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Greetings, Cameron.”

He didn’t bother correcting her, actually becoming comfortable with the use of his surname from her. “Ready to go?” he asked.

She waved her hand in front of them. “Lead the way.”

They made the trek to the nearest coffee shop on campus in comfortable silence, crunching through fallen leaves and enjoying the crisp autumn air, their breaths escaping them in visible puffs.

Holding the door open for her in a gentlemanly fashion she wasn’t expecting, Rafe led Y/N up to the counter to order; a honey oatmilk latte for her, a plain black coffee for him, and two different pastries for them to share per his insistence. Apparently, the boy had a sweet tooth, something she found incredibly endearing.

While she initially thought the outing would be filled with awkward silences and forced smiles, Y/N actually found it relatively easy to fall into conversation with him. He was kind and charming and held her gaze while she answered each of his questions, giving her his full undivided attention, even going so far as to tilt his body in her direction, just enough to be noticeable. In short, she felt comfortable with him, something she truly didn’t believe would happen considering her conflicted feelings toward the boy. Rafe was perfect and completely out of her league, but she fell for him anyway. All these years she had tried her hardest to stay out of his way, hoping she could make it to graduation without ever confessing how she felt.

The pair spent several hours studying for their three shared classes to which the topic of conversation moved to talking about their families, plans after college, favorite books and taste in music, and they quickly lost track of time.

As they were packing up their belongings, Rafe surprised her with a final parting question. “Do you think we could do this again sometime?"

Y/N pretended to think about it, even going so far as to tap her chin in thought. “Hmm,” she said, watching the boy squirm at her hesitance. “Sure, Cameron.” She could’ve sworn she heard the slightest breath of relief escape him and grinned internally.

He surprised her again when he asked to exchange phone numbers. “Oh, right. That would help with the whole studying bit,” she said, handing him her phone.

Rafe chuckled. “You can text me whenever, not just for studying.” He typed his number into her phone and handed it back to her, fingers brushing hers in the process. She blushed and hoped he couldn’t see.

Now fully satisfied with each other's numbers, the pair exited the coffee shop, said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways.

Rafe was waiting for Y/N outside her class, just like he did every other time before, their coffee “dates” becoming a weekly outing for the two. Y/N wasn’t quite sure she wanted to refer to these... events… as dates, the term seeming too comfortable, too rushed. But, God, did she want them to be dates. She could feel herself slipping each time she came in contact with the boy, talking to him, really getting to know him and falling for him even more.

And, again, just like all the other times, Rafe insisted on paying for her drink. She adamantly refused, feeling a bit guilty, but he always insisted that it was nothing, that he was happy to pay for her.

Rafe rolled his eyes at her now, but there was an affectionate grin pulling at his lips. “Seriously, Y/N. It’s really not a big deal. Let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Sitting at their usual table, they began their weekly study session, quizzing each other and sharing notes, until, once again, their conversation bled into different territory.

Rafe cleared his throat. “I have something for you,” he said before leaning over to retrieve something from his backpack, pulling out a carefully wrapped box and sliding it across the table to her. “A little birdie told me that it was your birthday.”

The girl raised her brows, eyeing the gift. “How did you know?”

“Your roommate,” he said sheepishly. “We share a class and she happened to mention it in passing, so I thought I would get you something.” He scratched his jaw. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat and had to stop herself from crying at the sweet gesture. She had no idea that the boy had paid such close attention to her. Truly, she didn’t know that he had noticed her at all over the past few years, but now…

She pulled the gift toward her, taking extra care to remove the ribbon and unwrap the decorative paper. It was a book.

“It’s nothing special, but it’s one of my favorites and I thought you might like to give it a read and we could discuss it together? I marked some of my favorite passages, but maybe you could do so as well? I’d really like to know what you think,” Rafe rambled, his words melding together.

She flipped through the pages and saw that there were, in fact, marked passages, underlinings, and annotations in the margins. Y/N felt a fluttering in her chest at the sight. It was so sweet and genuine and specially made just for her, a gift infinitely better than any typical store-bought gift she had received in the past.

Rafe Cameron, as it turned out, was so much more than she had originally thought him to be. He was thoughtful, smart, honest, and at this moment, completely vulnerable with her. And for that, she fell for him even further, like dandelion fluff drifting away from its center, letting go and setting itself free.

Y/N lifted her eyes from the book to meet his gaze, and she smiled at the way he was hunched over slightly, fingers drumming nervously on the wooden table. “Thank you so much, Rafe,” she said, and she hoped he could feel how much she meant it.

The use of his first name didn’t go unnoticed by the boy and he returned her smile in full, mouth pulling at the corners in a set of parentheses that peeked out at her, enclosing that smile like another gift and saving it just for her. “You’re welcome.”

She eyed the book again, already looking forward to returning to her dorm so she could crack open the spine and fall into the carefully marked pages.

“How about another pastry for the birthday girl?” he asked kindly, already rising from his chair. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she said.

He winked at her. “You got it.”

“I’m about to say something and I hope you can be honest with me,” Rafe started when they were comfortably seated at their usual table, coffee cups already placed between them and warming their hands.

“I’ve been enjoying myself these past several weeks and I really like you, which I think you might have been able to tell by now?” The last sentence came out as more of a question than a statement. Y/N swallowed audibly and tried to hide the shaking in her hands as Rafe continued, “I don’t mean to assume anything, but I think you might possibly feel the same way about me? At least, I hope you do. I can’t really be sure. You’re kind of hard to read,” he said, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a small sip to prevent himself from confessing even further and end up embarrassing himself. Her eyes followed the movement.

Y/N figured it was probably time to tell the boy how she felt, how she had been feeling over the past few years. Screw her original plan. It had been foolish of her to think she could hide this secret from him, so she told him everything, watching as his eyes lit up at each new revelation. But guilt gripped him when she confessed that she had always thought him to be too good for her. God, that tore him apart, hating how she had avoided him all this time, not even giving him the time of day, just because she assumed he wouldn’t care.

“That is the furthest thing from the truth,” he told her firmly. He tilted his chin down in an attempt to meet her gaze, which had fallen to her hands resting in her lap. When that didn’t seem to work, he reached around the table until his fingers wrapped around the edge of her chair and dragged her over to his side. She gasped and finally looked at him, and he was suddenly close, oh so close, she could see a dusting of freckles across the tops of his cheeks that she hadn’t noticed before.

He crooked his index finger under her chin and she could feel the cool metal of his ring pressing into her skin. “Don’t assume something like that, okay? You have no idea how perfect you are.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “I am far from perfect.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he said, and the way he said it left no room for argument.

Yes, Y/N might have fallen first, but Rafe fell harder.

He reached for her hand, his thumb sliding across her skin in soft, soothing motions. “Go on a date with me,” he said. “A real one this time, not just coffee.”

She felt giddy and light and happier than ever. “I’d love that,” she said.

Rafe leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling back and giving her a dopey smile. “Perfect.”

taglist: @pogueslandia

[nemo-in-wonderland]

Miss Thalia Vivianne Thériaud

Name: Thalia Vivianne Thériaud

Date and Place of Birth: 24th March 1986, Orléans.

Height: 1.65m (5′5′’)

MBTI: ESTJ

Ensemble: Choleric

Main Colour: White and Wisteria

Theme Song: "Suddenly I see" KT Tunstal

AND I AM DONE. GOOD GODS, I AM DONE.

Here, allow me to present to you my latest oc, Miss Thalia Vivianne Thériaud! She will be part of the Resident Evil fandom, and I created her to complement Chris Redfield (if it wasn't obvious. I mean, I am not exactly subtle about these stuff). I was actually happy to create her because I wanted to work with a character that was closer to my age and to my own mindset, so Miss Thériaud here offered me this opportunity!

I still need to finish prepping up all the specifics for her (still dusting off all my knowledge about the RE Lore), but for now I can say that she is working with the BSAA as their Chief Research Officer, located in Europe (because Miss Thériaud is French, born and raised in Orléans). She is a 34 years old woman with a divorce on her back, a self-made woman, unafraid of working her ass off to reach the results she wants and the goals she has set for herself. She is stubborn, hardworking, confident, secure of her place in the world, and unafraid of letting others have a piece of her mind, especially if those people try to tear her down or belittle her for being a woman working in a field of men. She is strong, fierce, classy, and would cut a bitch with elegance if needed. She is independent, and unafraid of taking decisions, ready as she is to take responsibility for them. On the downside, she sometimes can be a tad brash and bossy, and her stubbornness can lead her to not listen to people suggestions (such as when she married her first husband at 24 and her loved ones told her that it was a bad choice -and indeed it was). She is vengeful, especially with people that try to hurt her or her loved one on purpose, so she won't hesitate to make them pay.

well, this is just a small bio I have ready for her. I will come forward with more info the more I define her and her character and especially more info about her relationship with Chris! <3 Cannot wait to draw and talk more of her!

Hope you will like her!!

--Nemo

[leftsidebonfire]

At Our Place, We Do Four

Tagging: @shaylistic @bisexualsmackingnoises @dwellers-hollow @koldbrew @its-that-guy-again @witchofcustom @plaguedoclavender @milfnaki @boboleyn @thisbloghasnoaesthetic @cutie-pie-chan (I tagged all the peeps who reacted to the post so sorry if you didn't want the tag haha) @ocfairygodmother

Thank you @ungalossimp for the idea!!

The French have their own way of greeting companions.

"It's good to meet you, mademoiselle~" purred the hulking Frenchman before me, as he gently shook my hand. "My name is Jean Pierre Polnareff."

His accent was cute, I'd give him that. But I hardly had time to hear it before he used the gentle grip on my hand to pull me a little closer, kissing both of my cheeks. Left, then right. Truthfully, it was a bit more like touching his cheek against mine with a small kissing noise, but the abruptness of it was surprising. I could feel my cheeks reddening out of shock more than anything.

My eyes scanned the group around me while Polnareff wasn't looking, quickly trying to make eye contact with any of them to see if I should be concerned that he kissed me so suddenly.

But eye contact with the Egyptian man, Avdol, seemed to relieve my stress. He had a calm sense about him, almost as if he could see into my thoughts and remind me with a look. He's French. They do that. It's a common greeting.

So as Polnareff stepped back with a smile, I met it without needing to admit that I'd ever questioned him.

It really didn't take long for me to enjoy his company. I didn't expect it in the least, finding his goofy behavior to be sometimes detrimental and obnoxious, but I found my eyes drifting toward him more and more.

I had heard it said before that when you laugh, you look toward the person you feel most comfortable with. Which would explain why I was always looking at him. He made me laugh, and he made me feel comfortable. And, strange hair aside, he was growing on me.

In fact, the time I fell for him was embarrassingly fast. He was remarkably well kept. Clean, muscular, fit, funny, humorous. A smile you could see across the room. Freckles from the desert sun growing more and more each day on his fair skin. The glow of sunburn making a permanent blush across his nose and cheekbones. The way he'd swing an arm around me so my short ass could keep up with the group of fucking titans.

I had almost forgotten about the kiss greeting, until the day the group split up. I had gone with Avdol and Jotaro, while Mr. Joestar and Kakyoin had split off with Polnareff. Nothing much was happening, and Jotaro was the quiet and intimidating type, so Avdol struck up the conversation.

"I see you've gotten closer with Polnareff," he noted. It made me surprised.

"Yeah, he's really nice. Why do you say that?"

"Ah, it's nothing really. It's good to see his spirits up again. He's a bit notorious for bad luck, and he seems to cheer up around you."

"Around me?" I repeat, dumbfounded. Of course, he made me happy, too, but I wasn't expecting to have had a significant impact on anyone.

Avdol didn't say more than a chuckle, so I let the conversation go.

Now, I wasn't blind. But part of me wondered if every other woman on Earth was. I knew Polnareff liked to flirt. I knew how easily distracted he was by a nice pair of legs or a pretty face or anything somewhat beautiful that walked withing sight range. It wasn't long before I equated that little feeling in my stomach with jealousy. It wasn't a thing I'd admit out loud, but with the way Avdol brought up Polnareff, I had to wonder if I was more obvious than I'd thought.

And then, as the two groups converged to report their findings, Polnareff was there again. Flamboyantly waving all the way down the street, like an overgrown and humanized golden retriever trying his hardest to make his way to us through the busy crowd.

"Katie, mademoiselle, how are you?" He said with his arms wide, clasping my shoulders with his large hands. He dipped down and gently kissed both of my cheeks once more. Left. Right.

I noticed one subtle difference. I could feel the warmth of lips against my skin. Instead of the near-kiss cheek touch of the first meeting, he was quick to plant an actual kiss on me this time. Was this intentional? Or just him feeling comfortable around me?

And then I noticed one other subtle difference beyond that. It was the way my heart quickened and I felt the same shock I did from the first time. My eyes widened and I froze a little in place. A handsome man kissed both of my cheeks without even thinking twice! Everything around me seemed a little fuzzy, and maybe a bit brighter than before. I was warm. Extra warm. Beyond Egyptian-Sun-Warm. The freshly kissed cheeks of mine pulled up unto a smile as he grinned down at me, so casual, so calm, as if he hadn't just made my heart swell. As if he didn't even know that he was handsome and consumed my waking thoughts with that kiss.

I didn't think a simple action would awaken anything in me. I liked him, sure, but it wasn't like the kiss meant anything. Many people, even beyond the French, all greeted each other with a kiss. Friends, family, strangers, men, women, it wasn't something to get excited about.

But I did.

That night, as Polnareff parted ways to get to his hotel room, he bid adieu to the group with a wave and a goodbye fit for each of them. Kakyoin and Jotaro with a sort of clumsy bow and a clap in the shoulder, Joseph with a hearty handshake, and me... a spine crushing hug followed by a kiss to each cheek. Left, right.

"Goodnight, mademoiselle~" He said in a sing-song voice. I found myself blushing and gently touching my cheek as he moved on to say goodnight to Avdol.

It put pause to my thoughts when I watched Polnareff repeat the actions to Avdol. Gently touching their cheeks and meeting with a little kissing noise. And it brought me back to reality. He's French. It's just his culture. But the smile wouldn't leave my face, not even when I made eye contact with Avdol after Polnareff had left. Avdol's lips turned up in a knowing smile. Damn fortune teller could see right through me, but he wouldn't say it out loud. I continued to cover my cheeks as I quickly made my way to bed.

I laid on my back, sprawled out as I stared at the ceiling that night. Plans were brewing in my head and I didn't even know why. It felt like I had just proved to myself that he didn't mean anything by a cheek kiss, and yet... he made it look so easy. Have I been inside my own head my whole life? If I could remove the thought that a kiss had to be inherently romantic, and that kissing a friend had to be awkward, I could do it too! All I knew, though, was that I missed the feeling he gave me whenever he was close. I missed the warmth of his cheek and the rough callouses on the tips of his fingers where he'd held my hand, and held my shoulders.

I didn't sleep at all that night.

The next morning, I was up for breakfast as soon as light cracked through my window. The hotel offered free food, and in trying times like these, I was not going to pass up the opportunity. And for lack of sleep, I could sure use a coffee. I didn't even drink coffee.

I sat at one of the empty tables by the breakfast counter with a bagel and coffee, hoping to maybe catch up on sleep in the car or something. Sleepy eyes unfocused onto nothing until a most beautiful and rare sight came before them. Jean Pierre Polnareff, in sweat pants and a baggy black shirt, his long silver hair undone and cascading around his shoulders. If I thought I had feelings for him before, it was nothing compared to how I was feeling right now!

His tired eyes lit up when he saw me sitting there, and suddenly I wished I had better pajamas on beyond a stupid old band shirt. I started to stand up when I saw him, because I knew I'd be greeted with one of his crushing hugs, and I didn't want to miss it. It was like I couldn't be in a bad mood around him.

"Ma chérie!" He said loudly as he wrapped both arms around me. Squeezed tightly against his chest, I made a mental note to commit this moment to memory. I tried my hardest to squeeze him back just as tightly.

"I hope you slept well," he smiled as he pulled back. His hands were still on my upper arms, and I recognized the movement of his head enough to realize he was going for another kiss! It was hard to not feel giddy inside as he leaned down, his silver hair hanging down perfectly into my face. We were once more cheek-to-cheek, and he kissed me twice.

Each kiss felt like a burn. A good burn. But I could feel some sort of imaginary tingle every place our skin had connected. He once again left me blushing where I stood.

"I didn't sleep that well, but that certainly woke me up," I tried to joke. It was met with a hearty laugh, and he kept his arm around my shoulder. Having to tilt a little more than usual, he rested his cheek against the top of my head and just stood there for a while, snuggled up against me.

It wasn't long before the others came down as well, Joseph in a bathrobe, Jotaro in his tank top without the jacket, Kakyoin in a white shirt, and Avdol almost fully dressed, but without his coat, and his hair down. All of them, so well put together for just waking up. It felt like a calm moment among the storm. Instinctively, I felt like pulling away from Polnareff, lest they tease me over it and me it too obvious that I had feelings for him, but Polnareff's grip on my arm wouldn't budge. And if he didn't care, neither would I. He hugged me there for a few moments longer before breaking away to greet the others.

Avdol met my eyes once more, and this time, I knew he knew something. It was in the way he smirked, and the way I couldn't keep eye contact.

After breakfast, Polnareff stood up, stretched, and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I think it's time I go pack my things. I'll meet you all back down in the lobby by 10."

Much to my surprise, I felt his hand on my shoulder and another quick peck to my cheeks before Polnareff was out of sight.

I must have had some sort of reaction that I didn't realize, because as Polnareff parted ways, I noticed a sort of shared look amongst the group, and they were all looking at me.

"What?" I challenged, too which Joseph replied with a smile.

"Ohhh, nothing~"

"I would recommend some sunscreen today, Katie," Kakyoin noted with a hint of amusement. "Your face is looking a little red."

Fuck, fuck, they were on to me. I couldn't look at anyone properly.

"Yeah," was all I could stammer out, covering my cheeks with my hands. When I stood up to go to my room, Avdol met me halfway, out of earshot from the others.

"You're becoming acquainted with La Bise, I see," Avdol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I groaned, just wanting to be away from the teasing.

Avdol heard me, but persisted. "Its a tradition common in many cultures. If you'd like to return the greeting, it's really very simple. The French start with the left cheek, lean in, touch the cheeks together, and make a kissing sound. And repeat the same on the other side. It's common as a hello, a goodbye, or a congratulations."

As Avdol explained the phenomenon of cheek kissing to me, he demonstrated, holding my arm the way Polnareff had and softly touching his cheek against mine with a kiss. It was in every way identical to what Polnareff had done, and yet I didn't feel like I was about to combust on the spot when he did it.

I didn't really know what to say. I was grateful for the information, but I didn't know what he was getting at. I suppose now that I know the ins and outs of it, I could return the favor, if that was what he was implying.

"Ah, that makes a lot of sense now," I said, for lack of anything else to say. "I didn't know there was an etiquette to it."

"Oh, and one more thing. Next time he goes to greet you that way, you could say to him, chez nous on en fait quatre."

I let out a nervous laugh. "What does it mean?"

"I'm a bit rusty on my translation, but I know it's also a common response."

"Oh, now I just know you're fucking with me. How do I know I'm not about to say something stupid or offensive?" I crossed my arms. His smile gave away everything. I wanted to trust him, but the last thing I wanted to do was humiliate myself in front of someone I had grown to like... a lot.

Avdol held up his hands innocently, as if he was trying to keep from laughing. "What type of person do you take me for, Katie?"

I gave him a scowl, but I knew I couldn't be mad at him. I pointed at my eyes and then to his.

"Fine. Fine. But if I end up offending him and he hates me forever, I'm fully blaming you."

"A fair deal." He chuckled. "Now go get your love."

"Hey!" I cried, my face burning hotter. He laughed a bit harder, turning away to take his seat and finish his breakfast.

I took a deep breath, going up to Polnareff's hotel room and gently knocking. It took a moment before the door opened, and there he was, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail to keep it out of his face. I felt my heart in my throat.

"Ah! Katie! Just who I was hoping to see!" He touched my shoulder, and I knew for a fact what he was preparing for. I had to hide the fact that I was about to go weak kneed for him. I returned the greeting this time, making the soft kissing noise as he moved from cheek to cheek.

He planted a kiss on each cheek and I had to suppress my nervous giggle. It was the time to trust Avdol... I just prayed he was right.

"C-Chez nous on en fait quatre."

Polnareff looked at me in shock and confused, and then seemed proud.

"Oh! My apologies, I didn't realize!"

Before I even had a moment to ask him what he needed to apologize for, he leaned in again, pressing his cheek against mine for a soft kiss. Left, right... Left, right. Four. Four kisses.

When he pulled back, he was smiling quite broadly. "Your French is beautiful, I didn't know you spoke it."

"Ah, it's... very little." I admitted. I couldn't tell him now that Avdol instructed me on it.

"Well, you're familiar with La Bise and your pronunciation is quite good for what you know. Perhaps I should teach you sometime~"

"Sure... that... that would be nice!" I placed my hand on top of his hand, and I noticed the way his eyes flicked toward it. "Would you like any help packing?"

"A-Ah, oui, merci, chérie!" He said with a wide smile. "Thank you!" And suddenly, the pinkness in his cheeks seemed to darken beyond his sunburn. He squeezed my hand a bit tighter before letting go and turning to pack. Gee, for a man who had no problem planting four kisses on me, well, technically six counting his first greeting, he sure seemed to have a reaction to gently holding hands. It was... cute.

Later that night, we separated after a dinner together, when Polnareff once again bid me goodnight with the usual kisses. I figured I'd be used to it at this point, but he made sure to kiss me four times this round, and I was left standing there dumbfounded again, on front of the others.

Avdol approached me after Polnareff left.

"So, you took my advice?"

"What did I say to him?"

"What, you're not happy with the result?"

Oh, he's trapped me now. Of course I was happy with the result, but how could I just admit that to him?

"I—" I couldn't look him in the eyes. "If I say yes, will you just tell me what I said to him?"

Avdol laughed and placed a calming hand on my shoulder.

"A rough translation is "at home, we make four." And what it means, in more casual terms is, "at my place, we do four." Kisses, that is. Different parts of France have different standards for kissing as a greeting. Some only do one, but others can do up to four. This was a polite way of telling him the proper number so he could greet you properly."

"Avdol... I'm not French, though." I mumble, avoiding all the rest of what he'd said.

"I think he knows that." He said, once again with that knowing smile.

"So why are you telling me this?"

"Friendly advice." Was all he said, with a smile. I pushed him. Lightly, of course, but enough to let him know he was right.

His advice served me better than I'd ever hoped. Every morning I was greeted with four kisses. And every night, the same: a bone crushing hug and four more kisses. And this wasn't even to mention any other time Polnareff felt it necessary to greet me or congratulate me. Figuring out a Stand User's powers? Four more kisses. The group split up and reunited? Four more. I found his hugs to be lingering more and more too. His hands roaming the expanse of my back as my cheeks pressed firmly into his neck and chest. I never wanted him to let go.

I forgot all about sleeping. Getting up early became a habit, just so I could be awake in time to see Polnareff sleepily stumble out of his hotel room and greet me with a soft "Good morning, mademoiselle," and another kiss. I started returning them, kissing his cheeks. It was the highlight of my day. Between being hunted down by agents of Dio, not getting enough sleep, and constantly being on my guard, I grew to look forward to my four kisses each day.

I tried to not feel bad about it. Did Polnareff ever realize that I had stopped viewing the kisses as friendly? Did he know how much I looked forward to the next breathtaking hug? Or how I laid awake at night, smiling so hard I couldn't sleep, because the only thing I could even think about was the softness of his skin and lips against my face? Had I convinced myself that there was something there, and was simply using his culture against him?

I kept hoping that one day, it would turn into more than a cheek kiss. I sought out a way to kiss him without it being weird, but my body failed me every time. Every time he would hold me just a little too long, just a little too tight. Every time he would pick out a seat specifically next to me. Every time a sweet French name crossed his lips, all of them causing butterflies and heat all over.

Ma Belle, ma Chérie, mon ange, ma lutine... It didn't matter that I didn't understand most of them. All it served to do was make me want to kiss him even more.

And one day, my wishing paid off.

It was after a long day on the road, and the hotel was long overdue, like an oasis of safety amongst all the trauma.

"Can I walk you to your room?" He had asked suavely.

"Sure, I'd like that," I replied with a smile.

The air felt different between us. He wrapped both arms around me protectively, cradling my head against his shoulder this time. We stood here for at least a minute or more. His hands would fidget against my back and we would find a way to tighten the hug. I took to gently rubbing his back, swaying a little on the spot.

He pulled back first and I knew what he was about to do. In my haste to meet him on the left cheek, the both of us misjudged the distance, which led to a soft brush of lips in the middle. We both froze on the spot and I was trying desperately to think of something to say to save my own ass.

I had kissed him. After weeks of waiting and hoping, our first kiss was a fucking accident! "Flustered" didn't even begin to describe the way I was feeling. I wanted to sink into the floor and stop existing from embarrassment, but he was still holding me just as tightly around the waist.

I took far too long stammering with a flushed face before I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. This man had been kissing me at least 8 times a day for several weeks in a row.

My face as red as his broken heart shaped earrings, I took a deep breath.

"At my place, we do four."

He looked visibly confused, his cheeks redder than sunburn.

"A-Ah—?"

I kissed him, softly, but more firm than the accidental one. This one was no mistake. This one was the one I'd meant to do for days, dreamed about for so many nights.

"That's two."

His face broke out into the widest smile I'd seen from him so far.

"Ah, you~"

He dipped me back with the enthusiasm of his third kiss and I nearly fell to the floor.

And for the fourth, my hands came up to clasp his face, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks. His arms latched around my waist, leaving no room between us at all as he held me there in that hotel hallway.

I felt dizzy when he let go, and was smiling so hard, my cheeks were aching. I had to stumble back and catch myself from how close we were standing.

"Jean Pierre. Would you share my room with me tonight?" I asked with a sigh of relief.

He looked like he could have cried from happiness, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles.

"Absolutely, mon amour~" He cooed, stringing his arm behind my back again.

I opened the door and brought him in, feeling like my body was floating

"You know...," He mused as he pulled me into his lap on the bed. "Some places in France do five."

[valeriwa]

kiss me baby

two: objectively speaking

summary: as the head of the very popular newspaper club, you have decided to heed the advice of the miya twins' fanclub and make a volleyball column. however, your club mutually agreed you'd be the one to gather content and coverage. something that started out as professional and friendly spiral out of hand as blushes rise and hearts race and a bunch of volleyball crazed doofuses think it's time you and mr-i-need-memories get together.

warnings: none

suna rintaro x fem!reader

masterlist || one || two || three

"and i'm l/n y/n, nice to meet you." you awkwardly bow, your lack of experience in socializing showing. the situation wasn't exactly comfortable either, the volleyball team had stopped mid-practice since the coach insisted you introduce yourselves right now.

ichika was almost hiding behind you, who could blame her? she was in a room with tall, intimidating athletes. her low energy rubbing off on you, you decide to turn to the coach to say it was okay to return to practice.

"coach, we'll be-"

"oh, you both should stay and start on your column and stuff. i was going to cut practice short anyway; the other coach didn't come," he said, shoving his things into a bag.

you stood there, and nodded after realizing that the prolonged silence could be taken as disrespectful.

and he just disappeared, leaving you, ichika and the vbc staring at each other. clearing you throat, you clapped your hands together.

"wanna head to a diner?"

"thanks sato," you said the waiter who brought your plate of fries and milkshake. he winked at you and mouthed a no problem.

"oh you two know each other?" osamu asked, catching onto the silent gestures.

"not really. staff's happy i brought a bunch of hot, athletic dudes to the diner." you groaned slightly that sato would blow up your phone later.

"oh we're hot?" atsumu smirked, but you didn't miss the dusting of pink on most of the boys. you groaned, hunching over.

"yeah, yeah, objectively speaking. you're not my type miya." you dipped a french fry into the special sauce before eating it, not bothering to look at atsumu's hurt face.

"excuse you, but i'm everyone's type." he puffed out his chest as he said so. you quirk an eyebrow and ignored him.

"kita-san, you have a surprisingly big fanbase. anything you want to say to them?" you asked, taking a sip of the milkshake. at your question, ichika frantically opens her notepad.

"calm down ichika, i'm sure kita-san will wait for you to get ready."

"oh- uh right, sorry," she mumbled, placing the pad and pen on the table for immediate use.

"oh, i didn't know i had a fanbase. but i'd thank them for supporting me?" he answers, obvious surprise on his face. huh he really didn't know.

"dry. moving on, suna, who forced you to cut your bangs like that?" a few people choked, you're not exactly sure who. but now that you look at him, he's kind of cute. objectively speaking, of course.

"myself." despite the indifferent exterior, you could tell he didn't expect your question. good.

"confident, that's nice-" your phone started ringing, and you looked at the contact name and sighed.

"ichika, take over, will you?" she nodded, a little nervous excitement bubbling in her and you took the phone and walked away from the table.

ichika had turned to the libero to make her question who listened intently before answering.

"now's really not a good time," you groaned into the phone, a little conscious of the stare you could feel on your back.

"oh yeah? where are you?" the familiar raspy voice spoke back, you could tell he just woke up.

"out with some people from school- that's not the point, did you call for a reason?"

"he kind of hurt his knee again-"

"that ugly ass piece of shit," you mumbled. however, you were close enough to the table for the team and ichika to hear you.

"oh god- i have to go, see you." and you hung up the phone and trudged back to the table.

"sorry about that, please continue," you gestured to ichika and osamu who was answering whatever her curiosity had urged her to ask.

"you sure?" it was suna. his question didn't really hold any care or concern, rather it was teasing.

"i'll just probably have to go to miyagi," you muttered, taking a way too long sip of your milkshake.

"what?" ichika asked, dropping her notepad and turning to face you. "we can't go on without you." a bit dramatic if you ask me. you took another sip, faced her and grabbed her shoulders.

"itsuki and yuki will be doing most of the work, you don't get to hear me saying you can do better and," you pause and gesture to the table of boys, "you can be the most envied girl in school, interview hot volleyball players even if one does have weird bangs." you swore atsumu snorted at that.

"if i knew any better, i'd say you have a crush on me," suna teased, looking at you with those same sleepy eyes. kind of hot. what- no, he's not hot. okay maybe just a little, objectively speaking.

you rolled your eyes at his comment and gestured towards ichika to continue with questioning right as sato brought another plate of fries. considerably larger this time.

"it's on the house, babe," he looked at you as he said it. oh he wanted to know if anyone here swung the other way. you would've laughed if the tiredness hadn't gotten the best of you.

"uh senpai, do you want to ask anything? i'm done." you sighed and nodded, straightening.

"anybody here gay?"

(sadly they weren't. sato's going to cry.)

a/n: i'm so sorry! exams suck ass and hopefully i'll be able to give y'all regular updates starting tmr!

taglist: @zeyyackerman @deathfreak45 @lilith412426 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

(bolded ones i'm unable to tag)

[i-need-air]

King & Queen. – Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader.

Summary: Fluff, Baku being extra while confessing, social media shenanigans.

Word count: 1784.

It's 4 AM, I'm a mess but I needed to get this off my chest. I'm testing the waters with my writings, it's been forever since I wrote anything and I wanted to throw myself a little bit into the fandom I've been obsessed with for the past months. I do hope you enjoy it. ♥

Bakugou Katsuki took pride in having such a large following online. Ever since the first year UA Sports Festival, both his Twitter and Instagram accounts got thousands and thousands of followers, mostly crushing over him and others just hating on him, and in both ways he loved the attention.

The Aesthetics™ he had were always on point and his Twitter was just filled with one sentence tweets, re-tweets of famous heroes, a somewhat dry, dark and/or sarcastic meme from time to time, only and only if it fit (again) his aesthetics. Sometimes he'd engage with the Bakusquad, specially Kaminari and Mina, both very active users, and [Y/N], answering to her tweets with a one word roast and little more.

After the second year UA Sports Festival though? His social media reached the 100k mark, skyrocketing into a small celebrity as he won the first place for two years in a row. But what made him reach such a large number was the way he won. Their battle for the first place was insane, such a difference compared to what he had to deal with Todoroki in the past. [Y/N] put an amazing fight, there's no doubt to that, but the woman overused her quirk and he knew her weakness, mostly since he sometimes (rarely, almost never, pft) observed her train with Icy-Hot or Deku. It was a spectacle to watch and it has even been televised for a whole week afterwards, critics applauding how promising UA's students were. And that's how it all started.

The shipping.

Images and even fucking edited music videos of their fight were everywhere. It was so obvious both of them enjoyed the fight, the little grins they shared as they attacked each other, the small comments both threw and the camera and mics everywhere picked, the look Bakugou Katsuki gave [Y/N] when she kicked his ass. Such an adoration, followed by his insane grin, ready for a challenge. The look [Y/N] gave him, as he took the first place medal with pride from Endeavor, thriving at the applauses from the public. Stars were put to shame compared to the sparks in her eyes. Oh, and the moment their orbs made contact exactly after that? The chemistry.

Bakuy/n was one of their names online, apart from variations of their hero names mixed together. The fandom was slowly picking up a name, mostly going with the first mentioned. And Katsuki? He was fucking aware of everything. Her social media was on radio silence, but this event made him think. Actually think, not half-ass an idea and just throw himself head on into it. And the conversation he overheard was just making him plot now.

Mina and [Y/N] were actually discussing this exact topic. The pink girl was thriving for it. Her Twitter account was now filled with subliminal messages about love and it made her poor friend anxious. Basically because this issue hasn't been addressed at all with Bakugou and she planned to keep it that way. Yet Mina, sweet, adorable, loving Mina was just pressing on it really badly, but thankfully she never did when both sides of Bakuy/n were in the same room/conversation.

"Isn't it like so romantic?" Mina's eyes shined, hands clapped, her gaze looking somewhere in the distance, daydreaming.

"No, it's not, it's weird..." her [h/c] haired friend answered, falling more into the couch of their living quarters, trying to hide from the world.

"It would be if it wasn't obvious you pin for each other!"

"Oh, god, please stop saying that."

"You're not denying it though!"

"MINA!"

Laughter coming from the pinkette filled the room as the blond man decided not to interrupt and leave, small grin on his face as [Y/N]'s groans just told him what he needed to hear. She definitely did not deny the attraction and whatever chemistry they had.

Which leads to the current situation.

The girl was sitting in the cafeteria, waiting for Ochaco and Mina to come around, phone in hand as she scrolled mindlessly through Twitter, watching as her most recent tweet, the first one in ages, was getting attention. She giggled at Denki's stupidity, as he just posted a selfie of himself drenched in Diet Coke clearly in the UA bathrooms. Checking his replies she saw the boy she's been [kinda, lowkey, just a lil bit] trying to avoid for the past days.

[@BakugouKatsuki:]

"Dumbass."

[@MissPinky:]

"So THAT'S WHY U NEEDED MINTS!?!!!!!?? 🤣

She giggled again, entertained by her friends when her interactions just exploded. App actually crashed as she blinked while munching on some french fries dumbly.

As she tried to open her app again, both her friends landed by the table, joking about Kaminari and his never ending stupidity. Notifications popped again and again, legit confusing the girl to no end, making her ignore her two friends as they asked her what was going on, mainly because of her expression.

"The hell...?" she muttered, throwing the phone down while Twitter took its sweet, sweet time to load and open and just as she opened her mouth to answer Mina, she made eye contact with some very intense red eyes.

Clasping her mouth shut and ignoring Ochaco as she took [Y/N]'s phone to see what's going on, the girl could only focus on Bakugou, sitting a few tables away, facing her direction. She almost shivered in place under the intensity he was giving away, although his position was laid back, phone in one hand, chin in the other. And, again, gaze on her. He barely even blinked, his neutral expression giving nothing away and she knew she was blushing. Why was she a blushing mess under his gaze? Well, answer was obvious for everyone, even the whole internet now, but oh, she wished Bakugou Katsuki wasn't that sharp. Who are we kidding though?

Ochaco started to shake her out of her daze, interrupting the intense eye contact battle as she shoved her phone in her face.

"Oh. My. God." She muttered, stuttering her following words "Please, look at this, I can't believe it... Mina, check Twitter."

"If Kaminari threw Diet Coke and Mints in one of the bathroom toilets to 'experiment', I'm done with him." Mina responded but froze in place, just as [Y/N] looked away from the explosive boy. "Wait... WAIT!" her eyes almost popped out of her skull. "WHAAAAAAA–?!"

On the screen of her phone was the profile of the guy she's been crushing for... A year now? The guy that at first ignored her, then screamed at her, then beat her ass in training, then got his ass beaten by her, that scoffed at her shitty jokes, that actually chuckled at her shitty jokes, that studied with her, that smiled at her... The guy that complimented her when her quick improved. The guy that took her opinion seriously even when acting like he didn't care. The guy that stole her heart when he showed little glimpses of his complex persona only to her. The guy that fucking retweeted:

[@onlybakuy/nhere:]

"King & Queen."

And a picture attached, them shaking hands after their battle, ready to go get prepared for the podium. Bloodied, sweaty, yet both smiling at each other.

"I can't believe this–[Y/N]–" The brunette started rambling and fangirling besides her, but... With a careful glance, she peeked under her eyelashes to look at the boy again, her heart almost stopping when noticing he was still observing, small grin on his face hidden behind his hand, perfectly angled for her to see. "There's another one!"

Everything started to make sense, as she quickly checked her notifications to see the Internet™ just going crazy over that retweet. People started mass-following her, fans and stans just living for it, tagging her username with a screenshot of the retweet and now it hyped up again with... pictures of his profile? Did he change his description? He... changed his description. While there was absolutely nothing in there, now there was one single word. King.

Her eyebrows just rose so high her forehead hurt, the 3 braincells that were still somehow functioning were catching up to what the hell was going on and now she was positive, 100%, without a doubt that she was blushing like a mad-woman, a smile forming on her lips as she hit the retweet button on the same tweet he did and instantly opening her profile to edit.

Both her friends were freaking out by her side, accusing her of being way too calm in this situation, to explain but [Y/N] knew she couldn't utter any word, or even look up at them or at him. If she did, she'd break the spell, the moment, and as she deleted her description and only wrote a single word in her profile, her smile only widened. Hearing Mina screech after seeing her retweet, the girl giggled like an idiot.

Bakugou Katsuki was loud, brash, maybe a little bit emotionally constipated, rough around the edges, incredibly smart, observing, caring, awful with words but straight to the point with actions. And he was, without a doubt, fucking extra when doing things.

As she pressed the button Save on her profile, she caught him looking at his phone, being patted on the back by Kirishima, that somehow appeared in the frame yet was so distant in her field of vision as only he mattered at the moment. Waiting his reaction patiently and waiting for the internet to start freaking out again, her chest was hurting from the drumming of her heart. Hell, she knew she looked like a disaster with a flushed face, phone gripped so hard in her hand that it could break, a group of girls forming around her, noisy yet so distant. The world going in slow motion, seeing his crimson eyes widen for a fraction of a second, hiding more of his face in the palm of his hand as he still tried to look so casual, Kirishima's "Yeaaaaaaaah!" filled her ears as he tapped his finger on the screen, destination already clear. And when he saw what he needed...

He got up, leaving his tray of food behind, shit-eating grin basically parting the sea of people forming around them both as he marched towards where she was seated, and for the third time they made eye contact. His cheeks flushed, such a boyish expression coveting his normally angry features, mischievous and happy, relieved, just... Perfect.

Everything went in slow motion for her, his march, decisive and bold, as he always was, took to an end as he got to her, just giving her a hand and a raised brow, inviting her to leave with him anywhere but there.

And she took it without hesitation.

[thecatladywife]

That Time We Met (2)

Taeyong x Male reader

Fluff

Hello ! So turns out I really got inspired by Taeyong and I wrote a little bit more.

Here’s a short background story : You met Taeyong on a language exchange app.

He wanted to improve his english to be closer to his fans and you like to meet people from all over the world so you discussed for days... then weeks... slowly feelings appeared and he confessed to you.

You decided to be together despite the distance and finally met.

(1) <<<<<<<<<<<<<

The ride home wasn't that long in the end, it took one hour but you had such a great moment with Taeyong that you didn't see it pass.

He was his bubbly self, telling you about how excited he was to be in France again while you sat on the driver seat, one hand on the wheel and the other on his nape, playing softly with his hair.

He didn't seem to mind it, leaning in the touch and even holding your hand there once or twice.

"Y/N do you think we can go get some macaron later ? Yuta asked me for some with flowery flavour."

"You're just arrived and you're already thinking about buying gifts."

"Well I don't want to forget."

You chuckled as he smiled broadly at you and you thought about the best answer to give him.

At almost every video call you had with Taeyong, since the moment you agreed months ago that he'd come over for his next break, you started planning this trip together and out of 3 things he talked about at least 2 were food or something he saw in a movie, so you knew the first things he would want to do in Paris would be cliché. And you loved it.

"Alright then ! I know one place where they make some with rose and violet flavour... They're delicious... or we could bake them ourselves."

"Really? You'd know how to ?"

The truth was you had never made macarons in your life, you knew the basics in pastry and had some recipe books at home so it should  do but you couldn't tell him that, not when he was looking at you with stars in his beautiful eyes.

"Kind of."

"Perfect. One gift done, twenty more to go."

You shook your head incredulously but you were not really surprised that Taeyong planned to bring a gift to each one of his members. His thoughtfulness was one of the reason you fell for him.

"And a few more for my mother and sister..."

"Oh my god..."

You playfully passed your hand over you face, from your eyes to the tip of your beard, pretending to be overwhelmed already. Knowing that you were teasing him, Taeyong pouted at you and you almost stopped the car to kiss him because he was too cute. Waiting for the next red light on the road, you finally leaned down to kiss his inviting lips, parting and staring lovingly as he sighed contentedly.

The second time you tasted his lips was even better than the first.

Your faces were still inches apart from each other as Taeyong brought his hands to your cheeks, caressing and playing with your beard with his feather like touch.

"I do have a gift for you.. too..."

"Me ?"

"I hope you'll like it."

"Of course I will. It's from you, mon coeur"

He didn't know much french words apart from the curses you used to utter on the phone or the lewd things you whispered low to him and this, the sweet name you had for him. You took his hand and kissed his palm, not seeing Taeyong blushing hard since your eyes were focused on the road.

You kept on driving for less than half an hour, entering the city without much difficulty since it was lunch time and there wasn't much traffic. Taeyong was quiet since a moment now, watching the cityscape through the window while playing with your hand resting on his tight,  you could sensed your boyfriend tiredness and heard him yawn several time in a row so you decided to leave him in peace, the little chit chat could wait for when he'll be fully rested.

Fifteen minutes later you finally pulled into your underground parking. You drove to your spot, carefully sliding your car between the wall and a huge black motorbike already parked there.

Taeyong stared at it with curiousity while you tried to avoid bumping into it.

"That's your bike right? The one you showed me on pictures ?"

"Yeah."

You smirked at him as you turned off the engine, knowing pretty well what pictures he was talking about.

When you just started chatting with each other, in a friendly way and in order to help the korean learning more vocabulary, you shared about hobbies and sent pictures to each other.

Taeyong showed you the sneakers he liked to customize and you sent him pictures of you in the countryside when you went on roadtrips with your friends. You didn't know it at first but one day, as you were talking about what turned you on in each other, he admitted that he found you posing with your motorbike in your heavy leather jacket and jeans really hot.

You could see in Taeyong's eyes that he was aware of your thoughts but he pretended to be obvious to it and got off your car, rushing to check out your ride.

You chuckled and checked the glovebox and headboard for anything you might've forgotten before following him out and locking the car behind you. Taeyong came to your side and wrapped his arm around your neck, your hands falling naturally to his hips while he looked up to you. You could help but feel giddy at how every time you touched Taeyong it felt so good and soothing, like a old habit despite being physical with him for the first time today.

"Y/N... Remember you promised to let me ride it last time?"

"Hm...You sure I was talking about my bike ?"

"Yes what else ?"

You laughed at your boyfriend's innocence, almost feeling guilty for your perverted mind when realisation down on him and he looked at you with wide eyes.

You took his hand, pressing a kiss on his forehead before leading him away to the lift, not giving you the chance to call you out for this.

Your apartment was on the sixth and last floor which was a pain in the ass when the elevator was on maintenance but most of the time it was great because you had the most breathtaking view on Paris

You were happy to share this with Taeyong but suddenly, you also felt nervous about him discovering your place. You weren't lazy about cleaning but you did pay more attention to it this time knowing that your boyfriend could almost be described as a clean freak.

The elevator stopped and you went through the opening doors into the narrow corridor.

You lived in an old Parisian building, haussmann style so the last floor was originally reserved for maids who had their chambers there.

Nowadays, only poor students lived in those kind of place but years ago you had the good idea to buy three of them on this floor at a cheap price and turn them into a spacious one.

You opened the door to your place and went in just a few steps ahead of Taeyong, taking the luggage inside and closing the door once he was in as well.

"Welcome to your home for the next week."

>>>>>>>>>>> (3)

[cordytriestowrite]

The Search for Mrs Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 1

Summary: When did the Winter Soldier get married?

Captain Crunch overflowed the large salad bowl Bucky had plucked from one of the higher shelves in the kitchen. The Avengers had a personal chef, some gangly Frenchman with a permanent snarl, who had silently fumed as Bucky rifled through his workspace. He flat out cursed when Bucky exited the pantry with the sugary cereal. Bucky had a gift in keeping his expression cool and indifferent, but the edges of his lax lips curled as he emptied the cereal box and tossed it carelessly onto the counter next to rogue pieces of purple and blue. 

Chef de Frenchie practically slammed a cast iron skillet atop the state of the art stovetop, face downturned with offense. In a strategic move Bucky reached the refrigerator at the same time as his current adversary who was so red in the face Bucky was tempted to point him toward the tomatoes a few levels higher in the greenhouse. Instead, he grabbed the full carton of milk and sauntered away leaving the door to the refrigerator wide open. He didn't need to see what was happening behind him, he could hear it. The muttered, elaborate French, the sound of something falling over on the self, the slamming of doors and drawers, and then the calm as something sizzled in the pan.

Bucky took that opportunity to uncap the milk, letting the cap fall to the ground with hollow, plastic bounces that took it far away from its perch, and filled the bowl with a high pour that splashed whole milk over a counter that was spotless before Bucky showed up. 

Okay, maybe the ladle was a bit much, but it was sitting so pretty within arm's reach and Bucky was nothing if not a menace to the kitchen staff. He turned away from the counter, bowl cradled to his chest and ladle tilted against his lips. He made sure to wait until the Frenchman glanced over before pursing his lips and inhaling the ladle full of milk and cereal with a loud slurp.

Bucky almost choked as he watched the chef remove the pan from the grill and all but dunk it into the industrial sink. His ranting echoed through the sterile room as he stomped away. He just barely missed running headlong into Tony Stark, who, up until almost being trampled, seemed to be enjoying the show.

"What about my omelet?" Tony called after the chef, not bothering to turn around and follow him. His interest stayed on Bucky who schooled his expression back to that which pissed off so many others. Never Tony though, he seemed to find Bucky's indifference more entertaining than frustrating.

"Having fun Buckaroo?"

He chose not to answer, instead dipping his ladle back into his cereal and tilting it into his mouth. The milk was cold against his chin and he felt some of it dampen his shirt as it splashed noisily back into the bowl.

Tony smirked, eyes roaming Bucky in the way they do when he thinks he's gotten the upper hand. Bucky's hackles raised, awaiting whatever smart-ass remark Tony was going to pull out of his ass that would send him sulking away, but it never came. Instead, Tony's brows furrowed in curiosity and he tilted his chin toward where his eyes were affixed. 

"Whatcha got there?"

Bucky followed Tony's eye line before answering.

"Breakfast."

"No, no, I see that. What is on your finger?"

Bucky hid his smile behind another mouthful of sugary bits. He couldn't help it, just the thought of what was circling his left ring finger was enough to break his stoicism.

Tony's not one to wait though. He comes closer, getting a better look at the silver band that almost blends in with the vibranium. It was simple, cheap, and his most prized possession behind the knife he named after you. 

"That's a wedding ring."

"That's my wedding ring."

Bucky was quite pleased with how his day was going. First the chef and now Tony? Who else could he mess with before lunch? Probably Steve. Steve was easy to rile up.

"When did you get married?"

Ah, the interrogation. He had been waiting for this since his wedding day. Eagerly, if he could be honest with himself.

"Three weeks ago."

Stark's jaw worked for a few seconds.

"Where was my invite?"

"There wasn't one."

Tony Stark was officially offended. Bucky could see it in his eyes, the way his dark lashes glanced off his cheeks over and over with consecutive blinks. 

"Well where is she?"

"Who?"

Bucky's favorite part of any interrogation was when he could play dumb down to the simplest questions. His least favorite part was the torture, but it probably wouldn't come to that this time.

"Your wife, Mrs. Guyliner."

Insert heavy eye roll. Bucky hadn't worn eyeliner since his Hydra days. Trust Tony to glob on to a fashion faux pas over the assassination of a U.S. President. 

"She's probably at work."

Tony looked close to calling upon the suit and starting a showdown right there in the Avenger's private kitchen. His fingers clenched up into fists briefly before the man let out a slow breath.

"I don't know why I bother. JARVIS, set me up in the debriefing room."

He left without a backwards glance and Bucky rode the high of successfully driving two men out of the same room as him before finishing his breakfast. That, and the gleeful knowing that Tony was in for a tough time finding you."

-

Four day, nine hours, and sixteen minutes and Tony Stark was found by Natasha Romanov on the floor of the debriefing room surrounded by empty coffee cups and a half eaten five pound bag of granola. She would have come sooner had she known how far down the rabbit hole Stark had gone. 

"You look good Tony." She said in a tone indistinguishable from any other, yet it was obvious she was being sarcastic. Tony barely spared her a glance, eyes jumping across multiple screens as names and faces flitted by every second. 

"Bucky-bear tied the knot approximately three weeks ago. I'm hunting down the blushing bride."

Nat crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw slack for half a second too long.

"Mazel."

She half turned to leave when Tony scrambled to a stand.

"Aren't you curious?"

Curious? No, Nat's not curious. She's a little baffled, jealous with heartbroken being a bit extreme, but not curious….right?

"I'm curious, Stark, not nosey. He'll slip up sometime."

The spy left the genius to his internet search. She knew if Bucky wanted to keep his girl hidden she wouldn't be found online. No, in order to find Bucky Barnes' wife, Natasha would have to reach out to some long forgotten connections.

To Be Continued...

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