#spoke mainly French

[chiara-klara-claire]

TandemArnhem Language cafe #2: @ Loopvisserij 🐟

[beesgav]

Decided fuckit, time to make actual references for these two

They’ve changed a ton but I’ve had these guys (in some capacity) since I was legitimately 12. They’re twins, they’re from Canada, they’re separate classes w differing mechanics but I imagine they can switch out for each other as needed. I have loose ideas for what their gimmicks would be but no idea what weapons they would have.

+ alt with swapped uniforms:

[reasonsforhope]

Early mornings are chilly in Los Romero, a village high up in the mountains of western Guatemala. As in other predominantly Mam villages – Indigenous Maya people who have lived here since pre-Columbian times – households come quietly to life before dawn. Isabel Romero, a grandmother with long black hair, used to feel somewhat trapped in hers.

“I was afraid of speaking because I was cooped up at home. I didn’t go out,” she says, explaining that like many Mam women, her days were dedicated to the hard work of running a household with little money, and she rarely spoke with other women. “I worried a lot and had headaches.”

Residents of Los Romero live mainly from subsistence farming, growing maize, beans and squash, or grazing livestock. Almost 50% of the population is Indigenous in Guatemala, Central America’s biggest economy, but they do not share in its prosperity. Indigenous women in particular are discriminated against and dispossessed, with a life expectancy 13 years lower, and a maternal mortality rate two times higher, than the national average, according to the World Bank.

In Romero’s village and throughout the region, a community-based collective of women’s circles has been quietly improving Indigenous women’s lives, empowering them to find voices that have been suppressed through centuries of marginalisation.

It was a long process, but Romero’s headaches and fear are now a thing of the past. These days she gets out to workshops, meetings and women’s circles. She shares her knowledge of weaving traditional textiles on a backstrap loom and has a leadership role in the women’s group she co- founded: Buena Semilla (Good Seed).

The initiative emerged from Maya Mam women’s experiences, when French physician Anne Marie Chomat brought them together for interviews for her doctoral fieldwork in 2010- 2012. The simple act of gathering with others and sharing their experiences had a profound impact on the women, many of whom are still dealing with the traumatic legacy of Guatemala’s civil war.

During the 1960-1996 armed conflict between leftist guerrilla groups and the military, more than 200,000 people were killed, overwhelmingly Indigenous Maya civilians killed by the army. Another 45,000 were ‘disappeared’. A truth commission concluded that the state committed acts of genocide...

“There’s so much chronic stress and other issues that are not being addressed,” says Chomat, Buena Semilla’s international coordinator, who now lives in Canada. “So much healing happened in that space of women connecting with other women, getting out of their houses, realising: ‘I’m not alone’.”

Once Chomat’s fieldwork was finalised, several participants decided they wanted to continue meeting and with Chomat came up with the idea of women’s circles. With the help of a grant, the project got going in 2013 and now more than 300 women in two municipalities participate every week or two in circles, each comprising roughly 10 to 25 women.

Wearing traditional embroidered huipil blouses and hand-loomed skirts, the women gather, arriving on foot via the dirt roads that weave through the villages. They meet in a home or community building, or outside when they can for the connection with nature. The circle opens with a welcome and a prayer and then the group engages in breathing and movement exercises. Next up is discussion of the nahual, the day’s name and energy according to one of the interlocking ancient Mayan calendars, traditionally used for ceremonial practices. “Here in Santiago Atitlán it is only maybe 20% of people who speak about [knowledge of nahuals], so we are reviving it,” says Quiejú.

Then it’s time for the sharing circle. “More than anything, it is speaking what they have in their hearts,” says Quiejú. But every time and each circle is different, even though the leaders all work from the same guide, she says.

Sometimes circles will have a guided meditation. Sometimes they’ll have a workshop to learn weaving, or another skill that can help them earn money. Sometimes they eat together. Sometimes they cry. Often they laugh. No matter what, they generally end with a group embrace...

Only 1% of Guatemala’s national health budget is designated for mental health, and nearly all of that goes to the country’s one psychiatric hospital. Most mental health professionals are concentrated in the capital, offering psychotherapy and prescribing medications. For those in rural areas, there is little discussion of mental health or access to services.

“There is nothing for the preventative side, to work with families, to work with communities,” says Garavito. However, he emphasised that the concept of buen vivir (good living) among many Indigenous peoples in Latin America, which includes the traditional festivities, ceremonies and community of everyday village life, inherently incorporates good mental health. “Mental health is a fundamentally social concept and that has been a historical and common practice among Indigenous peoples, without them calling it that.”

...Financial constraints also pose challenges. Since 2020, Buena Semilla’s budget has been funded through crowdfunding and small grants. Staff and leaders all work part-time and many volunteer unpaid, but most circles now meet bi-weekly due to a squeeze on funds...

[Note: If you'd like to help, you can find out more and support Buena Semilla here, at their website.]

Despite the challenges, interest keeps growing. Elsa Cortez joined a circle earlier this year, motivated by her sister’s positive experience with Buena Semilla. In her mid-20s, she lives with her parents and as well as helping to run the household, she weaves belts, drawing from a basket full of spools of brightly coloured thread. She did not go out much before.

“There was a mentality that women were only supposed to be in the home or should only do certain things. That’s how we were raised,” she says. “My family was like that too.”

Thanks to Buena Semilla, those dynamics have started to shift in some families, including her own, says Cortez. Now she is exploring the idea of starting a circle specifically for girls, to help build their self-worth and self-esteem.

“It used to be difficult for me to socialise or chat, but now I am starting to socialise more easily,” says Cortez. “In the group I feel like it is psychological therapy every time we meet.”

-via Positive.News, December 8, 2023

[vinyldreamsfuckup]

Anything Goes

Warnings: threesome, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, betting, cussing, flirting, fighting, fluff, praise.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a week 🫣 I’ll be better about it. I hope this sort of makes up for it 🫶🏻

You and Slash had been dating for the better part of a year and a half. Your relationship was mostly good aside from the occasional fights and arguments. You’d watch him play with Guns and he’d come in to watch you sell vinyls at the record store you worked at. It was an easy enough relationship. That was until he went on tour. You went to see him as much as you could but it was difficult. Well you pulled some strings and you were able to go on tour with them for a month.

You were mostly used to getting hit on by the guys. It happened nearly every time you walked into a room, but living with them? Well that changed everything. Slash went from thinking it was funny and being proud to have a girlfriend all his bandmates wanted to being annoyed with their constant flirting and sexual comments. Right now you were sitting cross-legged on the couch of the tour bus reading a book while you waited for the guys to return with food.

Slash pushed onto the bus with a huff. When he saw you though he smiled and handed you a box of food.

“Thank you,” you said setting down your book and grabbing the food.

“Of course,” slashed exhaled and kissed your cheek.

You opened your food and Axl pushed onto the bus. Slash looked over at him angrily.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Axl said to Slash rolling his eyes.

“Fuck off, Axl,” Slash said back.

“You’re being such a fucking prick,” Axl spat out harshly.

“Yeah? Well you’re a fucking asshole. Find your own fucking girlfriend,” Slash stood up as he spoke.

“Oh I have no problem doing that,” Axl smirked.

“Then stop trying to fuck mine,” Slash nearly yelled. You choked on a french fry.

“You’re just afraid you’ll lose,” Axl smiled.

“Lose what?” You asked looking between them.

“Am not,” Slash quickly said back to Axl.

“No you so are. You’re afraid I’ll win and then what would you do?” Axl taunted as he stepped closer to Slash.

“Win what?” You asked standing up. Slash paused for a second.

“Nothing,” Slash said with a sigh.

“I bet him that I would make you scream louder if he gave me the chance,” Axl smirked. Slash paused and rolled his eyes.

“Dude seriously? Fuck. Off.” Slash sneered.

“Let’s ask the lady what she wants,” Axl said with a smile as he looked at you.

“I’m staying out of this,” you said putting your hands up defensively.

“1000 bucks says I’ll win,” Axl challenged Slash. Slash looked at him anger lacing his face.

“Dude…” Slash trailed off for a second, “fine but if I win you need to stop trying to fuck her.”

Axl smirked, “Deal.”

Slash looked at you, “are you sure you’re fine with this?”

You just nodded, “fuck it.”

Slash smiled gently and lead you back to the room. There was a bed but the room on the bus was mainly used as a rehearsal space. You guys walked in and Slash locked the door.

“I go first,” Axl said with a smile. Slash rolled his eyes. Axl walked up to you and gently cupped your cheek. The assertive, hard shell that seemed to cover Axl faded for just a second, “just relax okay? If anything hurts tell me.”

“Okay,” you smiled back at him. He gently kissed you. You had to admit, Axl was an absolutely amazing kisser. You kissed him back. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. You pulled his over his head. His eyes trailed down your chest taking in every curve.

“God you’re beautiful,” Axl whispered before gently leaning you back on the bed. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. He unclasped your bra and discarded it. His mouth carefully licked and kissed over your nipples earning a soft moan from your mouth. Axl smiled as he continued down your torso.

Axl got to your pants and he carefully pulled the sweats from your body taking your underwear with them. You were already wet. He kissed the inside of your thigh, gently kissing down until he got to your core, “is this okay?”

His breath was hot against your folds. You nodded frantically and he smiled before gently running his tongue through your folds. You groaned out loudly, earning a smile from Axl. He was sure he would win. You gripped the sheets and he ate you passionately but still gently. Slash watched and then smirked.

You looked over to Slash and he took a step toward you. He grabbed your boob and kissed you. You groaned into Slash’s kiss as he let his fingers gently tease your nipples. At the same moment Axl’s tongue swiped across your clit. A loud moan fell from your mouth and your back arched. Axl groaned against you sending vibrations through your body. Your hips bucked against Axl’s face. He gripped your waist tighter as he ferociously ate you. His tongue moved quickly earning gasps and moans to fall from your lips. Slash kissed down your neck still teasing your nipples. Your body shook and you came loudly. Axl smiled as he licked up your folds.

“Fuck off, Hudson” Axl mumbled as he finished licking you clean. Slash rolled his eyes and took a step back. Axl pulled himself over you and lifted your leg onto his shoulder.

“Let me know if this hurts,” Axl said gently. He pushed two fingers into you earring a groan. He pushed in deep and curled flicking over your sensitive spot. You grabbed his arm and dug your nails in.

“Fuck…” you breathed out. Axl smiled. He pumped his hand a few times.

“Is this okay?” Axl asked with a smile. You nodded and bit your lip.

“It’s amazing,” you whispered. Axl smiled and kept pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful. It’s amazing,” Axl whispered. He took his free hand and carefully pulled himself from his pants.

You groaned when you saw him. You could feel the wetness grow between your legs. Axl could feel it too which made him groan. He carefully pulled his hand from you and lined up with your entrance before he pushed into you. The way you were angled meant he could hit nearly every corner of your walls. Loud moans fell from your mouth as he moved.

“That’s it,” Axl whispered, “Beautiful.”

Axl rammed into you hitting every spot. You groaned out and gripped the sheets. Slash leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “you’re beautiful. That’s my baby.”

You looked at him and bit your lip. He connected your lips quickly. Your hands found his hair and quickly tangled in his curls. He smiled as you kissed him. Axl’s hips moved against you quickly and roughly causing loud moans to leave your lips into the kiss. Axl smiled and his body began to tremble as he moved against you. Axl groaned and he pushed into you deeper moving quicker. Your body arched and you groaned loudly as you came. Axl groaned as he finished.

Axl smiled and pulled away, “Beat that.”

Slash smiled, “she moans louder for me every day. Watch and learn.”

Slash stepped up to you and flipped you onto your stomach. You let out a breath. Slash leaned down and whispered in your ear, “You okay, my love?”

You nodded breathlessly and angled your hips for him. Slash smiled and pressed kisses down your spine. Goosebumps were left in with each kiss. He then rammed into you immediately hitting your sensitive spot and you groaned out in pleasure. Slash smiled and kept rocking his hips perfectly hitting every angle. You gripped the sheets tightly and moaned loudly.

“God…slash….” You moaned out. Slash slapped your ass.

“That’s it, baby. God you’re fucking perfect,” Slash said his tone filled with desire. He thrust into you every movement feeling better than the last. Long loud moans fell from your mouth.

“God you’re beautiful. I love you,” Slash groaned out. Your moans became high pitched.

“God…slash…I love you…” you groaned loudly. You felt him twitch and your body started to tremble. He moved deeper and more methodically hitting every spot perfectly. You came undone beneath him. His body began to move sloppily as he helped you ride your high before loudly releasing all over your back.

You both sat there breathless as you tried to gain your composure. Sweat covered your bodies.

“You win,” Axl groaned out. He set $1000 on the bed before walking out. Slash breathlessly laughed. You chuckled and pulled away from him and laid down on the bed. Slash collapsed next to you and put his hand on your face.

“I’ve never met anyone as beautiful and perfect as you,” Slash said wish a smile as he gently brushed your hair from your face. You placed your hand on his arm.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out. Slash smiled.

“Only because I’m so in love with you,” Slash laughed, “just had to prove it.”

You chuckled, “I love you too.”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

(Hazbin Hotel request) I would like to request headcannons for how Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, and Lucifer would be around a friend/partner who is bilingual and likes to sing songs in their native language to themselves/when they are alone (I hope this made sense my English isnt the best)

Charlie (Platonic/German)

You didn't necessarily hide the fact that you spoke a different language; you just didn't flaunt it.

When you were alive, you grew up in a bilingual household, your mother speaking German and your father English.

It was natural that you picked up a few words or two, mainly because your mother only spoke German to you.

The hotel was used to regularly hearing you cuss in German, so it was typical for everyone.

The day Charlie walked by your room and heard you singing in German was a spectacle.

She was so excited to hear the dialect and the articulations you used.

When you finished, she busted into your room and asked you to sing again, rightfully scaring you.

You inevitably agree because she is so adorable when she asks and sing for her once again.

From there, Charlie sits in your room nightly to learn new words and hear you sing.

Alastor (Romantic/French)

You were really reserved about your secondary language. Especially when you met Alastor.

Your parents talked to you in the language plenty, but you were afraid that you would sound robotic and he would judge you.

As time progressed and French accidentally slipped out, Alastor found you attractive; no one else in the hotel knew what he said.

One night at the bar, Alastor slid in next to you while talking to Husk and began speaking to you in perfect French. You did a spit-take and laughed.

When you two started dating, Alastor took it upon himself to teach you how to converse better with a Creole person.

After a long session with him, you returned to your room, singing softly under your breath a song your papa had sung.

Alastor shadows heard your perfect articulations and immediately got Alastor.

He was astonished to hear you singing so fluently as he phased through the shadows in your room behind you.

Once you finished, he immediately asked you for another song scaring you. One kiss and a song later, though, and you were content to share this part of your life with him.

Angel Dust (Platonic/Italian)

You grew up in Italy with your family for a portion of your life, which gave you an understanding of the language.

When you came to the hotel and met Angel Dust, you two became fast friends. He wanted to know what mob bosses from Italy were like.

You would teach him words that he didn't quite know and he would teach you about mob culture in America.

Angels porn star life would strian your friendship just do to his long grueling hours and your desire to help him out of his deal.

After a particularly heated fight between you two due to his boss, you stormed off and went to the bar.

Drinking your glass Husk gave you and thinking about the argument left you blue.

You began to hum a soft tune, eventually ending up entirely singing it.

When Angel calmed down, he felt bad for treating his friend poorly and went to find you.

That was till he heard your song and was immediately enamored.

He wanted you to sing to him every night after work instead of fighting from then on.

Lucifer (Romantic/Spanish)

Spanish was spoken around you from the day you were born. From your family to neighbors, even friends at school. It was natural you learned some of it.

You were always told it was the language of romance, and though you could see why, you also never thought too much about it.

When you met Lucifer and heard your accent, he was immediately curious about you.

He would talk to you for hours to hear your voice and even dream of it later.

When Lucifer finally confessed his feelings for you, the cherry on top was you confessing in Spanish.

Lucifer never asked how much you knew; he took what he could when you spoke.

However, the night he walked into your shared room and heard you singing a song in Spanish, he was whipped.

He begged for hours for you to just sing the same song repeatedly, a big cheesy smile on his face.

[reality-detective]

The Vatican: Human Trafficking Hub

The Vatican Underground- Cleared

The Dulce Base- Underground Cleared

The Area 51 Underground Base- Cleared

Orion Group ❌ (Defeated)

Ciakharr Group ❌ (Defeated)

Killy Tokurt Group ❌ (Defeated)

These are the three main factions responsible for the

The CIA is connected to the Killy Tokurt Ops. They are the one who specialize in soul scalping. This is how our government leaders were replaced. Removing the light body & soul and replacing it with a physical vessel void of any connection to source.

Sherry Shriner covered this in many videos/audios. Megan Rose spoke about this in one of her books. Corey Goode is also another source who spoke on the caste system of the Ciakharr who are the top elite in their race.

Remember when I mentioned that people were not ready once they found out who have been eating the children? Guess what was the capitol for the "Child Sex Trafficking" breeding hub?

The Vatican.

Do you remember the story or report that came out in July of 2019 where thousands of bones was unearthed in two ossuaries discovered in the Vatican City, as part of an ongoing search for clues into the disappearance of a 15-year-old girl more than three decades ago in 1983?

Do you remember the mass grave full of baby bones found along the shores of Israel's Mediterranean coast, in the ancient seaport of Ashkelon in 2014?

Do you remember An Indigenous group said the remains of as many as 751 people, mainly children, had been found in unmarked graves on the site of a former boarding school in Saskatchewan?

As a matter of fact that was a 2,300 page document that leaked that verified Pope Francis’ cover up of a Vatican Pedophile Ring. Did you know 20 Chilean Priests who went public on their connection to that very same Pedophile Ring, were killed in a plane crash right after their meeting with Pope Francis?

Back on July 20 2014 the International Common Law Court of Justice in Brussels found defendants Pope Francis Bergoglio, Catholic Jesuit Superior General Adolfo Pachon and Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby guilty of rape, torture, murder and the trafficking of children. (Nothing Is Happening?)

I highly doubt it.

Two adolescent women told the ICLCJ Court that Pope Francis raped them while participating in child sacrifices during the Springs of 2009 and 2010 in rural Holland and Belgium. According to a former employee of the Curia in Rome, rapes and murders of children also took place at the Carnarvon Castle in Wales and an undisclosed French Chateau.

A Prosecutor introduced notarized affidavits by eight others claiming to witness these same crimes organized by the Vatican. Another witness testified that they were present during meetings with the then Argentine priest and Bishop Francis and the military Junta during Argentine’s 1970′s Dirty War.

According to the witness, Francis helped traffic 30,000 children of missing political prisoners into the Vatican Pedophile Ring.

Do you know why this has taken so long? If you knew how vast these underground tunnels are you would understand why certain EOs signed by D. Trump kept getting extensions.

The Military at some point will disclose the battles that went underground.

The weapons used.

The strategies used.

The entries/exits used.

The medical technology used.

The portals/gateways that were used.

You got a glimpse of this during the fight that went on underground with the Phil Schneider lectures that still can be found on YouTube about the Dulce extraterrestrial confrontation that resulted in lives being lost and him being scarred from it.

People are only looking at the human aspect of this process. They are not looking at this as governments officials serving a unknown species that want world dominion who is an entire different secret government whose base are in these DUMBS-(Deep Underground Military Bases) who control all of our 3 letter agencies who are middlemen/conduits who these covert species use to control Washington. 🤔

Julian Assange

[deeppenguinstudent]

I don't think we talk about kevjean in the banquets enough

Kevin is soft with Jean's name in his mouth. Jean had to smile at Kevin to taunt him at the bequest of Riko, probably to show faux hatred towards Kevin for leaving the Ravens so no one catches on what exactly he felt for Kevin. Happiness he left Riko and could finally prove he was better but bitterness because he left Jean there in the Nest, knowing damn well what Riko would have done to him.

The fact that both of them stared at each other with nothing to say. Kevin and Jean, who used to never have enough time to finish conversations and never sat in silence in the Nest when they were alone, turned into strangers overnight. They had to wait until Riko was away to actually indulge in meaningful conversation that was so rare yet grounding for both of them in the Nest.

Jean was probably forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Kevin as he spoke to Neil and let his eyes roam when Riko was distracted in antagonising the Foxes.

This was probably something he was forced to say. Do you think Riko made Jean do the talking first because he maybe knew that Kevin had a soft spot for him? The You won't stay might be referring to how Kevin wouldn't stay with the Foxes, but I like that it also implies that Jean maybe still has some hope that Kevin would come back to them, to him. It sounds like most of his words are straight from Riko, but you can see the underlying plea in Jean's words.

He antagonizes Andrew mainly because he doesn't understand why Kevin would leave him for Andrew. He doesn't understand their relationship, and it gnaws at him that maybe Kevin meant much more to him than he ever did to Kevin. He's reminded of how Kevin used French against him and wonders whether their little tryst was nothing but a closed off street at Kevin's end. Spiralling, Jean allows himself to unfold and spit out his venom and jealousy to the Foxes; particularly the one that stole Kevin away from him.

This is arguably my favourite scene in the second banquet. Although it's short, it really puts into perspective their entire relationship within like 2 paragraphs. (That's reaching but you get what I mean.)

First off, let's talk about how Jean doesn't register Riko's words at first. He doesn't respond to 'Take Kevin and leave us'. I believe this is because previously, Riko would rather tear his own hand off than allow Jean and Kevin to be in the same room alone without Riko. So this comes as a shock for him. It's a fleeting moment, and he thinks he probably just imagined Riko's words.

Seized is a strong word, and I believe it speaks a lot at how desperate Jean was to even converse with Kevin in the banquet at all. Perhaps he gave a wide berth because he half expected Riko to strike him down for even attempting to seize Kevin and take him away. Seized literally means he forcibly pulled Kevin's arm towards him, and Kevin did not budge. He didn't complain, grunt out, or even do anything as he let Jean grab his arm. (I can just imagine Jean with his chest pressed against Kevin's arm speedwalking away, and I find it so adorably heartbreaking)

Jean also moves as fast as he can, showing that he wants to get away as soon as possible with Riko far, far behind them. He wants alone time with Kevin. He just wants to talk to him without the Ravens or Foxes breathing down his neck.

I genuinely wonder what Kevin would be thinking at this moment. What would he feel as the boy he left behind the Nest is taking him by the arm and pulling away from his abuser; this time, when he leaves, Jean was with him. Does he think about how easy it is to just leave with Jean beside him? Does he also want to grab onto Jean and not let go of fear of what Riko would do to him when Kevin is not there? Can he feel Jean's body heat as a stupid reminder that he's still alive and not bleeding out from Riko's scars?

Jean, going still at Dan and Matt's approach, could also signify that he fully expected to be punished for even latching himself onto Kevin, like Kevin was a sin he was foolish enough to be addicted to. I just want to know Dan and Matt's expression as they see Jean grasping onto Kevin so tightly, like, what do they see? Do they see Riko's dog doing it's masters bidding, or do they see Jean for who he is; a boy irrevocably in love with someone he can never ever have. A boy so desperate that even few seconds in the banquet keeps him going for a few days after.

Jean grasping onto Kevin could honestly mean a multitude of things, but I like to see it as Jean finally understanding that Kevin is not meant to be in evermore, isn't meant to be a comforting solace patching up his wounds when his thumbs were broken and unable to stitch himself up. But Jean still wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be in Kevin's life. He wanted Kevin to see him as Jean Moreau, a hopeless boy in love with the only person that ever gave him care. Not Jean Moreau of Perfect Court, number 3 the country's greatest backliner because Kevin only saw him on the court after he left evermore. So he stubbornly clung onto Kevin as his past as his future, aka the Foxes, came to collect his due from Jean; essentially handing over the one thing that kept him going throughout the Nest.

And I find it cute that Matt and Dan didn't shoo Jean off. They let him stay with Kevin. Maybe because they could see the tragedy in his eyes or the way Kevin was calm and placcid beside him, which was weird because Kevin gets anxious literally around EVERY Raven.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

tu sais que je t'aime bien, non? p2

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

can you do a pt 2 to tu sais que je could you do a pt 2 to t’aime bien, non? where they’re at the order, and she’s still learning English, and Sirius know English so he knows what she’s saying when she makes small comments, whether about someone or about Fred. And they talk a lot in French, and she’s glad she can talk ‘normally’. she grew up without a dad, or a good father figure and that’s what Sirius was to her. And Fred learning bits of French, mainly just flirty stuff 😂

masterlist | navigation | p1

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Y/N had grown used to the bustling activity at the Order of the Phoenix. Grimmauld Place was a stark contrast to the serene halls of Beauxbatons, but it had its own charm. It was chaotic and loud, with people constantly coming and going. But in all the noise, Y/N found comfort in small moments.

One of those moments was her time with Sirius Black.

Sirius had taken an immediate liking to Y/N. He was quick to realize that she wasn’t comfortable speaking English all the time, and when he found out she spoke French, he effortlessly switched languages. It was a relief to Y/N, who felt her shoulders relax every time they chatted in her native tongue.

“Comment tu vas aujourd'hui, Y/N?” Sirius asked one afternoon, as they sat in the kitchen with mugs of tea.

Y/N smiled, feeling at ease. “Je vais bien, merci. C’est agréable de parler en français.”

“Je comprends,” Sirius replied, his voice warm. “C’est bien d’avoir quelqu’un à qui parler aussi. Cette maison peut être un peu trop parfois.”

Y/N nodded, looking around at the dark walls of Grimmauld Place. It wasn’t just the house that could be overwhelming; it was everything—the war, the uncertainty, and the fact that she was so far from home. But Sirius made it feel less lonely. He’d become like a father to her, something she never really had growing up.

“Merci, Sirius. Tu es vraiment comme un père pour moi,” Y/N said softly, her voice full of emotion.

Sirius paused, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Et tu es comme une fille pour moi, Y/N. Je serai toujours là pour toi.”

The sincerity in his voice made her heart swell. It was nice to have someone who cared, who understood her without needing translation. She had Fred, of course, but there was something special about her bond with Sirius. He filled a void in her life she didn’t even know was there.

As the weeks went on, Y/N spent more and more time with Sirius, talking in French about anything and everything. They’d sit together during Order meetings, exchanging comments about the others in the room.

“Regarde Fred, il a l’air tellement concentré,” Y/N whispered one evening, watching Fred from across the room as he listened to Moody talk about the latest mission.

Sirius chuckled, leaning in closer. “Il est toujours concentré quand il s’agit de toi.”

Y/N blushed, trying to hide her smile. “Tu crois?”

“Je le sais,” Sirius replied with a knowing grin. “Il n’arrête pas de te regarder quand tu ne fais pas attention.”

Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest. Fred had been learning bits of French too, mainly picking up on the flirty things she would say. He was getting better at it, though his accent was still terrible, which she found adorable.

One evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, Y/N and Fred were sitting together in the living room, the fire crackling softly in the fireplace. Y/N was reading, and Fred was leaning against her, pretending to read but mostly just watching her.

“Tu es belle ce soir,” Fred whispered in clumsy French, a proud smile on his face.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re getting better, Fred.”

“I had a good teacher,” he said, grinning as he laced his fingers with hers.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Je t'aime, Fred,” she murmured, feeling bold.

Fred’s eyes sparkled, and he responded with a mischievous smile, “Je t'aime aussi, Y/N. Did I say that right?”

She nodded, giggling. “Perfectly.”

Fred puffed up his chest in mock pride. “Maybe I’ll become fluent in French just so I can understand all the lovely things you say about me.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N teased, bumping her shoulder against his.

Fred smirked, leaning in closer. “I’d like it even more if you kissed me again.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist. She leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Fred deepened it, pulling her closer as they both melted into the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N rested her head on Fred’s shoulder, feeling content.

“Fred,” she started, “I’m really glad you’re learning French.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Fred asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because it means you understand me better,” Y/N said softly. “And I like that.”

Fred squeezed her hand, his voice full of affection. “I like it too, Y/N. But you know, even if I don’t understand everything you say, I think I get the important stuff.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart full. “What’s that?”

“How much you care about me,” Fred replied, his voice serious for once. “And how much I care about you.”

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, but they were happy tears. She knew that even with the language barrier, their feelings were clear. Love didn’t need translation.

“Je t'aime, Fred,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fred kissed her forehead, his voice soft as he replied, “Je t'aime, Y/N.”

[esmiara]

As promised, let me introduce you my two beloved BSD OCs:

Who are they?

Basically, Lewis and Antoine are two friends traveling around the world to discover exciting places while avoiding various government forces (more on that later). Though not related to the main story of BSD, they do know about organisations like Port Mafia and the Agency, mainly from what they heard in the streets and read in the newspapers since they arrived in Yokohama. However, they do prefer to not get anyone involved in their issues, nor do they really want to get involved in anyone else’s.

Lewis Carroll

Based on the author of Alice in Wonderland, Lewis was a man in his thirties with a fancy mind. As a child, he once had a wild imagination feeding his ability Wonderland (again, more on that later) but due to social and family pressure, he got forced upon a path of logic and perfection, now making it hard for him to think outside the box. Thus crushing his past self involuntarily and putting chains on his own mind in order to protect himself from outside complaints. As an adult, he became a plain math teacher for children, with a quite boring life. That is, until he met one certain child in London.

Their meeting

“Draw me a sheep.” said the unknown child out of the blue.

Lewis was stunned. He didn’t knew what to respond at first to this child, which he thought was one of his students. But when he put more thought on it, he didn’t looked like any child he had at the time. Who might have been this strange blond kid with unkept clothes? He decided to learn more about him, worried he may have lost his parents somewhere. However, as they talked, he quickly understood he didn’t had any. He simply didn’t knew about any “parents”. Actually, he didn’t knew much about the world itself either.

“Draw me a sheep!” repeated the child after a while of interrogative discussion about who he was, where he came from etc....

Lewis gently asked why such a demand, as he didn’t want to offend this possible lost orphan.

The boy fell silent. Then spoke again, a sad emptiness darkening his young blue eyes.

“I want a warm friend to bring with me” he simply responded.

Their exchange may have been succinct up to this point, but it was clear to Lewis that he was no normal child. As the boy seemingly didn’t have a name, Lewis gave him the name of one of his most beloved book’s author. The character of that one book simply reminded him of the boy.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

More based on the Little Prince’s main character than the actual author, Antoine was an enigmatic individual with the physical appearance of a young boy. Nobody knows of his real age, not even himself. However, most may have theorized that he at least was around for at least a few decades, if not centuries perhaps. One day found and caught by the french government in his - supposedly - hometown, he had no memories of his time before then, except for some vague fragments. He mostly remembered about this laboratory he was brought in, with a lonely room where he would occasionnally meet strangers dressed in white. Despite the many uncertainties surrounding him, Antoine was still of great interest for scientists. He didn't seemed to physically age at all. Could he hold the secret of cells regeneration or even immortality? They soon found out he did age but at a very slow pace, thus looking unchanged for many years.

Curious about this plausible new ability, they decided to make him meet a young girl, who would share his room from now on. This one girl was quite arrogant at first. Antoine didn't really like her attitude but she was the only other person he could befriend. So they did. They soon became friends. Then they learned more about the truth, may it be this girl's past, snatched from her orphanage to become a lab rat as well, or the whole reason why she was here with him in the first place.

It was all because of the young girl's ability. One that would let her copy another one and make it her own. They apparently wished to make a copy of test subject B612′s power in order to "save it” somewhere and be able to experiment on it without having to risk the boy’s life. But things didn't turned out like they wanted as the girl began to crumble under some unknown sickness. Her body couldn't handle Antoine's ability, so it seemed, and she quickly became unable to move. So she made a promise with Antoine:

“Be my eyes and explore the outer world, okay dumby?” she said, with little breath she had left.

A promise reminiscent of the one where they would explore and see the world together. One where he would do so if she couldn't follow, to make her dream come true even when she became a star.

Their abilities

Little prince

No one really knows the details about Antoine's ability. Everything we know for sure is that his body has a very long lifetime, yet not immortal. He is destined to die of aging one day and is still weak to any wound like anyone else. However, we did notice Antoine's body starts to produce a faint glow whenever he gets sick or when his life is in danger in general. Not that it really helps at all though.

Wonderland

Lewis' ability is a bit complex and confusing, much like Alice in Wonderland's whole world.

In theory, Wonderland is quite simple: it allows its bearer to create anything he thinks to be a nonsense, something that is normally impossible. It could be seen as an area surrounding the user, in which he can create anything he wants, as long as it meets the proper requirements (being a "nonsense").

However, as the whole definition of "nonsense" depends on the user's mind, one could have a hard time creating anything. As such, what could be a nonsense to someone isn't necessarily one for Lewis. He is still quite a peculiar man after all.

A strange man, but with many restrictions on his mind and imagination. As he was forced to think with logic for the most part of his life now, he can't stop asking himself about the specifics of one’s question. Where a visible nonsense would occur, Lewis' mind would subconsciously ponder over what could make it truly real or impossible. If he can't get proper answers to those questions, then it can't happen either.

The beginning of their adventures

As they became much closer as people who somehow understood each other, Lewis began to be more friendly with the child, rather than looking like a mere adult talking to a little one. He saw himself in his struggles. He saw a young mind, much like his own a long time ago, slowly getting crushed by adult's expectations and limiting his own thoughts. He couldn't let the same thing happen twice when they still had a choice. So he encouraged him to get creative and let free of his imagination, with no worries about exterior opinions.

One day however, they suddenly got caught off guard by militaries sent by the french government as well as some members of the Order of the Clocktower, there to retrieve the unknown child for their own purpose instead. It was at that time that Lewis was finally able to make use of his ability once more after so many years. Inspired by Antoine’s naturally spoken nonsense, he unleashed Wonderland in order to escape. This also put a permanent stop to Lewis’ normal way of life, as he now was as searched for as Antoine was. It was time for a involuntary trip around the world, it seemed. But this time, Antoine wasn’t alone anymore.

[kemetic-dreams]

Music of African heritage in Cuba derives from the musical traditions of the many ethnic groups from different parts of West and Central Africa that were brought to Cuba as slaves between the 16th and 19th centuries. Members of some of these groups formed their own ethnic associations or cabildos, in which cultural traditions were conserved, including musical ones. Music of African heritage, along with considerable Iberian (Spanish) musical elements, forms the fulcrum of Cuban music.

Much of this music is associated with traditional African religion – Lucumi, Palo, and others – and preserves the languages formerly used in the African homelands. The music is passed on by oral tradition and is often performed in private gatherings difficult for outsiders to access. Lacking melodic instruments, the music instead features polyrhythmic percussion, voice (call-and-response), and dance. As with other musically renowned New World nations such as the United States, Brazil and Jamaica, Cuban music represents a profound African musical heritage.

Clearly, the origin of African groups in Cuba is due to the island's long history of slavery. Compared to the USA, slavery started in Cuba much earlier and continued for decades afterwards. Cuba was the last country in the Americas to abolish the importation of slaves, and the second last to free the slaves. In 1807 the British Parliament outlawed slavery, and from then on the British Navy acted to intercept Portuguese and Spanish slave ships. By 1860 the trade with Cuba was almost extinguished; the last slave ship to Cuba was in 1873. The abolition of slavery was announced by the Spanish Crown in 1880, and put into effect in 1886. Two years later, Brazil abolished slavery.

Although the exact number of slaves from each African culture will never be known, most came from one of these groups, which are listed in rough order of their cultural impact in Cuba:

The Congolese from the Congo Basin and SW Africa. Many ethnic groups were involved, all called Congos in Cuba. Their religion is called Palo. Probably the most numerous group, with a huge influence on Cuban music.

The Oyó or Yoruba from modern Nigeria, known in Cuba as Lucumí. Their religion is known as Regla de Ocha (roughly, 'the way of the spirits') and its syncretic version is known as Santería. Culturally of great significance.

The Kalabars from the Southeastern part of Nigeria and also in some part of Cameroon, whom were taken from the Bight of Biafra. These sub Igbo and Ijaw groups are known in Cuba as Carabali,and their religious organization as Abakuá. The street name for them in Cuba was Ñáñigos.

The Dahomey, from Benin. They were the Fon, known as Arará in Cuba. The Dahomeys were a powerful group who practised human sacrifice and slavery long before Europeans arrived, and allegedly even more so during the Atlantic slave trade.

Haiti immigrants to Cuba arrived at various times up to the present day. Leaving aside the French, who also came, the Africans from Haiti were a mixture of groups who usually spoke creolized French: and religion was known as vodú.

From part of modern Liberia and Côte d'Ivoire came the Gangá.

Senegambian people (Senegal, the Gambia), but including many brought from Sudan by the Arab slavers, were known by a catch-all word: Mandinga. The famous musical phrase Kikiribu Mandinga! refers to them.

Subsequent organization

The roots of most Afro-Cuban musical forms lie in the cabildos, self-organized social clubs for the African slaves, and separate cabildos for separate cultures. The cabildos were formed mainly from four groups: the Yoruba (the Lucumi in Cuba); the Congolese (Palo in Cuba); Dahomey (the Fon or Arará). Other cultures were undoubtedly present, more even than listed above, but in smaller numbers, and they did not leave such a distinctive presence.

Cabildos preserved African cultural traditions, even after the abolition of slavery in 1886. At the same time, African religions were transmitted from generation to generation throughout Cuba, Haiti, other islands and Brazil. These religions, which had a similar but not identical structure, were known as Lucumi or Regla de Ocha if they derived from the Yoruba, Palo from Central Africa, Vodú from Haiti, and so on. The term Santería was first introduced to account for the way African spirits were joined to Catholic saints, especially by people who were both baptized and initiated, and so were genuine members of both groups. Outsiders picked up the word and have tended to use it somewhat indiscriminately. It has become a kind of catch-all word, rather like salsa in music.

The ñáñigos in Cuba or Carabali in their secret Abakuá societies, were one of the most terrifying groups; even other blacks were afraid of them:

Girl, don't tell me about the ñáñigos! They were bad. The carabali was evil down to his guts. And the ñáñigos from back in the day when I was a chick, weren't like the ones today... they kept their secret, like in Africa.

African sacred music in Cuba

All these African cultures had musical traditions, which survive erratically to the present day, not always in detail, but in the general style. The best preserved are the African polytheistic religions, where, in Cuba at least, the instruments, the language, the chants, the dances and their interpretations are quite well preserved. In few or no other American countries are the religious ceremonies conducted in the old language(s) of Africa, as they are at least in Lucumí ceremonies, though of course, back in Africa the language has moved on. What unifies all genuine forms of African music is the unity of polyrhythmic percussion, voice (call-and-response) and dance in well-defined social settings, and the absence of melodic instruments of an Arabic or European kind.

Not until after the Second World War do we find detailed printed descriptions or recordings of African sacred music in Cuba. Inside the cults, music, song, dance and ceremony were (and still are) learnt by heart by means of demonstration, including such ceremonial procedures conducted in an African language. The experiences were private to the initiated, until the work of the ethnologist Fernando Ortíz, who devoted a large part of his life to investigating the influence of African culture in Cuba. The first detailed transcription of percussion, song and chants are to be found in his great works.

There are now many recordings offering a selection of pieces in praise of, or prayers to, the orishas. Much of the ceremonial procedures are still hidden from the eyes of outsiders, though some descriptions in words exist.

Yoruba and Congolese rituals

Main articles: Yoruba people, Lucumi religion, Kongo people, Palo (religion), and Batá

Religious traditions of African origin have survived in Cuba, and are the basis of ritual music, song and dance quite distinct from the secular music and dance. The religion of Yoruban origin is known as Lucumí or Regla de Ocha; the religion of Congolese origin is known as Palo, as in palos del monte.[11] There are also, in the Oriente region, forms of Haitian ritual together with its own instruments and music.

In Lucumi ceremonies, consecrated batá drums are played at ceremonies, and gourd ensembles called abwe. In the 1950s, a collection of Havana-area batá drummers called Santero helped bring Lucumí styles into mainstream Cuban music, while artists like Mezcla, with the lucumí singer Lázaro Ros, melded the style with other forms, including zouk.

The Congo cabildo uses yuka drums, as well as gallos (a form of song contest), makuta and mani dances. The latter is related to the Brazilian martial dance capoeira

[littleliterarylesbian]

Dear James - 3

| part 1 part 2

(cw for: accidental misgendering, prob the last part that will include this)

Hatred fills every part of him for almost no reason most times. He looks at James, his best friend in the whole world, and sees the last person who saw his sister alive. The person who she reached out to before she died and he didn't respond. And Sirius hates that. Hates him.

Sirius looks at Moony, the love of his life, and can't help the rage that bubbles up in him and he has no idea why. Maybe it's because Sirius doesn't understand how someone can love him after everything he's done, the words he's said, maybe it's because Remus was simply just a friend of hers once upon a time ago.

Sirius just hates Peter in general. How dare that man breathe in this universe after what he's done, after the friends he's killed. Sirius and Peter used to be close, but now every time Sirius sees him, in the newspaper, in old pictures of them, he wants to claw Peter's eyes out before shoving them so far up his arse they reach his intestines.

Sirius doesn't say anything though, he keeps it bottled up, it's better this way. He only unscrews the cap slightly with Remus, during sex mainly, when he can claw and scratch and bite without worry.

He doesn't tell anyone of the dreams, the dreams of a little boy with his sisters eyes and sharp angles and James' hair and smile, a boy that grows up happy and loved.

Sirius still remembers how the face became prominent in his dreams.

Sirius and Remus got into a row again, Sirius stomping out of the flat with harsh words and a 'don't wait up.'

He huffed down the street and does what he does every time he storms out. He stops at the local park. Sitting on a bench and watching children play, like he does so often; too often.

Sirius had always wished that he could be here with another purpose for once, maybe if his sister were still alive he would be here as an uncle, watching a little sprong run around with a big smile and a loud laugh.

He was lost in his day dreams when a body slammed into his leg.

Sirius blinked in shock when small arms wound around him and a small voice, one that clearly has a smile, spoke and Sirius was rendered speechless as he looked down. Dark skin and messy brown hair.

"Papa!" The little voice was French, or at least had a slight accent and Sirius' heart squeezed, "You're back early! How did you-" The little body looked up finally and froze.

Sirius' breath left him. Those eyes were so similar, eyes that Sirius had always hoped to see again.

The boy stepped away with a small frown, one that looked so cute with the baby fat on his face, round cheeks that made Sirius just want the small boy to continue hugging his legs because he wanted to bottle up those eyes, those familiar features, forever.

"You're not Papa." When the boy furrowed his eyebrows in an act that so reminiscent of the dead he once cared for so much he felt like screaming.

He tried to keep it together.

"Who is your Papa?" Sirius asked, and he pretended that his voice didn't crack. The boy didn't notice, or if he did he didn't say anything.

Instead, the boy squinted at him, tilting his head like a dog, like James, "I dunno if I should tell you." the boy said, "Papa isn't very pop-u-lar."

Sirius still couldn't stop looking. Looking at the grey eyes that seemed a bit too big for his face, and the baby fat covering what seemed to be pointed features, and messy hair in a familiar dark brown, and dark skin that seemed to be only slightly lighter then James'. Though it was a cloudy day, so what did Sirius know. It could all just be his mind, playing dirty tricks on him like it always does.

But Sirius still forced a smile, he thinks he was too shocked- haunted maybe- to cry.

"That's alright." Sirius shrugged, "I'm not too popular either."

The boy shook his head, "I dunno. Papa doesn't want strangers to know."

Sirius felt like his skin was crawling. An itch he couldn't escape, because now he has to know.

"How about I tell you my name, then you tell me yours. Then we won't be strangers."

The boy thought about it, but clearly didn't see a problem with Sirius' logic when he puffed up his cheeks and nodded.

"My name is Harry"

Sirius smiled, it was wobbly and his face felt heavy, but now he had a name to attach to the boy's face, a face that he knew he will use in daydreams and sleepless nights.

Sirius is aware of how weird that sounds.

"My name is Sirius."

He watched as the boy's toothy smile turned into a frown, Sirius watched as the boy looked him over before Harry's eyes widened and he took a step back.

Sirius watched as the boy looked to the sidewalk, almost in fear, and Sirius doesn't know what he did wrong.

Harry looked back, "Oh, um, I-" His eyes flicked back to the sidewalk and he cut himself off, eyes widening further and Sirius couldn't look away when the smile bloomed on Harry's face again. The boy started to run away, vaguely shouting back an apology. Sirius was sure he was already forgotten in the boy's mind.

Sirius watched him go. He watched as the small body slammed into a short man, he watched as the man looked down before he leaned down and picked the boy up.

Sirius was too far away to see the man properly, and even if he moved closer all he would see was a vague side profile, but he couldn't help but watch.

Sirius still couldn't be sure as he walked a few steps forward anyway, but the nose looked similar. Like the one he saw every day in the mirror, like the one he saw in memories.

Sirius watched the man walk away with Harry and he felt crushed. Like something was taken from him with no reason for why.

He went home to Remus that day stumbling through the door, alcohol on his breath, and holding back tears.

James looks similar now, as he trips out of the floo, clutching a now wrinkled letter in his hand.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

quiet night in listening to you speak another language (it's so casual)

summary: it's the eve of christmas eve and nate's somehow found himself listening to you speak french (he's not complaining)

warnings: swearing, tension?, mentions of christmas celebrations

the series!

< this was originally going to be longer but i need to rehash the lore first >

In all actuality, Nate hadn’t actually realised that he’d even owned a book in French. He’d scoured past every title and spine of each single one at least three times before, and not once did he clock the French one. In his defence, the title was pretty misleading – that was in English – and still, according to you, the inside pages were all in French. 

French. He’d shaken his head, and if it had been anyone else, he might have scoffed and not believed them, but he was beginning to get the hang of reading your body language and facial expressions pretty well in the five or six months you’d been friends – and he’d yet to decide if that little skill of his was a good thing or not. On one hand, it let him know exactly when to shut the fuck up (now, for instance), and on the other…well, the more he thought about it, the more he was coming to the realisation that there wasn’t much to not like about getting to know you more.

But now? You standing in his living room because you’d both miraculously managed to get back to Cole Harbour for a few days at Christmas? If he was being completely honest with himself, it was kind of driving him crazy.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t work out why.

It might have something to do with the fact that he was a little bit tipsy; it might have had something to do with the fact that maybe he found he wasn’t entirely too bummed out that he’d just made a fool of himself in front of you; or it might have had something to do with the fact that he’d just realised your voice changed when you spoke French.

Was that something that happened to everyone who spoke more than one language? He couldn’t remember. He’d heard Jo speak French on a number of different occasions, even you when he’d met up with you in Montreal, but with the close proximity forced by lowered inhibitions from the alcohol in both your systems, he was just now figuring it out.

Your voice was deeper, but somehow softer. And Nate found himself wondering if it changed yet again if you spoke a different language. He found himself wanting to find that out. Actually, that seemed to be a recurring theme lately: you’d say something or do something, and he’d stop for a moment, his mind soaking in that new piece of information – the calm before the storm – until his brain would ultimately spiral into a smattering of different thoughts and questions, all of them pertaining to you.

He’d considered writing them down and making a note of them, but the risk of someone accidentally stumbling across such a list was slightly mortifying, and the only thing he could do was promise his future self that when things stopped being a little bit awkward (i.e. silences where both of you would remember that the person in front of you was still a stranger and not in fact an old, good friend), he’d just start asking them. Out loud. And without shame.

Take this moment, for example:

It was the day before Christmas Eve. He’d spent the morning dropping off presents to non-family in the local area (mainly Sid and some other childhood friends that he still kept in touch with), and along the way he’d received a phone call from you and walked home to the sight of you huddled on his doorstep, clutching a bottle of wine with the excuse that you thought it’d be more bearable to drink with someone else than alone.

And if he was being completely honest, when his phone first lit up with that incoming call, he felt himself perk up, a grin already on his face when he answered – of which he was entirely sure you could hear in his voice down the line. Though, that was nothing compared to the actual proof of you on his doorstep, nothing at all.

He’d had to keep his hands from shaking when he stuck the key in the lock, and stop himself from staring for too long, because you’d clearly come from some sort of dressy-gathering and were wearing pretty, formal clothes and you’d clearly had a good day already because you were practically already glowing.

Needless to say, it hadn’t taken much for the two of you to eventually settle in his front room, a Christmas movie on low volume in the background as you trawled his bookshelf with curiosity. That was when the little debate had started, and it was also when you’d rather unapologetically rolled your eyes and shoved the pages under his nose to prove you were right, because what else would you have done?

What would he have done? Probably the same thing. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen your competitive side, either, and if every little discussion ended up with you sitting right next to him, your legs folded underneath you as you held the book in front of your face, eagerly rattling out sentence after sentence in French – he figured maybe losing this kind of this wasn’t such a bad idea. He also figured he could cope with going a little bit crazy every now and then.

(Nate hated losing, that should be known.)

Though, one thing he found sufficiently annoying was his own inability to understand just what it was you were saying. He’d always wanted to learn French – he’d have probably ended up on a different team in his youth if he had known French – but he’d never really committed himself to picking up the language, not even when he met Jo. Sure, he knew basic phrases, as did most people, but this was something else.

Every sentence or so you’d have to reread what you’d just read in French in English for him to understand, and even though he wanted to know the translation, he also wanted to batter his child self for ever turning those lessons down, because hearing English after speaking French was incredibly…well, as much as he liked the English language, it lacked the unique beauty of the French language.

“Do you want me to keep reading, or–”

“Yes please.” He instantly regretted interrupting you – not only because he was honestly so eager to keep hearing you talk, but because of your own reaction to said eagerness. He didn’t even need to be looking at you to feel the heat of your amused stare into the side of his face.

Though, he also knew, at least some unconscious part of him did, that it was also because he liked being close to you in this way: a kneecap pressing into the side of his thigh, one sock-clad foot under said thigh, and your shoulder leaning against his bicep from where it had previously (already) been outstretched across the back of the couch. After all, you’d put yourself there. Initially to prove a point, but you hadn’t moved, neither of you had.

The glasses on the coffee table were empty, as was the bottle, and it was getting pretty dark outside already. The fire was on, While You Were Sleeping was playing, and he felt comfortable. Infinitely more comfortable than he would have done if he’d have just come home to an empty house, though he half suspected that if you hadn't been here he’d have just asked to have dinner at his parent’s house, but you’d sorted that too with a few clicks on your phone.

He rather liked having you around, it was something he’d recognised from the very beginning but he seemed to be reminded of it each and every time you saw each other – which wasn’t very often at all, not often enough: you were in Montreal and he was in Colorado, and very rarely were the two of you ever in the same place at the same time. Not unless he had a game in Montreal or you had to visit the chain in Colorado, or you were both at home. Other than that, your friendship was strictly limited to the confines of technology, and even then there was often a small conflict with the time difference.

Two hours wasn’t much, but with his constant travelling and your workload, you’d come to learn it was no easy feat trying to organise a video call – hence, texts just seemed to be the easiest thing to do.

Yeah, he found himself thinking, fuck knows when you’d get to see each other next.

It was why he took the chance of sounding like a bit of an idiot: if he wasn’t honest then it’d take forever to actually get to know each other properly, and he wasn’t going to have that, at least, not if he could help it too much.

“Does your voice sound different when you speak Spanish than when you speak French?” He wasn’t looking at you when he asked it, but the burning of his cheeks did intensify when you slowed to a stop, the book lowering to your bent knee.

When he did look at you, your head was tilted, a careful look of consideration melted into your features. You rested your head momentarily on his arm and he had to fight to not react to that.

“Probably.” You settled on, voice rough from the alcohol, “You have to use your facial muscles differently to produce the sounds depending on accent, rhythms and intonation patterns.”

Your head lifted off his arm, and for a second his mind went blank.

“What does your Spanish sound like?”

You raised your brows, eyelids heavy, “You want me to speak Spanish?”

He just nodded, fighting off a cheeky grin.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

“Cualquier cosa.” You muttered, watching his face carefully for any indication your voice had changed.

It was a little odd to admit, but there was something entirely endearing about watching Nate react to things – whether it be something you said, or something that happened. It was fascinating: the way his mouth would twitch or his brows would dip down or raise, or the different creases that would appear. It felt like a game trying to predict what would change on his face to formulate a complete reaction, but it was weirdly adorable.

Though, your favourite thing just had to be his nose – mostly because it was the one constant: you could always rely on the sharp slope and slight curve to stay the same. The relevance that had to your previous observation was little to none, but…you liked it.

This time his mouth twisted, and he glanced away from you momentarily, like he needed the extra few seconds to replay the moment in his mind to make the decision. In truth, you already had an idea of what your own voice sounded like speaking different languages: part of the learning process was to record and talk and relisten to improve pronunciation, and it was then that you’d realised for yourself that you sounded slightly different.

Spanish was a higher pitch, probably because you found it less comfortable than speaking English and French. English was a nice medium to refer back to, and French was lower even then, probably because of the accent itself, and the fact that you’d been speaking it just as long as you had English.

Still, it didn’t take ten minutes for you to notice the differences like it had Nate – it took a good couple of days.

“Spanish is higher than French and English.” Nate turned back to you, confident in his answer, and for the sake of not showing just how shocked you were at that, you nodded.

“A propósito, tu cabello se ve bien de ese modo.” 

He blinked, eyes lazily focused on your mouth as you moved, and his lack of reaction to the unfamiliar phrase prompted an unintentional blush to warm your cheeks – the sheer intensity of his eyes and the mix of his slightly parted mouth (either out of curiosity or lack of self-awareness) bringing something a little heavier to the moment. You attempted to distract him from the colour of your cheeks by nudging his thigh with your kneecap.

He swallowed, mouth closing, “What does that mean?” 

And because he usually had pretty pale cheeks, the flush of the alcohol blended seamlessly into any further reddening making it almost impossible to distinguish if he was the least bit embarrassed about you having caught him staring so unashamedly – if it weren’t for the tips of his ears burning.

“It means ‘by the way, your hair looks good that way’.” You muttered a little sheepishly, lifting the book up to hide the bottom half of your face, eyes peeking over the top to spy on his reaction whilst also trying to appear nonchalant. 

You watched his eyes widen a little bit, jumbled mind digesting your compliment, before running a self-conscious hand through his waves. They were probably the most messed up you'd ever seen them: unruly and a little floppy. It wasn’t exactly a sight that screamed ‘Nathan’ to you, but you weren’t lying when you said it looked good. He looked good.

Only, he didn’t seem to agree, because he frowned, fingers twirling the ends of his hair, eyes cross-eyed as he dragged strands down to his own view, “My hair’s a mess.” You heard him mutter rather confusedly, and you lowered the book once more, leaning your head against your fist, mindful not to knock his arm off the back of the couch.

And maybe it was because you were also tipsy, or maybe it was because you didn’t want him to start fixing it, or maybe – just maybe – there was a small part of you that needed him to know you weren’t teasing, convince him that you you weren’t just saying it for the sake of saying it, “Stop fussing with it.”

“I can’t, it’s pissing me off.” He groaned, using both hands to scrape his hair backwards, which did nothing but draw your attention to his features: the shadows under his eyes from the light and his lashes; the prominent hook of his nose; the precise groove of his philtrum; the shape of his mouth; the soft stubble decorating his chin.

You were staring.

And he opened his eyes, the clear blue startling you to look sharply at the TV, now acutely aware of the fact that you were tucked against his shoulder, pressed against his thigh and under his thigh, all in pretty close proximity to say you’d only known each other for a few months.

Usually it took you a while to get comfortable with someone as a friend, even in the physical sense: hugs weren’t usually a comfortable thing – you didn’t know why, you just weren’t like that – though alcohol was the only thing that made you more comfortable with that kind of thing.

The common denominator.

“When do you go back to Colorado?” You spoke as you turned your attention back to him, speaking the first thing that came to your mind to get his sudden frustration away from his hair.

“Christmas morning.” He sighed, thumb scraping his eyebrow, “What about you?”

“Christmas evening.”

There was a lull in conversation after that, the both of you quiet as you took in what it meant. Usually you hated uncertainty and having such a lack of control over future plans, but it was something you’d had to quickly accept and adjust to if it meant you wanted Nate in your life. You didn’t know when you’d next see each other after this holiday. It could be weeks, it could be months.

You swiped your phone from the coffee table, pulling up your calendar app and scrolling through the dates. You knew he didn’t have any games left in Montreal, which left (at least, up until the play-offs) it up to your own work schedule. Sometimes your boss would have you travel to other branches across Canada and the US to implement training or just to evaluate how different departments work in your division – maybe you could learn more efficient techniques etc. But that was rare – you’d been down to Colorado once in the last seven months, and it was only luck that Nate was at home then.

Which put you up to Summer if the Avs clinched the playoffs, and even then it was fifty-fifty as to whether or not you’d be able to take holiday, obviously not to just see Nate, but to spend time with family that you didn’t get to see as often as you’d like. Though, your holiday leave tended to be used for birthdays.

You switched off your phone, running a hand through your hair and placing the book on the coffee table, untucking yourself from Nate to sit next to him instead, a suitable amount of distance separating you on the cushions. It wasn’t an obvious gap that you’d placed, but it was appropriate enough.

“Two days to spend time with the family.” He murmured, arms crossed over his chest.

“I think that’s the thing I miss most about not living here anymore. But I’m always ready to go back to my little apartment – I hate feeling like a kid again.”

Nate hummed in agreement, though a part of it felt fake. He knew what you were saying, he understood where you were coming from, but it felt fraudulent to sit on his couch in his house and agree with you – you who had to go back to your parents and probably get pestered (lovingly) as to where you’d been all day, before getting told not to go to bed too late. He hadn’t had that in years. He’d spend days at his parent’s house, but he’d always come back here.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” 

He’d said it quietly, a part of him wanting to be drowned out over the sound of the movie, and despite wanting to come across as it being a casual suggestion, he couldn’t help the note of sincerity seeping into his tone. He supposed it was that that had you hesitating, eyes carefully roving his face.

“I have a spare room already made up, it’d be no trouble.” He shot you a wry smile, shrugging helplessly, before turning back to the TV to give you space to think.

Only, you just sighed and picked your phone up again, before throwing him a glance out of the corner of your eye, “Are you sure?”

He nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile, “I’m sure. I can drop y’off in the morning.”

[ncityavenue]

| Ménage à trois | L.MK & L.HC

》in which you and mark find out that haechan has been getting off on you two having a sex

Warnings: Softdom!Mark, Switch!Haechan, creampie, a little anal, mxm (Haechan momentarily touches Mark's dick), Switch!reader, pervy!haechan, boob play, Masturbation, Squirting, just straight up filth.

A/N: I....I have no words.

Ménage à trois :

threesome in french

🍓╰─────────────────────────────╮

NOON

It was 12:00pm, apparently the designated time you and mark fucked. You guys never noticed that though, but Haechan did.

He knew the look on your faces before and after you guys had sex, he knew his best friend Mark couldn't keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants for too long when you guys have movie nights and both of your bodies are hid under the covers.

He knew the neediness in your voice when you spoke to mark, which he found cute and goddamn his friend for being so lucky to experience it often.

A few months ago was the first time Haechan masturbated to the sound of you and mark fucking, he was glad because he already premeditated to play himself but he couldn't find any good porn to jack off to. The cute couple you are decided to go on a date for your anniversary, leaving haechan alone in the house. The young boy knew what that meant when you came home.

He thought he would be traumatized and disgusted by his two bestfriends fucking but no he was turned on, he hated himself a little for it but he couldn't help it. His cock was twitching from the occasional skin slapping and the continuous moaning.

He loved your moans, they sounded so sexy and slutty. Especially when you were close, they got higher and even more slutty. Couldn't describe it but Haechan knew he liked it.

Today, you guys were rather more quiet than usual. Maybe Mark or yourself did some rational thinking and started being more quiet since there were other parties in the house. But, no can do for haechan. He wanted to Masturbate and it's been every since that first night that he actually watched porn to get him off. It was very occasional now.

So he tipped toed his way towards you guy's bedroom, with his phone in hand. He thought about recording again so he has more material to work with, he crept around the corner and surprisingly the door was creaked opened.

Maybe they think I'm sleep

Haechan thought, he didn't dwell on it too much since now he sees you displayed out on your bed with your legs opened showing your glistening pussy. Your boobs spilled out of your Grey crop top while mark was fully clothed eating you out hungrily.

He felt weird thinking about his friend Mark looking kind of pretty eating out his girlfriend, Mark's cheeks were a little flushed with your essence covering his lips and chin.

"Oh shit" you moaned pulled your head back tucking your lips into your mouth, Mark sucked on your clit as his long fingers were deep inside of you.

Haechan pressed record on his camera, he was self aware that he could be a loud when moaning so he stuffed some of his shirt in his mouth. He pulled his hard cock out of his loose shorts, he spreads the pre cum over the head of his cock going at a steady speed.

You dragged your hands through Mark's black hair, his hands kept your legs from moving so much. Mark's tongue explored your hole, slurping your juices and sucking your pussy gracefully.

Mark removed his mouth from your oozing cunt with pop sound, " you like when my tongue fucks your pretty little cunt hm? " Mark spoke before going back in this time he mainly focused on your clitoris dancing his tongue up and around the swollen nub.

Haechan fucked into his fist quicker noting he was still taking a video, his tried to steady his huffs through his nostrils. He heard a few smacks which made his eyes go doe eyed again. He saw mark slapping your pussy repeatedly before he saw little spurts of clear juices coming out of you, this is the first time he's seen you squirt or pussy full on display for that matter.

Most of the time by the time he snoops on y'all, Mark's cock is already deep inside you.

"C'mon baby tell me," Mark continues to slap it, you whine out in pleasure this being the first you've been loud today. Mark hushes you fondling your tits "hush baby don't you want haechan to be sound asleep?"

Ahh, so they did think Haechan was sleep. That's laughable, if only they knew their precious Hyuckie was jerking off to them.

You nodded your head vigorously trying to muffled your whimpers by putting your hand over your mouth.

Mark seemed satisfied enough to fuck you with his fingers again, using his middle and ring finger to aggressively his your g spot again. Muffled moans echoed in the room, the cute moans got whiny before your hips bucked and your legs shook a bit. You squirted all over marks arm, Mark played with your tits as his hand slowly exited your hole.

Haechan shot his load into his shorts so he wouldn't have any traces of him standing right there, his legs were a little weak but he had to find his way back to his room before getting caught. The video was successfully filmed and stuff away in his camera roll, before he plopped on his bed feeling like perverted loser not for the very first time though.

On the other hand, Mark sucked his fingers cleaning them up from the juices and gave you a passionate kiss while your legs went limp on the damp bed.

"You gotta remind me to place towels on the bed before we do this stuff, lovebug." Mark squeezed your thigh.

"I wasn't expecting to squirt Mark." You huffed.

"Dude, you squirted like at least a gallon just now." Mark looked at the damped white sheets panning back to you who was currently in the bedroom bathroom taking a leak.

"How do you still find a way to call me dude after you make me cum" you questioned chuckling.

"I mean it affectionately, dude." Mark says grabbing the sheets off the bed and tossing it in the dirty laundry bin.

🍓╰─────────────────────────────╮

SATURDAY— 7PM

You just came outside from getting a few groceries leaving the boys behind, you jammed the keys into the door handle opening the door up and nearly knocking yourself over getting inside.

"I'm baaaack" You sing, it was another movie night for the three of you.

Still neither of Mark or you know that just yesterday haechan was spying on you getting eaten out by Mark, which is why everything feels so natural right now.

Mark raised arms up, "WOOO! She brought the snacks!!"

Haechan helped you out with bags placing them on table, "Are we watching movies in here or one of our bedrooms?"

"Let's go in your domain, we rarely watch movies in your room hyuckie." You suggested.

"Unless it smells musty." Mark mumbles already digging into a bag of chips.

"Hey! I keep my room clean!" Haechan argued.

"Love you Mark but before I stepped into your life your room was always trashed. Haechan's only problem is the constant smell of sex even though he hasn't brought a girl home in a long time and redbulls EVERYWHERE." You say.

"He could be bringing them behind our backs." Mark shrugs, Haechan snatched the chip bag from him.

"That's neither of your business, and can we please just pick a room?" Haechan said looking between both of you, you shrugged bringing the grocery bag of snacks in haechan's room.

The boys followed behind you and not without mark slapping your butt making you giggle, you crawled onto the bed getting comfortable in the area you'll be at for awhile.

"Getting comfortable in another man's bed huh?" Mark joked, the bed dips as he joined you leaving haechan as the last one.

You were in the lucky middle as the warmth of both of Haechan and Mark's took over you, you flipped through the movies as you heard loud chopping in your right ear.

"Can you stop eating so loud?" You geared your attention to Haechan.

"I'm not even eating loud, it's really quiet in here." Haechan defends.

You went back to going through movies, "I can't find anything."

"Let's just watch Spider-Man into the Spider-verse." Mark suggested, you huffed knowing it's been the umpteenth time watching that movie.

You pressed play getting comfortable in between the two men that were just munching on snacks.

A few minutes into the movie you and haechan are bored by the movie watching tiktoks on his phone giggling at them while Mark was deep into the movie as if he hasn't watched it like 100 times.

"I gotta pee I'll be right back." Haechan excused himself.

"Oh haechan could I use your phone real quick? My phone died." You asked, Haechan nodded before running off to use it.

Haechan didn't think too much about you using his phone considering you have before, you never found the videos he's filmed of you and mark fucking so he didn't think this moment will be any different.

You snooped around on his phone because maybe you could find a funny photo or something slightly embarrassing on his phone to poke fun at him for since he's definitely done that to you and mark. All in light fun.

You went in his camera roll because you knew something embarrassing might be in there, that's until you saw a file that says "XXX" you got curious maybe getting the idea of this file probably being filled with porn. You opened and you nearly dropped it on the ground, you immediately knew that by the first video that it was you and mark.

You turned the volume down and pressed play, it was the newest one of Mark eating your pussy. You gasped watching the video.

You watched a few more seconds, "babe..look at this shit." You say quietly, you nudged him to get his attention.

"If it's another video of a a cow giving birth. No thank you." Mark declined.

"No bitch! Look!" You shoved the phone in his face, he looked at it in confusion until he saw clearly that it was him and you.

"What the actual fuck..." Mark couldn't believe his eyes, his best friend having a video of him sucking his girl's clit.

You turned the volume up a bit hearing heavy breathing coming from the video, "oh my god I think he's jacking off."

Mark snickered, "he sure is." It settled in Mark's brain that of course haechan's sly little self would do something like this. Haechan has always been so pervy, so he knew that he wouldn't just be third wheeling without having a little fun himself.

Mark watched you still be in pure shock, "babe I know you're not surprised by this behavior from him, he's Haechan for God sakes."

"Yeah I know but like— I don't know what if he's selling this on the internet and getting money for it?" You asked.

"He's too selfish to do that." Mark replied simply. He paused the movie turning his full body towards you, he had a wicked idea but waited for you to put the phone down.

"We should give him a show maybe, make it real and infront of him." Mark squeezed your thighs before bring your face closer to him.

"In his bed?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Mark says, he grabbed you in for a kiss running his hand under your shirt. You pulled him in more wrapping your right leg around his waist.

Haechan finished on the bathroom, "I decided to do a little skin care before coming ba—" he watched you and mark making out while mark dry humps you "uhm in my bed though?"

Mark paused the kiss, "we found your sick little secret." You picked up his phone waving it side to side.

"Your videos of us?" You raised an eyebrow.

Haechan immediately went red he tried to get a word out but all he was doing was stuttering while watching you and mark making out on his bed, he just stood there as if someone super glued him to the floor.

You parted yourself from mark, your hand being inches away from haechan's pulling him closer to you.

"There's nothing to be afraid of now, you finally could let your secret unfold now." You reassured him.

Haechan gazed at mark to silently ask if he could obliged to you, Mark shrugged in a 'go ahead' way.

"When I hear you guys fucking I jack off each time, I've even betrayed my trusty porn for you guys. " Haechan willingly admitted.

You stifled a giggle before pushing him onto the bed, "what a perv you are, my sweet innocent little hyuckie getting his rocks off to his best friends fucking..how ironic."

"When was he ever innocent?" Mark scoffed, haechan glared at the boy before his attention was towards you again considering you were now straddling him.

His hands rested on your hips while you pecked his neck,edging your way to his lips. He gladly accepted your lips to his, you made out with Haechan you felt another pair of hands roam your ass. Mark kneaded it, smacking it causing you to muffle a moan inside hyuck's mouth.

"Touch me, hyuck." You breathed, haechan wasted no time as his hands found its way to your breasts, He copied Mark's motion.

You subconsciously started grinding on hyuck's crotch, you easily could feel his erection since he was wearing loose shorts.

"See how needy she is dude? She can't wait for your cock to be buried inside her." Mark starts to rub your clothed clit teasingly.

You fully sat yourself on haechan's dick to take your shirt off with help of Mark, you didn't have a bra on so they easily were free. You lowered yourself again, your tits were in haechan's face he simultaneously started sucking your boobs. You grind yourself on his dick faster but Mark stopped you.

"You're not easily going to let her take over huh?" Mark questioned.

Haechan became confused, " think about it, this curious little whore wanted to snoop on your phone. Invading your privacy. She should pay the price for that, no?" Mark clarifies.

You stayed silent waiting for haechan's answer.

"What was I thinking? You wanted to be nosy." Haechan slapped your ass.

Right now you couldn't think of a smart reply, Mark quickly dragged your shorts off.

"Get on your back" Haechan ordered, you obliged quickly kicking off your bottoms. You already was spreading your legs for hyuck without him even suggesting it, with that, haechan started kissing your thighs.

"You're free to mark her up just don't do too much." Mark said, haechan sucked on your right thigh giving it a bruise and licking it. He copied the same technique on the left, he had an idea and acted on it quickly. Smacking your clit mirroring what mark did on Friday.

You were surprised by this action from him and gasped, he continued it a few times intensely watching you shudder and whimper. You were focused on the pain and pleasure that you didn't realize mark slipping his sweats off and walking his way to you with cock in hand. He brushed the head of it over your nipple, he jerked himself off on your chest.

"Put your pretty mouth to some use hm?" Mark tilted his head sweetly making you almost forget what position you were in right now, you opened your mouth letting mark shove his cock inside.

Haechan entered two fingers in your hole, he hoped that mark would show him how to make you squirt because that's all he's dreamed of, wanting to make you squirt all over him. Make a mess on him. But he continued his drawn out thrusts inside your cunt.

Your whines vibrated on Mark's cock, causing him to subconsciously jerk his hips forward.

Haechan's lips clasps onto your clit sucking as if his life depends on it, your legs shook from the slight sensitivity on it. His tongue wiggles left and right on your clit, he timidly watched you struggle to keep a flow on sucking marks cock. Haechan slurps the new juices dripping from your pussy, he hums lowly as he sways his head up and down hanging on to your bud.

Mark held your head in place so he could fuck your face, your cheeks hallowed bringing him to curse out loud throwing his head back. The gargling sounds of him thrusting his dick in your mouth made you even more wet and haechan could tell.

"She's getting more wet by you fucking her mouth, hyung." Haechan pointed out.

"Awhhh you little slut, you love when I fuck your throat hm? " Mark said teasingly, he did a stern thrust which hit the back of your throat aggressively. He slid his cock out of you, he was a little sad that he couldn't finish in your mouth but he had other plans.

"Stick your tongue out." Mark demanded, you did as told and Mark patted his tip on your tongue a few times. He replaced his tip with his fingers and dug his hand in the back of your throat to collect your spit. You sucked on his fingers and he nearly busted all over your face from that alone.

"Normally she's not this good, maybe because your here y/n decides to behave but usually I'd have to brat tame her." Mark says to haechan as if you're not in the room.

"I appreciate it, princess." Haechan spoke before continuing his dirty deed. Mark eased his fingers out of your mouth, he walked over towards hyuck's place. Mark buried his fingers in your cunt while hyuck sucks your clit profusely. You moaned out loud this time full out, the moans beginning to echo in the room.

Now you had both men drawing their attention to your pussy. Mark had whispered something to Haechan, which made you excited and scared considering this entire time they were communicating out loud.

Haechan took his mouth of your clit and let Mark take over, Mark spat on your clit. His thumb speedily rubbing on your clit now while his tongue fucked into your pussy. His warm tongue wiggles around your g spot.

"Oh fu— please right there I'm so fucking close!" Your hand flew to Mark's head trying to push him further.

Mark stopped abruptly making you curse, "not so fast love."

He traveled his way back on the bed, he laid himself on his back grabbing your hips to gesture you to ride him. You maneuver your way onto his lap, he lines his cock with your entrance you sit on it swallowing his dick inside you. You move your hips back and forth still getting use to his size even after fucking him so many times, Haechan still couldn't believe he was having a threesome with you two. Just a day ago was he fantasizing and dreaming about him fucking y'all well more likely you.

Mark grabbed your hips snapping his hips into yours fucking you at rapid pace, "you're so fucking wet, ugh fuck— you're so fucking beautiful like this."

You were pressed against him and you smashed your lips on your boyfriend's lips, this gave haechan a nice view of your ass. He needed to finger your asshole.

"C-could I finger your ass?" Hyuck asks, you hummed as a signal for him to do so. He brought his fingers to your mouth letting you suck on them, he looked at mark a second but immediately read his mind from the look on his face. He dragged his fingers to his mouth entering his fingers in Mark's mouth as well, there he had both of your salivas on his digits. He went back to your only unused hole, he started off with his pointer finger to prep you for the second finger. You gasped from the pain and pleasure mixing together pleasantly.

Mark continued to fuck you silly, hyuck pumped his finger in and out slowly but once your ass got use to the feeling he added his middle finger. He lost a little control fucking your ass crazily. Your moans encouraged the both of them to keep up their animalistic varieties of pounding. Your juices over flooded on Mark's cock, he slipped out abruptly causing you to squirt on him.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck!! Yes yes please oh my—" you started focusing on haechan's fingers rampaging your asshole. He kept it up long enough for you to squirt again, he was surprised from it. He didn't know you squirt from only your ass being annihilated. Mark watched in awe along with Hyuck, he was so focused with that he momentarily forgot he wasn't inside of you. Haechan helped him out by lining Mark's dick up again with your cunt, he pumped him just a bit to rough him up.

"Your ass is so pretty baby." Haechan mentions before taking his fingers out and smacking both of your cheeks one at a time while sucking on hid digits.

Mark became louder signaling his close to cumming, "Oh shit babe stay still, im gonna fuck my cum so deep in you!!" His thrusts became sloppy and you clutched onto his shoulder as his hands digged in your ass. His hips stuttered his moans going in tune with yours while fucking his cum inside you as he said he would. He paused before sliding himself out slowly.

His cum dripped out of your pussy, hyuck watched in awe again. He dragged a single finger down your slit to taste the mix of your juices and Mark's.

Haechan grabbed your chin to give you a deep kiss, you gave in placing a hand on his cheek. Mark watch you two while he fondled your breasts,playing with the nipples and slapping your boobs.

"I want you to get on you back and let me make you feel good. Will you do that for me princess?" Haechan asked, you were so far gone that you could make up the word to say yes. You nodded.

Mark moved over so you could lay next to him, you opened your legs again and this time both men could see your glistening pussy mixed with Mark's cum. Haechan pulled down his shorts, this being the first time noticing he was the only one fully clothed.

He eased his way on top of you, he rubs your pussy generously. His cock looked so pretty and big, Mark's was definitely bigger but from your imagination about Haechan your expectations were certainly fulfilled. He eased his dick inside of you knowing you were probably still coming down from your previous orgasm and being sensitive, he pushed until his hips met your thighs.

"Oh my god she's so fucking warm." He moaned towards Mark, he prods his hips forward. He let's out a little whimper,he brings himself down so he could place hickies on your neck.

"Hey! That's my job!" Mark's said, haechan looks over giggling a bit.

"I'm sorry dude I couldn't help it." Haechan apologizes half heartedly.

"Please go- go faster hyuck, fucking ruin me" you pleaded, haechan couldn't deny how sexy you sound begging for him to fuck the shit out of you. Haechan didn't waste time as he went faster his hand found it's way to your hair pulling at it, his rough snaps made your legs wrap around his hips. That right there made him weak, that motivated him to fuck you roughly.

Hyuck sucks your neck again, he sneakily takes his free hand to play with your clit while driving himself into you. The overstimulation starts to make tears well up, your broken moans were caused by hyuck attaching your lips to yours again.

You started saying incoherent words but saying it well enough to tell hyuck your close, "you're being so fucking good for him." Mark mumbles in your ear the rasp of his voice sending shockwaves to your cunt.

"Ahhhh fuck i-im fffucking cumming shhhit!!" You screamed

Haechan felt your juices flooding around his cock, he oh so badly wanted to make you squirt on him. He pulled out playing with your clit by using his tip, you grab his wrist but to no avail does he stop or slows down,your juices shoot out onto his cock and abdomen a bit. You scream from the overstimulation, you chant haechan's name. He slams back into you fucking your pussy at a animalistic pace, he curses out loud.

Mark on the side lines stroking himself watching you getting pounded into by his friend, haechans thrusts become sloppy and inconsistent. The sound of skin slapping becomes a spiral in your head, and before you know it his hot load shoots into you. He kept going though, you didn't mind but boy were you really sensitive right now. He fucked his cum into you just like Mark did, he slowed down slipping out on his last thrust.

He laid himself on your boobs sucking on them lazily while he groaned in satisfaction. After that, he placed a few pecks on your chest to your neck then your lips transitioning into another makeout session.

"Fuck that was so good." Haechan panted.

"It's funny because we were just thinking about having a threesome with you. Had a little conversation about it." Mark Converses also slightly out of breath.

"I had the idea." You breathed pointing at yourself.

Haechan patted your thigh " Smart girl."

Mark got off the bed, " Let's go take a shower together."

"I don't think I trust myself in the shower with both you and haechan." You announced.

"And so what if we have a round 2?" Haechan rolled off of you finally.

"Love you both, have very good dicks and all that sweet jazz but..a bitch is tired so I wanna get in and out the shower." You said.

"Yes ma'am." Mark says before walking in the bathroom leaving you and hyuck alone.

You roll over facing haechan giving him a peck on the cheek, "satisfied?"

"Most definitely." Haechan returned the smooch.

🍓╰─────────────────────────────╮

[hard--headed--woman]

Rose Valland !

She was a French Resistance fighter who rescued and recovered more than 60,000 works of art and cultural property stolen by the Nazis from public institutions and Jewish families during the German occupation!!! For that, she was nicknamed "Capitaine Beaux-Arts"

Rose was born in 1898 and died in 1980. Although she never spoke publicly about her private life and sexual orientation, she never married, and the only relationship she ever had was with a woman.

She was able to study thanks to her mother, who applied for grants for her daughter. In 1914, she entered the École normale d'institutrices in Grenoble, graduating in 1918. Gifted for drawing and encouraged by her teachers, she left to study at the École nationale des beaux-arts in Lyon.

She gained a good reputation there, because she was talented and serious, and won a lot of prizes! In 1922, she entered the École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts in Paris. She then passed the competitive examination for teaching drawing, coming 6th out of more than 300 candidates.

During the 1920s, she studied art history at the École Pratique des Hautes Études, the École du Louvre and the Institut d'Art et d'Archéologie. In 1931, she obtained her diploma from the École du Louvre on the evolution of the Italian art movement up to Giotto. At the Institute of Art and Archaeology at the University of Paris, she obtained three postgraduate certificates in modern art history, medieval archaeology and Greek archaeology. She was so intelligent and cultured, with so many diplomas, it's impressive! She published some studies and articles too, and she even learned to speak some languages like German without even studying it.

From October 1940, at the request of Jacques Jaujard, Director of the Musées Nationaux, she remained at the Musée du Jeu de Paume, officially as a curatorial attaché, unofficially instructed by Jacques Jaujard to report to him on the actions of the Germans, who had just requisitioned the museum to store works of art extorted from private collectors.

During the Occupation, the Germans began systematically looting works from museums and private collections across France, mainly those belonging to Jews who had been deported or had fled. They used the Jeu de Paume museum as a central depot before sorting and directing the works to various destinations in Germany, Austria and Eastern Europe. During the Nazi looting, Rose Valland discreetly recorded, as accurately as possible, the movements of the works passing through the Musée du Jeu de Paume, the names of the looted victims, the number of works, their destinations, the names of the agents in charge of the transfers, the names of the transporters, the marks and writing on the crates, the numbers and dates of the convoys, not forgetting the name of the artist, the work and its dimensions.

For over four years, she kept track of all the works' movements, origins and destinations. She scrupulously drew up dozens of index cards, deciphered German carbon paper discarded in the museum's garbage cans, and discreetly listened in on the conversations of Nazi officials. She provided the Resistance with essential, detailed information on the trains transporting the works, so that these convoys could be spared by the Resistance. In autumn 1944, she gave the Allies the names of German and Austrian depots (Altaussee, Buxheim, Neuschwanstein, Füssen, Nikolsburg, etc.) to avoid bombing, secure them and facilitate the recovery of stored works.

After the liberation of Paris by Allied troops, and until May 1, 1945, she worked with SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force), providing the Americans with vital information on storage sites for works transferred to Germany and Austria.

From May 1945, she was seconded from the Ministry of National Education to the Ministry of War, then from 1946 to 1952, seconded as a 3rd class administrator to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, occupying the Secretariat of State and then the General Commissariat for German and Austrian Affairs. Nicknamed "Captain Beaux-arts", she was appointed Captain in the 1st French Army, while also serving as Head of the Service de remise en place des œuvres d'art (SROA) within the Public Education Division of the French Group of the Board of Control.

She was sent to the various Allied occupation zones, British, American and Soviet, from where she repatriated a large number of works. She cooperated with American agents to conduct investigations and interrogate the Nazi officers and merchants responsible for the looting.

She played a decisive role in the February 1946 Nuremberg hearings on the plundering of art by Nazi leaders.

Between 1945 and 1954, she took part in the repatriation of over 60,000 items of French cultural property taken from public institutions and persecuted Jewish families.

Her courageous and heroic actions during the war and post-war years earned her numerous French and foreign decorations. In fact, Rose Valland was one of the most highly decorated women in French history.

She was :

-> made an Officer of the Legion of Honor

-> made a Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters

-> awarded the French Resistance Medal

-> awarded the Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian decoration in the USA

-> made an Officer of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany

-> awarded the Latvian medal of the Order of the Three Stars in recognition of her involvement in the Latvian Art Exhibition (painting, sculpture and folk art), held at the Jeu de Paume from January 27 to February 28, 1939.

Unfortunately, as is often the case with women in history, the role she played in the Resistance, protecting French works of art and the property of deported Jewish people, was quickly forgotten, and her name is hardly ever mentioned today when this part of history is evoked. Insane, when you know everything she's done and how many decorations she got...

At an undetermined time, perhaps in the post-war years, Rose Valland met the British woman Joyce Heer, secretary-interpreter at the U.S. Embassy, who became her lover until her death. The two women shared an apartment on rue de Navarre in Paris. Rose Valland reserved a place for her beside her in the family vault.

Rose Valland died in 1980 at the age of 81 in a nursing home in Ris-Orangis, outside Paris. She is buried with her lover in the family vault in her native village of Saint-Étienne-de-Saint-Geoirs, where the secondary school and a square bear her name.

She truly was a hero, and I wish we talked about her more !

[vavuska]

Imane Khelif reacts to the cyberbullying campaign spread by Elon Musk: 'You hate me but you don't even know me'

An emotional Imane Khelif has taken aim at Elon Musk for leading the cruel campaign against her we all know about during this summer's Olympics.

Imane Khelif was able to win a gold medal in boxing out in Paris, despite the huge impact of the cruel lies surrounding her gender, that dominated headlines throughout the Games, had on her psychological well-being and her family's concerns.

Khelif is a cisgender 25 year-old girl, but was subjected to a massive campaign of hate online - mainly conducted by far-right politicians and propaganda players - and has been harassed by million of strangers for her physical appearance and baseless and harmful rumors about her gender identity throughout the Olympics, with Elon Musk, Donald Trump and J. K. Rowling even joining the pile-on at one stage.

« Immediately after there was a lot of noise from politicians, athletes, stars, artists — Elon Musk and Donald Trump and that hurt me a lot, I cannot describe how scared I was, »the 25-year-old said.

« This affected me. I'm not lying to you, it affected me a lot. It hurt a lot. I can't describe the fear I had but thank God I was able to overcome it. Thank god, all the people of Algeria and the Arab world knew Imane Khelif with her femininity, her courage, her will. »

Imane Khelif, not only didn't permit to the responsible of the cruel attacks to break her concentration in training, but also fought back: she responded to the Golden Trio - Trump, Musk and Jo - by filing a cyberbullying lawsuit against all of them.

In an interview on French TV show CLIQUE, Khelif fought back the tears after being asked about Musk inviting further abuse with his post about her on Twitter/X:

« Elon Musk was one of the first to attack me during this hate campaign. He posted this video and it was retweeted. So, he was one of the first to have spread this buzz, this campaign against me. I would say... you hate me but you don't even know me. I don't even know why you led this attack. You have been cruel to me, cruel to my family, to my mother. At that time, my mother was going to hospital every day.»

Khelif then paused to wipe away the tears before adding: «So I don't understand the behavior of people today. God is my guide, I am a practicing Muslim woman. I am a Muslim Arabic woman and I got through this moment. 'I hope I will be even stronger in the future and come back even more motivated.»

It's important to put in lights, that Trump has long criticized transgender people as part of his rallies and focused specifically on transgender athletes, using language about gender identity that is wrong and harmful. Transgender-related issues have become perhaps the biggest rallying call to Christian conservatives, more than abortion rights or same-sex marriage. That shift worries advocates who note transgender people are already disproportionately prone to stress, depression and suicidal behavior when forced to live as the sex they were assigned at birth. The former president has repeatedly mocked transgender people during his campaign, using this poor, innocent girl, as scapegoat and target to show HOW her really cares of women's spaces and rights - by bullying a young cisgender woman.

Source - video has been downloaded from muzammilvagozz on Threads

[Off-topic: Am I the only that finds Imane's eyes gorgeous? She looks stunning in light blue.]

More links:

- My previous post in which I spoke about all the harmful situation caused by mean rumors to Imane Khelif and other non-white athletes

- Imane Khelif spoke against cyberbullism

- Imane Khelif sues both JK Rowling and Elon Musk for cyberbullying her and spreading hate online

[on-partiality]

Battle of Monmouth day!!!

Yippee! It's been a while since I made one of these kinds of posts! I'm like a day off, but it's fine.

246 years ago today, the battle of Monmouth, the last battle of the Philadelphia campaign, which started in 1777, was fought on the 28th of June 1778. sometimes called the Battle of Monmouth Courthouse because, well, it was near Monmouth Courthouse. In the battle, the continentals were commanded by Washington and Charles Lee, and the redcoats were commanded by Sr. Henry Clinton.

In the Philadelphia campaign prior to this battle, the continentals had suffered multiple major losses to the British, such as the battle of Germantown, Brandywine, and the battle or massacre of Paoli. All of these losses led to the British taking over and occupying Philadelphia. The continentals in Washington's camp had stayed at Valley Forge over the winter to train rigorously and recover mentally and physically from the previous battles.

Due to the Treaty of Alliance between France and America, established in 1778, for the French to offer support to America via their military and trade, Sr. Henry Clinton was given the orders to evacuate Philadelphia and begin coming up with new defence strategies because, with the treaty, the war made a massive turn in favour of the continentals. The redcoats marched out of Philadelphia, across New Jersey, and went off by boat to New York. The Continentals followed close behind, and it would've been stupid to let the Redcoats just leave. Washington ordered nearly a third of the army following him to go ahead and accept the command of Major General Charles Lee. The plan was to do a whole lot of damage to the British without causing anything major for the continentals.

Immediately when the battle began, Lee messed up an attack on the rear group of retreating soldiers, and in response, the main group of soldiers started fighting back, forcing Lee and his fraction of an army to retreat and wait for Washington and the rest of the continentals. After Washington arrived, Clinton's army disengaged and assumed their march. In the march, Clinton split his army into two groups: the first was comprised of mainly combat troops, and the second group handled transporting items. Throughout the march, Clinton's army was harassed by the Continentals, who got closer and closer to the Redcoats with each passing day. The day before the battle, Washington spoke with the more senior officers at the front of the continental army, but he didn't give a battle plan. Lee, believing he knew exactly when and how to attack, made his own meeting after Washington left. Lee's plan was to attack as soon as he heard the British were on the move, as he believed that was when they'd be most vulnerable.

On the 28th of June, the British left the Monmouth courthouse, and Lee, hearing of their movement, ordered Brigadier General Anthony Wayne with some 550 men to attack the rear of the British army in place while he led the rest of the front group to the left with the intention of outflanking the British, but he never told his subordinates, Brigadier Generals Charles Scott and William Maxwell, of his plan and once again failed. Clinton heard of the attack on the rear of his army and sent the combat group, the first group, back to fight back. When the combat group arrived, the Americans were very quickly outnumbered. Brigadier Generals Charles Scott and William Maxwell's men began to leave because they had no idea what was going on, and Lee's men followed with them. Lee felt like he no longer had control over the army, ordering a general retreat.

At one point, Washington's group caught up, and although they were confused, they had a 2-hour-long battle with the British troops. The battle ended when continental soldiers got high ground on the British, and Clinton ordered his army to withdraw. As Clinton's army was leaving Washington, he ordered two small attacks on the army, and the battle ended at sunset. Lee clearly had some kind of problem with communication because he didn't tell Washington anything about this retreat or battle. The main group of continentals was about 3 km behind Lee's bunch, and while they had fought very well against the British, none of them knew how that fight started. Washington was soon approached by a soldier who told him of Lee's retreat, and then he saw whole units in retreat. None of the officers knew what they were meant to do, and Washington felt alarmed to see them all. In the afternoon, Washington found Lee talking to the last of his men. Lee, in his arrogance, expected praise from Washington; instead, Washington famously voiced his immense disapproval and fury in front of the other soldiers.

Keep in mind that this all happened in New Jersey in June. Many people and their horses were collapsing due to extreme heatstroke.

(Note: I keep checking different sites, and they all say Monmouth happened in completely different ways. This is a combination of the details that seemed to stay consistent on the trustworthy sites, but I'm not 100% sure that this is it; fact-checking this in the morning.)