#pick one and let me conjugate it

[shytimelady]

Things I Furiously Dislike:

Textbooks that don't give you all your verbs in the same conjugation

[ms-demeanor]

hi, hopefully this isnt a stupid question -- this is only my second election i'm voting in, and i'm a little confused about results. is it actually confirmed that trump has won, or is it just almost certain based on the counted votes? bc i know that provisional ballots (like mine) probably arent immediately counted, and there was that thing about votes needing to be verified because of signatures, plus to my knowledge the electoral college doesnt vote til december? i'm probably just grasping at an infinitesimal chance of things not being shit, but also i do actually want to understand and google is not helping :( if you can't explain no worries, you just seem to be knowledgable & willing to answer questions haha

This is absolutely not a stupid question.

So everything is currently pointing at what is most likely, not at what is 100% certain, but it's like 99% certain. There are still votes being counted, but in the states where the election has been called it has been called either because enough of the ballots have been counted that the remaining count wouldn't change the results, or that the area is historically so strongly in favor of one party that it's exceptionally unlikely that they'd flip the other way (for example, they're still counting california's ballots but you're more likely to get struck by lightning five times today than california is to flip red in this election). The places that have not yet been called do not have enough electoral votes for Harris to win the election.

The electoral college is exceedingly unlikely to flip their votes against the state/district vote; "Faithless electors" is the term for members of the electoral college who would vote against the vote they are committed to for their region. It was something discussed in both the 2016 election and the 2020 election and flipping the electoral college without winning the election was the motivation behind J6. As shitty and bullshit as I think the electoral college is, if you're going to have one and you're going to have the rule of law, you can't hope for faithless electors because what you're hoping for at that point is that the people representing you are acting directly against the choice of the voters.

I want you to listen to me. I have been voting in presidential elections since 2004. Presidential elections always suck. Who the president is does matter, and does impact your life, but you genuinely do not have a ton of influence over that so you can't let it throw you into despair and inaction, because we should be active and political and protesting the wrongs of the world even if your favored political party wins. Vote in local elections, work with your local community, and if your local community sucks too, work with online communities to both give and get support.

Whenever something like this happens, people pass around the Mr. Rogers quote about looking to the helpers. I like that quote. I think it's good, I think it's hopeful, I think it helps! But I also think that sometimes it's even more effective if you look for how to help. Who are you the most scared for after this election? Who are you worried about in your community or among your friends? What can you do that might make their life easier? What can you do to protect people like that in your community? What don't you know that might make you better prepared to help them in the future?

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Maybe there's nothing you can do right at this exact second (though if you are able to donate to gender affirmation fundraisers, border kindness, abortion funds, bail funds, etc., you can absolutely do that), but you can get ready to help someone who will need you someday.

[anyaeras]

Extra Help || N.Romanoff

Paring || Profesor natasha x reader

Summary || The student and profesor have some unprofessional relationships. They both tend to enjoy the company of each other

Warnings || smut ,, top!Natasha ,, bottom!reader ,, AFAB!Reader ,, They/Them pronouns ,, Legal age gap ,, mention!wandnat ,, semi!public!sex ,, cunnalingus ,, strap!on ,, pet!names ,, praising ,, hair pulling if you squint.

A/N || I used a lot of Russian in this, I am a Russian speaker so work with me please.

Master list

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Up and at it, it's 11:30am which you would think would be a nice time to get up at, but not for the college student who just so happened to not get home till around 4am the "night" prior, y/n wasn't a party person, but they were a let's hang out with friends and forget about all the problems in the world kind of person which just leads them into parties.

Now very hungover, a little hungry and in a rush y/n was throwing on a quick fit, that was comfortable yet still appropriate for a college lecture, cleaning themself up, brushing through their hair, and throwing on a little bit of make up before grabbing there bag being out the dorm door by 11:50 to make it to their 12 o'clock Russian lecture.

Stumbling into the classroom a moment before the lecture would begin making direct eye contact with the Russian redhead who ran the class, now this wasn't the first time, Miss Romanoff and you had a special bond you could say, she was definitely a mentor...well and more.

Sitting in the same spot you have the whole semester. It was on the right side of the classroom nearing the front row relatively close to Romanoffs desk, you made quick eye contact, but the blaring migraine wasn't helping y/n learn anything they got to the point where they prompted to just put their head down and listen, they were pretty sure this wouldn't go over well with the older Russian, yet y/n got away with it for a hot second before feeling a tap on the shoulder, pulling them back to reality, causing them to look up seeing a taller women looking down at them with sharp green eyes, and the look alone was enough for y/n to sit up correctly in the seat.

«Stay after class милый» (sweetie) Natasha bent down to say that to you softly, already having given out the assignment, the class was distracted by the devices going through the digital worksheets, quickly picking up on this you nodded to what Natasha had said but quickly got it work so you didn't look out of place.

The lecture went on about verb conjugations for another hour, the Russian lecture would only meet two times a week, yet you seemed to be meeting with Natasha Romanoff, to which the class called миссис Романов (miss Romanov) to keep It more professional, yet the Russian professor had explained multiple times, she didn't enjoy being called miss as it was seen as calling her old in Russia, but it was hard to break the American school system habits these young adults had formed over many years of schooling.

The class went on, yet y/n was far distracted, more worried about being asked to stay after class rather then learning more Russian, she was sure Natasha maybe even her wife would be willing to tutor the younger learner.

Slowly students begin packing up their electronics and putting their notes back into their bags before heading out, yet y/n didn't move for at least 2 minutes, then even slower they managed to pack up their items into their bag, they aren't scared of Natasha they just enjoy playing games, if you know what I mean? Finally sitting up and making their way towards the front of the room where Natasha stood waiting, yet they didn't stay there long.

"I have some work to get done, I'd like to move to my office" the Russian stated before leading the younger one to her office, which was only a few doors away from the lecture hall, yet every step the professors heels clicked on the floor echoing through the clean university hallways.

Unlocking the door with the keycard which is usually sat around the Russians neck digitally unlocking the door before shutting the door behind the two of them and locking it with a click.

«Late night детка?» Natasha asked softly yet with strong demands behind her voice pressing for an answer.

"I just went out nothing much" y/n responded nonchalantly to the older women, knowing damn well you were getting over a hangover still, and really weren't feeling one of the lectures coming your way, knowing it would get back to Wanda making you have two upset hot women on your plate.

"Y/n I'm sure you didn't let anyone touch what's ours" Natasha asked, she trusted you, so did her wife, yet y/n is a college kid so it's always imported to check.

"Of course not! I would never disrespect you guys like that!" Y/n snapped back being shut off with a kiss from Natasha.

«so good for us Моя дорогой » (my dear) Natasha praised continuing to kiss the younger ones lips before moving down to their semi-exposed chest and neck leaving small love bites along the way.

"Now I need to get some work done, while I do that do you think you could be good for me милый?" It was more of an order as it came from the red heads mouth, soft yet stern, she reached for your wrist guiding you to her desk before pushing you under it, there was plenty of room for you, plus you were hidden, as the older professor sat down in her chair, moving closer you could now see directly up her skirt, where she had no panties, giving you easy access to her core.

Y/n knew what she wanted from them without the Russian even needing to be explicated about it, as the red head started to grade papers it was almost to much as she felt y/n's mouth get to work, eating her out with skill, and what can the older women say, she's who taught y/n how so she was aware of how well y/n was with their mouth.

Muffled moans came from Natasha who was trying to not be to loud, as the sounds of sex filled the room.

«Just like that детка» Natasha prompted as she wrapped her fingers into the younger ones hair, pulling y/n into her closer then they thought was even possible, as she reached her climax practically grinding on y/n's face, Natasha raised her hand to her mouth to muffle her scream as she finally let go onto y/n

Natasha moved back from her seat at her desk after a moment, pulling herself together, before helping y/n off their knees, and into her lap, quickly pulling y/n in for a deep kiss, which didn't brake until they both were desperate for air.

"So good for me I think you deserve a reward hmm?" Natasha stated with her smirk plastered on her face

The Russian stood up picking up y/n along the way moving them onto the desk they clean off prior, setting y/n down leaving them with a sloppy kiss before parting ways. Without a word Natasha stepped back walking over towards a file cabinet, which held more then files that was for sure, pulling on a specific handle, a box, which looked nothing out of the ordinary sat inside the cabinet. Both people in the room knew the truth about that box, as Natasha reached inside pulling out a faux cock and a harness, sliding it up getting the harness situated onto her hips.

The older women made her way back to the college kid sitting on her desk, swaying her hips along the way, eventually stopping between y/n's legs. Natasha tapped on y/n's pants as a way of asking for consent to remove their clothing getting eager nods from y/n, as they even helped Natasha strip them of their clothes before sitting back on top of her russian teachers desk.

«Hmm let's see, maybe you learned something in my class, tell my what you want На русском?» (In Russian) Natasha was playing with fire, now messing with y/n, she knew y/n tried in her class, she's known that ever since y/n started coming to Her wife, and herself for extra Russian help, which may have lead to more than 'russian help' yet, you could say their doing just fine in the class. Y/n had to think about it for a moment, their Russian wasn't fluent at all, so they knew this would be a struggle by they did know how to curse and how to say ''me'

«Черт возьми меня» (fuck me) slipped past y/n's lips as they hoped that would be enough to get Natasha just to fucking ruin her.

"Ahh so good for me, it seems you picked up some words I haven't gone over yet" the professor joked before lining up, she slipped the faux dick threw y/n's folds getting it slick before lining up, slowly sliding in, whispering sweet nothing while doing so, allowing y/n a moment to adjust to the size.

"Y-you can move" y/n managed to stutter out, it's not like y/n was a virgin it's just Natasha was rather large.

With y/n's okay, Natasha started to pull out before trusting back in, she moved slowly yet trusted back in hard causing y/n to Yelp with the first trust, a low groan came from y/n's mouth. Natasha started to pick up speed, groaning as she listened to y/n's moans fill her ears, she eventually started to rut into y/n's forcing y/n to use Natasha to stabilize themself enough while balancing on the office desk.

"Fuck nat!" Y/n yelled out as Natasha was quick to move one of her hands to cover y/n's mouth, in hopes to muffle the yell as they were both still in a place of profession. Natasha was well aware y/n was coming close to her climax, to which the Russian started to use her hand which you removed from y/n's mouth to stimulate their clit, which was enough to push y/n over the edge causing them to let out loud moan holding onto Natasha tightly as they let go, evidently collapsing on top of their professor after.

Natasha held y/n close for a moment helping her come down from her high, helping the younger one relax before pulling out and starting to clean up.

After Natasha had cleaned up her office, she went back to y/n giving them a soft kiss on their lips before helping them get re-dressed after she dressed herself of course.

Looking over at her phone Natasha saw a missed text from her wife, which read.

«Bring them home for dinner, you can share Моя любовь»

The message brought a smirk to Natasha's face, packing up her items before turning to y/n.

"Come on sweetie, the misses is waiting" was all Natasha said, and that was enough for y/n to gain her composure and follow behind the red head right out the door.

[chiquita99]

Prison Life Can Be Tough**

Summary: You are known as the wife of Michael Scofield. Unfortunately many people in your prison have a hate for him but you are the closest they can get to him. Michael fights for your survival.

⚠️ warnings ⚠️ None

_____________________________________

"Prison life can be tough" the warden states as she rises from her desk and walks to face Scofield.

Michael has his hands on his hips in a thinking matter.

"If I remember correctly, you have two missing toes that can attest to that" She stated.

"You're not listening to my words. Y/N is NOT SAFE HERE" Michael shouts and glares at the she warden dressed in a suit.

He regains composure and continues in a more calm tone.

"Please" he sighs, "please just approve the transfer to another facility. Too many people here have a hit for me and Y/N shouldnt receive that punishment".

The warden makes a face and replies "If I grant her a transfer, everybody's gonna want one".

Michael quickly tosses another option out "What about segregrated housing?"

The warden looks at him peculiarly and advances like predator to prey, "Is there something that I should know about the structural integrity of SHU?".

Michael scoffs in annoyance "I see where this is going".

"I know who you are. And I'm not going to let you turn my prison into the next Fox River" She tells him in a stone cold tone.

"All I'm trying to do, is keep my wife alive. Someone tried to posion her today and have you seen what marks are on her face" he replies and takes a step forward just as she did, "You do know she's pregnant".

"I don't care" she replies just as coldly.

Michael looks away in disbelief.

"In case I haven't made myself clear--Y/N Y/L/N is not getting any preferential treatment" the warden says as a final statement.

[Later]

"Hey baby" Michael smiles as you sit in the chair across from him at the conjugal table.

"Hi my love" you respond.

Michael focuses on the bruising that's on your face.

He raises his hand to your cheek and gently strokes where a nasty red mark sits.

You close your eyes and sigh.

Sigh in relief he is here but also at how unfortunate events have turned out in here.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you" he tells you, not being able to look away from the beating evident on your face.

"It is what it is" you respond.

Michael watches you bring the back of your hand to your mouth. It felt like you had to burp or vomit.

You close your eyes, focusing on something different than how you are feeling right now.

"What is it?" Michael questioned with concern.

"Only nausea" you tell him, "I think it's my stress and the baby".

"I understand baby" he says and puts his hand ontop of yours on the table.

"Anyone who touches you, will lose a lot more than they bargain for" Michael says gruffly.

"Don't be like that Michael. There's no good in both of us incarcerated" you tell him, one hand on your nauseous stomach.

"I'm getting you out of here" he whispers and squeezes your one hand firmly.

You scoff in frustration.

"What did I just say Michael" you tell him.

"We will dissappear in Dominican Republic and you can finish your pregnancy in peace" he smiles softly.

"Our babies will pick plantains off the farms and swim in the ocean while we sunbathe and get drunk off margaritas"

You hum a sweet smile, "I would love it".

"I'm going to make it happen baby" he assures you.

"When are you coming in?" You ask in a whisper.

"Tomorrow" he says.

[starburstfloat]

Let's Talk Innuendos and Queer Subtext: TXT's Poppin' Star Lyrics Analysis

One of the joys of making progress in my Korean language journey has been the ability to analyze lyrics more critically by dissecting tone, word choice, or rhyme schemes that would have otherwise slipped by me a few years ago. And as someone who has a deep love for literary analysis and kpop, there's an unparalleled joy in getting to bridge the two together. I'm happy I have this space to do that. So without further ado, let's take a look at TXT's Poppin' Star from their first full-length album, The Dream Chapter: Magic (thank you nika for requesting this!).

This song feels like a sonic representation of this memefied image:

It's literally bubblegum pop at its finest. It sounds sparkly, cute, uplifting, and deceptively adorable, and anyone who has seen the choreography can attest to watching the video with a ridiculous smile on their face.

I could give high praise endlessly about this underrated early TXT Bside, but I wanted to prioritize the lyrics for this post! We're going to talk about the superficial meaning of the song before we dissect some of the more suggestive, metaphorical elements. Heads up I'll be mentioning sexual innuendos, so if that's not your cup of tea then please kindly leave.

My goal is to get you to see that, at the very least, this song is not just about eating candy. Whether or not we agree on the queer subtext is another debate, but I'm hoping this analysis post can be a lesson on interpreting figurative language and grasping inneundos.

Whenever I do analysis, I always start with the surface level face-value of what's being presented, and then I try to peel the layers and discern the underlying themes or suggested connotations based on context clues. Usually I leave out the initial face-value in my posts because it's something so obvious that it feels contradictory to present it. But it feels relevant to include for Poppin' Star. So what is the face-value meaning of the song when we look at the lyrics as a whole?

On the surface, this song appears to be about a young male protagonist who experiences a burst of emotions - dizzying warmth, sweetness, and a clouded brain - after he eats a variety of flavored candies. He states that he is not satisfied with the burst of flavor he's experiencing - now that he knows this intense feeling, he's craving more.

cr. color coded lyrics (though I'm cross referencing multiple translations and using my own knowledge of individual words and tonal conjugations to understand the song)

It doesn't take much of an analytical eye to catch the innuendo presented in Poppin' Star. What exactly is an innuendo? An innuendo is an allusive hint to something typically sexual. The keyword here is hint - it's something you pick up on based on subtly provocative language. Critics could argue that "your brain must be in the gutter" if you find sexual context where there is supposedly none. I'd say blaming the observer for a sexual interpretation is disrespectful to the art in question. Inneundos are meant to be spotted and discussed - they have the potential to heighten the art and unveil a greater message. Just because something is sexual does not mean it is bad.

Now that we have that cleared, it's pertinent to reflect on the surface value of the lyrics in contrast to the glaring inneundo jumping out at the audience. Let's look at the opening lyrics together:

One look at the lyrics, and you'll raise your eyebrows and go, "Really? You sampled a mouthful of candy and can't stop talking about how you're tingling all over, feel dizzy, and are melting from the sweetness?" The song's lyrics and language is quite figurative: the audience is guided to see beyond the literal meaning.

If we break down the individual feelings our protagonist shares, it sounds reminiscient of a first kiss or sexual experience. Considering how strongly the lyrics center on oral pleasure (oral as in the literal sense of the mouth), the rightfully assummed metaphor here is kissing. Let's look at all the instances where the song connects pleasure to the mouth:

별가루 가득 물면 느껴지는 불꽃놀이일까? / (Is this) fireworks that I feel when I bite a whole mouthful of stardust?

입 안을 채운 콕콕 따끔한 이 느낌은 또 / This tingling feeling that has filled my mouth

혀끝에 건전지 / A battery at the tip of my tongue

Our protagonist talks extensively about the pleasure in his mouth in correlation to feeling dizzy, warm, fuzzy, electrified, and excited - all feelings heavily associated with heightened sexual experiences, and notably kissing.

A striking detail is the fact that our protagonist is not alone during the story - he's actively talking to another person, meaning he's not literally eating candy by himself and getting an explosive sugar rush as the superficial interpretation insinuates. We notice this from the opening line which calls to a direct "you":

짜릿한 정전기 you’re popping star / Electrifying static, you're popping star.

Not only is this a reference to the title, making it an important detail to note, but it's also inviting the audience into acknowledging the relevant prescence of another character, some unnamed you. He goes on to say:

머리가 띵하게 기분 좋은 my love / Making my head feel dizzy, that good feeling, my love

He's directly saying "my love," so this person is clearly special to him. This person is his popping star - someone who evokes all of these explosive, tingling feelings.

The chorus is riddled with suggestive language: "This isn't enough / I need something stronger / A chew full of lemon, lime, orange, yeah / I need more, more, more / A stronger popping / A chew full of lemon, lime, orange, yeah"

Our protagonist is craving more flavor as he seeks a pleasure high. My interpretation is that the other character is wearing flavored chaptstick, perhaps fruit-flavored or candy-flavored, and our protagonist wants to taste more of the character's lips. Another interpretation is that they're both chewing on flavored gum, and when they kiss, the flavors blend together in a satisfying burst. Both feel plausible to me. The chorus suggests a kiss through the explosive repetition of surprised "oh's" that the members sing. It's hard to explain without hearing it, so skip to 0:48 in the song to catch what I mean. The explosive instrumental paired with the high-pitched oh's feels representative of an epiphany, or at least a heightened emotional state.

Perhaps one of the most glaringly suggestive parts of the song is Beomgyu's line after the first chorus, where he says:

잠깐 쉬어갈 땐 slime vacation / When (I) take a short break, slime vacation

This implies he's taking a break from exchanging slime, or saliva, with the aforementioned "you". Keep in mind that Korean sentences don't always need an explicit subject, so it's unclear whether Beomgyu is saying "When I take a short break" or "When we take a short break". However, later in the song, during a critical moment that I'll get to shortly, Yeonjun explicitly mentions the pronoun 우리 (we/us) which means we can assume this whole candy-tasting fiasco is, at the very least, a pleasure-seeking high that our protagonist is doing with someone by his side.

The kissing metaphor is more strongly suggested when Taehyun says:

어제 했던 건 벌써 지루해 / The things that (I did/were done) yesterday are already boring

더 더 더 강한 popping이 필요해 / I need a stronger popping

which tells me the song is self-aware enough to recognize it's not just about eating candy. Why would yesterday's candy be described as "the things that were done yesterday"? I also find it interesting that he's using the verb 지루하다 instead of 심심하다 when mentioning boredom. Both of these verbs mean "to be bored", but 심심하다 refers to boredom through a lack of action, whereas 지루하다 has the connotation of being bored by something because you've been doing it for a prolonged time; as in, you're getting physically tired of it. So, Taehyun is saying that the stuff he did yesterday has become repetitive and tiring, and he's now seeking a stronger high. Very suggestive language.

There's a line from Heuningkai that really stands out towards the latter half of the song. He goes:

가끔은 조금 위험해도 돼 / Sometimes it can be a little dangerous

엄마 몰래 자물쇠를 열어봐 / Open the lock without my mom knowing

The conjugation here is very interesting!! He uses the 아/어도 되다 pattern at the end of the adjective for "dangerous", which is a conjugation used to give permission for something. So, rather than him stating the fact that it's dangerous, he's giving permission to the speaker to be a little dangerous. It's a subtle nod at him approving risky behavior, so perhaps a better translation would be "it's alright if sometimes it's a bit dangerous".

"Open the lock" reminds me of Soobin's verse in Sugar Rush Ride:

, which I interpret as a more blatantly sexual inneundo for losing one's virginity. I don't think Poppin Star implies more than kissing, but asking someone to open your lock without your mom knowing, and engaging in risky behavior, appears symbolic to doing something you wouldn't want your mom to see, so at the very least it's suggestive language.

This interpretation aligns with the direct album overview provided by Bighit, which states that "The Dream Chapter: MAGIC tells the story of 'magical adventures' that boys encounter together with their friends [...] the boys share their transformation, confusion and exploding emotions that arise during their transition to adolescence." Notice that the official statement itself says that the album centers on a boy and his friends as they transition into adolescence. Interesting.

I'd be happy to leave the analysis there and say, "See? The song is clearly an innuendo", but then the writers toss in the gayest shit during the last third of the song that forces the audience to pause and reinterpret.

Yeonjun and Taehyun sing the following lines:

이건 어쩌면 나라에서 허락한 / Maybe this is something that the country has allowed

우리끼리만 숨겨둔 유일한 / Something we have kept hidden just among us

자 아무에게나 허락된 게 아냐 / Alright, it's not allowed to just anyone

입안 가득 터뜨려 / Burst a mouthful

The verb used here is 허락하다 which means to allow, permit, or approve. Talking about what your country allows in connotation to something you've kept hidden among the two of you…feels queer-coded. Especially when the rest of the song has been dedicated to pursuing a thrill from "my love", a pursuit which they acknowledge is intimately private given the line "without my mom knowing". Why bring up what's allowed in your country in a song that centers on a boy seeking pleasure? The last line is odd too - it's conjugated as a command, so our protagonist is telling us, the audience, that we should pop a mouthful of the candy too. In connection to the line above it, it's implied that he knows popping the candy aka kissing his love is not allowed for everyone, but he's encouraging others to try. Adding to the intrigue is the fact that they repeat the last two lines again, but change the command to 입안 가득 터뜨려 봐 which is a less forceful command and more like "Give it a try".

If the song truly were just about candy, talking about what your country allows and who is allowed to do it feels very out of place and strange. This, paired with the striking fixation on oral pleasure makes me believe the song is about a boy kissing his friend, and it's been a fun, exciting little secret between the two of them.

It doesn't feel like an exaggeration to find queer subtext here. If you're an avid TXT fan, you'll know their songs are very queer-coded, from 0x1=lovesong having the most blatant thematic connection (I still regularly think about Soobin's "I can't go to heaven, I don't belong there" line) alongside Sugar Rush Ride, which suggests we "swallow the sugar rush"....sir, swallow what exactly??!

I hope this could spark your interest and see the lyrics from a new perspective. Sorry not sorry if this burst your innocent perception of the song...like I said, it sounds deceptively adorable 😂 let me know your thoughts and thanks for reading!

[astrobei]

SUNI!!!!! can i maybe request byler + giggling while kissing🫢🫢 go crazy with it i know itll make me insanely giddy

liv !! absolutely anything for you !! this got away from me so fast and it's so. it's. well. you'll see. here's kiss prompt #29 - giggling while kissing

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Will remarks, raising an eyebrow at Mike over the top of his book. “What’s gotten into you?”

Mike just grins, closing the front door behind him. It’s five o'clock on a Thursday, meaning Mike’s had class from ten this morning almost straight through four p.m., with a brief break in between American Lit and his creative writing workshop where he’d run across campus to the good café for a bagel and a coffee. According to all logic and reason, Mike should not be in a good mood. He should, statistically speaking, be in a really shitty mood.

And yet.

“Nothing,” Mike says, dropping his bag to the floor, right there in the entrance to their apartment. “And what the hell? I got home, like, three seconds ago.”

Will keeps the same look fixed on him as Mike kicks his shoes off, sending them tumbling one after the other into the corner of the room. “Call it a certain je ne sais quoi,” Will replies, following Mike with his gaze as he immediately moves to pick up his shoes. “I can tell.”

Mike turns and squints. “You know French?”

“Sure,” Will laughs, then sets his book aside. He stretches, long and lazy along the length of the sofa, socked feet emerging from the ends of the blanket he’s got thrown over him. “Let’s go with that.”

“You don’t know French,” Mike announces. He would know. Will took Spanish with him for all four years of high school – four agonizing years of conjugating the past participle and imperfect subjunctive – and was even brave enough to attempt a brief foray into an introductory college class before finally calling it quits. Personally, Mike thinks it’s impressive Will lasted the semester. Mike had collected his high school credits and never looked back. “I would know.”

“Yeah?” Will leans back on the couch, watches Mike shuffle the rest of their shoes into place on the shoe rack. “Maybe I do.”

He doesn’t. “Prove it,” Mike says, then picks his bag up off the ground and plops it on top of the dining table. “Say something in French right now. Something romantic.”

“Bonjour,” Will says easily. “Mon ami.”

Mike squints even harder this time. “‘My friend’ is not a romantic thing to say, and also, you’re a liar.”

Will frowns. “How do you know French?”

“I don’t,” Mike laughs. “But I read a lot of Agatha Christie.”

Will gives him a weird look, a little incredulous and a little amused, then holds up the book he’d been reading. It’s Mike’s copy of Murder on the Orient Express. “Yeah, I know. You're unbelievable.”

“I’ve been looking for that,” Mike says, even though he absolutely hasn’t. “You thief.”

Will just smiles, beckoning Mike over to the couch with his free hand. “You love me,” he says, which is a lot closer to the mark than Mike would like Will’s rebuttals to his (entirely unserious) jabs to be.

Mike walks over, of course, because Will is right, and Mike loves him, and love makes you do crazy, stupid things – like being happy on a Thursday evening when your head hurts and your body hurts and all you want is to sleep straight through Friday afternoon. Frankly, it’s ridiculous how happy Mike feels. It’s a bit of an embarrassing look for him, actually.

“Hi,” Mike says, entirely unnecessarily, and lets Will pull him down with one hand. He lands sideways, sprawled halfway across Will’s lap, over the top of the absurdly fuzzy blanket they keep at the foot of the sofa.

Will smiles up at him. “Hey,” he replies, easy and warm. It’s also ridiculous, along with everything else, how soothing the single word is as it leaves Will’s mouth, how Mike’s oncoming headache ebbs, ever-so-slightly, at the sound. Will’s still got Mike’s book in one hand, but he folds a page down and sets it on the coffee table, then scoots over to make room, pressing his back up against the sofa cushions. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Mike sighs, tucking his face into Will’s neck and trying his hardest to not fall off the edge of the sofa. He wiggles his feet under the blanket too, tucks them under Will’s calves, the warm fleece of his pajama pants. “A little tired,” he admits, and Will lets out a sympathetic noise above him. “But good.”

“I’m glad,” Will murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “And I know for a fact you’re in a weirdly good mood because I folded down the page of your book and you didn’t even yell at me.”

It takes a second for the words to land. Then– 

“Oh, you asshole,” Mike laughs, immediately twisting around in Will’s arms to look at his poor, innocent book lying on the coffee table’s coaster-dotted surface. “You were testing me?”

“You told me you didn’t care about that anymore,” Will points out, one arm wrapping instinctively around Mike’s waist as he moves. “You said you were working on it.”

“I am working on it!” Mike protests. “It’s a secondhand copy anyway, it was already dog-eared and– it’s not about that! I just think you’re so–”

“Mhm?”

“So ridiculous,” Mike says halfheartedly, as Will drops a light kiss to his nose, then his cheek. “I’m in a normal mood. A normal, fine, ordinary–”

“Sure–”

“–and I’m not any more happy than usual–”

“–uh huh–”

“Will!” Mike laughs, breaking away from Will’s vice grip, pulling back from where Will had been leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Will just smiles at him. His hair is a bit messed up from lying on the couch, and Mike can feel himself warming up, slowly, from the late February chill he’d braved to walk from the bus stop back to their apartment. “Sorry,” he says, a bit apologetic, a bit pleased, and entirely genuine. “You’re just so fun.”

“I hate you,” Mike whispers. He’s sure that any hope of the phrase having even the slightest semblance of effect is vanquished immediately by the way he says it – breathless and adoring and totally, completely lovesick. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love me,” Will repeats, looking even more happy with himself than before, like getting Mike riled up and flustered is the highlight of his day. He pushes a strand of hair out of Mike’s eyes and asks, more seriously, “Are you hungry? You want something to eat?”

“Yeah? You’re gonna cook for me?” Mike asks, as if they don’t know a grand total of maybe five recipes between the two of them.

“Sure,” Will says. “Yeah. It’ll be romantic.”

Last Mike checked, they needed to get groceries, and he’s not sure what they even have that could feasibly be put together for a meal, but Will’s weirdly good at that sort of thing – throwing the most random ingredients together until it resembles something vaguely edible. Not gourmet, by any means, and sometimes not even good, but, like – if you need caloric sustenance, he’s your guy.

Mike isn’t sure how he feels about another one of those meals, though. Especially when he considers the stockpile of tuna cans in the pantry that’s been there for about a million years. He gives Will a suspicious look. “Like what?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Will says, then shoves gently at Mike’s side to get him to stand up. He follows, kicking the blanket off into a haphazard pile on the end of the sofa, and trailing Mike into the kitchen. “Mac and cheese. From a box.”

Kraft dinner sounds safe enough. “Okay,” Mike says happily. “Thank you.”

He hops up onto the counter while Will digs around the cupboard for a pot, then goes about filling it with water. The kitchen is silent for a while, save for the low humming of the fridge, the sharp clicking of the stove as it turns on. Mike watches him move, a low flame of affection bursting to life in tandem with the gas-fueled warmth against his skin. It’s probably dangerous to be sitting so close to the stove when it’s on, but whatever. It’s the only strip of counter that has enough space for Mike to climb onto and still be this close to Will.

“What’s up with you?” Will asks, pulling a box of mac and cheese off of the cupboard shelf and peering curiously up at him.

Mike, a little belatedly, realizes he’s smiling. “Nothing,” he says, as Will sets the box down on the counter next to Mike’s thigh. “Why?”

“I don’t believe you,” Will says, then slots himself easily into the space between Mike’s legs, rests two hands on his hips. “You never smile this much on a Thursday.”

“You’re so hung up on it being a Thursday,” Mike hums, as Will presses his fingers into Mike’s skin, pushing up the soft fabric of his sweatshirt just a little. “Why are you– hey, that tickles!”

Will just grins, watching Mike squirm with no small amount of joy on his face. “Watch out for the fire,” he says, calm and collected and cool as a cucumber, like he wasn’t the one that nearly got him burned in the first place.

“Watch out for the– oh, shut up,” Mike says. Will laughs, low and pleased, and leans forward, tilting his face up.

“Come down here,” he says, frowning. “I can’t kiss you when you’re all the way up there.”

“Not my fault I’m taller than you,” Mike mumbles, but slides off the counter anyway. He lands a bit awkwardly, stumbles half a step forward before Will steadies him.

“I’m hung up on it being a Thursday,” Will says, tucking a kiss to the side of Mike’s cheek, right under his ear, “because you’re always miserable on Thursdays.”

“I am not,” Mike laughs, as Will pulls back. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re up early and you have a million classes and you never get enough time to actually eat during the day and you never let me forget it,” Will says, the answer a little too immediate for Mike’s liking. He steps closer, presses Mike back up against the counter until the cold linoleum tiles are digging into the small of his back. “And you’re a menace when your blood sugar is low. Is that it? Did you eat a real lunch today? Are you currently operating under normal human physiology?”

Mike thinks back to the solitary bagel he’d eaten in approximately seven bites while running between the English building and the Communications building. “Um. Unless you count me getting an everything bagel instead of plain, then no.”

“Then what is it?” Will asks. “I can tell, you’re so– you’re being so–”

Mike gives him a strange look. “I don’t think I’m being anything,” he says. It’s true – he doesn’t feel any different from normal, except maybe a little warmer and a little fuzzier and a little bit more hungry than on his average day. “What’s your deal? What am I being?”

“Smilier,” Will says, tilting his head like he’s looking for a nonexistent giveaway in Mike’s face. His eyes dart over Mike’s features, slowly, drinking them in.

“That’s not a word.”

“If I guess,” Will starts, ignoring him, “will you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to guess– Will!” Mike shrieks softly, as Will peppers a quick succession of kisses across his cheek and down his neck. “Fuck you, that tickles!”

“Good grade on a paper?” Will hums against his throat, which isn’t really doing much to help with the tickling thing. Mike tries to pull away, but Will’s grip is steadfast, unyielding. “Heard back from your advisor?”

“No, and no,” Mike gets out. “Nothing happened!”

“Don’t believe you,” Will murmurs, then kisses Mike over the bridge of his nose. “Class got canceled?”

“Thankfully not,” Mike laughs, “because we were peer reviewing today– Will, oh my god, why are you–”

“Be honest with me,” Will says, squinting slightly, “are you on drugs?”

“How the hell would I be on drugs,” Mike stares, a grin spreading, wide and giddy, across his face. His chest is aching from laughter, cheeks already tired from smiling so hard. It’s ridiculous how often he feels like this around Will. He didn’t know you could feel so exhausted in such a wonderful way, by such a wonderful thing. A welcome ache, soothing and grounding and exhilarating all at once. “I don’t understand you.”

“Then tell me,” Will says quietly, leaning in again. He kisses Mike, soft and intentional, thumbs rubbing circles over his hips where his crewneck had ridden up earlier, long and slow enough that Mike forgets about it, for a second – the teasing and the prodding and the interrogation – and the warm ache of laughter gives way to something smoother, steadier. He wants to sink into the feeling like a warm bath – or maybe a dry macaroni noodle in a pot of boiling water.

“The water,” Mike mumbles, barely decipherable. “It’s boiling.”

“It’s just water,” Will says, “it’ll be fine,” and kisses him again.

That’s a good point. “Okay,” Mike whispers, and lets the feeling overtake him – Will’s hands, steady and warm where they’re pressed against Mike’s skin. Where his hair is still damp from his shower, because Will is ridiculous and lame and has one morning class on Thursdays and gets to lay around at home for the rest of the day.

Will presses another kiss to Mike’s lips, leans in once, twice, and–

Thud.

“Ow,” Mike groans, pulling away just long enough to squeeze his eyes shut and rub at the back of his head, where the cabinet had oh-so-rudely refused to move out of the way for him. “Great.”

“Mike,” Will says in mild disbelief, biting down on his lower lip. His eyes are sparkling, cheeks a little flushed. God, Mike loves him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he breathes out, smiling. “I’m– yeah, that was so stupid.”

“So stupid,” Will grins. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike groans again, exasperated and drawn-out, and that’s it – Will laughs, bright and happy and eyes going all crinkles at the corners and moves in to kiss him again.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Mike protests, but he’s laughing too, catching Will’s soft exhales as they leave his chest, leaning forward to press more of his weight into him. Will moves easily, lets Mike grin against his mouth – wide and happy and far too pleased for his own good.

“Okay, don’t tell me,” Will says at last, pressing a final kiss to Mike’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“Will,” Mike starts, then reels him back in with one hand on his wrist. Will looks startled, eyes wide as Mike catches him by the other hand too. “I was– nothing happened, I swear. I was just thinking about you earlier.”

Will blinks. “You were thinking about me?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugs. Will says this like it’s a rare, wondrous occasion – Mike thinking about him, that is – and not something that usually happens during most of Mike’s waking hours and some of his unconscious ones too. “I was thinking about you. You just– you make me feel better. I didn’t notice anything was different.”

Will just looks at him. “So you’re not on drugs?”

Mike drops his head to Will’s shoulder and sighs, long and bereaved. Will laughs, low and breathy next to his ear, wraps both arms around Mike’s waist, and holds on. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding,” Will murmurs. “That’s sweet. You– really? What were you thinking about?”

This is embarrassing.

“Just you,” Mike admits, a little muffled into the fabric of Will’s sweater. “Just– coming home to you, after a long day.”

“Sap,” Will says, saccharine and so fond that it seems to be spilling right out of him. Mike can feel it, all the ways Will loves him, like it’s a physical thing that’s taking shape under his hands. They’re what make Mike think about him so often, all the time, in the middle of a painstakingly long lecture or seminar. Turning memories like these over in his mind, the simple comfort in knowing his day is going to get better as soon as Will gets his arms around him.

“Shut up,” Mike says. He turns to kiss along the curve of Will’s cheekbone, right under his eye, where the skin has gone wonderfully pink and creased with laughter, then pulls away. “The water’s been boiling for, like, ten minutes, by the way. Just so you know.”

[starvoidsailor]

Not me thinking about Neros name.

It is an interesting name though, so I'll do it anyway.

There are a few famous people who were called Nero, most prominently Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, most well know for being a tyrannical leader and setting Rome on fire for a building project. With the name Nero meaning strong or vigorous and later being adapted to mean black in Italian and other European languages in some variations. We all know that, an impressive and historically charged name of a grand and slightly insane roman emperor (like Gaius, there were so many emperors who had Gaius in their name) as the perfect base for Nero tol Scaeva.

His last name, Scaeva, being derived from one of Julius Caesar's most prominent Centurion Marcus Cassius Scaeva who famously wore red. Easy, we got that down as well. Makes sense since red is his color and Gaius Baelsar was named after Julius Caesar.

But what made me wonder was his last name. We know what Nero means, depending on the angle, i.e the language, it either denotes physical stenght or the color black. But what does Scaeva mean, specifically? Even if both names were picked from ancient roman history to fit with the empires theme and somewhat arranged around Gaius correlation to Caesar, let's just wonder for a moment what Scaeva actually means. Just for the fun of it.

If you Google "what does Scaeva mean?" all you'll get are some lovely articles regarding hoverflies since their scientific name of a genus of them is Scaeva, which has nothing to do with Nero, either ours nor the roman emperor. Unfortunately a dead end.

Doing a little deep dive back into my dusty Latin Vocabulary since all roads lead back to Rome, Scaeva is indeed listed there. Well, kind of.

Scaeva was a word used to describe a certain type of gladiator in ancient Rome, just like Bestiarius or Gladiatrix. It specifically was used to refer to gladiators of any type that were left-handed.

It furthermore is also an adjective. Scaevus is the masculine baseform to look at, meaning "left" or "on the left side" but can also translate to mean "clumsy" or "unlucky" or, my personal favorite, "powerfully influenced by luck [Fortuna], for good or bad,". Scaevus is the masculine form, as said, so how is it conjugated to Scaeva? Easy, the singular nominative feminine of Scaevus becomes Scavea. Meaning that Neros lastname is the feminine version of the word, something European languages like German or Spanish and French like to do, with usually a feminine and masculine form of the word.

Now, why did I ramble about this?

Because I got tired at 1am, wondered what his lastname meant, fell down a rabbit hole or two and came back out with refreshed Latin and some headcanons regarding our dearest engineer.

Nero is left-handed but became ambidextrous during the academy for sake of outshining Cid

Nero was an accident and doesn't know his father

His lastname is his mother's

There were probably other things I found on my way I could delve into as well and maybe I will but I'll leave you guys this for now.

[vibinwiththefrogs]

How I'm studying Spanish after a long break

It's always hard getting back into a language that you know the basics in, because beginner materials are too easy and intermediate materials might be too advanced. After trying and failing multiple times to stick with Spanish again, I think I finally have a good system?

So for formal studying I'm using Mango Languages, but not actually taking the lessons. I find that I know about half the material in their unit 2, and it gets very repetitive and boring to go through the actual lessons, but I still want to cover what I don't know. So I've been making flashcards with the given vocab, studying the vocab, and then when I've reviewed it all I only go through the listening, reading, and recap given at the end of each chapter. So I've been able to learn more level-appropriate vocab in a structured way without the slog of going over things I know over and over. This has been about 1/3 of my time.

The other 2/3 of my time I've just been doing immersion. For listening I've been bouncing between watching the Spanish dub of Death Note, and watching Let's Plays on Youtube (specifically, I've been watching one for FNAF Security Breach and one for Disco Elysium). For reading I've been reading the Spanish translation of the webtoon Ring My Bell. For listening I don't usually take notes and I just focus on listening intently, but for reading I'll write down phrases and words that repeat or feel important.

I'm not quite sure if I can see clear progress yet because I've only been doing this for about 2 weeks. I still struggle a lot with understanding verb tense/conjugation, but I found drilling it isn't helpful to me in the past. But I feel like my listening comprehension has improved in the past two weeks. I feel like I can follow Death Note and streams and understand about 50% of what is said (and the rest from context), and I'm starting to be able to pick out individual words more clearly if I don't understand something.

The important thing about his routine though is that I haven't felt like things are too easy, and I also haven't felt bogged down by things being too difficult. I'm probably at a A2 level right now, and I'm hoping to be a solid B1 and generally conversational by the end of August. So I'm going to keep up this routine and see where it gets me.

[deepspacedukat]

The Only One - Part 7: Immoral Comfort

Welp...Part 7, here we are. This is the part I started way before I even wrote Part 1, because I was in a Mood™. I originally thought this was going to be a 3 part story, but it looks like it's gonna be something closer to 12. Tbh, I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this fic because it was such a niche, back-of-the-brain thought. So, thank you to everyone who's made it this far with me and taken the time to leave comments!

I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I hope there are at least a few people who are still interested. I had a very specific way that I wanted things to happen in this chapter and I was being a little too picky about the details, so my apologies for the delay! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

*Dominionese language pulled from @dominionese-resource and their Dominionese dictionary. If you want me to clarify where I got certain words or phrases, or how I tried (clumsily) to piece them together myself, please feel free to ask. I probably conjugated a few verbs incorrectly or structured things wrong in places, but I tried. Also, the signature mentioned was based off this post on their blog.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Weyoun (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Vorta/Human sex, fingering, jealous Dukat, drunkenness, romantic Weyoun, telepathic/empathic connection, mild existential crisis, crying, sorta hurt/comfort? but mostly just stress/comfort, spoilers for S6E4 "Behind the Lines."

~*~

Nearly a month passed from that long, odd day when I met Keevan and his men. I hated having to conceal part of my motives from Weyoun, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way in hell I’d sit idly by while the Changelings took over my home. Major Kira, Odo, and a few others had begun a small resistance cell aboard the station, and so that they wouldn’t jeopardize my mission or I theirs, Kira had ordered me not to attend meetings. I was to keep my ears open and report to her as usual. She was allowing me to help but only in minor ways. Yes, it was important to cause chaos for the Dominion while they were occupying the station, but a position of influence and confidence like I currently held was insanely important for the intelligence gathering task that Starfleet had given me. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the members were.

That was definitely for the best. With the intimacy of the connection that Weyoun and I shared, my lack of knowledge kept myself and the rest of the resistance members safe. I’d have to be content helping in my own little way. Thus far, Dukat trusted me almost as much as Weyoun did, and Damar was slowly coming around to the belief that I wasn’t his enemy. All I had to do now was keep it up and find a way to contact Starfleet Command. Discreetly.

Seated beside each other one evening, Weyoun and I worked on our respective reports. I wasn’t particularly curious about the file he was reading until he picked up a stylus and wrote something. It was an odd group of symbols and marks that I’d never seen before. Without much thought about how rude it probably was, I tilted my head and watched how fluidly his fingers drew the stylus across the data PADD.

“What is that?” I asked quietly, and Weyoun gave me a perplexed look.

“A report about troop movements...?”

“Oh, not the report, I mean this,” I said pointing to the symbols he’d drawn out beneath the final paragraph. A look of understanding washed over him, and he gave me a small smile.

“That is my signature,” he answered simply, and I felt my eyes widen. “Have you not seen Dominionese written out before?”

“I’ve barely heard Dominionese, much less seen it. Is that really your name?” I asked unable to keep the wonder from my voice. I examined the markings a bit more carefully, wondering what each meant in order to form a name as precious as his.

Weyoun set the data PADD aside, picked up an empty one, and wrote the symbols a little neater this time. I watched the way his stylus glided over the PADD’s surface in practiced, fluid movements. When he was finished, he tilted the screen toward me to show me his handiwork, and I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips. The more I looked at the symbols, the harder it became to shake the feeling that I’d seen something like them before.

The pendant! I pulled it out from beneath the collar of my uniform and sure enough, the symbols were similar. The engravings were in Dominionese.

“Weyoun, the pendant you gave me...what does it say?”

“Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to teach you to read it yourself?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and I felt myself perk up at the implication.

“Would you? I-I mean, are you willing to teach me? I know you’re busy with the station and the war, so I understand if you don’t have the time–” He cut me off with a quick kiss and set the PADD aside as he took my hands in his.

“My dear, I would be honored to teach you the language of your people,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m sure you’ll take to it quite easily. You’ve always been a fast learner, at least from what I’ve seen.”

‘My people.’ Both of us knew they weren’t anything of the sort after what they’d done, but I still appreciated his sentiment. Besides, the hope that he held about a potential reconciliation between myself and the Changelings, while utterly futile, was also incredibly sweet. After all that he'd been through, the fact that he still had hope was just a testament to the strength that the Founders chose not to see in their Vorta followers.

Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I looked up at the gorgeous purple-eyed being on my sofa. How in the stars did I get so lucky?

Purple blush spread quickly across his cheeks, and Weyoun let out a shy little laugh. Right, the feelings. It had become more natural over the duration of our relationship for us to share our emotions through the strange telepathic connection we'd been granted, but there were still moments where it caught one or both of us off guard.

"As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself tonight and demonstrate exactly how much I adore you, didn't you say you were meeting a friend tonight?" His question pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked in comprehension.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is eighteen-thirty hours,” it responded, and I got to my feet. Shit, he was right, and I was going to be late at this rate.

“Meeting Damar again?” Weyoun asked as he stood, too, and grasped my waist lightly. When I nodded my head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re making more friends. I know you were already acquainted with some of the Bajoran officers, but knowing that Keevan and Damar along with some of their officers have become close to you...I’m overjoyed! To tell you the truth, I thought you might feel isolated here given the personnel changes. I-I thought...you might regret staying.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around the Vorta’s neck.

“Well, I still feel a little out of place at times, but there are a few people here who’ve been kind to me," I murmured placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "For the record, you make staying here worth it. As long as I have you, I won't regret leaving Starfleet."

I knew this was only temporary - that as soon as the Federation regained control of the station I'd be back to being a Starfleet officer - but I was going to make the most of this while I could. Sure, I still had my mission and a very important job to do, but I wasn't about to waste my opportunity to soak in Weyoun's presence while I could.

A beautiful, joyful smile stretched his lips, and he pressed his forehead lightly against mine.

"Good, because running this station and protecting Bajor for the Dominion...it would be mind-numbingly dull without you, my dear." That brought a smile to my own lips, but probably for different reasons than he would've anticipated. The Founders would likely have blown a gasket hearing that one of their Vorta toys was bored with the job they'd been created to perform. If that wasn't proof that the Vorta were capable of being so much more than the Changelings thought, I didn't know what was. "Don't be late, now. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded my head quietly and gave him a tender, parting kiss before making my way toward Quark's.

The Bajoran station was humming with the partially-exhausted crowds that naturally accompanied the end of a shift. Used to the tired throng of people either going for a meal or heading back to their quarters, I used a few of the back corridors - less-traveled areas, of course - to make up some time.

Rather quickly, I found myself slipping into the doorway to the Ferengi's bar and zeroing in on the seat that was held for me out of habit by Dukat's right hand man. Without preamble, I plopped myself on the padded stool and gave a polite nod to the Cardassian in question.

"I was wondering when you'd get here. Usually you're early," Damar said as he brought his glass of kanar to his lips. He seemed in unusually high spirits tonight. Either something minor and gossip-worthy had happened, or I should be very concerned about the state of the war.

"There was a lot of foot traffic tonight. Apparently everyone decided this was the night to be in my way," I said with a dismissive giggle. Quark caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. "You look like the cat that got the cream, Glinn. What's got you in such a good mood?"

The Ferengi bartender set my drink in front of me with a wink - I knew for a fact that he flirted with all the patrons who wouldn't kill him in the hopes that he'd get a bigger tip - but before he could leave, Damar's hand landed on his forearm.

"Anything the Lieutenant drinks tonight is on me. This is a celebration," the Glinn said with a smug smirk. Looking at him in surprise, I lifted my glass of kanar in salute.

"Why, thank you, Glinn. If I may ask, what's the occasion?" He tapped his glass against mine, and after we both took a generous swallow - clearly not his first of such this evening - he turned to face me on his stool.

"My impending promotion!" He said puffing up his armor-covered chest.

Uh oh.

"Wait a minute," Quark cut in as he polished a glass, "you started a fight in my bar and they're making you a Gul? What kind of way is that to run an army?"

Weyoun had mentioned the fight only a couple of days before. Apparently, it had been between Cardassian officers and Jem'Hadar soldiers. Quark's concern was completely valid. How the hell did that track?

"Dukat wasn't happy about what happened," Damar started refilling his glass and topping mine off, even though I'd only taken a single sip. "I had to find a way to make it up to him."

"I hope it was something big," Quark chimed in.

"Must've been a hell of a blowjob," I teased, and the tipsy Cardassian let out a raucous laugh.

"Nothing so personal. Let's just say it will change the course of history," he said before draining his glass once more. Quark's eyes met mine. This reeked of trouble.

"As a businessman," the Ferengi started, refilling the Glinn's glass himself, "I'm very interested in the course of history. This one's on me."

Damar accepted the drink with a nod and a raised glass.

"That's very kind of you, Quark, but I can't talk about it." Down the hatch went that drink, and I sipped slowly at mine as I formed a plan. Quark looked over at me, and sighed as he grabbed a third glass.

"Of course, I understand. Have another," he offered, refilling Damar's drink, topping up mine, and pouring one for himself. I'd never imbibed heavily before, but there was a first time for everything.

--

Making our way to Kira's quarters while intoxicated was more difficult that I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to keep myself upright, but I had to try and steady Quark as well. The dirty bastard's hand roamed several times, but a threat to remove them at the wrist seemed to sober him up just enough for him to process how bad of an idea it had been.

We were practically dragged into the Major's quarters when we got there, having seemingly stumbled our way into a meeting of her resistance group. So much for me not knowing who was involved. She'd clearly bet on the probability of me forgetting the night's events by the morning, otherwise she wouldn't have let me in at all.

After several rambling attempts at conversation, Quark got a little agitated, and Kira tried to drag him back on course.

"How can I relax when there are thousands of Jem'Hadar ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole, waiting to come through?" He slurred, and Jake shook his head, trying to placate him.

"Don't worry about it. They're stuck there." He sounded so confident - so naïvely certain.

"Noooo, Jake. They're coming," I said, clutching at his arm as if I could make the young man understand. "If Damar was telling the truth, they'll be able to get through soon."

"What are you talking about?" Kira asked, and together we managed a somewhat intelligible, if slurred, explanation of what happened. Odo and Kira shared a look, and I was ordered to head back to my quarters.

How I got back, though, was a mystery to everyone, myself included. All I recalled the next morning was the vague impression of Weyoun helping me into clean clothes and letting me cuddle him until I fell asleep.

I really hoped that I'd dreamed saying how pretty he was so many times. He deserved to know he was handsome, but I didn't exactly want to sound like such a moron when conveying that to him.

Gentle lips against my cheek brought me back to consciousness in the morning, and I burrowed farther into my lover's embrace. My head ached and everything felt dry and scratchy and too loud.

No wonder I heard so many people warning about how strong kanar was. If this is how it felt the morning after, I was quite happy never to taste that syrupy shit again.

"Come, my love. It's time to get up," Weyoun crooned in a gentle, careful whisper. An involuntary groan escaped me, and he ran his fingers softly through my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I have something that'll help, though."

"I don't think even your gorgeous cock can fix this," I rasped as I forced myself to sit up - an utterly monumental task in that state.

"As honored as I am that you view me as a potential cure to many ailments, I was talking about this," he said reaching for a hypospray sitting on the bedside table. "It'll take away the majority of your symptoms."

I tried to nod my head, but it just ended with me wincing and lying back down. A quiet hiss sounded against my upper arm, and a few moments later, the pain melted away as if Weyoun's fingers trailing over my scalp had behaved like a poultice, absorbing the Evil Hangover straight from the source.

Featherlight kisses landed on my closed eyelids, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sensation.

"I take it you and Damar had fun last night?" He teased, and I groaned.

"For your own health, never ever try to match drinks with a Cardassian soldier." I cautioned, but before I could say more, the comm system chimed.

"Dukat to Weyoun. There is an urgent meeting in thirty minutes. Bring the Lieutenant with you. She'll want to be a part of this." He didn't wait for a response, simply stated the message and cut the line.

A long-suffering sigh escaped my lover's lips, and he fixed me with a stare. Those soft, warm purple eyes of his filled with a playful sort of calculating stare. He then picked up a glass of water and gave me a wink.

"Computer, deactivate Universal Translator in this room," he ordered, and my eyebrows shot upward. The acknowledging chirp from the computer stirred my curiosity. Holding the glass of water between us, he pointed at it and murmured a single word. "Na."

I blinked, and he, noticing my blankness, smiled and repeated the word before gesturing a hand at me. I repeated the word, still mildly confused, but it pleased him, and just like that something clicked.

Apparently, this was my first lesson in how to speak Dominionese. My pronunciation had been right on the money, but I didn't know if he meant the cup itself, or what was in the cup.

"Na?" Reaching forward, I tapped the glass as I asked, then I dipped a fingertip into the liquid, "or is this na?"

A look of comprehension flickered across his face, and he touched the liquid as I had, repeating the word confidently. He had me say it once or twice more, and offered me the glass with a cheerful little kiss on the forehead.

As we dressed for our meeting with Dukat, Weyoun tapped items of clothing and various objects around the room, giving me their names in his language and having me repeat them until my pronunciation was satisfactory. By the time that the translator came back online, I couldn't help but feel proud that I'd absorbed so much while recovering from a hangover.

--

The Changeling standing in the wardroom sent a bolt of anxiety rocketing through me. Why was a Founder here? Wasn't it enough for the Vorta to keep their people informed? Odo stood at her side, looking confused, a little suspicious, and...was he happy? I supposed that he must be. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been exiled from ever returning to their homeworld. The slightly guarded yet curious glances he threw her way said more than words ever could.

How long had she been on the station? How deeply into him had she sunk her claws?

I had my answer when I glanced at the table and noted that Major Kira was conspicuously absent. For the safety of the resistance and the Federation's future, I had to assume that Odo had been compromised.

"Founder, it is an honor," Weyoun said sinking into a low bow at my side. His hand still rested squarely in mine, but I didn't copy his actions. Lifting my chin in defiance, I merely looked at her as her hawk-like eyes watched us - or rather, me. She didn't seem to even notice Weyoun, choosing instead to stare at me.

"We meet again, child of Meris," she said, but I just lifted an eyebrow. What sort of response could I possibly give after she banished me? I'd chosen Weyoun over my people - a decision I could never regret - but I had no intention of discussing my logic with one so cruel that she could not comprehend that what she'd almost done was wrong in the extreme. "Have you nothing to say to your kin?"

Glancing around the room in faux contemplation, I shook my head blankly.

"I see no kin here. Besides, the last time we spoke, you made your opinion on my existence quite clear." I was proud of how calm and logical I sounded despite the anger boiling within me.

"Perhaps our opinions of you have changed," she said taking a few steps toward me. Looking away from her, I spotted Dukat and was, for once, grateful for his presence.

"What did you call us here for, Gul?" The smirk that met my inquiry sent a shiver down my spine. "I trust it wasn't just for this...reunion?"

"Come, Lieutenant. Have a seat by me. We have a breakthrough to discuss," he called, and I did as he suggested. Pulling Weyoun gently along, I ensured that the Founder wasn't given the chance to sit on either side of me. All the meeting gave me were specifics on the plan to remove the minefield. Nearly everything Dukat and Damar said were things I'd heard from the latter the night before, and I forced myself to act surprised.

I caught Damar looking at me a few times, doubtless trying determine how much he'd said the night before and how much I remembered. When I gave him an innocent smile and acted engrossed in Dukat's speech as if it was all new, he seemed to relax.

Very well. Let the drunkard believe that he'd averted a crisis. The more his people underestimated their opposition, the easier it would be to catch them off their guard.

"You will keep me informed," the Founder said rising to her feet as if she was a queen. Without waiting for an answer from Gul Dukat, she turned to Odo. "Come. I wish to speak with you alone."

I expected him to toss out an abrasive comment, but instead, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

What the hell was going on?

Before I could say a word to Weyoun, though, the Founder tossed a glance over her shoulder.

"Come, Weyoun. We require your service," she called not waiting for an answer as she swept out of the room. He gave me an apologetic kiss on the cheek before rushing after the pair of Changelings, and then I was left alone with the two Cardassians.

"Well, well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Dukat murmured, and I let out a heavy sigh. I still had the edge of a headache from this morning's hangover. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat. "Oh dear. You do seem stressed."

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from snapping open when one of his large hands rested on my thigh, squeezing the muscles there in what I guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. I hummed low in my throat - the sound's meaning was one that I let him interpret on his own.

"Did I wear you out last night?" Damar asked with a huff of laughter, and Dukat let out a scandalized gasp. I could imagine just how wide his eyes had grown as he looked between his officer and me.

"Don't tell me you were with another Cardassian!" He sounded sufficiently playful, but still just jealous enough to bring a smile to my lips. Good. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

"Only for a drink," I replied, and Damar took that as his cue to leave. The door hissed closed, leaving me truly alone with Dukat. Why shouldn't I use this as an opportunity to deepen his trust in me?

"No wonder you look so tired," Dukat murmured sounding much closer than before. His other hand touched my forehead and his lips met my cheek. "Poor girl. I can massage that headache away if you like...?"

Letting out a harsh, skeptical laugh, I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to face him.

"And trust your hands not to wander? Forgive me, Gul, but I've heard stories of your dalliances during the Occupation–"

"Are you truly telling me that after all we've been through over the years, you wouldn't enjoy a little...dalliance of our own? Especially considering that your pretty little Vorta toy will likely be busy serving the Founder's wishes while she's aboard. We wouldn't want you to grow lonely, would we? I could keep you entertained," he challenged as he skimmed his fingertips down the side of my face. After seeing the Founder in the flesh and how unquestioningly obedient Weyoun was to her, suddenly Dukat didn't seem so bad.

Relativity, indeed. Tilting my head, I skimmed my lips ever-so-lightly over the palm of his hand and looked up at him - a nice touch, if I do say so myself.

"You wish," I breathed, and a devilish smirk stretched his lips. Oh, I was playing with fire.

"Would such a wish really be so surprising?" The Gul's voice was low and intimate - soft, as though he thought that was what I needed.

I did. I needed gentleness quite badly. Just not from him.

"Coming from you? Not in the slightest." I put as much condescension in my tone as I dared, hoping he'd take it as a clumsy attempt at Cardassian-style flirting. A raspy chuckle vibrated deep in his throat, prompting me to get to my feet.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I should. After all, Weyoun–"

"–will be busy with the female Founder and Odo for quite some time. You are free to do as you wish," he argued, but I shook my head quietly.

"I have duties."

"You don't. I took the liberty of having Major Kira clear your schedule for the day." I froze, and obviously didn't hide my surprise well, because he continued in a more amused tone. "Initially, I believed that you'd want the time for a family reunion, but given your reaction to your long-lost relation, you could use the time for something more...enjoyable. Improving interstellar relations between Bajor and Cardassia, perhaps...?"

He stood and moved in front of me, tilting my chin up so that eyes met his.

"There's no need to be coy," he whispered. "Obviously, we both want this..."

"You want me?" I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as I could while my hand slid up to his neck ridge. He practically moaned out a 'yes,' and I grabbed the section of his ridge that Kira had taught me was a weak point for Cardassians. Dukat let out a pained hiss, but the delighted smirk on his face spoke more of arousal than discomfort. "Then work for it. I'm not one of your comfort women from the previous occupation. If you want me, then you need to earn the privilege. Understood?"

"Oh yes, Lieutenant." Though strained, he still managed to sound flirtatious. I released him and spun on my heel. Sparing him a single glance over my shoulder as I walked out, I noted the tent in his uniform trousers.

--

This was a mess. Everything was a mess. If the Federation didn't retake the station soon, the resistance might be in shambles. Damar was clearing the wormhole, Odo was wrapped around the Female Founder's little finger, and Dukat's actions today might have finally convinced Major Kira that I wasn't worth trusting...that I'd truly betrayed the Federation and Bajor. Besides that, I might have to close my eyes and do something I'd very much regret with Dukat.

Guilt wound through me every time that I acknowledged how much I'd encouraged his attraction. I knew I needed information for the Federation and the Resistance, and I needed the Gul to trust me, but was flirting with him even the right move considering everything at stake?

I had no idea how long I was stuck in my thoughts, but at some point that evening, I became vaguely aware that Weyoun had returned to our quarters. His voice washed gently over my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. My eyes remained lost in the stars just outside the window, and my arms had been crossed protectively around my middle for goodness only knew how long.

What could I do to stop the minefield being removed when I hadn't even found a way to communicate with Starfleet Command? I mean, what had I been doing all this time besides playing house with a Vorta?

A wave of concern flowed from Weyoun to myself through our odd link as he sensed my emotions, but I didn’t move a muscle. Even when his hands took up careful residence on my shoulders, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than blink.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Weyoun’s smooth, concerned voice asked from behind me as I stared out into the oblivion of space. He could read people better than they could read themselves, and I was certainly no exception, not that I was making it particularly difficult for him at the moment. Even if we hadn't been empathically linked, it wouldn't have been hard to see how wilted I felt. “You’ve been quieter than usual since you returned from that late night with Damar, and now with Founder here... You’ve been preoccupied. I realize that you don’t want me to think of you as the offspring of a deity, but...I live to serve you in whatever ways you may require, my love. What can I do to help you?”

I felt too vulnerable and too closed off all at once, like a frayed wire being strangled by what little remained of its casing. Who else could I say anything to? Who else cared about what I said, even if this all turned out to be a ruse - a long game that he'd been playing so patiently - in the end?

Weyoun was the only one. I couldn’t trust anyone on this station, not anymore, not where it was important. Hell, I shouldn’t even fully trust him, but what other choice did I have?

For this...could I risk it just this once? He thought of Changelings as gods. He regarded the being who was my biological father as a god, and I myself as a demigod of sorts. Would this be taking advantage of the programming the Founders had included in his genetic makeup? Would he feel obligated to listen to me drivel on without regard for his own feelings despite my protests that I wanted only his honesty?

When I turned and my eyes met his, I felt something in me break. Weyoun looked so worried. Precious man. His almost neon purple eyes were moist as though he were on the verge of tears like I was - he truly was distressed over my current state. I knew my own eyelids were most likely puffy from the tears I’d shed - the emotions threatening to spill over again at any moment - and I knew that he’d have noticed that by now. He was much too clever for his own good.

A low whisper of my name brought me out of my thoughts enough to notice that the Vorta’s brow had furrowed just a little bit more than before.

“Please...it pains me to see you like this. I beg you, please let me help,” he said barely above a whisper, and whatever cracks had formed in my defenses extended far enough that I could no longer keep up my flimsy facade. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. A flicker of fear passed over Weyoun’s features and through our bond, and although I wanted to comfort him, all that escaped me was a quiet sob. There wasn’t much space left between us to begin with, but he still stepped forward as much as he could and lifted his hands, allowing them to hover on either side my face as if he was afraid to touch me. “H-How do I help you?”

In answer, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Pressing my face quietly against his shoulder, I felt his own limbs envelope me without hesitation - one around my middle and one around my upper back - holding me close to him. Weyoun was nearly trembling from how fiercely and protectively he was embracing me.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my temple in that soft, comforting voice. This time instead of it being filled with steady lies as it so often was in meetings, I could hear it wavering with emotion just as it had so long ago on that Dominion ship and when he found that I'd remained on the station despite its occupation. “You are not alone. You have me; you always will. I promise. No matter what happens with the Dominion, the Alpha Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant...you will always have me. I know what it is to be alone, and I swear you never will be again.”

Safe in his arms, I found myself no longer caring whether this was just a ploy or not, because I so desperately wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He'd been here, but I hadn't allowed him to see just how stressed I was trying to toe the line between the Dominion and Bajor. I wanted to believe he was telling the whole truth. Just this once.

Just this once.

So I nodded my head against his shoulder and simply let myself be comforted by his embrace, by his promise, and by this one act of kindness, dangerous though it might eventually prove to be.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out around my stuttered breaths. I was. He didn’t deserve to have someone sobbing all over him for no reason. He was the one who needed kindness, especially after the way I’d seen that Founder treating him. He wasn't some pet for them to order around. He deserved so much more kindness than he was being shown.

Yet he was the one showing it to me. Whether incited by genuine concern or by his programmed devotion to the Founders - and myself by extension - Weyoun had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and courteous to me.

But how could I allow a shred of doubt into my head? Just thinking back to the first time I'd felt the extent of his love for me, I remembered how different his emotions had been compared with those he'd felt for the beings who had cloned him.

Shame wove hot and heavy through the ravages of my sorrow.

“You of all people have no reason to apologize to me,” he said before pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You have never been unkind to me, you’ve never hurt me. You’ve only ever shown me love and compassion. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”

“You have better things to do than put up with someone crying all over you,” I muttered daring to tilt my head back enough to look up into Weyoun’s eyes. He looked almost startled at my statement.

“My dear, you act as though you are a burden to be borne. I assure you, nothing is further from the truth,” he murmured in a pained voice. One of his hands lifted and cupped my cheek. His thumb skimmed gently across my skin wiping away the last of my tears. Leaning into his touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut. I knew I shouldn’t be this open with him - he was the Female Founder’s puppet while she was aboard the station, after all - but I couldn’t help it. Who else could I possibly be vulnerable with? Considering the cruelty and violence of this war surrounding me on a daily basis, was it really so wrong to enjoy a simple moment of self-indulgent intimacy? I raised my hand to cover Weyoun’s and turned my head just far enough to kiss his wrist.

It wasn’t even close to an adequate thank you for all he’d done for me, but it was all I could manage. I knew he’d understand - he always understood me with a startling degree of accuracy, even when I couldn’t express myself correctly or fully.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” He asked in barely more than a whisper as his eyes slid from our hands to meet my gaze. “You are lovely and kind to everyone, even those like me who don’t deserve it–”

“But you do deserve it. You always have, Weyoun, no matter how the Founders may have treated you,” I said quietly looking up into his eyes. He blinked owlishly at me, and I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Can you still not see that after all this time, darling?”

“I suppose I...still have a bit of trouble separating myself from the way the Founders created us,” he admitted as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “Forgive me–”

“Hush. There’s nothing to forgive,” I promise coaxing him into resting his forehead against mine. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I knew his excellent Vorta hearing would still register what I had to say. “We are, always have been, and always will be equals.”

“I believe you,” he murmured as his hands took up a timid grip on my waist. He took a slow, deep breath and as he exhaled, I rested my hands gently on his shoulders. Nothing had technically changed - the war was still raging, my father was still a missing murderer, and Dukat was still playing a tyrannical, slutty version of king of the castle with the station.

And yet...there in Weyoun’s arms, such a fundamental shift had occurred that it felt as though I suddenly could take on the universe. Perhaps it was a part of the Vorta coding which bound them to the Founders that made me feel reassured as I stood there, his own confidence in me bleeding over and restoring my own.

Or perhaps there was another explanation. The relationship that had been developing between us had shown no cracks until Dukat tried to worm his way between us. Even now, I was acutely aware that the Gul had plenty of reasons to try and manipulate me on that front. Why had I ever allowed myself to listen to a single word he said? Was I so afraid of losing Weyoun that I assumed it was just my luck that I would?

I had doubted myself and my judgment regarding him for so long that I suppose I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved with the kind over unwavering affection Weyoun had shown me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, doubts filtered through from my subconscious that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take this much liberty with his affection as it was - that I was weak for doing so.

But I needed him, and I loved him. Weyoun had assuaged my fears on that front so many times before, but was that justification enough for continuing?

“Such chaos thrust upon one person... Let me be your shielding."

The soft earnestness surrounding Weyoun's words had me crumbling in his arms. Almost without conscious thought, I tilted my head and caught his lips in a kiss that I hoped said all the words I couldn't muster. My lover didn't hesitate to return the gesture, kissing me with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

Slowly, naturally, our movements gained momentum, becoming hungrier and more desperate by the second. Just as he'd done after my encounter with Keevan, Weyoun easily took control. Something urgent and lurid passed between us, and in a blur of discarded clothing, we fell into our bed.

We'd experimented with each other over the time we'd been together, but we hadn't quite taken that final step. With his fingers pumping between my legs and mine caressing the base of his length and the folds of his slit, he whispered in my ear.

"I want to make love to you. Please, I'm ready. I'm aching for you, my love. I've dreamt of you so many times..."

I couldn't possibly deny him. Why would I even want to after all this time? I loved him, and I would never pressure him into doing more than he was comfortable with. I would, however, be lying if I said that I'd never imagined what our first time together would be like.

My imagination paled in comparison to the sweet sounds he made as he entered me for the first time. His name was a prayer on my lips, just as mine was on his. Our pleasure was reflected, doubled, then increased exponentially by the bond that formed between our minds. We merged so completely that I couldn't tell where Weyoun began and I ended.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin sounded less obscene and more...restorative. We both needed this. Our reasons might have been different, but our desires, our love, stemmed from the same source.

When he finally spilled within my trembling body, tears dampened both our faces. Weyoun's teeth had left bite marks down my neck, and I'd left a few scratches down his back.

Aside from murmured declarations of love between kisses, we didn't speak. What could we say? What could possibly need to be said so desperately that either of us would risk disturbing the peaceful, content atmosphere that had settled over us like a blanket?

Gentle touches, cuddles, and affectionate looks carried us delicately into dreamland that night.

--

The next morning as I blinked hazily into awareness, I thought the Vorta was still asleep. Trailing my fingers ever-so-softly through his mussed, silky, black hair, I couldn't help but smile. He was supposed to be unsettling to the Dominion's enemies and charming in equal measure, but all I could see was how gentle he was. I knew he had it within him to be manipulative, charming, and underhanded all in a matter of moments - that was how the Changelings had cloned him to be - and I'd witnessed it. But there was something satisfying about seeing the head of station's occupying force curled up like a kitten in my arms.

"That feels good." The words breezed from his lips, carried on his breath as easily and lightly as a feather. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

"I won't stop, then," I whispered, and he let out an appreciative hum.

"I meant it, you know. Every Weyoun since our very first iteration over a hundred years ago has seen your face in our dreams. Seeing you on the Defiant...I recognized you immediately."

My hand slowed atop his scalp. My lover's voice was low and nervous, as if he was afraid I'd mock him or accuse him of lying. Instead, I watched as he lifted his head from my chest and looked up at me with wide, gentle eyes.

"But...that was so long ago..." I was confused, definitely, but I wanted to hear him out. Across our bond, I could feel tension, as if Weyoun was taking a chance saying any of this.

"My very first memories are images of you from prior iterations' dreams. They all saw your face so frequently that they knew you were someone vitally important...that the Founders were allowing us visions of a blessing they planned to give us. The fourth Weyoun...he'd almost lost hope the day you met him," he murmured. "Only the important memories - the ones that stand out - are encoded for future iterations to retain. You...your face has survived every activation."

A lump rose in my throat. How was that possible? I'd heard of people having visions they thought were from their deities - hell, even Captain Sisko had visions from the Bajoran Prophets - but I knew for a fact that the Founders weren't gods. Even they couldn't predict the future like that. Otherwise, I had no doubt that they would've stopped my father from mating with a Human.

"In the dreams, you called out to me...said my name...promised you'd find me no matter what. I've never told anyone this before, but in my darkest hours...the moments where my faith in the Founders was at risk of falling apart, I clung to the image of your face hovering over me...and it strengthened me," Weyoun admitted in a whisper as he cupped my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. "I-I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Unable to make my tongue work, I shook my head and kissed his lips. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? What could I say about that revelation?

I hadn't even begun to sort through the messy tangle of emotions in my chest when the comm chimed.

“Damar to Weyoun.” Of course, there was never a calm, quiet moment on this station, even with it under the Dominion's thumb. The Vorta sighed quietly, the warmth of his breath caressing my skin as softly as his lips had in the wake of our intimacy.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, sounding more reluctant than I’d ever heard him. He didn’t move away from me any more than I did from him. If anyone had been watching, they’d doubtlessly assume that our nude bodies were stuck together beneath the blanket by some immutable, unseen force.

“You’re needed in Security. Now.” The Cardassian sounded smug, a fact which never seemed to bode well in his company. "We've just arrested a saboteur. The Ferengi bartender's brother, Rom."

~*~*~

Dominionese:

Na = water

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee @weyounthevorta

[theerrorofmylife]

Witch Queen Ch. 5

Thorin x Witch!Reader

HAHAHAH I LIVE I'm so sorry its been so long, it was not my intention to let this rot in my drafts like I did. I spent an ungodly amount of time researching MORE about the swords, Khuzdul, and Quenya. I never thought I'd be conjugating a fake dwarven/ elvish language and yet, here we are. I also added in some non-cannon plot/lore, it will be important... eventually. Some of it is book accurate, but if it has to do with Witches, its just me.

Also, i was casually doing a chapter layout and this could be really, really, really long. For that reason I'll be tidying up the Masterlist and making the Witch Queen its own link to a separate listing for chapters, and I'm considering making it available on Ao3 for convenience. Let me know it if this would be easier, I'm thinking it would be. Chapters would be released simultaneously for consistency.

THIS IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES, IF YOU ARE A MINOR THIS IS NOT FOR YOU, THIS IS 18+ UNDERSTAND ME????

WARNINGS: Lore, sad shit, non-cannon backgrounds, non-cannon lore, I'm trying to make these to as healthy of a relationship as possible but I don't have a good personal databank, SEX, mild smut, cunnilingus, Thorin knows how to use his mouth, these two are gonna get in trouble I swear, he's royalty, like, c'mon. All translations follow in italics unless translated by a character.

It never struck me that dwarves were picky eaters, but as I watched almost every single one of them pick and prod their meals, I almost laughed. They stabbed at the green leaves like they’d never seen them before. They were asking for meat and chips; I couldn’t help but huff a laugh. A large, callused hand placed itself on top of my thigh and I turned to my right, quickly tuning in to the conversation between Thorin, Gandalf, and Lord Elrond. 

“This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, one of a set…. It’s sister?” He narrowed his eyes at Thorin, but not in suspicion. 

“In possession of the Lady (Name).” Elrond looked from Thorin to me, a smirk rising to his lips, ill-hidden mischief in his eyes. 

“Tambë, sí násë ana anwaldë?” So, now he is giving you gifts? My face flushed a bright red. In almost every courting custom in Middle Earth, giving gifts was an important part of the courting process. Why do I get the feeling like I’m a child bringing my partner home to meet my father for the first time? Gandalf went pink in the face and started laughing quietly, his shoulders shaking a little. 

“Ála cartyalië, Hér Elrond! San mana cé cilnyë essë?” Don't make fun, Lord Elrond! So what if I choose him?

“Atarlda-” Your Father-

“Essë laië atarnya.” He is not my father. I cut him off, the mention of Thranduil nearly ruining my mood. Elrond went quiet and I saw in his eyes that he recognized this and decided to move on. 

“The two are very famous blades. Forged by the high Elves of the west. My kin. May they serve you both well.” He hands the blade back to Thorin who, while still very confused by the quick conversation between Elrond and I, took it with a grateful nod. He then took the broadsword from Gandalf. “And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, sword of the king of Gondolin. These were all made for the goblin wars of the first age. How did you come by these?” 

“We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs.”

“And what were you doing on the Great East Road?” No one spoke up, and I realized at that moment that he had already caught on. Thorin stood, excusing himself from the table, and I followed, no longer hungry. We walked for some time, until we found a small chamber open to the evening air, tall pillars letting the sunset dance at our feet, the rush of a waterfall nearby. There was no furniture in the room. This place was so incredibly peaceful. 

“It seems this evening has given me more questions than answers.” Thorin spoke up, leaning his shoulder against a pillar to my left. I sighed, going to lean against the one directly in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, I am the reason for that.” He pushed off the pillar, coming to stand in front of me, taking my hands in his. I couldn’t meet his eyes, I felt horrible, everything I wanted to tell him about felt too complicated to put to words. His left hand raised to hold my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. 

“Let’s start with earlier, you said you’d tell me why you didn’t mind being the last witch.” I nodded. 

“Can we sit, at least?” He huffed a laugh and we sat on the floor, crossing our legs and facing each other.

“So?” I finally looked up. It was just Thorin and I but it was still weird to talk about. I looked out to my right, trying to focus on the valley below us instead of what I was saying. 

“Witches are extremely powerful, especially in the old days, when there were a lot of us. But the thing is, one of our greatest strengths comes when we make a pledge. It’s like forming an alliance, except it’s life and magic binding and allows us to practically destroy entire continents. A long time ago, before I was born, there were the Great Wars of the second age. This was the time of Sauron and Isildur. There was a witch, a man, who was one of three lords of Númenor corrupted by the rings of power. He pledged himself to Sauron, and became the Witch-King of Angmar. Thorin, he did terrible things. He is part of the reason there are so few witches left in the world. He is the reason I don’t mind being alone. If we are capable of such evil, such horrible, heinous acts… maybe it’s a good thing there aren’t many of us.” Neither of us spoke for a while, but I could feel him staring at me. 

“You are not him, Amrâlimê…” 

“I could be. If something happened to you, or to the boys-” I had grown close to them, Fili and Kili. I knew if I let anything happen, I’d do terrible things, I’d be out of my mind. He reached forward, grabbing my hands and pulling me and turning me until I sat with my back against his chest, his thighs on either side of my body. I leaned my head back and he pressed a kiss to my cheek as he wrapped his arms around me. 

“Nothing will happen.” I huffed in response and he kissed my cheek again. “Tell me, what did you and Lord Elrond speak of at dinner? It upset you.” Oh. Right. My face went hot again. 

“He was teasing me about you giving me gifts. Then he brought up Thranduil... That’s what made me upset…” he hummed in understanding. 

“He did not say Thranduil’s name, I would not have known.” This was going to be a tough conversation. I had been worrying that when he found out my relation to Thranduil he would hate me just as he does the Elf king. 

“Atar… it means father in Quenya.” I physically felt him stop moving for a second. 

“Thranduil is your father…?” I shook my head. 

“No, not by blood at least. He took my mother and I in when I was born. He practically raised me, but I haven’t spoken with him in almost 70 years. Not since…” he hugged me tighter. “He just left you, and I…” 

“What happened then is over, Amrâlimê. I do not forgive him, but I do not, for one second, hold you responsible for the actions of your father.” My whole body felt empty, like I was trying to piece a puzzle together after not having all the pieces for years. 

“Can I say something? You might find it hard to hear.” My back was warming with his heat. He hummed a yes, always. 

“Just as you do not hold me to my father’s actions, I don’t not hold you to the expectations that others had for your father.” He went still again. “If things don’t go as planned, if we cannot reclaim the mountain, you cannot work yourself to death trying,” I sat up, turning to face him, “You do enough just trying, your people are happy, and if you have the chance at a good life then that is what you aim for.” His mouth was a hard line, but his eyes held something else. They were narrowed like he was intently listening, but his eyes themselves had a light in them, like he wasn’t upset with what I was saying. 

“If I have a life with you, no matter how long or short or prosperous or poor it may be, if it is with you, then it shall be a good and happy life.” My ears went hot this time as well as my cheeks, and I grinned with crinkled eyes. I pressed my forehead to his with closed eyes. He sighed into it, his whole body relaxing. We sat together for some time, talking about little things here and there, and soon the sun had left us completely, and the moon swept in a cool breeze on glittering silver light. 

 “Come, as much as I love sitting with you, you’re gross, and so am I.” He laughed and hauled us both to our feet, stretching our legs and beginning the long walk to the bathhouses. His ring finger looped with mine as we walked, slowly creeping through the dark halls. We could hear the other company members in the farthest room in the eastern wing of the estate. 

“Seems they’re all having a wonderful time.” I remarked, feeling chills run down my arms as Thorin wrapped a hand around my waist. I smiled and leaned into him, kissing his lips before walking off, slowly leading him down the halls to the bathhouses. We approached the three rooms, men’s, women’s, and the private house to the back. “I’ll be in the one back there.” I pointed all the way down the hall, to the two white double doors. He nodded, leaning down for one more kiss and he was gone, closing the door behind him as he went into the men’s room. As soon as the doors clicked closed I released all the breath from my lungs. I was alone for the first time since Gandalf showed up at my door three months ago. Now that Thorin was gone I felt myself drag, my feet trudging along the stone tiles, and I slowly pried my way into the private bathroom.

It would be more accurate to call the bathroom a bath-hall. The long, rectangular room had high walls with little alcoves carved into silvery stone. An inner row of tall pillars lined the large rectangular pool with an open-air ceiling, moonlight pouring in. There were walls lined with benches and tables, each littered with small vials and bowls, each with their own oils and dried herbs. I stood in the entrance of the room, dazed for a moment. Three months without a proper bathroom and suddenly I forget just how it all works. Muscle memory snaps into motion though, and my feet move me to the nearest bench, slipping off my shoes before walking over to one of the tables, securing two towels and a handful of little bottles. Setting the towels down on the beach by my shoes, I stripped off my clothes, tossing them on the floor without care. Grabbing the bottles, I placed two of them on the edge of the pool. One was Night Blossom scented and was for my body while the other was orchid scented and for my hair. If I was gonna be out there for another 4-6 months without another proper bath, I may as well take advantage of it. Steam rolled off the water, little petals danced on the surface as they fell from the open ceiling. I slipped my foot in, the heat tingling as it warmed my cold skin, but it wasn’t horrible. I eased my way in fully, the water only coming up to my hips. In the center of the pool was a raised block of stone that served as a submerged bench, and I sat so that the water sloshed just above my chest. 

I soaked in the heat, letting my limbs wane from the freezing tingling sensation to a warm buzz. I spent several minutes dipping my hair into the water, scrubbing out the dirt and grime, scrubbing my arms and legs until they were tinted red. I was never one for letting grime build on my person, it just wasn’t comfortable for me. Once I felt clean enough, I moved to the edge where I sat on a bench, leaning back and closed my eyes, letting my body relax once again.

There was knocking at the door. My eyes pried open. My arms felt so warm and loose, I didn’t want to get up. 

“My Lady?” Thorin sounded concerned from the other side of the door. I hummed in response, loud enough that I’m sure he heard it from beyond the door. The door clicked open and I turned, pressing my chest to the wall, hiding behind the edge for some semblance of decency.  I’ve spent 3 months with a group of men in situations where the best bath was a river; total privacy was unheard of at this point. 

“You know, it’s highly indecent for a King to look upon his courtship while they’re in the bath. People will talk.” His lips twitched up into a smirk, eyes narrowed. 

“I believe we’ve passed the point of indecency, Âzyungâl.” I snorted, crossing my arms over the edge and resting my head against them, taking in the picture before me. His hair was down and dripping, the little braids in his hair gone. He was also incredibly shirtless. Water dripped down his shoulders, over his chest, and farther down. I had seen him shirtless before, but only for extremely short periods of time. This was… purposeful. He was only wearing his pants, the hem getting wet as the water kept dripping. I was staring at his pants- I tore my eyes from his figure to meet his eyes. I don’t know what happened to me, but what shyness I once had was crushed by curiosity and bravado. 

“You seem to have already bathed, My King. Will you still join me?” Anxiety turned in my stomach as the words left my mouth. I swear I hadn’t touched the wine from dinner. This was all me. His eyes widened and I felt a cold prick of fear, thinking the worst, but his grin remained, like he couldn’t believe his ears. His thumbs hooked onto the waistband of his pants and my shyness came back with a vengeance. I turned, trying to play off my reddening face by standing and coolly wading away from the edge of the pool just a few feet. I heard him step in, taking to wrapping my arms around my chest for some coverage. 

He walked closer, the water moving around my hips as his hands smoothed over my sides to wrap around me. 

“Is this alright?” His voice gave me chills. I nodded, losing my voice to the wonderful feeling of bare contact. The heat of the water felt like nothing compared to the heat of his chest pressed against my back. I relaxed back into him, his head falling on my shoulder as he relaxed into me in return. His hands ran up and down my sides, moving down to squeeze my hips before moving back up to ghost over my ribs, brushing the underside of my breasts as he did so. I hugged my arms tighter around my chest to stave off the growing want in my lower abdomen. We stayed like that for a while until the water started to cool. 

“Mm…” Thorin grumbled, and I chuckled low in my chest, lowering one of my hands from around my chest, letting my fingers dip into the water and skirt around the surface, moving my hand to create little swirls in the water. Focusing on my own body heat mingling with Thorin’s, the water grew warmer until steam slowly rose from the surface once again. Thorin sighed into my shoulder, placing lingering kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. This time I happily leaned my head away, allowing him access. His hands grabbed my hips hard as he placed open mouthed kisses up my neck, up my jaw, to the spot just behind my ear. This is the first time we’ve been truly alone, no worry of the others coming in, no imminent threat. Just peace. Peace and the throbbing ache between my legs that was slowly driving me crazy. He was driving me crazy. 

I made up my mind quickly. Turning slowly, I moved my hands to hold his face, gently pulling him closer to meet my lips. It was slow at first, gentle and easy, but I got curious again, and began to kiss him a little harder, moving my hands from his jaw to the back of his head. He kissed harder, lips bruising, open mouthed and starving. I tangled my fingers in his hair and hardened my grip, pushing my chest up so that we were pressed against each other. What I can only describe as a short growl came from Thorin as his hands gripped bruisingly on my hips, one lowering to grab the cleft of my rear, lifting me to my tiptoes while the other moved to the small of my back, pressing me further into his chest. I lifted my leg that his hand was holding only a little, enough to hook my knee on his thigh, just enough so that he’d get the idea. 

He pulled his head away and he was looking down at me, eyes dark and gloating. A whimper was startled out of me as his hands reached down and grabbed the back of both of my thighs, hoisting me up to wrap my legs around his waist. I thanked every instinct in me that told me to tighten my core so I wouldn’t fall backwards. Walking over to the left, he sat me on the very edge of the bath. I sat a few inches taller than him on the ledge and it felt dizzying to be looking down at him like this. The water swayed around his hips as he pressed himself between my legs, hands wrapping around my thighs to rub circles to the inside with his thumbs. I placed my own hands on his jaw, tilting his chin up to press my lips to his heavily. He growled against my lips, hands leaving my thighs to thread one of his hands through my hair, tugging the hair at the nape of my neck. The other moved down my body, trailing down my abdomen, over my navel, and pausing above my sex. 

“Jalâ'gul astni azrul 'ala.” Tell me you want this.

“Azrul 'ala, Amrâlimê.” I want this, My Love.

He doesn’t waste his time, callused hand dipping between my legs to press his thumb to my clit. He pressed slow, agonizing circles into the already throbbing nerves and the sharp sensation made my thighs tense around his waist. My head is pulled back, and I hissed as he roughly kissed my neck, then my collarbone, then mouthing over my chest until he wrapped his lips around the bud. I slide my hands from his jaw to the back of his neck, weaving my fingers through his hair. The finger pressed against my clit moved away and I whined until he pressed the pad of his pointer finger against my entrance, slowly sliding his finger in as he continued to lap, suck and nip at my breasts. His hand detangled from my hair and wrapped around my hip, holding me firm as I tried to buck my hips into his hand. It felt incredible, a burning, tight, wonderful feeling that only got stronger. He rolled his tongue and my eyes rolled back. He pulled his hand away for a second only to add his middle finger. His hands were callused and rough, and they were big. 

We shouldn’t be doing this, he’s practically a king, but I didn’t want to stop, not now, not ever. A gasp left my chest as he shifted his hand between my thighs and pressed his thumb against my clit once again. I could feel my body getting hot as he slowly moved his finger in and out of me and his thumb resuming heavy circles. My chest was heaving, eyes heavily lidded and hyper focused on his own. They were a dark, stormy gray-blue, and staring at me, trailing up and down my body. 

“Lay back.” I could feel my heart pick up rapidly as I eased myself back onto my elbows. As I did his hands ran themselves down my back until they firmly grabbed the back of the hips, pulling them to the edge of the pool. I held his gaze, anxiety and desperation mixing into an ugly feeling in my gut. As cool and natural as I seemed at this, I had never actually done it. My only knowledge source was the books I had read, and those can’t prepare you for everything. I was moving based on feeling, want, desire, whatever my body and my mind said felt right. 

“Mahal… you’re perfect.” He was taking in the sight of me, legs spread, body leaned back and open to him. I felt my body shiver as the water on my skin turned cool in the air, nerves spiking. My heart jumped in my throat as he leaned down to place lingering kisses on my hips, taking his time as he made his way lower and lower, kissing my hips, the top of my thighs, the inside of my thighs, all the way down to my knees. I had never, ever, read about this. I’m practically panting, eyes hazy as I watch him worship my thighs. 

“Puitho…” My face flushed as the curse left my lips, staring down into his eyes as he made his way back up. My knees, the inside of my thighs, the tops. I could feel his breath on my sex. His hands tightened on the back of my hips. 

“Tell me… tell me it’s too much and I will stop.” I shook my head so fast I got dizzy. 

“Avo dharo... Please, please, please don’t stop.” It came out like a whine, and I watched as his eyes rolled back, adoring the way I pleaded for him. Thankfully I didn’t have to say anything else because he quickly moved forwards, holding me still as he used the point of his tongue to lick from my entrance up to my clit in one swipe. My whole body tensed at the sharp pleasure, and I fell softly onto my back, hands reaching down to thread into his hair. He repeated it over and over, switching from the point of his tongue to the flat then back again. My back arched, my head pressing against the floor. All too soon he stopped, pressing quick, soft kisses to the very apex of my thighs.

“Ibrêj… you are absolutely perfect.” He said something in Khuzdul, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I squirmed, my hips twitching in his hands. A startled gasp jolted out of me as he placed a rough kiss to my clit, wrapping his lips around it, sucking and mouthing and smoothing it over with his tongue. He played with me for several seconds, flicking and circling my clit with his tongue until I was squirming worse, desperate to gain something rougher. My heels dug into the pool wall under the water and I was glad for it, because I used that little bit of leverage to move my hips. He growled into my cunt and the sound made my stomach do flips. I whined as he let go of my clit, but I was satisfied again as he ran his tongue along my entrance again, one of his hands sliding over my abdomen to press down on my navel while his thumb pressed on my clit. I was in heaven, truly, my hips twitching but unable to freely move with every sharp tang of pleasure, his tongue playing with my cunt while his thumb played with my clit was absolutely amazing. 

I lost my ability to speak as the tightening pleasure in my navel reduced me to whimpering and short panting breaths. I tugged on his hair, my hips twitching and grinding against his mouth. Low hums of approval came from Thorin. I had never felt this good, not ever. Suddenly a sharp, tight sensation started at the very center of my cunt and it felt like I was getting dizzier with every swipe of his tongue.

“Thorin… ah- puitho- Thorin!” I could hardly think, it was like a match being struck and suddenly my cunt was squeezing around nothing while wave after wave of suffocating pleasure wracked my body. My head fell backwards as my hips twitched and arched off the floor. One after another, it was like my body was tightening and releasing for several seconds. The throbbing sensation dulled slowly until I was drained. When the daze finally cleared, I took an agonizing breath, my whole-body limp on the stone floor. Thorin was still between my legs, softly kissing my thighs. My fingers slowly relaxed in his hair, slowly pulling away. I tried to sit up but found that my body was too tired. From my neck to my arms, my back all the way down to my feet, it was like the energy had been drained out of me.

“Shhh, Amrâlimê.” 

He pulled me up by my hands and my stomach did flips as I reoriented myself. I felt heavy and light at the same time, like my body was void of all energy and my head was void of all thought. He leaned forwards slowly and pressed his lips to mine, and I welcomed him gladly. Whatever that was, I want more. I tried to lean into the kiss but found that I was swaying, my body still low on energy. Maybe later… not right now.

We spent another half hour in the water, in each other’s company, but we did nothing more. He didn’t try to go any further and I didn’t ask him to. What we had already done was enough for now, and he seemed more than satisfied with himself. Almost gloating, his ego was clearly having a field day. After we had dried and dressed in something fairly clean, we make our way to the hall the Elves lent us for a few nights. But the hall was near empty. Not one dwarf or singular hobbit could be found in any of the rooms towards the front of the hall. In fact, all 13 of them were huddled in one room at the very back of the hall.

We sat in the singular room, scattered on the floor and on benches around a fireplace in the far right of the room. To our backs was a balcony looking out across the valley, and far across the room were the two double doors that Dwalin wouldn’t stop watching. I sat on the floor, my back pressed against a column with Thorin at my side. My shoulder jostled as Thorin passed a venison cube to me. Bomber and Ori had been cooking their own food over the fire, making snide little comments about Elvish foods as they passed around pieced of meat and bread. As they spoke, I had food passed to me from every direction; Thorin was passing me food from my left, Ori was handing me food from my right, and Fili and Kili were throwing food over the fire at me. I know Dwarves eat a lot, and Hobbits eat more, so why in Elentári’s name was I being given this much? I let the thought die in my mind as we laughed loudly with each other, joking and trying to ease ourselves before the journey continued. A knock came from the door, and everyone fell deathly silent. I looked to Dwalin and met his eyes as he looked between Thorin and I. Looking to Thorin I gave a near imperceivable nod and Thorin gave Dwalin silent permission to open the door. A tall, lanky blond Elf stood there; his eyes fixed on some unknown focal point in the distance. I can’t tell if its respect or distain that causes this.

“The Lord Elrond requests the audience of Thorin Oakenshield.” No one moved for a moment, all staring at Thorin. With a nod he stood, and Balin, Bilbo, and I stood with him. None of us said anything as we were escorted down the winding halls, down deeper into the Elven estate. We were brought into a chamber hidden under the cliffside, a waterfall pouring from the room above and falling like a curtain over the edge of the room. Unlike other rooms, this one had no columns or railing to indicate where the edge of the floor was. Instead, it was open on the entire back half of the room, looking out without barrier. All I could do was stare out into the sky, the moon lighting up every inch of the room. Something felt… off. Between the time we were called into this room and the moment we walked through the threshold, something pivotal happened. Someone else is in Rivendell.

~~

Piutho: Sindarin for the "Fuck"

Avo dharo: Sindarin for "Don't stop"

Ibrêj: Khuzdul for "Astounding"

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[rachelsshowerthoughts]

Far too sleepy to conjugate this Aware AU thought but given the kids evolving understanding of their own status as victims and the specifics of their abuse and their parents actions.

I do wonder if Chloe picked up on some of the scummier stuff indicated by Andre's actions?

Like, on one hand's she'd definitely know 'something' is off once she's keyed into the fact he does not care and just throws money at her until he wants her around for a photo op or to play pretend.

But I don't think she'd necessarily key into the fact his enabling of her lifelong Audrey imitation comes from more than negligence. Which I maintain is does cos we know he made some efforts to...

'Parent'

At least in the sense he gave her advice on school elections and would sometimes be cajoled into helping with stuff like that. None of it requiring ay emotional labor on his part of course, nor actually effective parenting, but it was something of an attempt.

Thus, given Chloe's impersonating has last for years but also subtly shifted in how its directed at Andre, that feels deliberate.

One can argue it was unconscious, but still required decisions.

Anyway point being, I am unsure she'd realize that side of things right off the bat, but instead have it as some kind of rude awakening. Like she thought she had all this on lokc and understood.

Her mom is hateful & cruel and never loved her, enjoys hurting her as much as anyone else & does not want her to succeed or outshine her.

Her father is selfish and only superficially cares, he only wants a daughter when it suits him & otherwise just wants her out of the way.

Then this realization hits, maybe just life stuff, maybe the lead in to that scene I shared with Adrien & Nino & her storming in, maybe due to an alt Maladiktator or someone else notes it?

Madame Bustier taking Andre out 'for' Chloe still rings to me as her identifying the main issue at the very least, though how much she knows or thinks is up in the air.

...

Gosh this is grim, even the most charitable read to Andre is fucked up.

Cano you believe I got her cos I realize Maladikator probably wouldn't happen as Chloe would not want Audrey to stick around?

Added note:

Cousin not required but just imagining one of the club members, maybe for fun points Lila, overhearing Bob Ross's "My talent-less son!" and just being like, "We are no longer only recruiting fourteen year old's, welcome our newest member, XY!" - "How did they get here so fast?" - "Trade secret." (Miraculous)

(May your sleep be peaceful! This will still be here if you want to respond later!)

I think Chloé would take a while to get the . . . I don’t know, depth? Of her father's fucked up-ness? Cause, like.

Ok, the way I see it - Emilie disappears. Adrien starts falling apart, and Chloé is the only one really there to pick up the pieces. In addition, let's say that summer was some kind of show or event, that meant Chloé was also dealing with both her mom and dad A LOT. So, as Adrien is having realizations about HIS dad (with grief as the catalyst), it triggers Chloé's realizations about HER parents. I imagine there's some shouting matches (maybe they want Chloé to be at some event, Chloé is refusing cause Adrien needs her, there is screaming, Chloé doesn’t go, backlash, etc,etc,) but with Audrey, the realization happens all at once.

Chloé always KNEW, on some level, that Audrey doesn’t care about her. It might have taken different forms, but this is where Chloé would realize it’s more than that. Audrey doesn’t just not like her, she straight up doesn’t LOVE her. The only care Audrey has for Chloé is as a possession. And this is a horrible thing to realize, it fucks Chloé up, but it also isn’t exactly NEW information. Chloé is AWARE her mother doesn’t like her, she just thought that, before, it was something she could change, could do something about. Now she knows that she can't do anything, so fuck it! Screw you, Mom, I'll do what I want! (I imagine Chloé hits that "manic energy, let's-fuck-shit-up!" phase of a breakdown, and then just keeps periodically ending up there. Makes a bonfire of all the shoes her mom has ever sent her - or sends them all to charity, whichever would piss her off more.)

But André would be harder, because even if he DOESN'T actually love Chloé, he's much better at acting like he does. And Chloé would have some genuine affection for him, so I think it would take longer. Maybe go through stages?

Like, at first, Chloé sees her dad as a coward. He bends to everything Audrey (or Chloé) wants, never really stands up for himself. Chloé is MAD at him, for not seeing how damaging Audrey is, for always bending to her will. She wants to spend as little time with him as possible, because he keeps trying to play "peacemaker", and Chloé is furious. Can’t he see what she's doing!? What she's ALWAYS been doing!? Why take HER side, isn’t Chloé his daughter!? Does that matter at all!? How dare he, how DARE he-!!

But, again, André is the parent who actually shows affection, and who Chloé spends most of her time with (vs Audrey, who only shows up when it suits her. I imagine André at least made token efforts to be there for Chloé, regardless of motivations). That confuses Chloé, cause she's thinking of "abuse" (not that she's calling it that) within a specific context. Audrey, Gabriel, Tomoe . . . there are differences, but on some level, all are strict control freaks, who need everything to go their way. As long as André is getting the attention he wants, he's much more flexible, so he muddled things a bit. So Chloé thinks about it, and she's spending time with Adrien, Kagami, Sabrina, and . . . ok, hear me out.

Marinette has, at some point, been brought in as Kagami's friend, and at least now is AWARE of the home lives of everyone else. And she's horrified, but she also introduces the idea that maybe André or Emilie were victims too. Cause the thing about abusive relationships, is that it’s someone conditioning you to react a certain way, to not realize something is fucked up. Most people IN abusive relationships don’t realize that the relationship they are in is abusive, cause most don’t start out that way. It’s slow, incremental changes you don’t realize are happening, until someone is looking in from the outside like "WHAT THE FUCK, how did you not NOTICE!?", but it was so slow, you didn’t notice at all, until the knife was at your throat. And Marinette is enough of an optimist (plus full of misplaced guilt) that she desperately doesn’t want BOTH parents of her friends to be abusive jackasses, so what if André and Emilie are trapped in these relationships? What if they need rescuing?

And Chloé ALSO wants that, so now she starts seeing her dad through that lens too. And I can see it leading WEIRD PLACES, cause now Chloé feels she has to PROTECT HER DAD. So, she's spending more time with him, she's trying to subtly hint about divorce, she's getting into screaming matches with Audrey, defending her dad, cause at least he was THERE when she was growing up!! Audrey, of course, sees it as a challenge, so starts getting André to take her on more dates, spend more time together, which Chloé does her level best to sabotage - can't have her dad stuck with HER! André, meanwhile, is soaking all this up. His wife and daughter, fighting for his attention? It’s really feeding his ego, to feel this important, so he starts INCITING these incidents himself. What does he care how it’s hurting anyone else, it’s proving how IMPORTANT he is, isn’t it?

I can see Chloé eventually getting Akumatized, to go after Audrey (defend, have to defend), and André trying once again to mitigate the situation - it’s all okay, dear! It just means we love each other! So, Akuma!Chloé tries to use her powers to show him Audrey DOESN'T love them, and. Well. That . . . does happen. Both André and Chloé can see, feel, that Audrey doesn't love them. But. Well, André KNOWS that. He gets that Audrey doesn’t love him, but still deems him important to her, and that’s what feeds his ego. While Audrey knows that André loves her as a status symbol, as something to boost himself, which she deems acceptable, as it allows her to control him.

But the connection works both ways, so. Chloé can feel how much Audrey doesn't love her, but aLeo how André DOESN'T actually love her. Can feel how shallow it is, how thin, how it's tied into his own ego and pride. She can feel from both of them, how there isn’t any love, any care, for Chloé herself as more than anything but a possession. And even if, on some level, she knew that, it’s different to having it CONFIRMED.

And with that connection still in place, both Audrey and André can feel Chloé's heart shatter as her love for them dies and turns to despair . . . and neither of them understand it at all.

The "fight" afterward can barely be called that. It’s Chat Noir holding Akuma!Chloé as she breaks down, while Ladybug gently breaks the item, casts the cure. When the Akuma is purified, André, of course, tries to patch things up - are you ok, dear? See, your old man is fine! - but this time, Chloé doesn’t even let him get close. She turns, walks away. Cause, those Akumatized might not remember much, but big moments? Emotional moments? They remember those, so Chloé remembers. She remembers the sensation, the feeling, of knowing her parents don’t love her. That to them, it’s all a game they want to win. Well, fine then. If they want to play that game, go ahead. Have fun. Enjoy yourselves. It clearly matters more than she does, so that’s it. She's out. Chloé isn’t playing this game anymore.

She's done.

(Chloé calls XY, asks her cousin if she can chill on his couch for a few days. XY, just freed from his dad, says sure, is everything cool?

Not even 24 hours later, XY is calling up the lawyer who helped him get out from under his dad. Does he know anyone with a background in custody battles?)

@tumblingxelian

[inzaghisgirlfriend]

Prompt: jail

---

He heard her before he saw her, mainly because her voice is loud.

Well, that, and his eyes were closed.

"This is fun."

He opened them and swallowed a groan.

There hadn't been any need for her to come.

There was a single, sharp clang that descrescendoed itself into a long and lingering pause before returning with gusto and turning itself into a steadily ringing rhythm.

"It's usually you visiting me in here," she said, as he looked up in time to see her banging two fingers back and forth in the span between the metal bars.

Usually.

The very word should have made him feel guilty.

He thought instead, inexplicably, of the woman's father.

Of a conversation they'd had about her and her approach and wild temper and visits he'd made to this very place when she'd been younger, greener and appearing in front of judges whose usual mode of reigning in newly-minted firebrands was contempt of court.

How he feigned disdain while recounting the stories but his eyes had crinkled fondly as he'd told Vincenzo how it hadn't ever worked on her.

"Need anything," she asked him, bringing him back to a world he'd managed to rob of Hong Yu Chan, where she was still filling his quiet cell with dischordant noise.

"Coffee," she continued. "A book? Stylish and diligent legal defense? A cake with a metal file inside it?"

He pushed himself up partway up, and she paused, expectantly.

So he paid off her antics with a withering sigh.

She beamed but stopped her noise, wrapped the hand that had been making it around the gray metal of a crossbar, and raised an eyebrow his way.

"...Conjugal visit?"

That yanked a cough from his throat as his mind flashed somewhere deeply unhelpful.

He right-tracked it quickly, sat up on the little metal cot he'd been provided, stood, and then strode - best as he could considering the limited space the Korean criminal justice system was providing him - her way.

"Byeonhosa-nim," he opened, deciding the best way to keep things from escalating was to pointedly ignore her jubilance. "Why have you come?

This was decidedly not part of the plan they'd drawn up.

He had drawn up, only to have her force her way into it through the many cracks in his resolve.

Her job had been to write tomorrow's script - he'd get inside the courtroom and past the divider and then she'd get him entered into evidence. Then they'd shift the conversation so the defense actually had to do their job, while the doctor's wife picked apart his reputation and their case.

"You've had a busy night," she remarked with a grin, pointedly not answering his question as he stopped to stand in front of her at cell's locked door.

He feels uncomfortable suddenly.

"Have I?"

Her eyes left his and made an unsubtle and thorough scan of his face, neck, and shirt.

He resisted squirming under the impromptu and intrusive inspection.

"No tie," she asked, when her eyes returned to meet his.

The relief shining in them made plain she'd just checked him for injuries.

Oh.

So that that was why she'd come here.

He feels...several strange things all at once.

He focuses on talking himself out of the easiest one, feeling insulted.

She'd never really seen him fight, he reasoned, and it was highly plausible, he supposed, that she might have assumed he could have gotten hurt.

He shook off the feeling the thought was threatening to bring and gestured vaguely in the direction of his cot, beneath which his tie sat, neatly folded atop his shoes.

"Oh. Okay. But did you -"

A hand shot between the bars so quickly then he'd nearly flinched as it grabbed together a handful of his shirt and yanked him towards the metal rods.

"Aish. You did get hurt," she said, as she snaked a second hand through the gap to manhandle his open collar, yanking it sideways until half his left shoulder was exposed. "What's this?"

Her other hand let go its fistful of shirt and moved so she could trace a neatly-manicured fingernail along the skin at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

He circled his elbow backwards to try to free himself, but she just tugged harderbat where had his collar held.

So he gave in, like he'd started to do so worrying often.

Let himself be pulled by it, by her, landing roughly against the cell bars.

He pointedly refuses to flash back to when last he'd been held here by her, their positions reversed, eager to ignore the feeling the recollection always brings.

"You're bruised all over," she noted, pushing in closer to him - close enough that her face was pushed between and even through thr bars which separated them.

Close enough he could feel her breath against the skin now being examined with a touch far lighter than he'd had pictured her capable of.

He swallowed down guilt that only pushed its way right back up his esophagus when her eyes met his and he saw worry shining there.

He rolled his eyes and sighed as disaffectedly as he could manage to seem, rotating his elbow backwards again and managing free of her that time.

He used his new but still-limited freedom to take a half step back from the bars and from her, reaching up to right the set of his collar and draw it better closed.

Conceal everything once again.

"I'm fine," he said, firmly.

His resoluteness only seemed to make her seem more convinced that he wasn't.

So he paused, considering carefully his next choice of words.

They come out soft. Laced with something he didn't intend to let surface.

"That...didn't happen fighting."

A little crease appeared between her eyebrows, and its twin gathered together the skin above the bridge of her nose as he willed away the smile that always threatened when he became reacquainted with either.

Then he saw recognition dawn.

And both faded quickly away.

"So that went okay, too," she asked, and there was something threaded through her voice that he quickly decided to do her the courtesy of pretending he didn't hear, hoping she'd done the same with his a moment ago. "She'll testify, then?"

He nodded as that same feeling forced its way back up his throat.

He swallowed it down once more and watched her rearrange the features of her face into a mask of brash amusement he wished he hadn't gotten so good at seeing past.

"So a full night of carousing then, for you," she added, and it was mocking and playful and nearly convincing. "And opera."

"Mmm," he countered, following her cue to play his usual sniffily disdainful role. "I wouldn't call what I saw in that theater 'opera', but..."

She took the bait he offered eagerly, gratefully, and he let her lead the conversation away and call him snobbish and boring as he took his seat back on his metal cot.

She settled, too, dropping doen to sit on the floor, leaning against the cell's bars as she launched into a summary of what she'd planned on for tomorrow.

[evolutionsbedingt]

Which language is the most beautiful and which one has odd, arresting glory?

Oh wow, what a question dear friend! Your time was impeccable too because I had just had four hours of language classes when I read your question and my brain basically went into overdrive. Thank you for rolling this particular apple of discord into my hands, I hope I did it justice! 💚💚💚

My immediate response was that Chinese indubitably is the most beautiful language and odd, arresting glory should belong to Old English.

But then I questioned my own assessment, because of course I would. I tried not to get lost in the 'well, it's not like you speak all languages, so how can you really say which one is the most beautiful - you know but a fraction of them!' But it also made me think about the languages I do know and whether they can even stand up to comparison.

You see, I know at least two languages only by their bible translations (Gothic and Old Church Slavonic), three only by short inscriptions and religious texts (Hittite, Old Persian and Avestan) and they, together with a number of others, are languages I speak only through the definitions offered to me by the dictionary. This also includes Chinese and Old English.

Then again, Chinese and Old English are the ones I've gotten most up close and personal with outside of English and German. I have translated a chunk of the Beowulf epos and read books translated from Chinese in a way that preserved the original language as much as possible, as well as trying my hand at translating a few of the Tang dynasty poems myself. Old English feels familiar because it's very closely related to German; something that is definitely reflected in my translation of it as well because sometimes I didn't bother translating at all - just adjusted the spelling or conjugation a little and we were good to go.

And Chinese despite it's often purported title of the most difficult language to learn is a language that makes terrible amounts of sense in my brain - so much so that I started picking it up simply by watching series and reading books and translation commentary. It has no declension of nouns or adjectives, it has no conjugation and tense and aspect are simply expressed through classifiers. Does one have to learn at minimum one thousand characters to be reasonably fluent? Yes. But how many words do you think I had to learn to be reasonably fluent in English and French? The only thing that differentiates characters from words in the grand scheme of things is that we are not familiar with a writing system like this. If I can learn to read and write Ancient Greek well enough to get a Graecum in 1.5yrs (with considerable effort) the same will be true for Chinese.

And yet I wouldn't be able to actually, fully understand either language because that would only come with practice, with seeing it used in real life and learning the many, many ways it can be and is used - both colloquially and in elevated contexts.

So how can I dare to declare it a beautiful language if - at the moment - the only access I have to it is through translation? How can I compare any language that I'm not fully (or at least almost) fluent in? How can I compare languages that I only know from translated, religious texts (and we know they chose to translate closely to the original, making it an imperfect reflection of the language) with a languages I know mostly from poetry and fantasy novels?

I can't. But I can say that, knowing as many languages as I do, not one does poetry quite like Classical Chinese and Old English. They are similar in their economy of words and simultaneously strong imagery. There's a playfulness to both languages that makes them incredibly well-suited for the type of poetry I like and which thus makes them my choices for 'most beautiful language'.

You will notice that this leaves the category of 'odd, arresting glory' open again (and I promise it won't take me another- let's not check how many paragraphs -to answer this). The description of odd and arresting glory made me first think of Old English, because to me as a German speaker Old English certainly odd and having translated a bit of Beowulf it's certainly glorious.

But I think the language most likely to leave me to stop and stare (at least in translation) is Russian in 19th century prose. It's the very opposite of the minimalistic Old English and Classical Chinese, with its long and elaborate descriptions but closer to German prose (and even poetry) of the time and I really admire the imagery wrought there - it's one of the reasons why I still would rather like to learn modern Russian instead of 'just' Old Church Slavonic which is often bound by the Ancient Greek and biblical writing conventions. I want to be able to see that beauty for myself, instead of through the thick lense of others' translations.

Phew.

That became a very long answer and I'll definitely have to put a read more but I thank you very much for making me think about this and subsequently put my thoughts into words! A delightful way to spend my time while cooking the stew for tomorrow! I hope you enjoyed reading this 💚

[microwavedlion]

guess whooooo ! 🎤🐍

my favorite part of the experience (not really a specific part of tit so not a spoiler for anyone that sees this) was that it just made it so clear how much they love us and each other and it warms my heart that the phandom has come this far and it truly feels like a phamily :))

im sorry to hear about your scholarship ! hopefully you can get it back, and i hope with all of my heart that you can get any resources you need to do whats right for you. im actually taking this semester off doing online courses at a community college in my hometown, but next semester i'll go back to my university and try to pick up where i left off. school isn't for everyone, i'm coming to learn, but unfortunately it feels required 😫

i only started listening to muse maybe 2 months ago at most and they've quickly racked up minutes on my spotify. i wouldn't be surprised if they came out at number 1 despite the odds. i cant believe ive gone like 8 years in the phandom without giving a proper listen to them, besides uprising. i suppose the current fixation is the best i can do to make up for lost time 💪

chinese is so cool omg. ive never tried learning it but from my understanding it's rather complicated. i understand spanish as i grew up with it and with that means mildly understanding other latin based languages, like french. speaking, grammar, conjugation and the like are a different story tho, so hopefully one day i'll lock in and level up my skills and be able to actually say i'm fluent in spanish

i was gonna write something in french but i've quickly realized i know like actually nothing... if i read a meme in french i could probably get it but i have no vocabulary so cheval fromage oui oui baguette i guess 🥖

i am totally a serial killer and im outside your house ready to practice signing with you 🤺

for reasons undisclosed i do think you're onto me 😅 while i'm enjoying the pen-pal-snail-mail we've got going, i'll maybeeeee send a dm soon if i can stop being insane. i haven't talked to new people or made online friends in a really long time and for some reason a part of me feels like i'll be shot on sight for the crime of being mildly annoying lmao

throwing breadcrumbs at your window,

-🐍

that was definitely my favourite part of tit too. i love how much they love us, and that they're no longer afraid to love eachother out loud. it felt so special, like a little secret and a huge family gathering at the same time. i get emotional if i think about how much growth this required. i also got to meet one mutual (hi manda if you're reading this), so that was pretty fun too.

don't worry about my scholarship, thankfully it doesn't make or break uni for me. honestly, i feel like i do have access to the resources i need to be successful i just... can't? i'm too stuck in my head with some things that i don't think i should share publicly. but it makes it really hard to gather the focus or motivation to do any of my work. i'm pretty much staring at my very very manageable pile of things to do and going "fuck, let me think about something i don't even enjoy thinking about instead!" yeah, not very effective. i get what you mean, school really does feel like a necessity. and it feels like a waste to quit it when i've already invested money and time into it. i hope your time with online school has been good to you, i wouldn't mind moving entirely online myself, but i don't really want to move back in with my parents. hopefully things are looking up for you.

i like muse a lot, at least the handful of songs that i've listened to. i think they make excellent use of lyrical and musical tension and are overall just stellar artists. animals reminds me of "the execution of all things" by rilo kiley. not really sure why, but i wonder if you can get what i mean by listening.

it can be complicated, things like the order of strokes you write with matter, so does the exact look of the character, same with small tonal changes per sound that don't exist in english (because it isn't a tonal language). all of that can completely change the meaning of a phrase both in written and spoken chinese, which can be complicated to get a grasp of, especially if you haven't grown up around languages formatted in that way. but an important thing to keep in mind in linguistics is that all languages are equally complex and equally capable of communicating the ideas they need to communicate. i did spend a year learning spanish, but i honestly forgot i did that until my mom reminded me of it. i could probably say 10 words, total, and that's just based on guesses from my knowledge of french. i think you could definitely become fluent in spanish, though. a lot of people have the misconception that language can't be competently acquired past a certain age, but it's really a matter of native-like fluency & acquisition being easier prior to that age. you probably won't be able to speak like a native, but who cares, language is fun and an important bridge between people. you sound like dan in pinof 1 haha. don't serial kill me!

hah, i'm assuming my guess is definitely right then. but i can't lie, i honestly enjoy this snail-mail thing too. it's fun, and i like not having to respond instantly (now i have extra time to panic, score!) the only thing is i'm a little embarrassed that my other followers can read this haha. (hi guys). 😅 but don't worry, you can take all the time you need to get comfortable. i'm not in a rush, i'll be here hunched over my computer until the worms consume my flesh. if you can figure out a way to send snail mail that's a little less public, i'm totally open to ideas. oh and don't stress about annoying me, i really do prefer people who are stereotypically "annoying". i'm pretty bad at keeping up with friendships, i tend to not know when to respond and be pretty dry, which ends up with a lot of my relationships lasting 6 months or less, which is honestly kind of depressing. if i ever do make things awkward or haven't mailed in forever, you're always free to come poke me with a stick.

anyway, sorry for the rambles. politely setting up a heating pad for you

[starburstfloat]

Coming of Age Storytelling in TXT's Quarter Life (aka let's talk about korean grammar!!)

Quarter Life is one of my favorite tracks off minisode 3, not just for its coming of age theme but also the raw, unfiltered way their voices carry the message.

A closer look at the Korean lyrics led me to understanding the song anew so I wanted to share that with you guys.

What struck me most was the narrative shift in the song. Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai all transition from a contemplative, somewhat hopeless state of mind at the beginning of the song to an empowered and motivated mentality during the second half.

Admittedly, you don't need to pick apart the nuance of the conjugation patterns they're using to grasp this - listening to the song alone will give you a sense of it. But I think knowing the grammar a bit more just makes you feel it more deeply and helps the song feel that much more alive and inspiring. At the same time, I'll weave together my observations on the (wonderful!) storytelling/narrative flow. Let's go!

Beomgyu starts the song with:

A quarter life / 누군가가 나의 나이를 부르는 말

A quarter life / This is how someone calls my age

Note how this opening line establishes a distance from the protagonist: we're not centering on what he thinks at first, but rather how other people perceive him. Perception vs sense of self is a big coming of age theme. In the following lines, he alludes to having walked through a long long (긴긴) tunnel, and in explaining it to us, we get a sense for how the world has shaped him (or more specifically, worn him down). He may be young, but he is so so tired.

Kai reiterates this sentiment by saying:

좋을 때래 아름다운 청춘은 지금뿐이래

(People say) these are the good times, that the beauty of youth is only now

followed by him adding: I ain't happy at all

Once again, the focus is on perception. Their disconnect between how other people think they should feel versus how they actually feel builds a sense of lack and sadness.

The first narrative shift happens right after this, when Taehyun poses a pondering question:

혹시 어두운 이 턴널에도 끝은 있을까

(I wonder if) this dark tunnel even has en end?

-을까 verb endings paired with 혹시 (perhaps/maybe) add a contemplative tone to the question, thus indicating our first transition from Beomgyu and Kai's solemn defeat about youth being exhausting to wondering, maybe there's a way out of this?

Then we dive into the pre-chorus, which gets even more reflective:

어디로 가야 하는 건데

Where do I have to go/should I go?

-ㄴ데 endings are frequent in both spoken and written Korean and depending on context have several meanings. Here it leaves the listener with the knowledge that something has been left unsaid. I often think of it as ellipses that have a slow fade effect. In terms of the song, this line here emphasizes the pondering moment of taehyun earlier, kind of like "where do I have to go....?"

Kai mentions he's lonely, just walking in circles, it's a full quarter life crisis

The chorus hits with its instrumental - a release of all their frustrations and confusion for the tumultuous feelings.

The second half of the song gets interesting. It's here that each line slowly gets more optimistic and empowered. Taehyun says he refuses to say that he fucked up his life. This one thought keeps him grounded and makes him want to keep trying.

Kai's lead into the second pre-chorus is almost exactly the same as the first (on first listen I didn't hear a difference) but he actually changed one of the verb endings: instead of saying 건데 again (that ...? feeling grammar point) he uses an -는 지 ending:

어디로 가야 하는 건지

Where do I have to go/should I go?

Note that the translation is exactly the same as the pre-chorus earlier, but there's a slightly different feeling attached. The -는 지 conjugation poses a "whether this or that" setup, once again showcasing uncertainty, but this time instead of pondering and ruminating, it's acknowledging the presence of options. He's getting closer to stepping into a decision - a decision he gets to make now, not something dictated by the perception of others.

Taehyun adds:

Don't look back / 돌아갈 순 없지

Don't look back / You can't go back

Many of you may already know -ㄹ 수 없다 conjugation as "cannot do something". Notice how the center is 순 instead of 수. 순 is used as an emphasizing marker, and the conjugation of -지 adds a feeling of someone going "right?" or "of course." There's a slight sense of urgency to it all. Knowing this, I hope you can feel the weight of Taehyun's lines here: he's urging himself to embrace what he has in the moment because he can't go back and he knows it and doesn't want this moment to escape him.

Also noteworthy is the lack of 요 endings to indicate higher formality. All of the song is in banmal, which suggests they're actually talking to themselves/in their own head. Very touching :')

The song ends on a determined high: Beomgyu and Kai affirm they are going to keep wandering through this quarter life crisis. I love the choice to finish the song with their raw vocals and the high of the instruments long gone. It centers us so much on their determination. Absolutely beautiful song and I hope I could give you some insight into the grammar and the feelings it captured.

[spanishskulduggery]

Hey there! I’m using duolingo, and it has started giving me phrases to translate like “are you talking with Renato today?” But it hasn’t told me how to decide if I should use habla/Hablas, or hablando. So far, I’ve gotten alost all of them wrong, using one or the other, just guessing each time.

So my question is when should you use “verbs ending in ing, in spanish?

The gerund/progressive forms [the -ing forms] in Spanish show up with -ando, -iendo, sometimes -yendo (depending on the verb)

There are two minor things first:

The present tense would be fine for expressing this. Present tense is used for regular declarative statements that read more like talking about someone's general habits or more static/non-continuous actions hablas ["you speak"], as well as present continuous hablas ["you are speaking"]

The gerund forms [the -ando, -iendo, -yendo] can show up by themselves in some cases, but they often show up with estar or a verb of motion/continuation like ir, andar, seguir, continuar etc.

I'd also mention that whether you use habla or hablas depends on if you're using formal or informal "you", so habla could be usted "talks / is talking" depending how formal you're being

-

Basically though:

¿Hablas con Renato? = Are you talking to Renato? [continuous] / Do you talk to Renato? [plain present tense] ¿Estás hablando con Renato? = Are you talking to Renato? [progressive; implied "at this moment" or "continuously"]

Present tense by itself can be used for progressive/continuous

And generally you're not going to see gerund by itself unless it's part of a narrative structure [like: es la anfitriona perfecta, hablando con todos los invitados "she's the perfect hostess, speaking with all the guests", or something like that]

I doubt Duo would spring hablando on you without wanting you to use estar or something:

estás hablando con la gente = you're talking to people andas hablando con la gente = you go around talking to people sigues hablando con la gente = you keep talking to people

That's the general way you use gerund forms... and you can use them in any tense as long as the verb is conjugated; estaba hablando "he/she was talking", or estaré hablando "I will be talking" [future tense], estarían hablando "they might/could be talking" [conditional tense]

You can even see them in multiple verb constructs: voy a estar hablando con Renato luego "I will be talking to Renato later"

I hope this helps clear up some of the confusion, but let me know if there's still something you're unsure of. Or you can post the Duolingo prompts/questions and I'll explain what I would pick