#the wordplays just keep coming

[magnificentposting-fabrizioart]

Cose Turche 3- Historically Cheesy

"Appeal to the Turk", reporting on diplomacy between Süleyman and Federico II of Mantova, and dwelling on the list of gifts, calls parmesan cheese wheels "immancabili" (inevitable, unmissable, in this case "staple") as a gift to Topkapi.

"Big and beautiful" wheels are also mentioned elsewhere as part of a gift list from the Duke of Ferrara in order to buy horses from the Sultan of Tunis.

[kugamoogle]

I've seen a couple posts talking about combining Eustace/Sebastian's fan and official names together as a fun little compromise (which I love!!), and while most of the focus has indeed been on him because of his....interesting choice of surname, I've also seen almost as many posts talking about disliking Ray/Eddie's name change too��mostly due to the lack of subtlety with his new name and the erasure of the sword and shield motif, and wanted to share a compromise my friend and I came up with in case it helps anyone:

Eddie is short for Edmund.

Admittedly "Edmund" isn't a name I'm particularly fond of myself—I definitely prefer the way Raymond sounds and I think it suits his design better, but it shares the same root suffix—and subsequently a similar meaning—to "Raymond", with the ending suffix meaning "protector", and thus brings back some of the subtlety of his fan name. It's also not a perfect homage to the shield aspect, but personally I only recognized "Edgeworth" as being sword related at all after seeing the Japanese name (granted, I'm also dumb) so....make of it what you will ig.

Not a perfect solution (and I don't think I'm the first to come up with this specific idea by any means!), but since the majority of the complaints I've seen are about the meaning and the pun, versus issues with the actual name fitting his design or the sound of it, I figured it may help someone.

I will also agree he doesn't look like an "Edmund", but honestly that's just more of a reason for him to go by Eddie. Lol.

[gemkun]

anonymous said : didn’t you offer to squash aventurine? that doesn’t sound like it follows the hippocratic oath, doctor

      ⸻       ❝   it   appears   even   a   certain   level   of   intellect   is   required   to   comprehend   sarcasm.   ❞

[open-sketchbook]

i'm super high so forgive the rambling but

as somebody who grew up catholic and read the bible a bunch because it was words in a book and that's what i did in school, a thing thats fucking insane about christianity is how, like, the foundational text of christianity and christanity-the-institution are basically completely the opposite of one another

original observation i know but this isn't me like, doing a new thing, its reeling over an old well-worn thing because its just so insane

like fundamentally the pitch of christianity, as presented in stories about jesus, is "god made himself into a guy, but not just a guy, a poor working man in roman-occupied judea. this guy went around telling everyone how god is on the side of the poor, the oppressed, and the downtrodden, and against the rich, the occupier, and the authority. to be kind to each other, help each other, even the ones you're supposed to hate, and take solace in the face the day is coming when those in power get what's coming to them."

but then the romans decided christianity was theirs now, and i dont think we like... understand how fucking weird that is. its like if the president of the united states one day got up and declared that actually, its Soviet America now. nothing is changing materially, capital still rules america, but the flags are all red and there's hammers and sickles on everything and people call each other comrade

because that's exactly what it is, right? none of the stuff in the jesus parts of the bible are really, like, conducive to the state religion of a giant conquering slave empire, especially not the part where the romans killed the dude. so like, basically every single thing about christainity is this bizarre smoke and mirrors game with theological wordplay to get around that. the institutions of the church exist to undermine the core stuff that's written in their foundational document through a game of theological telephone.

and again like, i keep coming back to the soviet america example idea thing. because that's exactly what it is, right? imagine its like, a thousand years from now, and in some liberal government culturally descendent from the united states you got an election and the two candidates get up and cite the parts of Capital where Karl Marx is like "alright i'll hand it to the capitalists they sure built a lot of machine tools" to show their devotion to communism, which of course teaches that capitalists should own the means of production

its exactly that! they literally took a religion built around a dude who really fucking hated the roman occupation and talked endlessly about giving to others and sharing with others and helping those unlike yourself and made it into the religion of rome, of taking and keeping and hurting those unlike yourself.

its so fucking wild man (again; i am so goddamn high. to be clear, this isn't a defense of christianity or of issues with jesus as portrayed, like im not saying that actually we should be Original Jesusers, i fully agree that christanity has antisemetism at its core, its more just musing on how wild it is this happened)

[llamagoddessofficial]

ok, i absolutely adore the bad sans fae

but for the life of me, i can’t remember if there are any Aggre fae asks. and if there’s not any, well, that’s just a crime. a crime i’d like to rectify, if that’s alright :3

Sans seems like your average fae. Perhaps friendlier than usual. Particularly good with words, he has a thing for silly pranks, harmless practical jokes like swapping your salt for sugar and turning your hair different colours. He really enjoys poetry and wordplay, and would love to hear you sing - and if you can outsmart him, he'll be absolutely delighted.

... Under the surface, though, he's got quite the mean streak. He's the old kind of trickster; not quite as old as Farmer, but absolutely the kind of fae people genuinely used to fear. The kind that could trick a cow out of her udders, or a cat out of its tail, the kind you'd use salt and rowan and thistles to ward away. He'd never trick you, though! You're his favourite. And those days are behind him, obviously. He'd never lie to you, look at his cute face.

Let's just hope no one messes around with his favourite.

Red is a high-ranking member of the Summer court, because of his incredible skill with metalworking. His magical swords, charmed rings, intricately carved chestplates, beaded necklaces and wing cuffs are highly sought after items in both courts. Raw metal can burn fae, so most avoid it... and yet, despite the cascade of scars decorating his hands and arms, Red just covers up with gloves and keeps working. His soft spot for humans means some of his magical items wind their way the pockets of weary or down-on-their-luck travellers.

He'll flirt by making you beautiful things. Bracelets, earrings, circlets, you might even find he's woven protective charms into them to keep dangerous/pesky fae (like Sans) away. He's good with his words, and it's not just his forge that burns hot and bright... why don't you come pay him a visit sometime? Wear that necklace he made you. Just that.

Skull is a rare case of a fae who wanders, quite happily, back and forth between the two realms. He likes the light of the Summer realm, but the solitude of Winter. Given his size, stature and intimidating face, he often finds himself being hired out to be some random fae's temporary muscle - basically, he's the fae equivalent of a sellsword. Somehow he's managed to work his way up the ranks, and it's not uncommon to see him at the sides of fae nobility during big festivals. He wears armour Red makes just for him (the two often find themselves working at the behest of the same client) and carries around a massive, beautifully engraved battle axe.

Once he sees you, it doesn't matter who tries to hire him. Because from that moment on, in his mind, he's sworn himself to you entirely. Human or fae, he'll follow you around, protecting you regardless of rain or shine. And given that he doesn't mind either Winter or Summer, there's nowhere you can go he won't follow to keep you safe.

[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds part Two

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Angst, super fluff, my silliest wordplay

A/N: You guys! Welcome to part 2, I'm so so happy you gave so much love to the first part (which was meant to be a oneshot but ye said no!) and I hope you are ready to tolerate even more of my silliest carry on! Let me know what you think (I hope you love it just as much as part 1).

Part 1

---------------------------

“So then what happens?”

“So then Marley di-lives happily ever after”

“Wow, that’s a great story YN" You offer a smile to Elains kind eyes as the two of you lounge in the front room of River House, awaiting the rest of the group. You had been in the Prythian for almost a month and had found your way with great help from Azriel, teething problems aside.

“I’m just gonna get a drink from the kitchen, want anything?” Elain shook her head as you left for a cup of your favourite floral tea, growing tired of waiting for the others. 

“We are going to be late, I swear to Taylor Swift those males better hurry up!” Feyre rushed into the room, haphazardly buckling her shoe before collapsing on the couch alongside her sister. 

“Who’s Taylor Swift?” 

“YN said she’s like their God of war and karma” Elain nodded in understanding, eyes landing back on the small coffee table in front of them. 

“Do you think YN will be okay visiting Hewn City?” 

“What do you think is keeping our lovely friends so long? They’re arguing about it upstairs” Feyre sighed.

“Amren is really not going to be happy with this when she comes back from her travels”

“Yes but Elain, have you ever seen Az so happy?” Elain exhaled in agreement before you re-entered the living room to your new best friends. The three of you spent another half an hour before the three males arrived on the scene from Rhysand’s office. 

“How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence, are we ready to go now?” You say with a sarcastic drawl as Azriel places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before sinking into the plush chair across from you.

“Cass your hair looks different, so shiny?”

“Thank you for noticing Elain, YN has taught me the so-called curly girl/Illyrian method” he beamed with pride that you matched before you turned your attention back to Rhysand.

“Cass and I are going to go ahead with Feyre, we don’t think you’re quite ready for Hewn City YN”

“Correction Rhys, Hewn City isn’t ready for YN” Cassian laughed back, you looked between the two males before looking to Azriel’s soft gaze as he rested his elbows off his knees, head on a hand. He gave a small smile before leaning back fully into the chair, the room silent momentarily. 

“This was your idea wasn’t it?” Azriel feigned offence, hand on his chest before giving a small huff of air.

“Yes…but YN you’d hate it there”

“So, I hate lots of things and deal with that, like Cassian's outfit right now!” you found your feet again along with your sharper tone.

“Ouch!” Cassian cut across you with a half laugh.

“Sorry Cassian honey sweetie baby, I’m mad at the wrong bat” Cassian folded his arms across his chest, he too hated his Hewn City clothes but he nodded in acceptance of your apology. 

“I understand YN, I even wore the boots with the shoelaces you like!”

“Oh, the ones from the president?” you gave a small laugh to yourself.

“Yeah!.....Whatever that means” Cassian furrowed his brow in thought.

“Anyways, I’m going to Hewn City with you guys!”

“YN, it's really not like here-”

“So? I want to see the whole of Prythian and I don’t want to beg you to take me anywhere” Feyre’s head shot towards her mates at your somewhat desperate tone, a knowing look shared between the two. 

“She’s coming” Rhysand and Feyre said in unison, gaining a shocked expression from both you and Azriel. 

-------------------------

That was the end of it, the group was on its way, Azriel sulking for the duration of the journey. The air was knocked out of you at the full scale and odd sense of beauty at Hewn City, it had a different kind of charm to it than Velaris, one that was much less obvious. You felt the group's easy-going nature completely dissolve as you crossed the threshold of a large ballroom-like space where Feyre and Rhysand held court.

You walked at the rear of the group alongside Elain, her timid deamour growing tenfold, your eyes traced the crowd all bowed to the ground before your eyes landed on the back of Azriel and Cassian ahead of you. The whole sight made you feel ill, an entire world away from your realm or even how the residents of Velaris acted.

You felt the cool familiar touch of Azriel’s shadows trace along your lower back in soothing circles easing you into the new harsh environment. You fought back a laugh when the room sank lower to the ground as Rhysand and Feyre entered, the idea of bowing to Rhysand was humorous to you but the somewhat goofy demeanour you so regularly saw from him, completely evaporated. 

You sat to the side of the dais while the High Lord and Lady discussed various topics of the Court, Azriel fighting every bone in his body not constantly to check you over to make sure you were okay. 

“I’m going to get a drink” You slipped from your chair and down the stone steps, leaving Nesta and Elain to debate book characters. You pushed away the feeling of Azriel’s eyes burning into your back as you reached a group of staff. One reached out an almost rattling hand towards you with the tray and you smiled, she remained unable to reach your eye. 

“Thanks…nice party huh?” You raised an eyebrow when she didn’t reply to you, the others seemingly also nervous. 

“I used to be a waitress at this fancy restaurant, I get how it feels to be suffocated by pompous energy like the kind that comes from Rhysand” you offered jokingly, her eyes darting to yours in surprise before snapping back forward, her slight tremble growing. 

“Ah and who are you lovely creature?” Your head whipped around to a tall, broad male with golden hair and deep brown eyes that examined you with fine focus. He outstretched a hand to yours and you took it reluctantly, something twisting in your stomach. 

“Keir, Steward of the Night Court”

“YN, newest stray of the Night Court” You gave a sarcastic smile, moving to go past him, his grip tightening on your hand.

“Oh YN, please stay and chat” He placed his empty glass harshly down on the vibrating server’s tray, throwing the balance of the silverware. You flinched at the feeling of the golden bubbly liquid covering your dress. The sound of the smashing fine crystal and the female dropping instantly to the floor to try to recover from the dire situation drew eyes from all over the room. 

“Oh fuck” You jumped back slightly before bending down to help the panicking fae, Keir’s grip on your wrist harshened further, pulling you back up. 

“Disgraceful scum” he spat downwards at the female before snapping his fingers. Two giant guards seemingly appeared from nowhere to haul her to her feet and drag her back, she shouted slightly in pure terror, only to be smacked across the face by a guard. 

“What the fuck?!” Fury rising in your eyes, Azriel began to make his way through the commotion. 

“I know YN, she ruined your lovely dre-”

“Not her, prick! You! Where the fuck do you get off treating people like that?”

“I beg your pardon” his face darkened, his grip burning into your wrist, you swore you could feel the joint rearranging itself. It suddenly lessened as Azriel finally met your side and you yanked your arm downward away from him entirely.

“Keir, YN didn’t mean-”

“Eh yes YN did mean it” you bit back at the Spymaster before storming away from the two males, the room’s volume swelling back to full volume as if this was a normal occurrence.

You marched out of the decadent building and into the streets of the Court of Nightmares, stumbling slightly in the long midnight blue dress that clothed you. You hiked up the dress slightly before continuing to stomp through the streets, gaining a few quizzical glances from the residents. You were struck by the difference of character that occupied the course of your path, the slightly crumbling infrastructure, a stark difference to the building you just left. 

“YN, there you are, it's not safe to be out here alone” Azriel jogged to your side, collecting his uncharacteristic panicked expression before you faced him. 

“This place…this place...”

“I know YN, it’s its own beast”

“But it's under Rhysand and Feyre’s control?” he nodded in confirmation.

“So they could fix it right?”

“It's a bit more complicated than that YN”

“How!? There seems to be endless wealth at home” Azriels heart warmed at the word home, the thought of you feeling so comfortable in his world filling him with pride. 

“It… it's just how it's always been” he offered softly, reaching for your hand, a dark ring of marbling growing across your wrist joint, Azriel’s eyes bore into the marking.

“He hurt you”

“Az, he’s just an asshole, I’m more concerned about that girl” he ran a thumb over the maroon, Cassian landing alongside you both. 

“Come on we’re leaving, Nesta is bored and I want to keep learning that Hot-to-Go dance” you let a slight laugh leave you as he made the shapes of letters with his arms, Azriel still unable to tear his eyes away from your wrist. 

“Bring YN home, I’ll follow you” he didn’t give you much of a choice as he dissolved into shadows. 

—--------------------------------------

The group sat around the dining room table in the Town House, all in the usual state of exhaustion that a trip to Hewn City brought about, Azriel noticeably absent.

“I just don’t know how you can all just pretend that place doesn’t exist” you cut into the wearied silence, the Inner Circle pushing their dinner around their plates.

“YN...” Rhysand’s tone was warning as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

“I mean Feyre how can you just sit here and-”

“YN!” Rhysand barked again and you sat back in your chair, dropping your fork and entering a staring contest with the High Lord of Night.

“You were outraged at the tits in Spring Court but this you accept!?” you continued on, Mor choked out a laugh through the sip of wine she drank.

“Tithe YN, the tithe” Cassian gently corrected with a wide grin.

“I think she meant what she said, Tamlin was acting like one-” the table hummed in amused agreement to Mor.

“-We’re working on it but it's a gradual process YN” Feyre offered softly, ending Mor's comment before it could continue, her kind eyes softening the edge of anger in you slightly.

“This is why you people need democracy!” you huffed, remembering the look of terror on that fae’s face from earlier.

“What’s that? A swear word?” Rhysand asked genuinely.

“I’m sure to people like you in their ivory tower it is!” you stormed out for the second time that day.

“This house is made of stone, what is she talking about ?I thought we were over her riddle stage” Cassian raised an eyebrow. 

—------------------------------------------

You threw yourself down on your giant bed, feeling every bit a part of the problem you took such an issue with. You sat up again, dragging your hands down your face before something caught your eye. You ambled over to the dresser, the deep red of your university sweatshirt sleeve hanging out of the large drawers. Your thumbs ran over the well-worn fabric, and you smiled down at it. Your dress slipped from your shoulders to your ankles and you replaced it with your beloved sweatshirt, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Hey YN” you span around to Azriel, tugging the end of your sweatshirt down a bit further to cover yourself more.

“Hi Azriel” You said faintly, sitting down cross-legged on the bed. Azriel looked drained, your eyes dropping to his hands coated in a fine layer of crimson.

“Where were you?” you spoke cautiously, Azriel rolling his shoulders before moving into the adjacent bathroom, the sound of his clothes hitting the marble sending an electric shiver through you. 

“No one treats you like that” he called out to you, your head tilting. He returned to you in his loose-fitting sleepwear before climbing into the bed, his wings fully relaxing. 

You crawled back up the bed to lie the length of him. He looked down at you, rested in the crook of his arm, his wing curling slightly to bring you in further. Your arm traced up his abdomen to rest on his chest until he took the hand, inspecting it again, the maroon having deepened further, if you were honest you were surprised it wasn’t broken. 

“Yeah...I’m not finished with him” he placed your hand back down and moved to leave the bed, only to be stopped by your weight on top of him.

“Az it's fine” You laughed, unsure how to handle someone having such unending care for you. 

“Rhys told me about dinner-” you groaned at his words after a moment of silence, rolling off of his chest back to his side “-He said he didn’t realise we had adopted a grumpy teenager” he laughed and you hit him in the chest, whilst not taking your eyes from the ceiling above. He kissed the top of your head and you turned upwards to meet his lips, a slight groan of his own leaving him. His mouth tasted of mist and mint and you found it so entirely addictive, he rolled slightly to kiss you further, your hand tracing up his abdomen and across the top of his shoulder. 

“I was kidnapped, not adopted” you teased.

“What’s that thing you always say? Flamingo tornado?”

“Tomato, tomato” You laughed fully and he couldn’t help but trace every contour of your face.

“Probably best not to bring up Tamlin around the two of them, although Mor really enjoyed the show”

“Did you ever notice how Tamlin sounds like tampon-” he raised an eyebrow at your words “-nevermind, for another day”

“We have so much to learn from one another” he gave you an excited squeeze.

“I know, I think you would have liked where I'm from"

“Yeah? Do you regret not trying to get back?” you pulled back to look at his face fully, his worried tone coating your ears. 

“I miss somethings about home” home, but not you didn’t mean Velaris this time, a twinge of sadness washing over Azriel.

“Like what?”

“Emm coffee, my clothes, college to some degree ehhh tv, I don’t know the shower, people understanding my sense of humour”

“You have a sense of humour?” he smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway Azriel, I happily gave it all up for you, graduation and all” You yawned the words out, rolling into a tight ball against his side.

“You never did that exam so how’d you know you’d have graduated?” 

“Wooooooow cold” you laughed into him, eyes closing now. Azriel watched you fall asleep with a smile across your face, his favourite sight, a plot beginning to form in his eyes. 

—----------------------------------

You stretched your arm into the empty space in the bed, sitting up on an elbow to look around to find Azriel long gone from your shared space. You threw on a dressing gown around you, your sweatshirt still lovingly clung to your curves. The hallway was mostly quiet when you entered it, only the sound of distant whispers filling the airways. 

“Azriel?” You called out from the top of the stairs, the whispering silencing immediately followed by what could only be described as scurrying. You traipsed slowly down the staircase, stopping at the bottom to find Cassian stood in the now almost bare living room, only a single desk and chair alongside him. 

“Cassian what the fuc-”

“Eh that’s Mr. Cassian to you Miss!” he spoke with a fake authoritative tone and you could have sworn you heard Azriel whisper that it was a bit overkill.

“Right…is this some kinda sex thing you and Nesta have going on?” you laughed lightly, following your feet into the nearly barren room. 

“Well it might become one-” he winked before coughing to clear his throat “-now ehh, sit down for your exam”

“What?” you chuckled as he pulled out the chair for you, gesturing for you to sit so you did. You looked down at the scrap of paper, ‘Physics Final’ scrawled across the top in Feyre’s penmanship. You looked back to Cassian confused and you could tell he was fighting a laugh, you turned the sheet over to find one question scribbled across the breadth of the page. 

“What is physics?” You laughed the words aloud, Cassian's hand banging off the desk in front of you.

“No talking during the exam!” he barked before covering his mouth to shield his laugh. 

“Right… well you didn’t give me something to write with Sir” you said sarcastically.

“Oh I like it when you call me Sir-” a shadow bolted into Cassian's chest, knocking him back slightly “-okay okay sorry, busybody!….emm just tell me the answer then”

“Okay well very broadly, physics is the science of matter, motion, and energy”

“Emm sure let's go with that, congratulations!” he pulled you up from the chair by the arm and through the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house, your laughs of utter confusion filling the hallway. 

“Surprise! It’s your graduation!” You hand covered your mouth in astonishment, your new family stood with their arms up around the kitchen island, a large cake sitting in the middle of them, banners and streamers covering every surface. Azriel passed a large bunch of flowers into your hand, kissing the top of your head as he did so, the whole scene bringing tears into your eyes. 

“Oh no did we do it wrong?”

“I told you that question was too difficult!” Nesta snapped towards Feyre but you cut her off before she could refute her sister.

“No no you guys this is absolutely perfect, Jesus Christ-”

“I think another one of her friends, potentially related to Xanax?” Cassian whispered to Mor at the sight of her confusion.

“-this is everything” You ignored Cassian, hugging Azriel tightly. 

“And because now you’ve graduated, you’re getting a job!” Feyre beamed and you turned to face her, Azriels arms wrapping around your waist from behind. 

“Yes, I have been thinking a lot about our…discussion yesterday YN and I’m sorry, you’re right, we aren’t doing enough and so, we would love it if you could help us to level the playing field throughout our Court. We’ll set up an office there for you and perhaps begin distributing our resources better. Azriel…took care of Keir so he won’t be an issue, what do you think?” Rhysand seemed almost nervous making the offer, it instantly melting from him when you nodded in agreement. Cassian practically jogged to your side, your favourite mug outstretched in his hand.

“Oh and, I made you this!” You exchanged the flowers for the mug with a smile, it faltered slightly when you looked to find a thick brown sludge coating the inside of the crockery. 

“Ehhh”

“It’s coffee! Or at least my understanding of what coffee, bean water right?” you looked from the mug to his face that radiated pure pride. 

“Emm yes Cassian thank you I love it!” you lied through your teeth and felt Azriel shake with laughter from behind you, your elbow shooting back into his stomach.

“Actually, Azriel you can have the first sip”

“Oh no no YN, I couldn’t-”

“I insist” you turned, passing it into his scarred hand. His gaze bounced from your smug face to Cassian’s eager one as he gulped before taking a small sip of the slush. He fought every instinct to spit it back out.

“Lo-lovely Cass thank you” he managed, putting the mug out of arm's reach, Cassian turning back to cut up the cake.

The group hummed with laughter, unadulterated happiness radiating and you looked around at each of them with such an overwhelming sense of home. You looked to Azriel, who had the same expression you had when looking at his family that he had when he looked at you. 

“Look at our family YN” he said so only you could hear, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck, his going to your hips.

“I’m so glad I fell into this world”

“Fell from the sky like an angel” you tilted your head back with almost a disgusted groan at his cheesy words only gaining a laugh from the Spymaster.

“I should have just risked going into the snow that night”

“I would have followed you, I will follow you anywhere, from this world, into the next”

-------------------------------

Whatcha think?

Tags (which for some reason is working intermittently): @phoenix666stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @dreamscourtgirl @gabby234lopez @chairofchaos @ariaaira

[under-the-stars-au]

The voices that be would like to know what everyone's SOUL types are (if they have them / it does not mess with lore)! ...Wait, can you guys even tell without color...?

Now now Chara, that's not really nice of you to say that, it's not his fault if he don't even remember who he is

_____________________

Here's the souls of our dear party members ! Mh ? Oh, you're mad that you can't know what their soul types are ? Well, you can actually guess, Siffrin and Chara gave you some hints in all of them, and the shades I took come directly from screenshots of the game with saturation off.

Here you can see a bit more of Siffrin and Chara's dynamic, Siffrin just have a very annoyingly mean voice in their head, greeeaaat. It's kinda like Loop and Siffrin's dynamic, but without the connection (Twohats and all) and...with a lot of little changes as well actually. Don't worry, you'll learn all of them soon enough

Oh, also, english's not my first language, so I tried to make some wordplays here but I'm not sure if it works well, hope it does

I'm looking at my notes of what I planned next, and if everything goes well, the next answers will be very very important for the rest, some really important infos you see, about what is going on. So stay tuned and see you later !

_________________

DIALOGUES IN CASE YOU CAN'T READ MY HANDWRITING

1 :

Isabeau : Soul types ?

Mirabelle : Colors ?

Siffrin : Lore ?

Bonnie : Whaa ?

2 :

Odile : They probably mean our soul shades

Everyone : oooooooh

3 :

Isabeau : Well, for me, my soul has a light shade. Looks pretty cool right ?

Siffrin (internally) : Always by your side, waiting for the right moment

4 :

Mirabelle : Oh, mine has a darker shade to it... That's a shame, I wished I had one more like Isa's

Siffrin (internally) : Even after all the bad puns and pranks you threw at her, she still treats with care

5 :

Bonnie : You can talk ! Mine looks super lame and light ! What the crab ! Looks too much like Isa's. Urgh !

Siffrin : The kind of person who rushes firsts first through all obstacles

6 :

Bonnie : 'Dile one looks super cool and lightless though ! Dark and mysterious just like her !

Odile : Indeed, I suppose I'm just that cool

Siffrin (internally) : Through space and time, she'll always keep trying to see right through you

7 :

Siffrin : Guess it's my turn huh ? Let's not keep you in the dark. My jokes can be as lightless as my soul, but I try to stay light-hearted

Isabeau : HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Bonnie : 'frin !! NO !

Siffrin : Oh come on Bonnie...Lighten up

Bonnie : AAAAAH

8 :

Chara (internally) : Through your travels, your journeys, your losses, your friendships and your wishes, try as you might, but you continue to BE YOURSELF

9 :

Chara (internally) : HA ! Now that's funny ! "Being yourself" ? Are you even someone at all ? Are you someone worth being ? Imagine being so dissociated with yourself, to the point that your inner thoughts are in the 2nd person, and have THAT soul ! The irony ! Oh, if you could see me right now partner, I'm dying of laughter !

[0-lcb-sinner]

personal headcanons on the sinners' taste in music (with some wild projection)

yi sang: neoclassical instrumentals, maybe a bit of spoken word

faust: when asked about music, says "Faust knows everything about music theory". if you prompt her to talk about her favorite genre she completely blanks on that

don quixote: vgm and anime openings. I just know it

ryoshu: she's going to listen to harsh noise on full volume, say it's art, and kill people for asking her to turn it down

meursault: hard to say (owing to him not showing much personality), but considering his penchant for wordplay in 3.5 I'm going to start extrapolating and say he enjoys rap for lyrical complexity

hong lu: he's a hyperpop girlie. look at him and tell me otherwise

heathcliff: rock/metal and edgy amv shit. I mean have you heard his theme. hello

ishmael: knows every shanty because after a while at sea lake you start running out of ways to keep your sanity and songs keep morale up

rodion: говнарь with some hints of chanson on the side. gets a little too invested into singing along to songs about how life sucks. do not introduce her to post-punk or she'll become even more depressed

dante: doesn't remember what they like so decides to give everything a chance (for now)

sinclair: awkwardly says whatever popular thing pops into his mind. is actually into some extremely unlistenable shit. ryoshu naturally encourages this

outis: whatever the manager says. when the manager says they aren't sure what they like, claims to listen to everything. goes back on that after ryoshu overhears her

gregor: the mythical guy who listens to whatever comes up on radio and is happy with it. he's relentlessly bullied for that

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 5

Part 5 - Translating humor and wordplay

Translating jokes from one language to another can be difficult, especially when the humor revolves around wordplay that's only apparent in the original language. Luckily for a comedy series like SxF, most of the humor relies on concepts that are universal to all languages, but there are the occasional jokes that require creative translation in order to get the same effect in English. What I think is the most well-known example of this kind of joke in SxF is from chapter 26, where Yuri tells Anya that "knowledge is power" during their tutoring session.

The Japanese phrase for this is 知は力 ("chi wa chikara"). Anya mishears this as ちわわぢから ("chiwawa jikara"), which means "chihuahua power," which is why we see the image of a muscular chihuahua in her thoughts. This results in Yuri calling her チワワ娘 ("chihuahua girl") from then on. Obviously this joke would be lost if translated directly, so Casey Loe, the official English translator for the SxF manga, got creative with making it work in English. He cleverly utilizes the English expression, "the whole enchilada," which sounds enough like "swole chihuahua" for Anya to believably mistake the two. This translation also makes it so that Yuri calling Anya "chihuahua girl" later on makes sense.

But unfortunately, because a series can have different companies working on the localization of its anime versus its manga, inconsistencies between the two often come up. In this case, the anime team translated this joke completely differently, and less effectively in my opinion. You can see from the below screenshots that they had Yuri use the word "unleash," which then led to Anya associating a (muscular) dog without a leash as powerful (?) Again, this translation was a stretch in my opinion and not as good as the manga version. This also makes it so that translating Yuri's nickname for Anya as "chihuahua girl" won't make sense.

But what's interesting is that, many months and episodes later in season 2, they stayed consistent with that translation and had Yuri call Anya "stupid leash girl" in episode 28.

Despite my dislike for this translation, I have to give them kudos for remembering it all that time later and not just directly translating it as "chihuahua girl." Though it makes me wonder if they'll stay consistent in season 3 where Yuri will be referring to Anya as "chihuahua girl" once again.

A further complication is that, not only do these kinds of inconsistencies exist between the anime and manga translations, but they also exist between the different streaming services that stream SxF with English subtitles throughout the world. I only have access to the subtitled version from Hulu, which is where my screenshots are from, and I think other streaming services in the US like Crunchyroll, Amazon, Netflix, etc, use the exact same subtitles. So when I refer to "the Hulu subtitles" throughout this post, I mean other major US streaming services too. However, I'm not totally sure if they all do share the same subtitle script, so if anyone who has these services could confirm, that would be great! However, @tare-anime informed me that Muse Asia's English subtitles for SxF are completely different! For example, they translated the above joke more closely to the original, by using the phrase "puppy power" and keeping Yuri's nickname for Anya as "chihuahua girl."

There are further differences with Muse Asia's translation as well, for example, they directly translate Anya's names for Loid and Yor, "chichi" and "haha," as "Father" and "Mother" instead of "Papa" and "Mama."

(thanks again to Tare for the Muse Asia screenshots!) This is different, not only compared to the Hulu subtitles, but also the official English manga as well, both of which have Anya consistently use "Papa" and "Mama."

Tare also let me know that Disney Plus in Asia, another service that streams SxF, has yet another version of the English subtitles! And these are only the subtitled versions for the US and Asia - if SxF is streamed with English subtitles in other countries, I wonder if those are different as well. That means there's at least 3-4 different English subtitle scripts for SxF, with different ways of translating certain things, like what I described above. This could make things confusing for someone without any knowledge of Japanese who reads the English version of the manga and watches the subtitled version of the anime on one or more streaming services...if they read the first few volumes of the manga with the "swole chihuahua" translation, then watch season 2 of the anime, they're gonna be confused about why Yuri calls Anya "stupid leash girl." There's other more minor inconsistencies too, like how the Hulu subtitles have Yor call Anya "Miss Anya" all the time, but the manga doesn't.

I'm sure there's some licensing reasons why there isn't one official English subtitle script that all the streaming services can use, and why they don't consult the manga translations, especially for the more difficult-to-translate parts. It seems like wasted effort for so many official English translations to exist for the same thing.

But anyway, back to the translations of jokes in SxF, another one that stood out to me occurred in chapter 23. During the scene where Loid is asking Anya about a name for Bond, he explains how dogs have trouble discerning the sounds of consonants. The phrase he uses for this is 子音の聞き分け("shiin no kiki wake"), which means "distinguishing consonants," with "shiin" meaning "consonant." However, there's another word "shiin" with the kanji 死因 that means "cause of death." This is what Yor thinks he means - 死因の聞き分け ("shiin no kiki wake"), which means "determining the cause of death." So in her thoughts, she imagines asking Bond if he prefers death by blood loss (失血死) or by being crushed (圧死), and when he shakes his head at both, she says "you're not good at these distinctions, are you?"

This is a difficult joke to translate, so Casey got a bit loose by having Loid use the word "plosives" instead of "consonants," and then having Yor mishear it as "explosives." He then changed up Yor's dialogue by having her say that Bond prefers C-4 explosions over other methods of death.

While I don't think the translation of this joke worked as well as the previous one (I feel like Yor wouldn't know about C-4 explosions?) I couldn't come up with anything better myself, lol. It just goes to show how translating things as closely to the original as possible isn't always the best choice…but oddly, that's what the Hulu subtitles did! For some reason they opted not to even attempt to rework this joke for English, and kept both Loid and Yor's dialogue as exact translations. This results in an exchange that makes no sense and will leave people wondering how Yor could mistake Loid's "can't tell consonants apart" as "can't tell causes of death apart."

However, there are some cases where the wordplay works similar enough in both Japanese and English that the joke can be translated without too much modification. An example of this is in chapter 59 where Becky asks Yor how she was able to "get" Loid…"pierce his heart" as she puts it. Yor thinks she means this literally, to which she replies that she wouldn't hurt Loid.

The Japanese version is very similar, with Becky using the verb 射止める("itomeru") which means "to shoot down" (with an arrow). However, it has a figurative meaning too, which is "to win" as in "win someone's heart." Yor thinks Becky means the literal meaning of shooting down, so she says that she wouldn't shoot Loid and that she doesn't even use a bow and arrows.

The Hulu subtitles translate it more or less directly, having Becky say "shoot an arrow through his heart" and keeping Yor's "I don't use a bow and arrows" that the manga omitted. Rare case where I think the anime translation worked better than the manga!

In the case of this joke, the concept of "shooting someone's heart" to mean "winning someone's heart" is universal in both English and Japanese, so little reworking was needed. This also helped keep consistency with Yor's tendency to associate otherwise benign concepts with violence due to the nature of her work.

I'll wrap up this post with what I think is the most commendable translation of a joke so far in the manga: how Casey translated the names of the guest characters at the ski resort in chapter 94.

Their names are puns in Japanese as well, and Annie over on Twitter already did a great breakdown of how each of the wordplay in their names was translated, so definitely check out that thread here. Since this chapter has yet to be animated, I'm really curious how the anime translators will handle this…since it seems like they don't reference the manga, they'll probably either translate the names literally or come up with their own pun names, and either will unfortunately lead to the same kind of inconsistencies between the anime and manga translations that I touched on earlier.

To summarize, humor can be a very culture/language specific thing, so it's up to the translator to make sure the same feeling is conveyed in their translation even if they have to essentially make up their own jokes. With that said, it's a shame that there isn't collaboration between the translators of the anime and manga to ensure consistent translations across the franchise. So I hope this post helped shed light, not just on how some of the jokes in SxF were conveyed in Japanese, but also on why some things in the English version of SxF seem inconsistent between the anime and manga.

<- Return to Part 4

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 01

Here's where she meets prince charming.

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 5.2k ⤑ warnings: DEPICTIONS OF READER IN A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (i.e, manipulation, domestic/verbal abuse, threats, degradation, violence toward reader), bullying toward reader, the "gaston" character is a straight-up asshole lmao, hyrbids are treated as second-class humans, description of bodily harm, sexual harassments, minor violence, based off 2013 namjoon in this chapter lol. please be mindful of the warnings!!⤑ note: happy birthday, namjoon!! while i was taking a break from magic shop, i've been working on a couple other projects and i finally finished one. it's truly a coincidence that i completed this story today lol. this story is loosely based off beauty & the beast but with hybrids.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

It was a dark and stormy night.

Flickering fluorescent lights. The heat of the jeering crowd. Grey concrete in the old warehouse. Speakers reverberating a deep bass that fills the room. Thunder is drowned out as two amateur rappers spit lines on the small stage, eliciting reactions from the audience before them.

One of the contestant’s attention drifts to the crowd until he makes eye contact with you. It seems like he was looking for you. The moment you raise your hand to offer a tiny, half-hearted wave, the corners of his lips tug to a haughty smirk. Then, with the microphone to his lips, he puffs out his chest, turns back to his opponent, and begins rapping.

You’re less than impressed when he finishes his turn and is declared the winner of the round.

To be fair, however, this isn’t your scene. It’s too loud. Too rowdy.

If it were up to you, you’d be at home. Safe and cozy in your warm bed, curled up to a good book or movie. Initially, you didn’t even want to come, complaining that the weather is awful, the venue is too small, the floors are sticky, and that there are too many people.

But he insisted that you come tonight. For him.

One of his friends has her arm linked with yours, anchoring you to her. Her eyes are bright with excitement as she screams in your ear, “Fighting! Kangdae!”

The one you’re all here to see stands on the stage, relishing in the audience’s attention. There’s a smug look on his face when he meets your gaze, as if checking to see if you’re just as impressed with his performance as the rest of the audience is.

Politely, you clap your hands, not quite sure what the etiquette for these types of things are.

The host continues to rile up the crowd, daring any of the other contestants to step forward and challenge Kangdae.

No one does.

Except for one.

Silence follows as a lanky, tall contestant comes onstage. One that no one has heard from yet. Sunglasses cover his eyes, but you can make out some of his predominant features: his full lips, the deep dimples in his shy smile, his tanned skin.

“Okay, kid,” the host says, intrigued. “Show us what you got.”

The kid is handed a mic. Kangdae looks him up and down and scoffs.

The difference between the two is telling. 

Kangdae lives for the attention, wildly gesturing and getting into his opponent’s face. He encourages the crowd to cheer him on like that. Their hoots and hollering pumps the adrenaline in his veins as he verbally attacks the guy ballsy enough to challenge him.

His opponent, to your surprise, stands quietly as he’s thrown insult after insult. Then, when it’s his turn, the room falls in awe. His flow makes him sound professional, even though he sounds quite young. You’re impressed with his wordplay, how he keeps up with the rhythm, how he delivers the lines.

He’s by far your favorite of all the ones you’ve heard tonight.

There’s a clear winner after the boy with sunglasses is done, though rather than shove his victory at his opponent’s face, he holds out his hand to Kangdae and offers a dimpled smile.

Rap Monster.

That’s what they call him.

And as Kangdae bitterly shakes his hand, stunned at the turn of events, you’re beginning to see why they call him that.

In your small, provincial town, Kangdae has it all. He’s a handsome young man, athletic and popular. His family is well-off; so much so that he can indulge in expensive clothing brands, own the newest models and gadgets, and party every weekend at some bougie club or resort. Guys look up to him. Girls are in love with him. He lives off the attention and praise from his big circle of friends.

And yet, for whatever shallow reason, he seems fixated on you.

Unlike Kangdae, you hate being in the spotlight. It makes you shy. It makes you feel nervous. You tend to keep to yourself because of that, reading books or watching animal videos on your phone. You feel like you hardly have any friends in the town.

Then, one day, seemingly out of nowhere, Kangdae declares he wants you to be his girl.

And suddenly, you’re on everybody’s radar.

Why would someone so brilliant and outgoing even be interested in a boring and quiet person like you? 

That’s a question even you often wonder.

Finding the answers to that, however, becomes unwarranted.

People start to talk to you. People you’ve never spoken to before suddenly act friendly toward you. People who’ve never spared you a glance suddenly want to know all your dirty secrets. People who don’t even know you begin to spread rumors.

“The whole town already knows you’re my girl,” Kangdae tells you one day, while you’re sitting on the steps of your house, eyes red from tears of a recent bullying incident. He doesn’t seem to care about that though. In fact, you’re certain he’s even laughed about it at your expense. “Why don’t we just make it official? You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” you ask him seriously.

He shrugs. “Yeah, you’re hot. I heard quiet girls can get quite freaky too.”

“No way,” you cut in, repulsed by his insinuation. You stand on your feet, turning to go inside. “I’ll never–”

Before you could open the door, you’re suddenly shoved against it. Kangdae towers over you, anger burning in his eyes. He’s never been rejected. He always gets his way. 

It’s something you learn the hard way.

“Then I’ll make sure your life continues to be a living hell,” he threatens before he releases you.

More than before, unwanted attention is thrown at you. As soon as you enter the classroom, people stare and sneer. You hear them whisper about you in the hallways. You’re confronted in small groups. Accusations that you think you’re too good to be dating someone like Kangdae. How there must be something wrong with you.

In the eyes of many, Kangdae is perfect. Objectively handsome. Popular among his peers. Comes from money. All the guys you know want to be him. All the girls you know want to be with him. What makes a nobody like you think that you can do better?

You hardly had any friends in the town, but not once have you ever felt this isolated. You’ve never felt this singled-out. It feels like the whole world is against you.

You can’t take it.

“Kangdae,” you call out to him, stopping as he’s about to head to the field. He’s dressed in his sports uniform, about to go into a match against another school. “One date.”

A Cheshire smile spreads across his face. “I knew you wouldn’t resist, babe.”

You try not to cringe when he plants a wet kiss on your cheek.

Maybe you’re naïve. But maybe that’s why Kangdae is after you.

You’re quiet, soft-spoken, and incredibly shy. You don’t have a lot of friends, and you haven’t had a serious relationship before him. You don’t know anything about what love really is. Yet, despite what an odd loner you are, you’re a beautiful girl. Innocent and loyal to a fault. An easy target for Kangdae to walk all over. 

With his hand around your waist, you feel like an accessory. Before you ever considered dating him, he already declared you as his girlfriend, telling even strangers that he passed by that you would one day be his.

“Right from the moment I saw you, I think I fell in love,” he admits on your first date, taking you to a nice, upscale restaurant. It’s different from anything you’ve experienced in your small town. The menu items are so expensive, it doesn't list pricing, and each course that is presented at your table is like a work of art.

What’s most interesting about this restaurant, however, isn’t just the food. But the staff.

Gorgeous women in white blouses and black skirts that show off their voluptuous curves and long legs. Poking at the back of the skirts are tails. And on their heads are pairs of animal ears. Some of them have stripes or spots on their skin, some have nails as sharp as claws, and some have unique eyes like cats and reptiles. 

Hybrids.

Neither human, nor animal. But something in-between.

In your town, coming across them is rare but not unheard of. They usually dwell in the cities, where sanctuaries housing them are. Some are adopted into families or are hired to do difficult and dirty work with an employer willing to work with them. But most aren’t as lucky, and are treated as sub-human. Worse than how some people care for their beloved cat or dog.

“What makes you say that?” you ask Kangdae as a bunny hybrid brings out the next course. She, like the other hybrids, is quite beautiful.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” he simply states as he sips on some liquor. Then, suddenly, he smacks the hybrid’s ass. “Hey, isn’t my girlfriend gorgeous?”

“Kangdae!” 

“Yes, sir,” the hybrid quickly answers before practically running away from the table. You feel awful, but Kangdae cackles as if it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all evening.

“Babe, don’t be mad. She’s just a hybrid.”

One date turns into another. He showers you with expensive gifts, and takes you out to luxurious places. Sometimes, it’s nice. You never imagined you’d be leaning against the railing of a yacht, feeling the salt air against your skin as the boat cruises through deep blue waters. Or fine dining at rooftop restaurants in the big cities with a breathtaking view of the skylines.

You find yourself watching underground rap contests, and witnessing the skill and poetry of a particular contestant that caught your attention once. A tall boy with a thick pair of sunglasses and a dimpled smile.

Other times, it can feel overwhelming. Like you’re undeserving all the things that he bombards you with, and you owe it to him for one more date. One more party he wants you to come with him too. One more ‘this is the last time’ before he asks you again.

He introduces you to his friends, showing you off to them despite how out of place you feel among them. He texts and calls you all the time, wanting to know where you are and who you’re with, and letting you know that he’s thinking about you in persistent, long messages. He posts about you on his social media, calling you his girl, as engagements of likes, views, and comments fill underneath it.

People tell you all the time that you’re lucky though.

Of all the girls he could’ve been with, he picked you. Someone handsome, rich, and popular fell in love at first sight with a boring, quiet, lonely girl like you.

And maybe that’s why you stay. Who else would love you if not him?

Next week, you find yourself in the same, abandoned warehouse. Another night, another show. Another chance for Kangdae to redeem himself.

One thing about him is that he hates to lose. His pride just wouldn’t allow it.

Yet, once again, he doesn’t stand a chance.

This time, Rap Monster seems to be the crowd favorite. Everyone cheers for him once he steps onstage, wearing the same dark sunglasses over his eyes. He seems a bit more confident as he raps, his flow and rhythm even better than last week.

You feel like a fan as you and your group stand close to the stage. Although you’re supposed to be there for Kangdae, you can’t help but cheer his opponent on. Your heart jumps when you see Rap Monster catch your eye and give you a dimpled smile, bowing like a prince when he ends his round.

A shift can be felt once it’s Kangdae’s turn with the mic. People in your group and some of the audience make some noise, but the majority of strangers in the crowd are merely nodding along or quietly listening. 

Until the first heckle comes. Followed by someone else yelling at him to get off the stage.

Mean laughter fills the room, and you almost feel bad for Kangdae.

Had it not been for what he does next.

Gasps and exclamations of shock are followed when he suddenly punches Rap Monster.

“Hey, no! You can’t do that shit!” the host yells as the security guards make haste to handle the situation. They pull Kangdae away, trying to de-escalate, but it’s too late. The crowd gets riled up, shouting and egging him on. Two men have to hold Kangdae down, but he’s strong. He nearly manages to break free and get to Rap Monster’s face a couple times. Rap Monster’s sunglasses are knocked off, and he’s holding his face with one hand, covering an eye.

Because when he opens the other one… it looks strange.

It doesn’t look human.

A couple people up front scream in terror as they point at him. “A monster!”

“He’s one of them!” another shouts in disgust. “He’s a hybrid!”

Suddenly, the room seems to quiet down as they all look at him, stunned, horrified, disgusted. You could see him trying to hide his face as the host snaps at him, “This event is for humans only!”

The sunglasses have fallen near you, and without thinking, you quickly grab them and climb onto the stage. You don’t know what’s gotten over you. You hate attention. You hate being in the spotlight. You’re often shy and insecure, and always stay in your lane.

But you have to help.

“Here,” you tell him gently, pushing the broken sunglasses toward his hand. Up this close, you feel so small standing next to him. “You should get out of here.” 

He nods his head and takes them from you, seeming grateful and a little scared. His eyes look reptilian like a serpent, but they’re pretty. You feel like you can’t forget them.

In the innermost area of the iris, near his slightly vertical pupil, is a hint of warm brown, but the rest is a mix of deep blue and purple. The color of indigo. 

“Get away from her, you beast,” Kangdae commands, but Rap Monster is already walking away from the stage. Away from you.

Somehow, the rain outside seems to pour harder as he leaves.

It’s been years since that night.

Kangdae seemed over it, wanting to chase his fifteen minutes of fame elsewhere. And while you were interested in one of the rappers, you aren’t keen enough to keep going back. It isn’t like that Rap Monster would be welcomed at the future showings anyway.

However, you start listening to hip-hop music more than other genres these days. Secretly hoping that, if you’re to meet him again, maybe the two of you could talk about some of the artists you like. Books that you’ve read, movies you’ve seen.

But you haven’t seen him since.

You end up working for Kangdae’s family. In such a small, provincial town, there isn’t much of an option. His family seems to own and have connections to everything.

To the point where even your family tells you how lucky you are. Kangdae is a catch. Marrying him would guarantee a well-off life with someone objectively handsome, who thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in town, who you’d be out of your mind to leave or break things off with.

Although your father and your siblings mean well, you could only nod in defeat. You can’t bear to tell them how miserable you are with Kangdae.

The same man who tells you you’re the one for him, but flirts with other women in front of you. Who gets angry over little things and takes it out on you, screaming at your face, throwing things that nearly hit you, punching holes in walls and doors, or leaving you confused and worried for days without a word until he finally decides to come back. He’d shower you with expensive gifts and affection to make up for it, but his sweeter side never stays long before the cycle repeats.

And you can’t seem to find your way out of it.

The constant pressure to be with Kangdae has you wishing you could just disappear from the town.  To run away from it all and never go back.

But you’re a coward, and you don’t know where else to go. Everyone in town likes Kangdae, and even your family wouldn’t believe what a monster he really is.

In the apartment you share with him, it’s dark and empty. Empty bottles of soju and beer are on the coffee table, dirty dishes are in the sink for you to clean, there’s still a gaping hole in the pantry from an argument a couple weeks ago that hasn’t been fixed. But Kangdae’s shoes aren’t by the door, and you don’t imagine he’d be back anytime soon.

With a quiet, defeated sigh, you take off your shoes and your coat, place your purse down, and begin cleaning up the mess. You go through the motions of it, exhausted from work, from having more to do once you get home, and as you gather the bottles, you see that he’s placed some on top of a book.

A fairy tale story about a far-off place, daring sword fights, and a prince in disguise.

It’s your favorite. The local librarian gave it to you as a gift, and Kangdae is using it as a coaster. And one of the half-empty bottles has spilled over, soaking through the pages.

Angry, you drop the bag on the ground, letting the bottles clatter against each other, and pick up the book, trying to salvage the ruined cover. But rings of liquid stain the front, and the pages are wrinkled from the liquid, blurring the texts so they’re unreadable.

Even before, the book is already a bit worn-out when it was gifted to you, but it still makes you want to cry. Kangdae doesn’t seem to care about you at all anymore.

How much longer are you going to put up with this? Shouldn’t you deserve your own happiness? Shouldn’t you deserve to be loved? 

You have to leave him. You don’t know when. You don’t know how. But you have to. 

That much you know.

Your plans are foiled by a single question.

“Will you marry me?”

Horror strikes your face. Down on one knee before you is Kangdae with a beautiful diamond ring. You could feel every person in the room staring at you, waiting for an answer. All his friends, your family, and even random strangers at the venue are gathered unexpectedly and witnessing his proposal. Wide smiles and excited looks surround you, as if they already know you’ll say yes.

Do you want to say yes?

Are you going to tell him no? In front of all these people?

“Kangdae, I—” you start to say, your voice trembling. You could feel the pressure weighed upon you, setting you close to a panic.

Your boyfriend doesn’t notice how uncomfortable you are. He’s busy flashing a bright, charming smile at the anticipating crowd for his big moment. His smile starts to falter when you take too long to respond.

Behind the smile, you could almost sense it. The heat of his anger.

You have to say something. You have to decide.

You have to tell him no.

“I…” you begin again. Your gaze catches Kangdae’s family, and how they nod their head, encouraging you to continue. Your voice is very soft and almost defeated when you say, “Okay.”

“Yes? You’re saying yes?” Kangdae exclaims loudly as the people around cheer and clap. You even see some girls start to burst into tears. Girls you know Kangdae frequently talk to. Your family seems relieved, worried that you’d reject him, that you’d shame and humiliate them with your refusal.

But it’s when you look at Kangdae’s family where your blood runs cold. They whisper to each other and nod, gauging the reaction of those witnessing the proposal. It feels like they’re in a business merger, and it occurs to you that maybe, to them, it is one.

You feel numb as Kangdae pulls you into a kiss and a tight embrace.

You’re engaged now.

And it makes you want to throw up.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Kangdae whines, trying to pull you closer to him. “Why are you upset? We’re engaged now!”

“Is it because you want to marry me? Or because your family made you?”

He scoffs. “What are you saying?”

It’s been years since the two of you have been together. Years of you being compliant, years of you arguing behind closed doors, of you silently suffering and hoping that things will get better. That, perhaps, one day you could convince yourself that he’ll change his ways. That he'll love you.

Perhaps in front of your family and friends, the two of you act like a happy couple.

You’re the girlfriend he brags about. Arm candy that he can show off because you’re the prettiest girl in town. Someone that his parents approve of, and often question when he’ll pop the question to you. A question, you suspect, puts his inheritance on the line if he hadn’t proposed so soon.

“Kangdae, do you even love me?”

Kangdae laughs. It’s a dark, biting chuckle that makes your skin crawl. “For a pretty girl, you sure say a lot of stupid shit. What kind of fucking question is that?”

Your mouth snaps shut. Until he snaps at you to answer him. “Kangdae, I…”

“Didn’t I propose to you? What more do you want, huh?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you realize how lucky you are to be with a guy like me? I spent so much money on you! I buy you nice things. I take you to beautiful places. I’ve helped you get a job at my parents’ company. I’ve bought you a home. And this is how you repay me?”

“Kangdae, please, just hear me out,” you plead, but the guilt and fear are already eating at you. It’s true that he’s provided you with so much. Are you being foolish? Ungrateful?

“Don’t forget, stupid bitch,” he threatens, his voice low as he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his grip. “You will be my wife. You’re nothing without me. I will make your life a living hell. If you think this is the worst, then you’ve seen nothing yet.”

He storms out. 

And as the door slams shut, you slowly sink to the floor, trembling as his words of a very bleak future run through your head. Crying in misery and frustration that you, once again, couldn’t stand up for yourself. That you still feel too scared to just leave him and all you know behind. That his anger and selfishness will continue to wear you down.

That, soon, you’ll be married to a monster.

It’s after a long day at work when you see Kangdae again. However, he isn’t alone.

“What’s going on? What is this?”

You frown at the sight before you. Kangdae is on the couch, and kneeling by his feet and wrapped in a ribbon is a young man.

No, a hybrid. A bunny hybrid.

He’s very muscular, with bruises and scratches covering his golden skin. His hair is dark, matching the long, black ears on his head. And his eyes are big, round, and full of fear as he stares back at you.

“Don’t you like him? Watched him in a fight last night. He’s pretty tough for a bunny, but lost in the final round. His owner was pissed! Nearly knocked him out himself!” Kangdae cackles with laughter, seeming to have found it amusing. "But babe, remember our first date? Remember those hybrid servers you kept staring at?”

“Yes,” you reply with a frown, not really sure what he’s getting at. What do they have to do with the bunny hybrid currently in your living room?

“I convinced the owner to let me borrow his hybrid for the night. As an apology gift,” he states with a proud smile. “Had to fork up a lot of money, but the guy wasn’t too pleased about his prized fighter losing the match anyway.”

“I-I’m not… he’s…” You’re at a loss of words. How could he explain this to you so casually?

“I wanted to make it up to you, babe. Girls dig shit like this, right? Owner kept bragging on and on about how obedient he is and how much stamina he has.” Kangdae can see you’re not into the idea and comes up to you, touching your arm. “I don’t mind. I’d love to watch. Hell, I might even invite the girls over to give him a try.”

“Stop. You’re disgusting.”

How could he think you’d be okay with this? How could anyone?

Hybrids often get treated like pets, but they’re still human. 

“Ungrateful cunt. Can't you see I’m trying to do something nice for you?!” Kangdae roars, and you feel the sting on your face before it registers what happened. He just slapped you.

You’re still in shock and a bit of pain as he grabs his car keys and a jacket. You cradle your cheek as you numbly ask, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a drink. Don’t wait up for me.” He slams the door on his way out. You blink back the tears as a deafening silence follows the roar of his engine, the squeals of his tires as he takes off.

Is this all your fault again? Are you being ungrateful?

No, no. Kangdae is the one taking things too far. And you’re so fed up with it.

You've always been afraid to speak up for yourself. You’ve always been a coward, and wanted to play things safe. You’ve always let him walk all over you. You could never save yourself from such a miserable situation.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts, you almost forgot you aren’t alone. The sound of rustling catches your attention, and you see the bunny hybrid trying to unravel himself from the ribbon binding him.

“I can help you,” you offer, and he flinches at your voice. You soften your tone and try again. “Would you let me? I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

He thinks about it for a moment, glancing at you with suspicion and weariness. But he nods his head. Despite how bruised up he is, he probably figures he could overpower you if you really intended to harm him.

The two of you are silent as you untie the long ribbon from his wrists and slip it off his torso. But being this close to him also gives you a good view on all the cuts and sores he received from the fight.

Your heart sinks for him. Not only is it highly illegal, but this one is a prey. They’re not supposed to fight in the first place.

“Wait here,” you tell him once he’s free from the bondage. He rubs his wrist, but continues to sit on the floor. Nothing is really stopping him from leaving on his own, so you hurry to find a first-aid kit.

When you return to the living room, the bunny hybrid is still there. He hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. He eyes the little box in your hands, seeming to recognize it.

“I think this should help with some of your wounds. Is it okay if I help you with this too?”

This time, he nods his head more eagerly.

Again, a silence falls between you two. But it isn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve been in the presence of someone else and the silence felt natural. Every now and then, you’d give him a head’s up about the sting of a topical spray or ask him if the bandage you’re wrapping around him is too tight. And he watches you the whole time, nodding and shaking his head when prompted, seeming used to this. You wonder how often he has to treat his own wounds after being thrown in battle.

The silence is cut when his stomach growls loudly. He looks incredibly embarrassed as you offer a small smile. “I have some food in the fridge if you’re hungry. Let me just finish doing this.”

It doesn’t take too much time at all to treat his wounds and wrap fresh bandages on his injuries. You’ve only encountered hybrids a couple times, so you’re not entirely sure what he’d like to eat. You assume fruits and vegetables, but would that be enough?

You start to pull them out and you’re startled when you see the hybrid standing over your shoulder. You see him eyeing a jar of kimchi and take that out as well.

“Does kimchi fried rice sound good to you?” you ask him, and he nods his head more excitedly. His eyes look brighter too, as if you guessed exactly what he’s craving.

Endeared, you begin to get to work. You pull out the leftover rice, sauces, and the ingredients needed to cook it. The hybrid watches as you chop the vegetables and first cook out the onions before adding in the other vegetables and rice. In another pan, you fry a couple eggs to serve over the rice, and sprinkle some toppings of sesame seeds, nori, and sliced green onion. You ransack your fridge for some side dishes you could pair it with, serving some yellow pickled radishes, pickled cucumbers, and seaweed salad in small bowls.

The hybrid watches with big, round eyes and a jittering leg as you set the food before him. You tell him to eat and you barely take a bite of your own dish before he picks up his bowl and devours it like he hasn’t eaten in days. His brows are furrowed and he starts huffing, but he’s quick to grab the side dish closest to him and cleans that as well.

“Is it good?” you ask him tentatively. 

He gives a brief nod, mouth too full to answer, and fills his bowl with seconds.

“I’m glad. I would’ve made more if I had known you’d be this hungry,” you tell him, heart full just seeing him eat well.

You can’t help but feel sorry for him. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and you don’t want him to be sent back to his owner. You don’t want him to be put in another dangerous and exploiting situation.

“I’m sorry about him. That guy that was here earlier,” you begin. You’ve barely eaten, but you push your share toward him. “He’s not a nice person.”

The bowl he takes from you covers his face, but his ears twitch toward you. They show that he’s listening to you.

“Your owner isn’t a nice person either, huh?”

The hybrid freezes at the mention of his owner. He lowers the bowl a little and he looks terrified. For the first time, he speaks to you. His word is barely a whisper. “Don’t…”

This time, your eyes widen. “What?”

“Please…” he begs, putting the bowl down. Grains of rice stick around his mouth as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “Please don’t let me go back to him. Please help me.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist | Next

[yuurei20]

I've got a question if you wouldn't mind answering!

I saw that the voice actor for Grim commented that Grim always ends his phrases with the word "zo", I was wondering if it had any meaning? Or if maybe it's just something to make his character more unique? Similarly, I've noticed Ruggie tend to use a lot of "su" at the end of his phrases, and I was wondering the same thing, if it had any meaning at all or if it's just supposed to be a character quirk!

Ty for your hard work and don't feel pressured to answer this if you don't want to! 🫶🏻

Hello hello! Thank you very much, you are so kind! ^^

Yes yes, Grim's Sugiyama comments on how difficult Grim's "zo" was for him in his interview (published in vol. 1 of the fanbook).

"Zo" can have a meaning of its own (I liked this explanation on jlptsensei.com, for those who may be curious), but it is generally not used in the way that Grim is using it 🐱 He adds it just to everything!

And verbal ticks like this come up a lot in all kinds of Japanese-language media! Videos games, manga, anime, TV dramas, comedians, etc.

Ruggie's "su" is also kind of a verbal tic, and also has its own meaning:

Discussed in more detail in another post (ref: Idia's "degozaru"), the Japanese language has the word "desu," which has different forms depending on how polite you want to be!

Grim and Jade use the word in two of its more normal (least slang-like) ways, casual for Grim (da) and more polite for Jade (desu).

Ruggie is also using it in a casual way, dropping the "de" part and only using the "su," but it all means the same thing ^^

A verbal tic is even the catalyst of Spectral Soiree!

While not as often as Grim, Malleus is also known to end his sentences in "zo."

He keeps this speaking pattern even during Spectral Soiree, when he is pretending to be possessed by the ghost of an emperor.

But he then slips mid-conversation, saying "zo yo."

Leona noticing this inconsistency starts a domino effect that ultimately compromises Malleus' charade, leading to Malleus' confession (more here).

So verbal tics can be very important! ^^

Crowley's "since I am kind" might also be considered a verbal tic, as it is generally repeated in the exact same way throughout the original game (original-game-to-EN comparison here!).

I think I will add a deep dive into the various speech patterns there are to my TODO list because this post keeps getting longer ww But here are a few pick-ups for right now:

・Idia's use of "degozaru," "-shi," otaku-/net-slang and his stutter are unique to his character.

・Ace will often say "papatto," for getting something done quickly.

・Epel has many things going on with his various forms of speech, and his "kana" might count as a verbal tic?

・Vil will often say "choudai" (apologies for the twitter link)

・Lilia will often use the adjective "rippa," which is similar to admirable/splendid/impressive/respectable/etc. in English!

・Riddle will often end questions with "dai"

・A line that Riddle also says before battles, Riddle will often say "ii dokyo ga oari dane," which is something like "to have some nerve." Other characters will say variations on "ii dokyo" (usually Vil and Leona), but this full phrase is unique to Riddle.

・Riddle will also often say "owakari dane," usually to mean "You understand?," as in, "if you don't do as I say, you understand what is going to happen to you, yes?" (re: he is going to behead someone).

・Maybe my favorite, Rollo will often end his sentences with "kane."

In the way Rollo is using it, it is just another verbal tic, but then there is the Bell of Salvation from the event or 救いの鐘 in Japanese:

Sukui no Kane. "Kane" means bell!

Rollo is ending so many of his sentences with the word "bell" ^^ It is wordplay!

Language is personalized to each and every character in the game, to the point that most of the time (on JP) you can tell which character is speaking before they even enter the room based upon verbal tics and honorifics ^^ It is all very interesting, but unfortunately all very impossible to put across on EN!

[t00thpasteface]

postwar hawkahy... mulcahy valuing himself and speaking up about his own needs to ask that hawkeye learn sign language with him, because he's confident that hawkeye loves him enough to do it and won't just throw him aside for suddenly being "useless" in his old role as an eternally patient and infinitely accommodating listener... hawkeye being so dedicated to mulcahy that he learns how to talk in sign language, then learns jokes, then gets the hang of it enough to start coming up with his own signed "wordplay" just to make sure mulcahy is smiling and laughing as often as possible... they invite their friends from the 4077th over to their place for parties and holidays, and take trips out of state in return too, but no matter where they're at or who they're with, they keep just signing to each other and giggling like it's their own secret code... mulcahy feels bad about having to essentially rely on hawkeye as a hearing-ear dog when they're out in public, so hawkeye makes a big show of acting like he's a bodyguard or butler and mulcahy is some kind of A-list celebrity... man. i'm thinking about them

[phoenixcatch7]

Deep in my ff7 rereads so here are my favourite fandom fics, hands down.

End as you mean to begin <- 130k+ of time travelling cloud parenting the remnants, seeking asylum in a war torn wutai to keep all four of them out of shinras hands while sephiroth is absolutely Going Through It in midgar. Great Genesis characterisation and cloud mothering his way to an international incident. Bonus gender hijinks, hilarious misunderstandings and zack. Unfinished.

The fear of falling stars <- 500k+ and soon to be completed. Cloud and insane!Sephiroth time travel back to their shinra days and I cannot emphasise enough how much cloud is Not Doing Well. Gorgeous wordplay and top tier banter. Utterly unhinged blood enemies to ??? to ?????? to lovers sefikura. It's E rated and probably the tensest I've ever been reading fic lol, it is not lighthearted! But it's incredibly well written and the characters are phenomenal (zack my beloved) so if you've got strong nerves (and like a quarantine pairing) I'd definitely recommend it.

Voice of the gods <- 170k+ of almost idyllic gods and avatars au. Slow, soft and full of world building, it's a lovely relaxing read of cloud getting anointed the envoy of sephiroth, god of war, and slowly growing into his role and joining the ranks of envoy. Lots of side characters take larger roles here, and sephiroth himself is a darling without losing his sharpest edges. Unfinished.

I CAN FIX HIM (series) <- possibly my favourite sephiroth characterisations ever. 130k and growing of pure shaking this man like a doll in a perfect mix of almost delirious crack and gutting angst (often both at once!). Very good writing, every single funny moment hits like a truck and keeps building until you're choking with laughter. Bonus points to ROADTRIP! for being utterly, utterly insane. I cannot emphasise enough just how GOOD every single character and their dynamics are written.

Just anything ff7 written by AimeeLouWrites, if you've been in this fandom for any length of time you'll have heard of her. Great concepts, great executions and aus for DAYS.

Five hearts to make him whole <- 130k+ of time/dimension travelling cloud getting sent to a world of soulmates - and his alternate self bagged all four soldier firsts. Alternate cloud also died violently a few years ago and boy did those soulmates (not) take it well. Our cloud, of course, was not read in on any of this. Shout out to the emotional support chocobo! Unfinished?

Shall I find rest <- another soulmate agszc (?) dimension cross but this one is 100k+ of post AC cloud and Tifa waking up and deciding to make it everyone else's problem. They're so done with all the drama. Bamf nibel duo to the end and Tifa is the mvp. Unfinished.

Advanced release <- 250k+ and it's sephiroth receiving the original game in a strange packet that appeared in his room. It spirals into a messy and painful exposure of conspiracy, lies and inevitable tragedy. Video game logic is a running gag and zack remains the only actually stable person in the whole sorry mess but he's also Having a Terrible Experience. Really well written!!! Unfinished.

On broken wings <- 160k+ of pure post AC sephiroth redemption from his pov. Him struggling to find his place in a new world and experience real human connection evolves into MOOGLE EMBASSY need I say more?? Unfinished.

With Great Power Comes Meddling Fucking Gods <- 470k+! Poly WEAPON cloud gets yoinked back to the past (feat agzs), dies for a few days and misses his family SO bad but he is determined to change the future for the better. Probably the most healthy and mature cloud ever lol. Unfortunately for him, insane!sephiroth is pulling a inner hollow and gaia herself isn't talking. If you like symbolism, whoo boy!! The dream sequences are a DOOZY (and drowning in eroticism). Wonderfully written, the divide between sane!sephiroth and his counterpart is really cool to see. E rated at times but it's absolutely DELIGHTFUL and WEAPON cloud is such a treat. And I cannot emphasise enough the symbolism. Zackkura (kinda) and slow burn! Unfinished.

A brand need not be seen <- 180k+ in a world of soulmates where the four firsts have clouds name on their wrists. Trooper cloud is tentatively, desperately hopeful. Then a smoking hot op af adult cloud appears, with no names on his wrists at all. It's a really cute flirty fic despite covering shinra politics, identity crises, huge self worth issues, lots of trauma, and finding your own place in the world. Unfinished.

Memory's struggle <- 250k+ of cascading time travel. Basically everyone goes back, which goes great XD. Everyone... Except cloud. I read this a while ago but I do remember poor cloud just getting loved and spoiled by literally everyone and freaking out about it lmao. He was so confused! Unfinished.

Additional edit:

A solitude of space <- a wonderfully soothing 90k complete of sephiroth getting resurrected and moving to stardew valley to become the farmer. It's sooooo peaceful and following him as he grows into his own person and experiences real normality and community is lovely, if a touch angsty. Eventual sefikura with cloud moving to the farm when he's not doing deliveries. It's just. Really nice. I think I cried at the end. Finished!

One-Winged Angel's Self-Saving System <- 55k+ sephiroth enters the Chinese fantasy Scum Villain world in place of the scum villain himself! (He's the third person to take on that role, but who's counting?) Reborn into a plant body he's set loose on an unsuspecting world with a completely different magic system (sentient swords! Immortality!), with only the guide of a mysterious hallucinated ai. Freedom to make his own choices! Aroallo seph rep! He messes up the plot so bad, recruiting accidental love interests with kill counts and resurrecting long lost immortals. It can get a bit heavy but it's really fun and sephiroth has no intention of ever going back. Unfinished.

The SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun <- 73k+ of the opposite of the last fic: the scum villain (the 2nd) gets isekai'd into sephiroth! Shen qingqiu, aka the modern world native shen yuan, fails to resurrect into his prepared plant body and wakes up in a new fictional world, once again as the villain. With his limited memory of the games and his immense knowledge of cultivation (scum villains magic system) he tries to get a grasp on his new life while evading hojo, the president, his new subordinates and the war front while cultivating to immortality - something shinra is VERY interested in. When I tell you these two fics have a GRIP on me. I've written so many fic ideas around them. It's actually insane. The first thing he does is completely redecorate his rooms and buy a whole new wardrobe, which is totally not suspicious XD. Unfinished.

The fifth act <- 160k, it's a good ol' time travel fic - with a twist. The truest exploration of ripples in a pond, or how kindness, when true, can be returned in most unexpected ways. Or maybe how a single act of good can change the world.... Or maybe it's about how you must never turn your back on an enemy. Cloud has people to save and people to kill, and only time will tell which is which. Complete.

Of Things That May Be Only 'Verse <- another series! At 250k, it's about sephiroth resurrecting, only to, uh, slip and crack his head lol. This sends him spiralling through a vision of a cosy life he'd never dreamed, and when he wakes up? He wants it so bad. But that means behaving. Slow burn sefikura redemption, side Cid/Vincent (vincid?) which ngl did convince me of the ship, domestic fluffiness and found family galore! And the whole series is complete!!

Little seph <- a 160k series about the AC sephiroth revival going wrong. Stuck in the body of a kid, post AC sephiroth is a feral kitten carefully domesticated with the power of pancakes, wing preening, and deeply uncomfortable sleepovers. He's a brat, a pest, a murder machine, but he just wants to be part of a family even if he pretends he doesn't. Eventual sefikura, and overall just a very good read. Fully complete!

We are no heroes <- 70k series, about a secretly time travelled sephiroth desperately trying to save his friends and finally, maybe, rest. When I tell you this had me SOBBING. I was BAWLING. Extremely good, zack is best boy. This man is just so tired. Beautiful descriptions. And, again, complete! Yay!

[anna-hawk]

The Eggnog Effect

Nicomund the Red | Santa Claus x F!Reader

Summary: You passed out on your friend's couch and wake up to find Santa Claus leaving a gift for your godchild.

WC: 6.2k // Explicit 🔞

Warnings: Christmas smut, bad jokes and cheesy wordplays

For @roguesandsaviors who's love for David Harbour triggered me into trying my hand at writing smut for someone else than Jon 😁

Also on AO3

You frowned as you slowly woke up, wondering about the small tinkling sound that got you out of your slumber in the first place. Cracking one eye open, you tried to make out your immediate surroundings, but your face was smushed into a pillow. A throw pillow, to be more precise. 

Ever since the birth of your godchild, your best friend and husband had started asking you to spend Christmas Eve with them. How could you say no to witnessing the kid’s eyes growing big with wonder after discovering the presents lying underneath the Christmas tree? 

Usually, though, you spent the night in the guest bedroom and not on the living room couch. You berated yourself for the sore neck you were likely getting from the sleeping position and grumbling internally about the long hours spent at work today that resulted in your exhaustion when you heard that noise again.  

Blinking and opening both eyes now, you glimpsed some movement to the side of the couch, where you knew the Christmas tree to be. As you twisted to your back, your eyes caught onto something red and large and… 

“Oh God, I really need to leave off the eggnog next time… I’m actually seeing Santa now,” you groaned and quickly rubbed over your tired eyes. 

Except that there was that tinkling again, more agitated, which made you open your eyes once more only to be met by the sight of a large man standing stock still just a few feet away from you. His wide eyes stared at you with a mix of panic and annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” you breathed as realization sank in, and you understood that your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you but that there was a stranger in the house and… You opened your mouth to scream, but the man was on you in a fraction of a second. A large palm covered the entire lower half of your face and stopped you from uttering any sound, while the other hand held the man up on the armrest under your head. 

“Shhh,” he hissed, his eyes lifting to the entrance of the living room to check if anyone was coming, before they bore into yours.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was still the eggnog talking, you didn’t try to fight, despite the way his large frame loomed over you. You didn’t move at all, actually, as you met his gaze. The only thought going through your mind was, oh, he’s got blue eyes. You stayed in the same position for several more seconds, his eyes never leaving yours as he assessed the situation. Realizing that you weren’t going to out him, the man slowly removed his hand from you and stood. You stayed where you were, observing him curiously; the white blond curly beard and hair under an askew red and white cap, the deep red leather coat lined with white fur spanning over a wide chest and shoulders, a pair of shiny, black boots. Everything about him screamed Santa Claus, but he was also nothing like the various men playing Santa in malls and other places. Those other Santas had also never elicited such a strong response from your body, either. 

“Who are you?” you breathed, mindful to keep your voice down, when really, the question should have been what are you doing here? Or, what do you want? 

“Who do you think I am?” he grumbled, while you watched him glare at a small bag and rummage around in it with a frustrated expression. 

Your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets when the man thrust his whole arm into the bag, and it just vanished inside, which should have been impossible given how tiny the bag was compared to his arm. 

“Where the fuck is it?” 

“I didn’t know that Santa swears,” you snorted at the absolutely crazy sight in front of you. 

“He does when the presents aren’t where they’re fucking meant to be,” he muttered, before his face turned into a satisfied grin. “Aha.” His arm slowly came back out, followed by a large, neatly wrapped present. 

You blinked in rapid succession as you took in the size of the present and the size of the bag again. Yup, something was definitely up. A bicycle, for a five-year-old or not, would never fit in that bag if something… You snorted to yourself as the word magical ran through your mind. Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. But then the man pulled out an actual scroll of parchment, which started to glow as he pulled it apart. Sitting up, you stared at the man as he scanned the contents of the scroll with a thoughtful look. 

“What’s that? Your naughty and nice list?” you sniggered, while pulling your legs under you on the couch and letting your eyes drift over him appreciatively. 

“Mmhm,” he replied absently, seemingly looking for something in particular. 

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his easy admittance, before you began laughing under your breath. 

“Tell me, Santa. Am I on your naughty list?” You leaned your head against your palm and rested your elbow on the armrest, smirking as you drawled the word naughty. 

“Nope,” he answered instantly, while your flirty expression went completely unseen since he still didn’t look at you.

You frowned curiously at his reply and tilted your head to one side before slowly getting up and approaching him. This, at least, seemed to catch his attention because his eyes snapped to you as soon as you moved. He watched you with a slight frown. Curious. 

“You sure?” you grinned. 

This was all absolutely crazy. There was a fucking stranger in your friends’ house, pretending to be Santa and looking damn fine in that role, yet here you were, flirting outrageously with him anyway, when flirting usually felt awkward to you. The eggnog definitely was at play here. 

He chuckled and said your name. Your full name, which had you stopping dead in your tracks as you stared at him with wide eyes. 

“You’ve never been on the naughty list once,” he finished with a shrug. 

“How… Who…” 

How could he know your name? If he were a burglar, he’d probably only know your friends’ names since they were on the mailbox. He could have looked them up and seen your name popup in your best friend’s feeds on social media, but to what end? He’d just left a goddamn bike for your godchild instead of taking something. And that bag? That wasn’t a trick. 

The man sighed deeply. “Adults,” he muttered, before thinking for a second. “Do you remember what you wished for on Christmas when you were eight?” 

Taken aback by the question, you frowned and thought for a second before memories hit you, and you nodded as you opened your mouth to reply. Except that he said the same thing as you did at the exact same time as you. You took in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he know that? It was far too specific to be a random guess. Only if… 

“So what are you going to do when you leave? Pull a Men In Black and wipe my memory or something?” You crossed your arms with a chuckle as your brain accepted the crazy truth.

He snorted and shrugged. “Trust me, the very few people who have actually seen me have never talked about me. And if they did,” he trailed off with another meaningful shrug that clearly said, who’s gonna believe them? 

You nodded faintly at his logic. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m curious, though… What’s your actual name? Santa? Kris? Nick?” You headed to where your godchild had left the cookies and milk and picked up the plate with the cookies. You chose one for yourself and offered one to… Santa. 

He took a cookie but didn’t look away from you, his head shaking in amusement a second later. 

“Really? Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?” 

You shrugged and bit off a piece of cookie, the man doing the same before he glanced down at it with an appreciative sound and nod, then looked into your expectant face again. 

“You can call me whatever you want. The list is pretty long.”

“But none of them are correct,” you surmised, watching him reach for the milk glass and taking a large gulp. “How about… Daddy Christmas?” 

You had to hold back your loud laugh as he sprayed his mouthful all over his front at your words. He tried to cough as silently as he could and shot you a death glare as you stood there with a satisfied grin on your face. 

“Am I on the naughty list yet?” 

His nostrils flared as he wiped crumbs and milk off his beard and coat before he stalked over towards you until he was in your face. 

“You should be more careful with what you wish for, girl,” he growled, yet instead of feeling threatened, you felt more than turned on. 

“Oh? What are you gonna do? Give me your big lump of coal?” you breathed, loving how big and tall he was. 

Santa blinked at you once, twice, then burst into laughter, which had you smiling broadly. 

“Gotta admit, this was a new one.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but something chimed close by, which had him checking his watch. “Fuck!”

Picking up two other cookies, he headed towards the fireplace and lifted a finger to his nose, sparks firing as he did so, but then he looked back at you. 

“Nicomund,” he said softly, which had your eyes widen at the revelation of his name.

He smiled and pressed his gloved finger against his nose. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

He was gone in a swish of golden sparks a second later. 

One year later

Dressed in a festive pair of pajamas, you yawed widely as you looked at the clock sitting in the midst of Christmas decorations on the mantelpiece. You stretched your arms over your head and shook your head to try fending the sleepiness off. 

You were back at your friends’ house and sitting on the same couch as last year. Last year, when you’d met the actual Santa Claus. You’d spent weeks doing research on the origins of Christmas, yet none of the results had been conclusive in any form. You’d guessed that people truly didn’t usually see him like he’d told you. After a while, you almost wanted to believe that the whole thing had only been a dream, coming from too much eggnog and sleep-deprivation. Except that he’d given you his name. Nicomund. You couldn’t have dreamed that up. The name had actually given you some vague results as you’d given it in. Nicomund the Red, a former viking warrior. Who was supposed to have lived over a thousand years ago. Considering what you’d witnessed, you didn’t even think it that farfetched that they could be one and the same person. The way he’d talked had clearly hinted at the fact that he’d been doing this for a very long time. He knew who you were. Even as a child. Yet, he didn’t look older than his late forties or early fifties. 

As much as you enjoyed loosing yourself in fantasies in books and so on, you considered yourself as a pragmatic person in real life. You liked facts and magic, while a fun concept, had never seemed like something real. And yet… After what you’d seen… 

That’s why you wanted to stay awake on Christmas Eve. Prove that you hadn’t actually dreamed everything up. And you might have also wanted to see him again, just because. It was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to go on a date the whole past year, Nicomund popping up in your head at random times. The way you’d felt attracted to him had left you reeling. He’d been in full Santa gear, yet all you’d been able to see were his blue eyes, his large frame and drawling deep voice, the combination lighting your entire body up. 

Your eyes drifted to the clock again, watching the time slowly approach one in the morning. Resting your head against the couch, you closed your eyes and sighed. A very comfortable bed was waiting for you just down the hall, and your body wanted nothing more than to sink into it and sleep after the long day you’d had again. But what if you missed him? Your fingers curled around a folded up piece of paper resting on your lap. Just in case, you’d written him a note, requesting him to wake you up if you were to fall asleep. With your eyes still closed, you smirked to yourself at the few lines you’d written. Maybe you could tell him yourself later. You would open your eyes in a second. You were just resting them a bit. 

Weren’t you supposed to be asleep for Santa to show up? 

The next thing you heard was a loud and excited scream coming from close by, having you jerk awake in your bed… Bed? Sitting up quickly, you realized that you were lying in the guest bedroom. When had you moved there? The last thing you remembered was that you’d been sitting on the couch and fiddling with the note. The thought of the note had you looking all around yourself and the floor, yet there was nothing there. Quickly getting up and slipping into a pair of warm slippers, you almost ran to the living room to look for the note. The only thing you found was your godchild gushing about the presents sitting under the tree, your friends standing around him with broad smiles. 

“Merry Christmas,” they called at nearly the same time as they saw you walk in. 

Tearing your eyes away from the couch and the floor, you schooled your features into a bright smile and replied in kind, hugging the couple and then kneeling to do the same to their kid. You helped rip into the wrappings and forced yourself to focus on what was going on around you. 

As the day went on, you never found the note, but you were still absolutely certain that Nicomund had been the one to get you into bed. You might have been exhausted, but you would have remembered it if you’d gotten up to go to bed on your own. Disappointment shot through you at the realization that you wouldn’t get the chance to see him again until the next year. If at all.  

Later that same day, you had dinner with your family, which served to take your mind off things for several hours. It wasn’t until later that night and once you’d returned to your place well after midnight and gotten ready for bed, that you sighed dejectedly again. In your pajamas and leaning against the counter of the open kitchen that looked into the living room, you slowly sipped water from a glass when your fireplace made a sputtering noise. Frowning, you put the glass down behind you and walked into the living room, only to yelp in surprise when golden sparks appeared and formed into the shape of a man a few feet away from you. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes wide and heart racing. 

Nicomund met your gaze and smirked at your gobsmacked expression. 

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled. 

Your mouth moved silently as your eyes slowly took in his appearance. Gone were the red coat and hat, instead he was wearing a loose, off-white colored shirt and had his hair pulled up in a messy bun, showing off more of his handsome face. The V in the shirt’s neckline revealed the beginning of circular tattoos with what appeared to be runes. All the air rushed out of your lungs at the whole sight. He definitely wasn’t Santa right now, meaning that it really wasn’t the outfit that did it for you, since you were getting even more turned on than the previous year. 

“What are you doing here?” you croaked, your mind having a hard time realizing that he was standing in your living room. “Christmas is over.”

“It is, yeah… I thought you wanted to see me.” He put his bare hands into the pockets of his red pants and tilted his head at you. 

Your eyebrows lifted at that. “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” you muttered, pursing your lips slightly. 

“Not enough time,” he answered easily, eyeing you slowly.

“For what?” you breathed, swallowing at the way he was staring at you. The way he'd said it hinted at more than just him running behind schedule. 

“I got your note,” he said instead, and pulled the neatly folded paper out of one of his pockets, scanning it lazily after unfolding it. “You got real creative.” He lifted his gaze to yours briefly, the eye contact and implications of his words having heat rushing to your face. 

Biting over your bottom lip and taking strength in the knowledge that he came to find you once he’d been done with delivering presents, you grinned at him cheekily. 

“You said that I was never on your naughty list, so I figured that I could get a reward for having been such a good girl over the years.” 

You took a step closer to him, seeing him watching you attentively, expression unreadable. 

“And that’s what you had in mind?” His eyes went back to your note. “Dear Santa, I’ve been particularly good this year. Please let me play with your Christmas ornaments and suck on your candy cane. And while Santa Claus is coming to town, I’ll be sure to show how good I can go to town on Santa Claus. And please don’t forget to stuff my Christmas stockings with your big present. Hoe, hoe, hoe, Merry Christmas.”

Hearing him read the note out loud in that husky drawl had all the heat from your face rushing down your body. You couldn’t even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment at your silly wordplay, especially when you could see the corner of his mouth pulling up as he read, while his voice deepened by the end. His eyes lifted to yours once he was done, before he let them travel over your body. Slowly, taking all of you in, his blue eyes dark in the half light cast by the living room lamp. Your lips parted as soft pants left your mouth, your heart rate picking up at his intense perusal. 

“May I have my Christmas present now?” you breathed after taking a step closer and leaving you only a few inches away from him. 

He huffed out an amused laugh, but you didn’t miss the way he lightly leaned towards you, his large chest moving up and down faster. 

“Show me how good you can be,” he rumbled, as he let go of the note, which fluttered to the floor. 

As you reached for his face with one of your hands, you caught his surprised expression when your fingers gently ran along his bearded jaw and towards the back of his head to pull him towards your mouth. Considering the low sound he made as your lips met, he had nothing against kissing, he seemed more surprised by your gentle touch, that you wanted more than just something frenzied and fast. But you did want. Corny and over the top sexual Christmas wordplay aside, you really wanted the man. All of him. 

Slipping your tongue along his while slightly pulling at his hair, Nicomund growled and pushed into you, his hands moving into action as they travelled around your waist and down to your ass. His beard tickled deliciously around your mouth as he kissed you back fiercely. The first physical proof of his arousal pressed against you, making your breath catch at the size you could feel. Taking a step back away from him, you quickly found his eyes as you sunk to your knees before him. Nicomund’s breath came in short pants as his dark eyes watched you lifting your hands to the fastenings of his red pants. You took your time pulling the golden buttons from their respective holes, while you could see his erection straining the fabric just below. After you were done, you tugged the pants and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Unable to keep your eyes away, you finally looked at his gorgeous cock, proudly standing away from his body, the head red and shiny with pre-come. 

“As red as Rudolf’s nose,” you muttered lightly, almost to yourself, except that Nicomund heard every word. 

“Fuck, you’re terrible. Don’t make me change my mind,” he grumbled, sounding between amused and exasperated.

Slipping out of the top half of your pajamas to reveal your breasts, you glanced up at him with a smirk. 

“You really wanna stop, Daddy Christmas?” you teased, right before leaning forward to lick up a long stripe from the base to the top of his cock. 

His body went rigid at the touch, while he groaned. Suddenly, one of his hands was in your hair, the fingers sliding against your scalp and moving your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. A long moan slipped free from you at the treatment, which had Nicomund grinning in satisfaction. 

“You’re not really being a good girl right now, y’know. Bein’ a lil tease and all. Thought you wanted to show me how good you can be.” His voice was low and washed over you in a delicious wave, stoking your lust further. 

Nodding instead of replying verbally, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue peek out in invitation. Nicomund hummed, pleased, and guided you towards his cock. 

“There we go,” he rasped, as he slowly slid over your tongue, stretching your lips with his girth. 

Once he was as far as you could manage without gagging, he stopped moving. His hand remained in your hair, but he neither pushed nor pulled, waiting for you to decide what to do next. You kept him like this for as long as was comfortable before you slowly drew back and gently suckled over the head, while you wrapped your fingers around him. Nicomund groaned as you angled his cock up for you to tongue and suck under the head, teasing the sensitive nerves. You took your time sucking all over him, savoring the sounds you could get out of him, your body heating whenever he cursed under his breath when you did something he particularly enjoyed. 

Listening to his breaths picking up speed and feeling his hips jerking as he got closer to release, you were surprised when he gently removed you off him with the same hand as before. Lifting your head since you had expected – wanted – him to come in your mouth, you gazed at him in confusion. He reached for one of your arms and pulled you to your feet before he was kissing you hungrily. Which you didn’t mind in the slightest, as you folded your arms around his chest to answer in kind, your nipples hardening as they rubbed against the material of his shirt. 

“Wanna be inside you,” he admitted roughly, talking against your mouth. 

You keened in the back of your throat and nodded fervently. How could you not want that? 

“Yes,” you hissed, kissing him deeply. 

“Bed?” he rasped, and it took your brain a second to get your body to move. 

“Yeah, okay.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Inside the room, Nicomund drew you back to him for a quick kiss before he bent over to pull down your pajama pants and get them off you. You clutched at his shoulders as he divested you of the clothes. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he ordered, having your move instantly. 

You observed him through hooded eyes and pressed your legs together at the tingle of anticipation running through your core as you watched him undress. You would have loved to do it for him, but this gave you the opportunity to let your eyes feast on him as he revealed his tattooed body, the shirt falling to the floor. He was large and strong, but with a softness around his belly that had your fingers prickling with the desire to touch. His hair was a mess of curls, in and out of the hairband holding it back. You expected him to remove the rest of his clothes and stared into his face questioningly when he didn’t, only to realize that he was already watching you. Stepping towards you and making you spread your legs for him to stand between them, Nicomund towered over you as he gazed down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Thought you might want me to keep them on. So you don’t forget who exactly is fucking you.”

Your whole body heated with lust and embarrassment alike. You wanted to open your mouth to explain that you didn’t have a Santa kink, that you’d never thought of Santa in that way, but after the jokes you’d made, you couldn’t fault him for teasing you about it. Only, you didn’t care who he was. You’d have wanted him the same way had he been the Sandman, or just a normal man as well. And to be honest, having him almost fully clothed while you were naked was also turning you on. 

“Is it time for your big present, then?” You bit over your bottom lip as you stared up at him with a hopeful expression. 

Chuckling, Nicomund leaned down to your eye level. 

“Not yet,” he hedged, and knelt between your legs. “First I gotta get a taste of your…” He thought for a second. “Cookie.” 

Your eyes widened at the unexpected wordplay and what it meant. He didn’t give you the time to further react as he grabbed your hips to pull them halfway over the edge of the bed and sink between your legs. You barely had the time to catch yourself with your hands behind you on the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over your wet folds. Crying out at the hotness of his tongue combined with the soft scratching of his beard on your sensitive skin, you fought to keep your eyes open to watch him. Heat ran through you at the way he so clearly took pleasure in eating you out. He took his time doing it too, at first only giving you broad licks that didn’t hold that much strength and mostly served to wind you slowly up as his tongue became more precise. Your eyes fluttered, and you panted once he began using the tip of his tongue to run maddening circles around your exposed clit. As you were getting louder and louder the stronger the pressure of his tongue became, Nicomund suddenly stopped and, instead, focused his attention on your inner thighs, kissing and teasing his beard across your skin. Your legs quivered from the change of pace, and you wanted nothing more than to bring his head back to where it had been. He seemed content to keep torturing you, however, and you knew in that moment that you would be dealing with beard burn the next day. 

“Nicomund… please?” you breathed on a whimper, gazing down at him and catching his eye as he looked up at you without stopping his ministrations. 

Your expression seemed to trigger something in him because his mouth and tongue were back on your clit in the next second. You had to throw your head back at the explosive pleasure shooting through you as his lips surrounded that little bundle of nerves, and he sucked on it enthusiastically. You screamed in bliss and tangled your fingers in his hair, silently begging him to stay right there. From the way he growled, he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. He pressed his thumbs into your thighs, pushing your legs further open and pulling your folds apart as his mouth ripped more and more delirious sounds from you. As two of his fingers slowly sank into you and curled up to start fucking you, your whole body wrapped over his head, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that your legs locked against Nicomund’s shoulders. 

While you were slowly coming back to yourself, Nicomund kissed his way up your mound, hip and belly, his soft touches making your body shake with more than just the aftershocks, your entire body feeling sensitized. When he reached your stomach, you cupped his head with your hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply. His beard was damp, while his lips still tasted like you, having a new shiver of desire going through you. Nicomund grunted into your mouth as he knelt up, curling one arm around your waist while the other held him up behind your back. Without ever breaking the kiss, he got to his feet and leaned over you until you were almost lying on the bed. You moved up the bed with his help, just enough for him to get his knees on the mattress and pull your legs over his thighs properly. Meanwhile, your hands took their time exploring his body, running all over his back and sides, reveling in his size and comforting weight on top of you. Your fingers encountered a few scares as they went, bringing the reminder of your research back to mind. Only fights and battles could explain the size and placements of some of them. And then there were the tattoos. Santa Claus was an ancient Viking warrior. The concept was absolutely wild, but you put the wayward thought to the side in favor of focusing on the whole man on top of you. 

Nicomund lifted his head a few inches and held himself over you to look into your face. He was breathing hard, sweat starting to form at his temples, his eyes traveling between your lips and eyes. You looked at him dazedly and smiled before lifting your head, keeping your eyes open, to press your mouth against his. You repeated the action a few more times, seeing his chest rise and fall faster each time. 

“Are you going to make me beg again?” you whispered, your lips grazing his. 

He chuckled and stroked a thick thumb over your jaw. 

“Please, Santa, pour your milk all over my-”

His mouth crashed into yours, effectively shutting you up, but unable to stop you from giggling. 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, shifting on top of you. 

“But cookies always need – oh fuck!” 

This time, his method was more convincing, as he used your momentarily distraction while you teased him to line up with your entrance and push inside you in one long and powerful slide. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back as he had you crying out with each snap of his hips, his length making you feel as full as you’d wished for. Nicomund mouthed around your jawline, grunting into your skin as he thrust into you repeatedly. Leaning your head forward again, you drew his mouth in for an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, trying to give back as much as you could in your position. It seemed to be enough for him, since he slammed into you harder, groaning as you moaned even louder while your inner walls pulsed around him. 

“Feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and high-pitched, your legs curling over his thighs as extreme pleasure unfurled inside you again. 

“Fuck,” he gritted out roughly, staring down at you with burning eyes. “You gonna come for me again?” 

You nodded. “Please? Nicomund… Please!” 

You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of this man on top of you, making you feel needy like never before. With his large frame, glistening with sweat and strong arms holding him up at your sides as his hips drove you higher and higher, piercing blue eyes roving over your face. 

“Yeah, come on, go ahead. Been such a good girl for me. Such a good-”

His words cut off as you exploded around him at the praise, a long wail of ecstasy coming through your mouth, before you pulled his mouth back onto yours for a desperate kiss. After several more thrusts, Nicomund groaned as one of his hands shifted to your hair and formed a fist in it. He tugged at it to expose your jaw to breathe against it as he fucked in and out of you at a fast pace. Still overwhelmed by your second orgasm, you let him move you the way he needed and only linked your arms tightly around his shoulders, small, pleasured whimpers leaving you. When he came, his whole body shuddered over yours, his hips jerking repeatedly as he emptied himself inside you with a long groan. 

Neither of you moved as you simply rested for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow while you gently combed your fingers through his hair. 

“Mmh… this was definitely worth waiting a whole year for,” you mumbled sleepily, the long day catching up to you at last. 

Nicomund chuckled warmly and raised his head from where it had been resting against your shoulder.  You grinned up at him and stroked your fingers along his beard before letting them trail down his shoulders, your eyes following their path, as he moved further up. 

“Nicomund the Red,” you muttered quietly, swirling an index over a circular tattoo on his chest. They were all gorgeous and reached down to both of his arms. 

You felt him go still under your hands and met his stunned gaze. You smiled softly, keeping up your exploration. 

“I like research,” you explained with a small shrug. “Didn’t find much, really, but I couldn’t…” You looked away from his face. 

“Couldn’t what?” he asked in a quiet rumble. 

“You read the note, Nicomund… I didn’t start thinking about writing it only yesterday,” you hedged. 

This was as much as you wanted to reveal about how often you’d thought about him this past year. Sure, you’d been attracted to him from the get go and had fun with all the wordplay, but you’d also been genuinely intrigued by him. 

Nicomund didn’t say anything for a beat, but then shifted your bodies until he was slipping out of you and rolling you to your side to face him. 

He cleared his throat. “Well… I was kinda wondering if you’d be at your friends’ again.” 

You uttered a small, happy laugh at his admittance and closed your eyes. The feeling only lasted a moment as you realized that he wouldn’t be staying, however. Nicomund was still Santa Claus, for crying out loud. Your smile turned sad as you fully realized that this couldn’t go anywhere. Opening your eyes and staring at his chest, you kept tracing the tattoos quietly, thinking. 

“Will you come back next year?” you finally brought yourself to ask, your eyes still downcast. 

A warm palm stroked over your jaw and tilted your head up to meet warm blue eyes. 

“Only if you stay off the naughty list,” he said, going for humor to lift the suddenly heavier mood, but his smile was slightly off. 

You couldn’t help but snort anyway and gave him a small smile, the implications of his comment clear. You’d always been on the nice list, so surely…

“No promises,” you whispered, having him huffing out a small laugh this time, while his fingers ran along the back of your neck in a wonderfully soothing way. 

Your eyes slowly fell close, your fingers stopping their path on his skin as his touch lulled you to sleep. You were completely unable to fight it and soon, the last thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead. 

With no surprise, you were alone the next morning.

One week later. 

Two hours past the new year, after your friends had left, and you’d put the night’s dinner leftovers in the fridge, you sank onto the couch with a glass of eggnog. You stared at the liquid with bleary eyes, smiling to yourself as you thought of Nicomund. It was a bittersweet thought, but you tried to keep any sadness away whenever you thought of him. Still slightly tipsy, you berated yourself for missing the opportunity to make a bad joke with eggnog. Maybe you should write it in next Christmas’ note. You could already see him rolling his eyes at you and grinned. 

Taking a sip and leaning your head back over the couch, you let your mind drift to the moment when you’d been lying face to face, his hands in your hair. 

A whoosh of air suddenly went through the living room, having you gasp and sit upright again. Your mouth fell open at the now familiar golden sparks coming through the fireplace. A few seconds later, you were looking into Nicomund’s face. 

“Happy new year?” he rumbled tentatively. 

Standing and looking at your glass, you put it down on the coffee table and tilted your head at him. 

“I should really, really leave off the eggnog,” you said as you approached him. “I’m starting to see Santa at New Year.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me at Easter too,” he smirked, leaning towards you as you cupped his face to kiss him. 

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Blue-collar Techno kidnapped by white-collar SBI when? And I don't mean minimum wage Techno or cashier/clerk/other I mean farmer or rancher or otherwise physical labor intensive. Potato farmer Techno kidnapped by SBI because they loved his passion or something idk just trying to tempt you into writing more dark SBI tbh

Okay, but I can vibe with this and I'm also still very much with my brain geared towards historical AUs so maybe something that's set around the roaring 20s or a bit later (the period between the world wars basically)? Alternatively the period right before the first world war, the turn of the century. But that might be because I have the Titanic on my mind today lmao.

Techno is a factory worker, typical blue collar profession, probably orphaned or at least from a very low-income family. He's proud of his hard work and his accomplishments and he's vocal about his passions and beliefs, just stuck in a place where those don't mean much to anybody of any significance. The working class doesn't have time to do anything except physical labor to keep afloat, especially not somebody like Techno who has no support to fall back on.

SBI are white collar. Maybe a family of business attornies? I think Phil as a lawyer would be absolutely hilarious especially because I can see the vibe of him being so kind and mundane from a glance but boy does he have a sharp tongue and a good memory. He will tear you to pieces verbally if need be, and smile while doing so.

A bit grim, but I want to say it starts with a death. Somebody in the factory dies due to the company's negligence (sadly, not that unusual an occurrence) and as always the boss wants to pay as little as possible and face as few consequences as possible. Except Techno knew the guy who died, and talks to that family, and tries to push them into getting their legally owed dues for their loss, or go public. The factory hires Phil to make this entire thing go away as quickly as he can with minimal financial loss for the business and no scandal.

Phil has no moral qualms about doing this. It's not that he hates lower class people specifically, he just looks down on them as beneath him and doesn't like them stirring up trouble. He finds them dull, uneducated, and uncultured. And also, he loves money. Greedy crow.

Phil does his lawyering thing. Often it's as easy as putting some pressure on the family and using big words around them and showing them some papers they can't read anyway and they'll take the minimal offered to them, since it's still a treasure in their eyes, and agree that the company bears no fault in their beloved husband's/father's death. Even if it does go to court, Phil isn't concerned. Honestly, the entire case bores him.

What he IS much more interested in is Techno.

They meet when Phil comes by the factory, and Techno and Phil run into each other since Techno is so involved in the fallout of the untimely demise of the other worker, and Phil is enthralled. Techno is not intimidated by him, easily pushing back on his wordplay with his wit. Techno has opinions, and is rather smart for a factory worker (he can read too! Techno is mostly self-taught). Phil finds it charming. Entertaining, if nothing else. He can see the fire in Techno's eyes.

He tries to pry into Techno's past and learn more about him, Techno is guarded against this, which in turn just makes Phil MORE engaged.

Eventually, Phil offers Techno to come work for the law firm. He'll have to do some really lowly manual labor there at first, but Phil sees potential in him, and if it turns out Phil is right about that, then perhaps Techno can even make something of himself if Phil teaches him and allows him to work his way up. It's an extremely gracious offer, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity even.

Techno declines.

Phil is flabbergasted. Like, absolutely gobsmacked. But also so much more enthralled now. Techno refuses to take handouts from pompous rich bastards like Phil, and he has no interest in joining a branch that so clearly profits from keeping the upper class on top and the lower class under their heel. Most men would sell their souls for what Phil can provide them. Techno has more integrity than basically every single person Phil has come into contact with through his job in the last decade.

And god if that doesn't just make him want to have Techno more.

Even as a little kid, Phil was never told no. Thus it's not something that sits well with him. He will have his way, no matter the cost. And hey, we already established Phil knows his way around the legal branch AND that Techno has no support system so like, if you do wanna take it to literal kidnapping, that'd be easy.

I'm assuming this would be 3/4 dark sbi so my image for that is that Wilbur and Tommy are both Phil's kids. Wilbur is technically also an attorney (following in the family's footsteps, as his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all are), except he doesn't really work a lot and has more fun squandering the family's money. Phil is way too indulgent when it comes to his sons, who are as spoiled as he used to be, so he allows this. Similarly, Tommy is still in schooling though he's not sure what he'll study once he's in university (he's leaning into finance because he loves scams lol) and he spends most of his time enjoying his wealthy life.

If Kristin is there, I imagine she comes from a family of doctors, though Kristin herself never worked or got a higher education. That'd be unbecoming for a lady of her status. She loves it when Phil has a fun little project for them to occupy themselves with since she's maybe also lowkey bored being a housewife.

[vidavalor]

The Hoff

I think that we've seen that very distinctive and unusual, capital F in Fell in the the note inside Aziraphale's copy of Modern Magic before...

What could explain that? 😊

Ok, so, first things first... to be clear: there really was a Professor Hoffman who published a book called Modern Magic. His real name was Angelo Lewis and, until its publication of Modern Magic in 1875, there wasn't really a major book in English that acted as a guidebook in for teaching aspiring magicians what they would need to know to be able to perform. It is seen as the first magic textbook, basically. So, the book really exists but this is where we have to talk about the apparent "autograph" that we were shown in 1941.

If you've ever had an author inscribe their book to you or received an autographed book as a gift, you probably have noticed that the author almost always signs the book on the title page or, if not that, on some other page on which there is type in the very early part of the book. They usually do not autograph books on the 1-2 blank pages of paper that are included at the start of most hardcover books... which is the spot where we can see that the note in Aziraphale's copy of Modern Magic is written. There are a couple of reasons why authors do not autograph those pages.

The first is that autographing one of the printed pages of the book helps to ensure that the author's signature stays with the book. If they sign a blank piece of paper at the start of the book, the signature can be more easily ripped out of the book and potentially used by someone for something illegal-- especially true of the pre-computer & cell phone eras but something which holds over into today. There is also that one of the reasons why the blank pages in the front of the book are included in the first place is to help keep the book clean in order to preserve it for longer, with the idea being that the blank pages can be removed if the book gets dirty over time from dust and dirt falling inside the cover.

The last reason, though, is the reason most relevant to what we're talking about here and that's that the blank pages are also meant to be a space for personal notes. Not just for something the reader might wish to jot down but for a message to the reader from the person who gifted them the book.

If you gift a book to someone, the tradition is that you write them a little note on the inside of the book. In a hardcover book, this is meant to be written somewhere on the blank pages. We are specifically shown Aziraphale opening his copy of Modern Magic to the very first, otherwise-blank page and reading the note that is the only other thing on the page, in the upper right hand corner.

Ok, you might say, but the note is written from Professor Hoffman and mentions Aziraphale being a 'wonderful student', so even though the unique and significant capital F's are a match... how could Crowley have written the note?

The note is actually signed The Hoff and there is already some wordplay in the 1941, Part 2 minisode in which Aziraphale uses that word while referencing Professor Hoffman on the surface but in such a way as to really be referring to Crowley.

Later on in 1941, when the two are drinking wine at the end of the minisode, their whole conversation is word-nerdy flirtation and Aziraphale responds to Crowley's inquiry as to how he got the photo back from Furfur with this line: "Who needs miracles when you've had private lessons from The Great Prof. Hoff. man himself?"

Here's where that Crowley-mentioned "tone of voice" from the start of 2.01 comes into play a bit...

In this post, we looked at how Aziraphale's emphasis in the "Prof. Hoff.man" sentence suggested he was using Professor Hoffman's name as wordplay to really be referring to Crowley. Prof, short for professor, is rooted in profess, which is to state something, while hoff is a Welsh term of endearment that means my dear and my beloved. (Some Welsh pet names in this show starring Michael Sheen? Couldn't be! 😂)

Used in that way? Prof. Hoff.man, spoken the way Aziraphale did in the wine scene in 1941, is actually referring to Crowley and calling him his dear (and deer) man and his beloved. It's "my dear" and "my love" but in Welsh. This, then, is Aziraphale referring to Crowley as his hoff... which is how the note in the Modern Magic book is signed.

Further emphasizing this are the other words being used in the wordplay in the same sentence that talks about private lessons from The Great Prof. Hoff.man.

The first is Aziraphale adding the adjective of great ahead of Prof. Hoff.man. In a couple of other posts, this word has come up already but to sum it up, great in their speak is dry use of the adjective used to describe The Great/Ineffable/Divine/Whatever Plan to describe their relationship or one another, instead. It basically means what we all know great to mean but with added humor within their speak being that it's blasphemous to use it that way in their supernatural world and that it comes from the root words related to to rub or to grind together. It also contains the word eat-- self-explanatory for the food-obsessed Crowley and Aziraphale.

In the Odegra scene in S1, in which basically all of Crowley's work presentation is in his and Aziraphale's vocabulary, he refers to the Biblical Great Beast on the surface which, in their vocabulary, they've actually jokingly made a phrase that refers to Aziraphale between them. When Maggie tells Crowley that he and Aziraphale don't say how they really feel, Maggie doesn't realize it but Crowley responds to her in his and Aziraphale's hidden vocabulary, because he's understandably a little put off. His response concludes with the deceptively simple summary of his and Aziraphale's relationship as a whole: "It's great."

In the Prof Hoff scene, Aziraphale refers to having had private lessons from "The Great Prof. Hoff.man" himself. If the wordplay in the scene has The Great Prof Hoff.man here being a reference to Crowley then so, too, are the private lessons. This is not to say that Aziraphale might have never taken magic lessons with Angelo Lewis aka Professor Hoffman. It's just to say that he is happily using Professor Hoffman's name here as wordplay to refer to Crowley in this moment. It's using Aziraphale's human magic as euphemistic for their romance, which also what The Bullet Catch and many other scenes have done. While private lessons manages to sound quite innuendo-y just on the surface alone, there's also some other layers that make it especially top shelf.

Lessons, in this case, are a mixed French-English phonetic joke-- they're les sins, or the sins. Crowley and Aziraphale don't see sex as sinful but referring to it that way with tongue firmly in cheek is their type of blasphemous humor, yeah? Even funnier is the fact that the French word for sin is peche, which also can refer to both a peach (so, a fruit, which also happens to be pretty uniformly euphemistic for an ass) and, even more amusingly, for the act of fishing.

Additionally, lesson comes from legere, which is the root of many words related to act of reading. Originally, the word lesson referred only to a reading aloud of The Bible. The word private in Aziraphale's sentence does just refer to a sense of privacy in the way that we know it but there are also the words it contains.

Besides the food-related ate, there is vate. The Latin word vates meant a prophet or a seer. By sometime prior to the 1600s, though, the word vate had splintered off from vates and had evolved to mean something that Crowley already canonically is-- a poet.

"Private lessons with The Great Prof. Hoff.man himself" on a wordplay level is really Aziraphale referring to romance and lovemaking with his dearly beloved poet.

Ok, so, we've established that Crowley can easily be The Hoff who wrote the note. Now, let's go back to the note written inside Aziraphale's copy of Modern Magic and look at the romance and humor of it being written the way it is if we're saying that it's written by Crowley and not by the Angelo Lewis version of Professor Hoffman.

Let's start with "a wonderful student." Here's the thing... you wouldn't need to be instructing Aziraphale on anything to refer to him that way. A student is a person who seeks to and works to gain knowledge and Aziraphale is constantly doing that. He is a curious, life-long learner, as we all should try to be, right? From knowing Aziraphale as the story shows us, all of us could say that Aziraphale is a wonderful student, could we not?

There's a sweet sense of humor in using the adjective wonderful in there as well. A person who is wonderful is full of wonder, which is to say that they are miraculous. They inspire pleasure, admiration, and a sense of delight. Synonyms for wonderful include other words associated with Mr. Fell and his magic-- amazing and marvelous.

So, let's say that Crowley bought Aziraphale his much-beloved copy of Professor Hoffman's Modern Magic and so is part of the reason why Aziraphale has a human magic act in the first place. He wanted to write a note to Aziraphale in the book but obviously could not write something that isn't a bit oblique because they're a secret. There is a very Crowley-esque humor in hiding that he is the author of the note by making what he wrote at the start of the book sound like a note written by the book's author.

Crowley signs the note "The Hoff" and there are actually additional meanings to that besides the Welsh term of endearment one we looked at above-- all of which are extremely Crowley.

Hof and Hoff are Old Norse words that evolved into Dutch and German to refer to, over time, a wide variety of buildings. Originally the word meant a hall and, at that time, that was less in the sense of a passageway between rooms inside a building and more any roof-covered building. It is still present a bit in what we call a couple of types of buildings (a town hall; a music hall, etc..).

Because the word comes from the Proto-Indo-European root words meaning to cover or to conceal, a hof or a hoff began to mean basically any kind of building covered by a roof-- including both a court (as in, a royal court), a temple, and a farmstead. It also began to mean anyone working any jobs associated with life beneath any of these roof-covered structures. From this also formed the term heathen hof, which referred to a Germanic pagan temple.

A hof or a hoff, then, is a roof-covered place of protection and concealment from the elements or someone occupied under one of those roof-covered places.

A hof or a hoff? Is a canopy...

But we're not at all done... Because of hoff relating to places like royal courts and farmsteads, it also evolved to mean the person who manages the domestic affairs of a household and the person whom a monarch or the owner of the building has given authority to represent them, to rule in their name and to guard their assets and reputation. The word that we use today to mean this derived away from hoff and came about in a messy way that involves so many language overlaps that people are honestly still kind of trying to fully puzzle it out and aren't entirely sure of the results. For quite a few centuries now, though, what was once referred to as a hoff-- in terms of people and not structures-- has been more commonly referred to as a steward.

A steward can be someone who keeps watch over a household and guards its inhabitants and one who can manage the affairs of an estate for the person who is, technically, that estate's owner.

A steward is also the officer on a ship who is in charge of meals and provisions. This also later applied to trains as well, once they were invented.

In fine dining, a wine steward, for example, is another name for a sommelier-- one who provides knowledge of wine and serves it.

It also refers to someone who oversees the social arrangements of a household.

The occupation of steward is also the root of surname Stewart and its alternate, French-originating spelling of Stuart. Stuart is also a first name for which Stu is a nickname and that nickname is one of the words contained in The Steward/Hoff's love note to Aziraphale: the stu within student. Also within student? The word den. Meanings include a dwelling for animals (a fox den), a recreational or study room in a house, and, especially applicable to Crowley and Aziraphale: a place in which people meet to engage in illicit activity in secret in order to evade detection.

So, within the letter Crowley signs The Hoff is the word student, which contains words referring to the role of a hoff/steward (stu) and the den he serves and protects in that role. It's clever. 😊

For some funny, food-related bonuses: the word steward also obviously contains stew and, depending on where you are in the world, the word hof today can evidently refer to either Carlsberg beer or a Korean-style bar or pub. In Danish, it also refers to a garden and, apparently, the history of hof referring to a royal court also led to an evolution of hof referring to admirers as a result of crossing over with the use of court as a verb-- as in, to court a person.

Fish stew. Anyway!

But you might be saying: but why not inscribe the book to Aziraphale? What's with the 'To Mr. Fell' and this weird capital F?

For that, we have to bring in two of the most romantic things you can think of: a little grammar and Hastur.

Just bear with me. 😂 It's worth it, I promise...

Back in S1, we had a bunch of scenes that illustrate that the demons are seen as a collective who all belong to Satan and are not to have any sense of autonomy that overrides that. It's best summed up by Hastur harassing Crowley through his tv by reminding him that, collectively, they are known as The Fallen and only their shared goals of servitude to their master, Satan, should be what matters:

When Crowley is in public and at risk of being overheard, he will speak that way about Hell, such as in the case of "Mozart's one of ours" or "was that one of yours or one of ours?" with regards to The Reign of Terror in 1.01. In this post, we already looked at how, on a hidden language level, Crowley is crafting those public sentences to Aziraphale to really work as being about the two of them on another level while sounding like they're about Hell on the surface level because, as we know, he does not actually wish to be part of The Fallen.

This is where the little bit of irregular verb grammar comes into play. It relates to tenses around the verb to fall. As most of us know, both the future tense and the present tenses of the verb to fall is fall. If it's a fall that has yet to happen, you use fall. As in: "She should be careful as she could fall out of that tree." If it's a fall that is currently happening, you also use fall, as you would say: "She is falling." It's when you start to talk about a fall that already happened that things get a little more complicated... and if you don't think Crowley and Aziraphale would find that relevant, may I direct you to them flirting by way of pretending to be confused over the irregular past tenses of the verb to smite in S2...

Fallen is the past participle tense of to fall. The simplest way to explain that for those who are grammar-averse and find this confusing (and it is confusing-- English is a nightmare lol) is that you use fallen as 'has fallen' or 'have fallen' to describe a fall that took place at an unspecified time in the past, as well as a fall that happened already but may still also be an ongoing thing.

For example: your friend might refuse your request that she climb a tree with you by saying something like: "No, thanks. I have fallen out of too many trees before." This indicates falls that happened to your friend in the past that are now over and done with but are just not being referred to in such a way as to reference a specific point in time. If your friend wanted to refer to a specific fall she had at a specific time, she would use fell, not fallen, and would say something like: "No, thanks. I fell out of a tree last Thursday and I'm still feeling it."

Meanwhile, though, you could be thinking about investing in a company, say, and, in researching the company, read a sentence like: "The stock price average has fallen x percent over the last x months." This indicates something that has taken place in the past-- the descent of the stock price average has already happened. However, fallen is being used because that falling stock price average might still also be ongoing, as it could keep falling. That is an example of using fallen to refer to a fall that happened in the past but is not necessarily seen as completely done and continues on.

How is this relevant, you ask?

Let's say that it's long ago and you're an angel who is in love with a demon who has for millennia been referred to by everyone in Heaven and Hell as one of The Fallen to a point that The Fallen is basically the closest thing he has to a surname. And let's say that you're creating a human identity for yourself and taking on a surname so you can live amongst them more directly. And let's say that you are well-aware of the fact that marrying this demon is not something at this time that seems like it would ever be possible for an endless list of reasons ranging from the fact that you're supernatural hereditary enemies to the fact that doing so would be illegal by human standards.

You don't like the term The Fallen because you feel it doesn't apply-- to your demon partner or to any of the demons, really. The past tense of to fall is fell. It's something that happened once, at a specific time in the past, as in: "He fell out of the tree." It's over and no longer relevant, unlike the way that Heaven and Hell use the phrase The Fallen to continuously demonize the demons. They refer to them that way to perpetuate the idea that they are forever "evil" and damned for it. Added into this is that to fall, as we know, is also a verb used to describe feeling romantic love, as the humans say that people fell in love. There's also that he calls you daily what you are-- an angel-- in a romantic way and you would like a way to refer to what he is in a loving way, instead of just the teasing, double-meaning way you sometimes use words like demon and fiend.

So, if you were this angel named, say, I don't know, Aziraphale lol... and you liked the human custom of a partner taking the surname of their spouse when they married and you were making up your own surname anyway for your human identity and you were very sure that you'd never be able to actually marry your demon partner so this was what you thought then was maybe the closest you'd ever get to being able to do that... the cleverest, most romantic surname you could actually choose for yourself that would be taking his name but in a positive, word-nerdy way that reflected the love of the two of you would be to name yourself Mr. Fell.

Aziraphale has been Mr. Fell for who knows how long because it is the proper verb tense for what happened to Crowley, it sounds enough like '-phale' that Heaven won't ever really put it together and he has an excuse there if they ever ask him why his alias sounds a little demonic and, most importantly, because he wanted to take that part of Crowley's "name." Why?

Because, like with most humans, Crowley didn't choose that surname and, as is the case for a lot of humans as well, the name has a negative history that he wishes it didn't. Crowley can choose to change his name and add to his name and he does-- Anthony Crowley and others are his own choice-- but he's stuck being tied to the "family" he came from-- The Fallen-- as there has never been a way to change that. To Aziraphale, taking on that name is the same as anyone marrying into a family with bad history and a terrible reputation because they love their good partner who is stuck in it. It's an act of commitment to that person.

Aziraphale tweaked it to Fell-- the correct use of the verb, a common human surname, and something that sounds enough like the end of his own first name that it acts as a bit of sleight of hand to keep most from noticing that his last name is just the frequently confused with fallen, other, past tense of to fall and that he took it as a way to take Crowley's name.

It also adds a whole other feeling to Aziraphale reading the note aloud to Crowley in the bookshop in 1941 and the part where he says "'To Mr. Fell'-- that's me!" with the little grin and wiggle.

Crowley inscribed the book 'To Mr. Fell' because that's their name. It's an equivalent of writing something like 'For my husband'...

Another clue to support this is the Crowley-and-Aziraphale-paralleling Mutt and his beloved spouse, as Mutt referred to them as. Beloved, as we said above, is one of the Welsh terms of endearment meanings of hoff. Mr. Fell is Aziraphale having taken Crowley's name like someone might of their spouse. Since its opening, the name of the bookshop has been A.Z. Fell & Co.. On one level, it is meant to look like A.Z. Fell is a variant of Aziraphale, likely to evade suspicion from Heaven. In reality? Aziraphale is just Mr. Fell from A to Z. Just Crowley's, from soup to nuts.

Adding some humor is also that a fellow, as we know, is a term for a man, or a person in the same position or group as someone else, or a person with whom someone is sharing the same activities, as well as member of a society of learning. To Mr. Fell, a wonderful student...

A fellow-- or the slang fella-- is also a boyfriend. Plus, the silly humor of fellow as fell- ow!. "But, my deer/dear fellow..."

So, Crowley wrote the inscription in the book as a note to Aziraphale that makes it look like it's an autograph from Professor Hoffman and the other hints to this lie in his distinctive capital F in Fell and the other word hidden in the signature.

If you look closely, you'll notice some things in the way that Crowley wrote The Hoff. The o in the word is actually made up of two letter o's linked together. Besides the whole hugs and kisses of x and o in writing and the rings aspect and the fact that he drew them in such a way to look heart-like, there's that this creates a new word hidden in hoff, which is hooff, which isn't a word but the word contained within it-- hoof-- sure is.

A hoof is the foot of any of three animals to which Crowley is frequently referred to as: a horse, an ox, or a deer. It's also slang for the human foot and, as to hoof it, for the act of walking, as well as sometimes slang for dancing.

The Crowley-and-Aziraphale penned title of Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth, which is a phrase meaning to live life. In the opening credits of every episode of Good Omens, Crowley and Aziraphale are shown living life together throughout history-- walking the Earth together. The same 1941 minisode that gave us this note that we're looking at gives us the love letters they wrote each other and published under Hell's nose as entries in Demon's Guide, furthering the suggestion of Crowley having written the note in the book.

Now, look at the distinctively-written letter F in Fell and in where we've seen that before in the 2008 minisode:

Crowley's signature on the form for his assignment to take Adam to the nuns in 2008 is him drawing with his index finger the same pattern he uses when writing with a pen to make the capital F in Fell.

Why does Crowley write it this way?

Because while the end result is that anyone not looking closely sees a cursive capital F, the way that Crowley writes that capital F is by using the pattern of a cursive capital L-- for love. If you look at it closely, you'll actually see both a L and a F overlapping as one letter in the word Fell in the note.

While I'm sure Aziraphale has no doubt as to what he was reading in Crowley's note in Modern Magic, if the 2008 minisode is any indication, Crowley has actually been using this Love F when writing his own signature-- both on Earth and in Hell-- for quite some time. Likely because while he loathes being part of The Fallen, he feels the exact opposite kind of way about Aziraphale having taken his name to a point that he wants to actually put Fell somewhere in his own name.

The result appears to be that he uses The Love F as both a purposefully kind of unintelligible signature when he signs for things in Hell... but also in the more readable signature of his name when he signs things on Earth. Why do I say in the human name, too? There's a hint to that in 1941-- back in the Part 1 of it.

I think Crowley makes their mark as the middle initial in his signature on Earth because I'm noticing here that this romantic Love F thing could be the explanation regarding confusion over a certain third capital letter... the letter J.

I now think it possible that Crowley didn't actually write a J on the document the Nazis saw. He wrote the romantic F for Fell that he writes to also look like a capital L, which got it mistaken by Mr. 'Betamax/Peter Max' Glozier for a capital J.

When Glozier said the J aloud, Crowley did use two words relating to he and Aziraphale in their speak-- just and really-- to try to explain what the letter was to Aziraphale but I'm not sure that Aziraphale heard it that way. Crowley also made it sound like he didn't want to clarify what he had really written. To be fair, saying "that Nazi thug mistook The Love F for a J" wouldn't have really worked in the moment but he also seemed squirmish about admitting to Aziraphale that he doesn't just use The Love F when writing him love letters but as part of his signature.

In Lockdown, Aziraphale appears to have written a note addressed to Anthony J. Crowley. So, either Crowley hadn't told Aziraphale by then that the J was The Love F, or they now have an in-joke from 1941 about Crowley's middle initial being J when they both know that it's not, or Crowley actually then went and came up with a middle name that begins with J after 1941.

Finally, there's the note in a gifted book that we didn't see in S2 but definitely heard about...

I have no doubt that Aziraphale has a first edition of S.W. Erdnase's Expert at the Card Table. I do doubt the next bit, though, wherein Aziraphale is pretty obviously lying his ass off. This is a now well-practiced version of 'those three kids are absolutely Job and Sitis' new children':

I would bet pretty heavily that Aziraphale's first edition of Expert at the Card Table has a 'To Mr. Fell'-style note in the inside that, when read, makes it look like it was autographed by the author but which is really a note that Crowley wrote to Aziraphale when he gifted him the book.

Aziraphale realized in the above scene that if he lets Mutt look at the book, Mutt is going to think that however Crowley signed the note was Erdnase's real name so Aziraphale just complete bullshitted the provenance of the book to cover up the fact that the autograph is a Crowley love note in order to bribe Mutt into coming to the party. 😂

This is also really why he won't give Mutt the book or let him try to buy it. It's beloved to him because of its magic importance, yes, but really also because Crowley gave it to him. The super-rare Doctor Who annual issue that Mr. Arnold was lusting after is something Aziraphale can part with (after all, he's sleeping with The Doctor so it's not really necessary). That was just one of the many rare items that Aziraphale does have in his shop and wasn't a present.

The copy of Expert at the Card Table, though? Aziraphale will never part with that.

Both books that Aziraphale has that we've mentioned here are first editions and, given their subject matter, Aziraphale would have wanted to get both books immediately after they were published. That means that Crowley bought Aziraphale Hoffman's Modern Magic in 1875 and Erdnase's Expert at the Card Table in 1902. For timeline context: He gave Aziraphale the copy of Modern Magic with the romantic note we've spent this meta looking at 13 years after the 1862 Holy Water argument. The gift of Expert at the Card Table was 27 years after that-- 40 years after the 1862 scene.

This, along with things like Aziraphale buying a dozen cases of Chateauneuf-de-Pape in 1921 "for special occasions" and Aziraphale and Crowley being in communication when Crowley bought The Bentley in the early 1930s all contribute to the idea that they had seen one another plenty between 1862 and 1941.

Crowley's faux-griping about Aziraphale's magic act is also made even cuter-- and more transparent lol-- by the fact that he's been gifting Aziraphale books about human magic for ages.

On a sadder note, it also adds another layer of horror to the bookshop fire. I think we all figured Crowley had bought Aziraphale books before but having seen one now and the love note in it and knowing there are a ton more makes Crowley standing in the middle of the shop with them all burning around him even worse.

On a cheerier note, remember Aziraphale reading books on magic (and plenty of other interesting stuff) during Lockdown? Perhaps some of the books were in the pile because Aziraphale was also going through them to re-read Crowley's love notes?

Finally, what do you think... it's a little different but... is that a Love F on his tie?