#why are there so many fucking VOWELS

[regaeliabyeeeee]

spell out your url using characters you love from any media. then, tag as many people as there are letters in your url (or however many you'd like!) inspired by the song titles dashboard game.

R - ren amamiya — persona 5 E - ellie williams — the last of us G - goro akechi — persona 5 A - aloy — horizon zero dawn E - elizabeth comstock — bioshock: infinite L - leon kenedy — resident evil I - ignis scientia — final fantasy xv A - astarion acunin — baldur's gate iii

tagged by : @lunabrae (( i want u )) tagging: baddies only

[saintemry]

the more i learn bits and pieces of other languages the more annoyed i get with english

[orcelito]

I cracked open the Japanese grammar book my girlfriend bought for me over the weekend, & while i think it will be very helpful, they started talking about pitch instead of accents for words and my champaign addled brain just kinda flatlined until I put the book down lmfaooo

[mercutiodidntdieforthis]

Sorry to use this account as a diary, but anyways, I've decided I'm gonna try and restart being weirdly nice to the point it seems like I take things too seriously or I'm overly friendly, I'd rather that than seeming apathetic and disingenuous

[astralnymphh]

Omg Ellie showing her kid savage starlight comics for the first time and geeking the fuck out when her kid loves it

♡♱— DON'T GET ME STARTED. this is what i mean by domestic!ellie being the best trope. she is quite literally the epitome of perfect parenting where bonding is stationed high upon a pedestal. can you imagine: nigh past midnight, a soft darkness blanketing each and every pane of glass, impelling the flash-lit orb brightening two expressions— one speckled, and one youthful— to sit in that gloaming. ellie had either indulged with excess enthusiasm or forgotten how swift time streaks by because the giggles and drama-worthy storytelling unquestionably narrated by she herself has kept her out of your shared bed— and in your child's. lain there, laxly tossed blanket to cover, limning the galactic world presented in the first savage starlight comic ellie was heavily (and obviously) disposed to read aloud. it does not matter how long you've been leaning against the doorframe, cracked just enough to contemplate every hand gesture, every vowel mouthed, every tooth that reveals under her tugging lips; heartfelt details emblematic of how much bliss this nighttime joy brings— why would you stop her now?

♡♱— in fact, it was so heartfelt, so moving, you quite literally begin to move towards the bed without the visible notice of ellie.. until the mattress begins to dip with your added weight sidling behind her turned body, "oh, is mama joinin' storytime?" snipping her last sentence to steer quiet attention towards you, who lifted heavying lids barely to catch the turn of her wrinkled-eye smile, and feel the gentle mount of her left hand nudging your thigh in little shakes; a comforting habit. "we we're just getting to the good part. actually, i think you'll remember this scene babe— however many times i read it to you."

too bad you fell asleep to even attempt remembering. ♡

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

[catboybiologist]

Okay maybe it's time to make an actual designated pinned post

Edit: hiya! A new pinned post will come, but quick note that I am starting my transition MtF now. This pinned post, and all the pictures in it, predate that, however. General guide is that I'm referring to pre transition me as a femboy, and will be referring to myself as a trans woman to moment I start HRT. But I'm leaving this old pinned post up for now.

Hi! I'm CatboyBiologist. I'm a grad student in Molecular Biology with a passion for the ocean, nature, Fromsoft games, national parks, and weird tech stuff. I tastefully hornypost about men, women, and all others (so be warned), post spicy hot memes (fuck you I'm the funniest mfer alive), type out long rambles about science and nature, and play Fromsoft games. PLEASE send me cute pictures of your pets.

Oh yeah, I'm also a cis man who does this sometimes:

I also make shitposts out of myself sometimes

I've also made a couple guides on how to replicate these kinds of looks.

General overview of femboy stuff:

How I create cleavage looks from a relatively flat chest:

If you want a somewhat more realistic idea of what my figure looks like:

The best way to specifically see those posts and filter out everything else is probably to use the femboy tag on my profile.

Pronouns? Uuuuuhhhhhhhhh, idk dude just use whatever. It's far more gratifying to me to throw a look out there and see what people wanna use for it than to declare my pronouns. If that doesn't make sense to you, they/them or he/him is cool.

Asks and DMs are always open for science talk, cute animal pictures, casual non creepy flirting, or whatever else... With the SOLE exception of these two questions that I get WAY too often and will give final answers to here:

"Are you a biologist who studies catboys or a biologist that just happens to be a Catboy?"

Both. Do humans not study human biology?

(also I'm actually studying bio irl)

"why is it not catboyologist, hmmm? I am very clever"

To give a serious answer to a joking question I get way too much: This online persona (or whatever you want to call it) is about balancing and integrating two large parts of my personality: my career in and passion for biology, and my queerness and gender nonconformity. I wanted both of those parts to be clear, in a cute and fun username. Basically, "catboyologist" only has the same effect as my actual username if you already know my actual username- you can't interpret the "biologist" part from "catboyologist".

Plus, "catboyologist" has too many consecutive wide vowels. CatboyBiologist breaks it up so it sounds punchier.

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tag, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

I'll also abuse other tags I use somewhat frequently, so hi y'all

[surshica]

hiiii! i cant stop thinking about your idea of a tutoring session with chishiya which leads to them kissing >.< if it is not gonna be in the smau in the future, maybe you could write a one shot about it please? thats what i wanted to request :p have a nice day!!

STARBURST !

request : chishiya x fem!reader (based on one of the alternatives of chishiya kissing yn for the first time)

genre : fluffy of the fluffy fluff

warnings : chishiya ooc — swearing — kissing yeah — lwk a lot of kissing. Like A LOT.

A/N : A PART OF ME WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN BUT I THINK I LIKE HOW I DID IT IN THE SMAU. but besides that THIS MADE ME GIGGLE WRITING ITTT; i’ve had this in mind and omg this request made me smile. love you anon<3 but for context for this chishiya and reader are friends already! its kinda a mess but WORD!! i trade off using you/your and she/her a lot here 🥸

— CHISHIYA x FEM!READER

ılıl﹔ ◌ 𓂂 ˳⁺ 🎓 ꯭ ⊹ ⋆ ࣪

you had knocked on the door, the grayish white door stood ominous infront of you. there was a slight shuffle from the otherside of the door, looking around you it was quiet. a little too quiet to your liking—chills were sent down your spine.

“chishiya hurry up..!” you growled knocking on the door again and again. “stop knocking you’ll wake up fucking cleopatra..” chishiya opened the door. his hair was in a messy ponytail while his bangs had small baby hairs sticking out. his demeanor was tired yet relaxed.

“good morning sleepyhead!” you grinned at the just woken up chishiya; he had only hummed before moving out the way to let you in, “welcome..” he groggled closing the door behind you. you wondered around his living room, “you know i never knew you were the type to be very decorative..” you hummed looking at the many photos of him with his friends and cats, “you seem like the type to be very bland.”

“first ouch..second it was all kuina, she made me add photos she said it looks like an asylum.” his left hand rested in his pocket as his right covered his mouth as he yawned. his eyes wandered her every move, it was like he was fascinated.

you stared at the amount of plushies he had lined up on his couch, “you must really like plushies” you smiled picking up a white cat plushie that had a pink bow, “marie from aristocats?” you questioned him holding the plushed cat to your chest. “yeah it was a gift from usagi.” he sighed.

“cute..” you mumbled under your breath bringing it with you to his room, “i’m ready to learn come on professor chishiya.” you joked walking to his room opening the door, he had followed behind her a-suit ”you know you are basically just giving me a tour of my own place, no shame seriously.” his lips formed an a line sitting down on one of the chairs near his desk, you sat on the rolling one while he sat on the plastic one.

“you are a smart student so i don’t understand why you need tutoring.” chishiya sighed as he watched you take out a notebook that had a very cute design as the cover, “aww that’s sweet coming from you~” you smiled, “i only need tutoring because i’m not strong in this subject and i wanted to spend time with you!” you proudly stated.

chishiya’s ears turned a little red but you weren’t paying attention much to it, clearing his throat “you aren’t good at english?” his eyebrow rose as you shrugged “yeah i mean..what the fuck are vowels and why is it needed.” she scoffed opening up her notebook to a page.

“it’s needed because it helps with speech and pronunciation.” chishiya laughed slightly, “there are 5 maybe 6 vowels that you need to remember. a e i o u and sometimes but not all the time y.” chishiya held up his fingers showing 6 up. you frowned “why is it sometimes y? why not all the time?” she tucked her hair behind her ear, “honestly i don’t know but it’s just sometimes y.”

he opened his notebook ripping out a page writing down a e i o u, there was some spacing between them—sliding the paper over to yn. “tell me what words you know with those letters. doesn’t have to start with it either.” chishiya rested his head on his hand, “for every word you can say correctly with that vowel you get an award but, for every wrong is a flick on your forehead.” he smiled like a cat

“well we can start off easy with a..there is apple!” you happily said as chishiya nodded handing you a piece of starburst. you happily unwrapped it putting it in your mouth, “mmm strawberry flavored.” you mumbled. chishiya pointed at the letter e, “how about the letter e? this one should be easy.”

“daisy!” you exclaimed waiting for the next starburst only to look at chishiya who held back a laugh. “daisy doesn’t have an e in it. it was a y.” he flicked your forehead, “try again.” you held your hand over the spot he flicked, “uhm early?” you said a little wary.

chishiya handed you another starburst, you quickly took it eating that piece. “hmm lemon!” you nodded as chishiya scored a little closer to you, you had side eyed him quickly before paying your attention to the way his hand traced the paper.

“how about u?” “your. and that goes for y as well.” you cheeky snarked. chishiya looked at you raising an eyebrow. “i feel as if they was some plot not actually tutoring..” he handed you two pieces of starburst, he scooted closer but you didn’t mind. his shoulder was basically brushing yours at this point.

you had looked at him quickly, his features were very angelic—you were in awe. “lets go i..what word for i?” he looked at you. you were too busy staring at him to even hear what he was saying.

the way his lips curled whenever was enough for you, “i is for i like you.” you smiled cupping his face in your palms planting a small soft kiss on his lips, you pulled away quickly. “does that count? i mean it’s a word.” she smiled tilting her head to the side.

“i’ll count it even though it’s a universal word..” chishiya had a soft peach like blush spread on his cheeks, he grabbed her by the waist pulling her onto him kissing her back, this felt like a hungry kiss—it was most definitely not like the soft feather like kiss you gave.

his arm wrapped around her waist as if he was protecting her. that kiss was lost in translation, the way his lips glided over yours and the way held you in his grip made you melt like butter.

your hands had wrapped around his neck as a smile was brought to his lips. he nibbled on your bottom lip causing a soft moan to escape from your lips. you broke off the kiss to catch a breath of air mistakenly leaving a room for one of chishiya’s remarks.

“you know i thought you needed help with your english..quite a twist.” he chuckled. “i didn’t need help with english i just wanted to have an excuse to be with you.” you admitted pulling chishiya closer to yourself.

there was a small silence where you and chishiya were just looking at eachother, “by the way you have so marks right here..let me help” you slyed smiled smashing your lips against his wasting no time at all.

ılıl﹔ ◌ 𓂂 ˳⁺ 🎓 ꯭ ⊹ ⋆ ࣪

tags — let me know if you want to be added

@nanamora @parkersmyth @trinmadol @noxceleste @eissaaaa @dr3amscap3 @arizzu @bwnniidump @kerenz @minyoungieee @saiewithakatana

[bananasomg]

Hi! Lestappen and #7 for the ficlet thingy you reblogged if you feel so inclined :)

hii!! tysm for sending me an ask for this fun ficlet post!! 🫶🏼

i love writing short scenes that pack a punch, and for all of these, i'm going with whatever initial spark comes to mind based on prompt and pairing. (:

THAT SAID—

#7. Lestappen: things you said while we were driving is below the cut. it's angsty and emotional and i hope you like it. ❤️

things you said while we were driving

Charles mutes the radio before tipping the seaside valet, Max’s mother and sister waving from the promenade as they pull away. He gives them a tight-lipped smile, not the crinkly-dimpled one Max is used to. 

He fucking hates it. The biting indifference.

Max watches Charles' grip tighten on the wheel, knuckles pale as he steers his Ferrari onto the street. The noon sun tangles in his hair, making it look even lighter from the passenger seat.

There’s a tremble in Charles’ arms that can’t be mistaken for track reverb. He’s not decked in red, helmet on, fighting understeer. He's wearing Max's favorite sweater and his signature baggy jeans. His rings glint in the light and he smells like bergamot, not sweat and just hours ago Max had kissed him over the console.

Now it’s quiet, and Charles can’t even look at him. A far cry from earlier when balmy air rushed through the cabin and the speakers came alive—Charles, body dancing to the beat, his giggly breath mixing with a guitar solo. Warmth that settled between their intertwined fingers. 

“Max, I—” Charles starts and stops abruptly. The vowels sound all wrong, a new air of finality that rings alarm bells in his head.

“Wait, please—” Max tries. He reaches for Charles’ thigh, an anchor to tell him that this tension isn’t immutable, but Charles blocks him by downshifting into second gear. Max can’t help the empty rattle in his lungs. 

Sorry I didn’t tell them I was scared Sorry I didn’t correct them I wasn’t ready I know we talked about it but when the time came I felt like I was going to die Sorry but I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Max begs his thoughts to break the silence, but his tongue won’t budge, lips refusing to form the shapes he needs to reassure Charles that he’s still in this. Still who he wants. Still the person he would choose day in and day out, no matter the consequences. No matter who knows.

Charles takes a deep breath. “No more. I can’t keep doing this.”

Max’s chest shudders, heart processing the words before his mind can catch up. His hand slips from Charles, fingers dangling in the cupholder. The rubber is still wet from the iced coffee Max had bought him for the drive this morning.

“This?” he asks, voice cracking. 

Max watches Charles’ throat bob, the downturned corners of his mouth, but he keeps his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, face blank. He looks older. Tired. Like he isn’t sure if this is right anymore, and there’s a certain sinking pit in Max’s stomach that feels an awful lot like an ending. 

“Pretending like we’re nothing more than friends.” Charles sighs, bites his bottom lip. “It’s worse than not having you.”

Max barely notices the sound torn from his throat, but Charles must because his shoulder stiffen, and his breath falters. He blows hot air through his teeth, snapping his head to look out the driver’s side window, eyes peeled on the boring Monaco harbor they’ve passed many times over. He can’t bring himself to look at Max, as if what he is about to say will hurt him more. As if after this, they won’t be able to salvage it. 

“It feels like you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed.” 

“Then why am I still your racing mate?”

“You’re not—” 

“But I am, Max!” 

Charles slams his palm on the wheel, and Max gasps at the sudden movement, the sharp anger in his jaw. He remains still for another minute before finally turning to face him. Max expects to see fury burning in his gaze, but what he sees is even worse— visceral anguish that cools into hard indifference. There’s no softness in his expression, no room for forgiveness.  

“We celebrated six months last week, and you still couldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“I will! I’ll call them right now.” Max grasps for anything to turn the tide. 

The way Charles scoffs, throws his head back like he just said the most unbelievable thing, slashes at his core. It hurts more than a physical blow. At least he knows how to recover from that. 

“No need. There’s nothing to tell them.” 

Charles slows to a crawl in front of Max’s flat. His eyes don’t linger on his mouth or scan the alley for a place to park. He shoots him the same media smile he gave his family—no sign of the tender moments or intimate touches they’ve exchanged. 

“See you on track, Max,” Charles says. 

It’s so final, his goodbye deliberate, leaving no room for contest. 

It’s one thing Max has always admired about him—when he puts his mind to something, he makes it happen, never backing down or swaying from his decision. But Max never planned for Charles to push him into the opponent’s court. To leave his body, weak and aching at the severance.

Max wishes he was driving. He’d yank the car into reverse, speed back to the restaurant and do it all over. This time he’d say, You remember Charles, of course. He’s my boyfriend. But it doesn’t work like that. 

He stands on the sidewalk, empty and bleeding, his only company the bitter realization that every chance to prove his love has slipped through his fingertips, leaving him with nothing but a hollow void. Max wants to call for him, beg him to come back, but he knows he can’t win a battle he’s already lost. Instead, he turns and walks inside as Charles drives away.

[olderthannetfic]

Just as different Spanish dialects vary wildly, often to the point of being different enough to warrant a dub, so too does Arabic. Anything made and produced in Morocco will have another non-Moroccan, usually Egyptian Standard Arabic dub. Why? Because Moroccan Arabic has borrowed so many words from indigenous Amazight languages and keeps shortening all their words and they speak SO DAMN FAST no one outside Morocco can understand what they're saying. The "fuck vowels, all my homies hat vowels, get that vowel out of there" alone is enough to make for a really thick accent even when they're trying their damnedest to speak Egyptian Standard Arabic.

The Moroccan government was hoping more access to the internet and standard Arabic media might make the dialect more "normal". Instead, I can happily attest that my classroom of beloved Moroccan gremlins have begun grabbing English slang from online. You have not lived until you hear a teenage boy in a knockoff "Ike" hoodie with half the Nike logo say he's "sadge" to his friends and look at you like, 'Eh? That's a cool word, right, Mr. Foreign Teacher? This is what cool English speakers say?'

It's not. But I will never tell him otherwise, because he looked so satisfied with himself and so accomplished. I adore these language-butchering babies with my entire heart.

--

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

open your mouth for me, sugar

NSFW (this is literally just porn) - part of the Steddie Upside-Down AU universe, but can be read as a standalone

“What are you doing, Munson?” Steve asks, tone teasing enough to keep away the sting of being last-named by his boyfriend.

The carpet’s rough against his knees where they show through the holes in his jeans as he slides forward far enough that he can pillow his head on Steve’s thigh. Steve’s jeans are scratchy, too. Eddie rubs his cheek against the denim, turning his head just enough to catch Steve’s tender gaze.

“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie replies. His cheeks instantly warm at the admission, but their bedroom lights are off, the only light that of the fading day filtering in through the curtains. Maybe Steve won’t notice.

As if in answer, Steve reaches out to caress Eddie’s cheek. He closes his eyes against the feeling, overwhelmed.

“Never done what?” Steve asks.

He runs his fingers up Eddie’s cheekbone and into his hair. His scalp tingles where Steve scratches at it. A high-pitched whine unwillingly slips out of his slack mouth as Steve’s fingers get caught in a tangle at the back of his head.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, opening his eyes just to drown in the dark pools of Steve’s eyes, pupils blown with need. Steve clenches his fist in Eddie’s curls and pulls.

“Never done what?” Steve asks, still pulling at the roots of Eddie’s hair.

Eddie can’t think past the fire on his scalp and the way it somehow flows through his veins straight into his cock. “You know what.” He tries to modulate his voice, but it comes out breathy and desperate.

When they’d first talked about sex, he’d told himself that he’d play it cool. He’d be suave, and sexy, and seduce Steve right off his feet. He should’ve known that one touch from Steve’s wanting hands would be his undoing.

Steve’s smiling down at him, full of sharp edges and sharper teeth. “No, I don’t know,” he says around a smirk. “Why don’t you tell me?”

What comes out of Eddie’s mouth is less words and more a string of consonants and vowels that hold no meaning whatsoever. Because Steve’s not even blinking, and his grip is almost too firm, and if he doesn’t suck Steve Harrington’s dick right now, he might actually die. 

“What was that?” Steve prompts, and it’s all cock-sure King Steve fucking Harrington. He’s never been more in love.

God, this is tripping into so many of Eddie’s forbidden dirty fantasies from before King Steve had become his Angel. Eddie wonders, half-dazed as he inches his cheek closer to the bulge in Steve’s tight jeans, if he can convince Steve to fool around beneath the bleachers before they graduate. Or in the locker room, the boy’s bathroom, on his throne during Hellfire, he’s not picky.

Steve’s still smirking at him with an eyebrow raised, so Eddie moves forward even further. Close enough to exhale slow, hot breath against Steve’s clothed dick as he says, “wanna suck you off.”

He punctuates the request with an open-mouthed kiss to Steve’s bulge. The denim’s rough against Eddie’s tongue and doesn’t taste like much at all. He sucks on the spot, lets all the moisture in his mouth soak into the fabric as he looks up to meet Steve’s hooded gaze.

Holier than thou King Steve has fallen away and something even more holy is left in his place. It’s just Steve, bathed in the dim light of Eddie’s lamp, mouth open and gasping, as he presses Eddie’s face down into his crotch, two points of color high on each cheek.

He wants to draw the scene, paint it in acrylics, snap a photo. He wants to die in this moment, the only points of contact Steve’s hand in his hair and Eddie’s mouth on his dick.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, rolling his hips gently up and onto Eddie’s tongue. Eddie nods, lets his mouth trail up the shaft, unerringly toward Steve’s fly. “Take what you want, Loverboy”

He noses beneath Steve’s loose t-shirt, breathing already shaky as he breathes him in. He smells like skin, and their laundry detergent, and a little bit like sweat. Eddie wants to devour him.

Eddie bites into the soft skin of Steve’s stomach until he gasps, then lathes the spot with his tongue. His view’s obscured by the hem of Steve’s shirt, so he follows the sounds his angel makes moving down, down, down, sucking and licking and biting until his tongue is licking beneath the waistband of his jeans, straining to get lower.

“Eddie, please,” Steve breathes as he presses Eddie’s head down again, like he can’t help himself.

Eddie laughs, hot breath hitting Steve’s damp skin as he squirms on the bed. He pulls back to look up at Steve, pushing against the restraining grip in his hair until his hands gentle in Eddie’s curls.

Eddie’s barely touched him, and Steve looks wrecked; his bottom lip’s bitten raw, his eyes are black with lust, and he’s panting like there’s a Demogorgon on his heels.

Eddie smooths his hands up and down Steve’s thighs like he’s soothing a spooked horse as Steve shudders above him. “Please what?” Eddie asks, watching with reverence as Steve’s frustration battles with his mounting need.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs, throat clicking around words that don’t quite make it out of his mouth. Eddie licks his lips, ready to wait him out no matter how much his jaw aches with need, or how hard his own dick is confined in his jeans.

“Please suck my dick,” Steve breathes, fingers clenching into the mussed sheets at the edge of their bed. 

“Of course, Angel,” Eddie says, smiling up at him.

Unable to help himself, he crowds closer, wedging himself firmly between Steve’s parted knees, begging for a kiss.

Steve doesn’t disappoint. He leans down, arms coming around Eddie to pull him closer still as their lips connect. Eddie sucks Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down until Steve shudders, mouth gasping open.

Eddie swipes his tongue in, just barely delving into the warmth of Steve’s mouth. He shuffles closer, trying to meld their bodies together as Steve retaliates, licking into Eddie’s mouth with singular focus.

Eddie can’t help himself. He sucks down, hard on Steve’s tongue, reaching around to grasp his ass, forcing him to grind against Eddie’s stomach. He does again, and again, and again, following Eddie’s guiding hands like he was born for it.

His goal had been to make Steve desperate, but the feel of his angel, hot and wanting against him has Eddie disconnecting their mouths with a gasp.

He barely hears Steve’s whine as he untangles his arms from their embrace and shuffles back just enough to fumble with Steve’s belt. He’d been planning to go for suave, sure hands unbuckling Steve’s belt and maybe pulling down his underwear using his teeth as Steve begs above him.

But they’ve barely started, and Eddie’s hands are shaking with need. The sound of Steve’s belt clacking against itself is loud as it echoes through the room, silent aside from their breathless panting.

Eddie pulls the zipper down and stuffs his hand into Steve’s underwear. It’s a tight squeeze, and his wrist ends up at an awkward angle as he grasps Steve’s dick, but he’s thrown his head back on a sigh. Eddie looks up at Steve to find the light of the dwindling sun filtering in through the curtain, painting his closed eyelashes in golden light.

“Angel,” Eddie says, soft and reverent.

Steve sighs, eyes cracking open to slits, black with  lust as he gazes down at Eddie. Eddie moves his hand up and down, slow against the dry skin beneath his palm. Steve fists the sheets again. Eddie watches the play of tendons and muscles, clenching and unclenching beneath the skin of his forearms.

Eddie wants to break him.

He loosens his fist, trailing just his fingertips against the warm skin of Steve’s dick as best as he can in the tight confines of his underwear. Steve whines, loud and wanton and needy. Eddie wants to record the sound and play it on loop until the tape disintegrates. He wants to record a song with it, be buried listening to it. He wants to make Steve make that noise again.

Eddie trails his hand down, wrist aching as he rubs Steve’s balls one after another. Steve sighs, thrusting forward on the bed, begging without words for Eddie to touch him firmly, just where he wants.

He doesn’t.

Eddie trails his fingers back up, as light as he can, barely a tickle against Steve’s skin, until Steve’s mouth’s puckered up and his eyebrows are furrowed against his mounting frustration. He thrusts forward again, but Eddie moves with him, still barely touching. Steve whines again, and Eddie shudders, harder than he’s ever been.

“Eddie, please,” Steve moans, eyes dropping closed as his hips unwillingly jerk forward.

That’s all it takes. Eddie pulls his hand free, chafing the back of his hand against the open fly of Steve’s jeans. He doesn’t care, barely even notices as he yanks Steve’s pants and underwear down, Steve raising his ass to help. Eddie trails his fingers down Steve’s flexing thighs, taut calves as he pushes them down, picking each of Steve’s feet up gently as he pulls them off entirely, tossing them somewhere behind him.

Steve’s bare from the waist down. That’s not enough for Eddie, so he reaches out, pushing Steve’s shirt up until he gets with the program and pulls it off entirely.

Steve Harrington sits on the bed that they share, haloed in the golden light of the setting sun, beautiful in all his naked glory. Eddie trails his eyes over arms, pectorals, the gentle softness of his stomach like he’s never seen them before.

In a way, he hasn’t. Not like this, with Steve gazing back with that same wanting fire in his eyes.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie says, running his palms up Steve’s bare thighs.

Steve’s eyes close, and he whispers something that sounds a lot like please, wriggling his hips in search of the slightest friction.

Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s ruddy, erect dick before he’s got his mouth on it, sinking down like a drowning man.

He chokes, immediate and all-consuming until Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s mussed curls and pulls him up and off.

His eyes are watering as Steve uses his grip on Eddie’s hair to pull his head up and meet his gaze. “Slow, Baby,” Steve says, pupils blown all to shit.

Eddie nods, frantic, still, to get his mouth on Steve. He’d barely had a taste.

When Steve loosens his hold, Eddie looks back down at his dick, taking stock of the terrain like an explorer on new land. It’s shorter than Eddie’s but girthier and flushed such a deep red at the tip that Eddie thinks it must hurt.

Eddie licks the head. Steve groans, so Eddie does it again, memorizing his taste. It’s musky and warm with just a hint of salt from the precome already leaking from his tip.

He licks down the side, sucking along the shaft, mapping the textures with his tongue. Steve’s hips are making abortive little thrusts.

Eddie licks back up, and puts his mouth on Steve again, just the tip this time, Steve’s command of slow, Baby ringing through his head as he sucks.

But Steve’s still squirming, and he sinks down a little farther, tongue swirling around all the skin he can reach.

He’s never felt closer to god than in this moment, with his own personal angel bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, cock hard and wanting in Eddie’s mouth. He’s always heard you're supposed to pray on your knees, and the carpet digging into his skin can be his penance.

Eddie stays there for an endless moment, sucking on Steve’s dick, lost in the sensations playing against his tongue. But then Steve grips his hair by the root and every nerve ending Eddie has lights up. He moans, hips twitching as his own dick gets somehow even harder in the confines of his jeans.

Steve curses, vehement and filthy, as he says, “fuck, Eddie your mouth,” and uses his grip on Eddie’s hair to push him down a little farther.

The head of Steve’s cock hits the back of Eddie’s tongue, and he gags around it for a second until Steve pulls him back until it’s just the tip in his mouth again. Eddie whines, and it must feel good because Steve grips his hair even harder and pushes Eddie’s head back down again.

Eddie’s jaw strains around the girth of Steve’s cock, he’s starting to get light-headed as he tries to breathe through only his nose, and he’s one wrong thrust away from gagging again.

He’s never been more turned on in his life.

Steve resists for a second as Eddie tries to lean away, hand clenching almost painfully in his hair before he shakes it free and clenches it back into the sheets instead like he needs something to hold onto.

Eddie’s resistant too, sucking from root to head until it drops from his mouth with a suctioning pop. Eddie looks at it, rapturous. It’s obscenely wet with his spit, and it’s bobbing as Steve flexes his hips like he’s still seeking out the warmth of Eddie’s wanting mouth.

“Please, please, please,” Steve chants, like he’s the one worshiping here, and that won’t do.

“Look at me,” Eddie demands, waiting for Steve’s dark eyes to meet his before he holds up his palm and spits into it, letting the glob of saliva pool in the cup of his palm.

Steve shudders, eyes fluttering closed for a second before he pries them back open to meet Eddie’s gaze once more. Eddie reaches his wet hand out to wrap around the base of Steve’s dick, squeezing hard as he pumps him up and down, once, twice, thrice, Steve writhes above him.

“Keep looking at me,” Eddie commands, and Steve does, eyelashes barely fluttering as Eddie leans forward to sink his mouth back onto Steve’s cock, never stopping the movement of his hand.

It takes a minute for his mouth and hand to move in tandem, all beneath his angel’s wonton gaze. His mouth’s dropped open, and his thighs are twitching like he wants to thrust and take.

Eddie twines his free hand with one of Steve’s, pausing his ministrations as he unclenches Steve’s fingers from the tangled sheets to fist it in the hair at the base of his skull before dropping his hand back to clench against his own thigh.

Steve groans and uses his tight grip on Eddie’s curls to bring Eddie’s head down on his cock again, thrusting his hips up off the bed at the same time. Eddie’s downward slide is stopped when his lips connect with his own hand, still fisted around Steve’s cock.

“Sorry,” Steve says, stilling his hips and pulling Eddie’s head back up before loosening his grip on Eddie’s curls. 

Desperate to not lose this connection, Eddie reaches back behind his own head to clench down around Steve’s hand, hard, forcing his fingers to fist back into Eddie’s hair. Steve’s mouth’s dropped open and he’s panting but he’s still not doing anything. Eddie reaches behind Steve to pull at his ass, forcing him to grind forward into Eddie’s wanting mouth.

He moans, watching in real time as all of Steve’s restraint snaps.

He pulls Eddie back by his hair, then thrusts into his mouth again, pulling Eddie’s head down with the movement until his mouth’s nestled against his own hand again. Eddie gives a few half-hearted jerks of his wrist around the base of Steve’s cock, but then Steve thrusts again, and again, and again, and he loses the plot entirely.

It's all Eddie can do to keep his teeth back and keep sucking as Steve picks up momentum, their shitty mattress squeaking at every roll of his hips.

Desperate and aching, Eddie’s own hips start moving, trying desperately to get any friction at all against his aching cock. He whines around Steve’s dick, hips flexing uselessly against air.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve says, and then Steve’s leg is pressed up against Eddie’s groin. “Take what you need.”

He does, movements stilted as he writhes against Steve’s leg as his angel fucks up into his mouth. It almost hurts as he rubs his dick against the inside of his jeans, friction rubbing him raw. He feels like a dog in heat, lost to the salty skin on his tongue, and the feel of Steve’s leg against his dick. Nothing’s ever felt better.

But then Steve’s thrusts grow rougher, something desperate in the way he grinds Eddie’s head down, and he mutters, “shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna—” right before he spills, hot and salty into Eddie’s mouth.

It’s almost overwhelming, a musty tang on Eddie’s tongue that should gross him out. But Steve Harrington’s just come in his mouth, cock twitching futilely as it softens, so he swallows it down like it’s the elixir of life itself.

Steve’s hips still, and his hand gentles in Eddie’s hair, smoothing it down as he gasps for breath. Eddie, still more wild animal than man, sucks on his mouthful of softening cock as he thrusts his own dick more firmly against Steve’s leg.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve says, pushing his leg against Eddie’s groin, meeting him thrust for thrust as Eddie teeters ever closer to his own orgasm. “Come for me.”

Eddie shudders, on the precipice from Steve’s words, but that’s not what does him in, even as his dick leaks freely into his jeans, begging for release.

He continues grinding, desperate as he looks up to meet Steve’s eyes, and finds Steve looking back, like he’d never stopped after Eddie’d ordered him to watch. That’s what sends him tumbling over the edge, groaning around Steve’s soft dick as he spills into his jeans.

It takes a long time for Eddie to resurface, head still buried in Steve’s groin, dick in his mouth, leg still between his own knees. He gives one tiny suck that has Steve shivering before releasing him, kissing the head before leaning back far enough to meet his angel’s eyes.

“Well?” Eddie asks, surprised at the gruffness of his own voice. “How did I do?”

Steve smiles down at him as he replies, “no way that was your first time.” Steve’s fingers have softened in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as they both catch their breath.

Eddie grins back, reaching to force Steve’s hand back into a fist in his curls. “That was all you,” he says, tickled as a blush blooms across Steve’s cheeks. “Besides, it’s easy to fall on my knees for you, Angel.” That’s what finally, after all this time, gets Steve to look away, blush turning splotchy and red and spreading down his neck. “You’re worth worshiping.”

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, shoving Eddie away.

Eddie just laughs, knees protesting the change in position as he stands long enough to shuffle onto the bed beside Steve, who follows him willingly down, legs dangling awkwardly off the end.

His spunk’s drying uncomfortably in his jeans, he’s got carpet burn on both of his knees, but Steve Harrington’s lying naked and sated next to him, face pressed into the juncture of Eddie’s armpit like that’s not the grossest thing in the world.

He’ll die down there, on his knees, if Steve lets him, worshiping at the pedestal of his angel. But that’s a lot to shove on Steve after such a rigorous workout so all he says is, “Want to go again?”

Thanks to @queenie-ofthe-void for editing, and especially wrangling the pronouns and names into something worth reading. <3

[theoldoor]

I sometimes ask myself (WIP FOR THE REF SHEET BELOW)

“Khang!! Why don’t you ship Aventio/Raturine/Golden Ratio??? Theyre literally YOUR kinda trope! You’d die for the same troupe and you cried over multiple other ships that has the same dynamic!!”

And i do ask myself what is it about aventurine and dr ratio that separates them from the other ships of the same trope that i would defend with my life, but after months and months of wondering “why do i feel like theyre awfully platonic” “why cant i see them romantically like the other ships of the same trope” i have come to an conclusion that dr ratio and aventurine hits too close to home w me and that one bro that i love with my life platonically and i am projecting onto the two of them

And also Dr Ratio is ugly

But anyways back to oc x canon shit ft. My genshin oc from 2020 - prof. Solias lehto of engineering. He was made for sumeru before the region was released…. …

Sol is basically borderline ruan mei, he dgaf, he is putting himself in 20 pounds of radiation if it means he makes a new weapon for fun. He wanted to ascend to an archon-hood through mechanical works or some shit, fucked up humanity and is working for the fatui, making them weapons yadayada for the fun of it and they allow him to.

He occasionally visits the quarters to distribute his silly little gadgets for testing (he made sure it was safe before putting to test) and thats when he met childe and they became best buddies because makes weapons x uses and breaks them and theyre both insane so it works i guess. And he learn first aid + pursuing medicine in Sumeru just so that he can tend to childe’s wounds because test subject + he cares for him.

Despite this, he doesnt agree with Dottore work ethics as he has a personal moral code for humans. He would never test dangerous things on others, he would do it on himself. (Learnt it the hard way after he accidentally lobotomized his twin brother)

Same pose… same almost dynamic… two different games… im cooked….

.l…..

Ok back on rambling, here’s some post-talia fenrir.

He was Dr Ratio’s student to gain the elementary foundation before heading off to pursue linguistic and literature. He would earn a doctorate pretty soon after cuz he lowk a freak with languages and now he’s teaching alongside Dr Ratio too. They are not in the IPC together, but the organization that Fenrir is in often collab with the Intelligentsia Guild so basically, he’s the honorary IPC member.

Fenrir sometimes nag the doctor to let him join the Guild, even threatening with the invitation from The Riddlers (he did join them but Dr Ratio doesnt know yet)

The students under Fenrir does noticed a competitive undertone/tension between the two doctors, but not many knew about their past together. Its a funny thing. They would often compare their students achievements for fun too.

the strict teacher x the teacher people thought were a student

God i want them dead too theyre like evil eifenturine

As a token of thanks, Fenrir dedicated almost 89% of his research to the Avgin-Sigonian dialect for Aventurine and chose to study the language as his dissertation. It was a little funny thing as people keep seeing ihm around the strategic investment department trying to butter up aventurine and was like “what the fuck is this guy doing here bro” and bawm in like 4 months or smth a piece of linguistic and archeology research was birthed

I dont know if i want it angsty or not, but for this i’d want aventurine to be happy that his heritage is finally being recognized and. He’d often tease Fenrir by repeating some of the rambling that fenrir always repeats when talking to Aventurine in Avgin-Sigonian, like little mumble

“okay so avgin sigonian has two diphthongs… from the way he’s speaking they’re normally in stressed syllables… hmm…. And they make morphological alternations with the mid vowels /e/ and /o/….”

This is a joke doodle, THIS IS A JOKEEEE

[blue-thief]

kaisagi learning each other's languages

i've been learning japanese (at a VERY slow pace) for over 2 years now, and i just started learning german a month ago. so i started wondering what kind of bullshit would ensue with kaiser learning japanese and isagi learning german lol

(they either both know/learn english first or they were able to hold onto the translators they were given during the NEL)

kaiser learning japanese

he would have a pretty minimal accent from the beginning

and he would catch onto katakana and hiragana quickly

he would SUCK at kanji though

🥀: "ta-dah! i wrote 'dog'." (犬)

🌱: "nope. that's 'thick'." (太)

🥀: "BITCH-"

isagi can't take kaiser seriously whenever he speaks japanese

back during the NEL, kaiser speech always translated into really rough and informal japanese (i swear he says クソ/kuso/fuck in literally every chapter he shows up in 💀)

now that he's actually starting to learn, he has to start with keigo, so his speech is super formal and polite

🥀: (reading from a textbook) "トイレはどこですか?"/"toire wa doko desuka?"/"where is the washroom?"

🌱: (losing his shit) " 'ですか' ??????😭😭😭"/"desuka??????"/(basically indicates that something is a question in polite language)

kaiser would flex his skills by reading the back of ramen packs

he still can't read the kanji though

🥀: "something something NI O...yu? 450 ml WO YO KU something DOU SA SE, MEN WO... that character means 'enter', right? RE TE HO GU SHI NA GA RA four minutes? YU DE TE KUDASAI. MEN NO YU DE- oh i know how to read this kanji! JIKAN WA O- oh, another one i can actually read! SU MI NI YORI something something SHI TE KUDASAI!!!"

🌱: "...that's great, micha."

isagi learning german

japanese doesn't have articles (the/a/an)

imagine how much isagi struggles with GENDERED articles

🌱: "...der Wurst-"

🥀: "it's 'die Wurst'."

🌱: "WTF DO YOU MEAN SAUSAGE ISN'T MASCULINE???"

german has so many consonant and vowel sounds that japanese doesn't, so isagi would struggle soo much with pronunciation

out of frustration he'd find a bunch of movies, tv shows, and bands so he can get familiar with the sounds of the language

he also starts following a bunch of german ppl on social media to familiarize himself with the slang and the memes

he catches on quickly and becomes an absolute menace online

kaiser had to intervene every now and then to make sure he doesn't post anything TOO vulgar

you know it's bad when MICHAEL KAISER has to censor you

the only reason why people can even tell that isagi isn't a native speaker is the fact that he doesn't even try to get articles right

🌱: "i'm a man, so i'll use masculine language."

🥀: "that's not how that works-"

isagi has unknowingly gotten into beef with ness' alt account a few times

[gard3nias]

11| An overly ambitious hedonistic seductress

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wc: 6.04k

date: 24/08/2024

quick summary: sunday; the five friends meet up for their school project; daphne suspects there is more going on between cleo and nick; little gossip time with asher

mdi // masterlist // playlist

—Now playing: Ti vorrei sollevare by Elisa, Giuliano Sangiorgi ✫

Sunday and, just as the name implies, it was a sunny day and the soft breeze of the town never failed to be present. However, as autumn approached, the mornings felt colder, prompting people to grab sweaters and blankets. The chill slowly dissipated as the day progressed, and by noon, temperatures returned to the usual comfortable levels of the summer. Today, unsurprisingly, temperatures rose even further in the afternoon, encouraging everyone to spend more time outdoors to avoid using air conditioners and fans.

Daphne and Cleo's neighbourhood is always silent, having barely any household containing little children who could be playing in their gardens. The only 'disturbance' came from barking dogs, chainsaws, the hammering from workshops or the buzzing sound of tractors from the neighbouring farms.

The neighbours obviously didn't expect they would hear the hysterical laughs of teenagers, the exhausted screams of another teenager and the overall chaos coming from Cleo's home.

She'd laid out her warnings the previous day: "I have a lot of cats"—two cats in reality but she didn't want to specify just to scare them—"My brother hates noise and messy environments" she stated, firmly advising them to leave their childishness at home when coming. Still, everyone knows that giving a piece of advice is useful only if the receiver takes it into consideration.

The five friends were all downstairs in her living room and they were planning on studying outside in her backyard because of the heat so the only thing left to do was take their things outside but suddenly a supposedly five-minute thing started taking way longer than she'd ever wish.

"Damn. The fridge is full as fuck! How many people are living here?" James asked, checking out the contents of the piece of furniture. He was unaware of the mini heart attack his words gave his friend. "Don't!— Don't touch the fridge. If you need anything, tell me. We went grocery shopping just yesterday and my brother eats a lot," she dragged the vowel to enhance the word and seriousness, "So no. If y'all feel hungry, just tell me." The warning was enough for the boys to lift their hands in surrender and back away from the fridge Cleo had just violently closed and was guarding with her whole body.

The girl sighed in relief, glad to have solved the issue only for her eyes to bulge out of their sockets again when she saw Nick approach her fireplace where, upon the sill, were family pictures, most especially, her childhood pictures. Why the fuck didn't she think about removing them earlier?

"Back off, Dominic!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him. The use of his full name had him on alert since it was rare but soon he understood her body language and what she was trying to hide as a mischievous smirk rose on his face. "Oh my God. You don't want me to see baby Cleo's photos?" he excitedly teased, seeing the shift in her as he understood her intentions.

"Nick, I swear to God if you dare— Nick!" she screamed when he made his first attempt to outsmart and pass her. "Nick, please," she begged, her tone wavered between a laugh and a cry because he was laughing at her distress. "They're just pictures and you're cute as fuck now so one can't imagine how cuter you were when you were a baby," he explained in a slightly more serious tone as he tried to understand the real reason behind her worry.

"I don't care and it's not true—"

"It's not true?"

In the meantime, James continued his tour of the floor without attempting to touch any food or object, Asher was tangled in the paws of Cinnamon and Lily while Daphne simply laughed at the scene as she recorded everything.

"I never knew I'd be the heartthrob of cats," he commented, surprised at their grip on his clothes whenever he wanted to detach them from himself. Daphne didn't do anything about it, having no type of experience with cats and most especially, enjoying the new memory that would occupy space in her phone.

"Pose." She finally spoke after laughing for way too much according to Asher. "What do you mean pose?"

"Pose for a picture," she simply repeated like it was obvious. She had to insist a bit more before he complied and posed, forcing a smile through the pain as she compelled herself to take good pictures before bursting into laughs again. This would be good content for her to upload to her Instagram stories and add to her new highlight dedicated to her friends—it already contained a few things thanks to Cleo's tags. And, exactly, she left to do so, leaving Asher in his despair while she lay on the couch to edit the picture with a few doodles and tagging everyone present.

Nick and Cleo had finished their little fight of resistance and the boy was now holding one of the pictures, congratulating Cleo for being a very cute baby while the girl simply stood next to him, checking if the picture was too bad for her, rolling her eyes at the compliments as she held her smiles back and eagerly begging him to stop satisfying his curiosity.

James had finished the tour of the floor and was now bored and that was when he remembered why they were there in the first place. "Hey, guys. Let's hurry and take what we need to study," his words froze the place up. Daphne moved her eyes onto him, Asher stopped struggling with the cats and Nick and Cleo stopped their activity, simultaneously turning around to look at the speaker. "James? Everything all right?" Asher broke the ice.

"Yeah like... you fine?" Daphne joined. Nick and Cleo nodded when the respondent turned in their direction since he was so confused and looking for clarification.

"What?" he asked, receiving no reply for a few seconds before Daphne spoke again, "We're just surprised you of all people suggested that."

"Yep, surprised,"

"Super surprised," Cleo and Nick added right after her. James simply rolled his eyes, realising he was getting worried over nothing.

"What the fuck guys? I thought it was something serious—"

"Oh, he was going to be serious—"

"Asher!" And everyone laughed. James still rolled his eyes and went on with his life while the rest stopped playing around and got up to do what they initially had to do.

"Cleo? Imma need you to come get your fur balls off me. I'm losing my shit. Thank goodness I ain't allergic to their fur. I would've been dead by now."

It was a five-minute thing, taking every book and device they needed. It was almost a twenty-minute thing, taking Cinnamon and Lily off Asher who fought against wailing like a baby in frustration. And that's how they found themselves sitting around the white table they moved to the garden under the protection of the wide white umbrella standing through its centre.

Cleo's home never hosted these many people. Ever since she was a child, the only companion she had with her was her brother, her father and, briefly, her mother. She'd known Nick, James and Asher since middle school but never had she invited them over because the thought never crossed her mind—and also they already spent a lot of time together considering their moments in class and at practice after school. Regardless if she wanted to hang out with them, they would opt for a destination in town, not anyone's home.

Today, when her neighbours peered out their windows into Cleo's garden, they were greeted with an unfamiliar sight: five people sitting around a white table. Usually, when they spotted Cleo in the garden, she would either be playing with her brother, helping him out with something, swinging on the swing hanging from the big tree, or playing with her cats—certainly not whatever she was doing now.

Barely a month had passed since Daphne had moved here permanently so the images of her reading in her garden weren't long-lost memories to the neighbours anymore but rather part of their routine since Daphne had always been reading there since she came back.

When they would look out of their window and into her garden, they'd find her there, sitting and reading peacefully. The only thing changing day by day was her clothing which would get thicker as the temperatures went down and autumn approached.

They didn't know that the five people in Cleo's garden had decided to meet for school reasons although one could deduct it by noticing the books filling the table and the focus painting the expressions of the teenagers.

One could also deduct that James gave no fucks about school and has a hard time staying focused for too long hence the phone in his hands while the rest were working. He had a leg bent over the other with arms crossed and a subtle frown on his face peeking through his blonde hair strands.

They hadn't even studied for an hour and little James was already out of it. He'd sighed many times by now, gaining Asher's side glances the whole time. James couldn't notice that. The only thing he knew was that his friends were boring, this was boring, life was boring and he couldn't bear it any longer. He even looked in Nick's direction, his usual partner in crime, only to find him focused on working, leaving him shocked.

"Isn't it time to like... have a little break?" he suggested only to receive silence as an answer from all of them. They didn't notice him except for Asher who didn't hold back from rolling his eyes. He had to repeat his question a second time before someone other than Asher answered him or, better, looked in his direction at all.

"It's barely been an hour. What are you talking about?" Cleo questioned with an eyebrow lifted. "It's funnier if you remember that he was the one that encouraged us to come out and study," Asher butted in, gaining an eye roll from James.

"Sorry, I can't stay focused for too long. I'm not as braindead as you are," he spoke directly to Asher who took his glasses off, slightly annoyed at the remark.

"You call having a long attention span being braindead? It literally proves that you're the one who's braindead because you don't know what the word itself means and trust me that anyone could appear 'braindead' to you because you can only stay focused for two minutes,"

"Okay, okay. Let's end it there. You wanna take a break? Let's take a break but then you'll have to seriously work later," Daphne interrupted, getting rid of the ponytail that was already stressing her sensitive skull.

James wasn't bothered in the slightest by Asher's words since he'd got what he'd been wishing for so he simply stood up and headed to the kitchen with Cleo running behind him to make sure he wouldn't empty the fridge.

"Be a bit nicer, yes?" Daphne was now speaking to Asher who simply rolled his eyes and got up, leaving her without any reply. She was a bit baffled just as Nick by her right with whom she exchanged looks of confusion before they too got up and went inside.

—Now playing: Beautiful by Lana Del Rey ✫

Once they got to the kitchen, they found James and Cleo arguing about what they could have to eat and, being already a bit annoyed, Daphne made them settle down and excused all of them out of the kitchen so she could handle it herself. Cleo didn't object and grabbed the chance to play outside with only James and Nick because Asher didn't look down for any type of physical activity—maybe only if it meant he could go back home.

He didn't budge from his position, leaning on the counter with legs and arms crossed and staring into nothing. Daphne, on the other end, was busy exploring Cleo's kitchen to understand where to find what.

She wanted to make some sandwiches and was having a hard time finding the pack of sliced bread they'd bought the previous day. She'd already gathered the filling onto the counter ignoring Asher's presence who had stopped staring into nothing and was now looking at Daphne most especially because she had succeeded in finding the sliced bread but it was in the cupboard, a bit too high away—not the cupboard itself because the pack was placed on the top layer.

"They most likely placed it here on purpose 'cause there's no way," she mumbled to herself and she kept jumping, pinching the packet closer and closer to the edge. She'd already jumped a few too many times to her liking especially because she hoped Asher would help her out but it seemed like he was in the mood to hold grudges against her as if she'd wronged him in any way.

She initially felt good because the packet was getting closer and closer and she would manage to get it without his help but her moment of glory was shut down when she accidentally pushed in instead of pinching it closer. When she noticed, she stopped jumping, looked up at the packet and stared in disbelief.

That was when she heard Asher chuckle behind her. Never had she snapped her head around this fast to glare at someone and never had he hid his smile so quickly.

"Were you just laughing?" she questioned, eyebrow slightly lifted and eyes glaring holes in his figure. "Why would you think that?" he questioned back, mirroring her facial expressions.

Daphne wasn't hallucinating, she heard him clearly laughing in her moment of distress and he was now denying it, denying to had been behaving like a bitch because she told him to tune it down.

Yes. She wasn't hallucinating because he indeed was chuckling since he purposely let her struggle for a bit just because he felt like it. He wasn't that immature. Yes, she scolded him a bit and yes, he was a bit harsh but no, he wasn't going to act like a bitch about it. He would've let her struggle even on the best of his days. The only person who could get him back to being annoyed was James and, at the moment, he wasn't there.

Right now, he was staring dead into Daphne's eyes and she did the same with him. The tension between them soon faded away when they both got the cue that it was all in good fun but Nick didn't know this when he walked in to have a glass of water.

The room was so silent and his friends were staring at each other, both with arms and legs crossed and a crooked eyebrow. "Nice staring contest," he thought to himself and he served himself with the glass of water.

Daphne and Asher, on the other end, struggled to hold back their laughs as they could hear Nick's loud gulping sounds. Asher could see it on her face just as she could see it on his that a smile tried to creep up but they would race against the clock to suppress it. They could see it in each other's eyes, the panting, the sweat and the fatigue the race caused them but soon everything resulted to being in vain when Nick let out the loudest burp right after emptying the glass.

Asher immediately burst into laughter while Daphne's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and rolled onto the floor at the loud sound. Yeah, it was very loud.

"Jesus Christ, Nick. It's just water," she said, laughing at the situation but also Asher's loud laugh and crumbling figure in front of her.

Nick simply smiled as he rinsed the glass and kept it back to where he found it. "Y'all never heard anyone burp before?" he simply asked, seeing how they were losing their shit.

"Nick? That was exceptionally loud especially since you drank ordinary water. Imagine if you had drunk sparkling water," Daphne explained—to be honest, she struggled to explain that because every word that left her mouth would simply increase Asher's laughter's pitch and volume. Nick didn't reply, smiling at how hilarious Asher sounded before going back outside.

"What the fuck?" Daphne asked in disbelief before repeating her question when she saw that Asher had fully turned red and seemed really in need of help.

"Hey, hey! Young man!" she called. His laughter's pitch and volume had vanished as he was silently laughing now, tightly holding onto his stomach—nothing is deadlier than that shit. "This bitch is on the verge of dying, jeez," she laughed, staring at him in hopes he would stop.

He did, a few seconds later but he did and when he came down, he took in a huge amount of air before letting it all out to ease the feeling of his contracted abdomen.

"A burp... almost killed you," Daphne joked, watching him get back up, "Wouldn't have minded anyway because it would have been your karma," she added.

"My karma? For what?"

"For fucking ignoring me and letting me make a fool of myself as I tried to take that fucking pack of sliced bread just because I scolded you a bit before!" she explained, gasping as she saw him start laughing once more.

"Ok. Yes, it's like you're really trying to kill me with laughter and no, I wasn't ignoring you for that. I would ignore you on any day. Your scolding has nothing to do with it. I was having my own type of fun," and Daphne gasped, reaching over to smack his arm as he laughed and finally complied to help her take the packet and make the sandwiches. As background music were the screams and laughs coming from Cleo's garden.

Soon, their conversation moved on to school subjects regarding their project and most especially the campaign. Asher confessed to being interested in running in the campaign but he would only entertain the idea the following year as a senior as he didn't feel ready yet.

Daphne grabbed the chance to ask him what were the requirements for such and even asked if he was interested in becoming the class president.

Their conversation was cut short by the loud scream coming from the garden. It was so loud Asher worried James or Nick had hurt Cleo somehow. Daphne, however, did not share his concern at first, but she still hurried behind him when he dashed out. They both froze when they saw Cleo and Nick wrestling over a ball, with James confused in a corner not knowing if to join in or separate them.

"Erm?" Daphne asked, side-eyeing Asher who simply rolled his eyes again and went back inside.

"Gosh, I thought it was something serious," he said, making it back behind the counter.

"It was obviously nothing serious. Anyone could tell,"

"Yeah, but I'm used to having to medicate Cleo's wounds because of how roughly they play."

"Are they always like that?" Daphne asked, "Like... in compromising positions like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... if an outsider had to take a look at them, they could suspect they are more than just friends, you know," she voiced out, placing the sandwich on the tray. "Were they ever a thing? Because as far as I know, Cleo never told me anything special about Nick."

Her question wasn't a surprise to him. He knew it would've eventually popped up in Daphne's brain and now he just happened to be the person to whom she addressed the question. "Not that I know of," he simply replied, placing his sandwich on the tray.

"Yes, they do look like more than friends and if I'm being honest with you, I always thought that Nick has a crush on her. James too,"

"Really?" Daphne gasped with bulging eyes and he nodded, "But I feel like if Nick does have a crush on her, his has existed for longer. We have known each other since middle school and Nick has always been like this with her. James started only like two years ago if I'm not mistaken,"

"Which was around when Cleo started getting popular and shit, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so,"

"But also, doesn't Nick also behave like this with everyone? I mean, he's not the shy type to worry too much about physical contact,"

"Yeah, he behaves like this with everyone and that's why one can't fully say that he crushes on Cleo because he isn't any different with others but he's just a bit different when it's just us, you know. There is a Nick with Cleo in public and a different Nick with Cleo in private such as hang outs like this. I do think that if James does have a crush on her, she knows and she also doesn't entertain the idea of starting anything serious with him because two years ago I wasn't the only person thinking he liked her. The whole class did,"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, but I think Cleo just sees him as a friend because she never really commented on the issue and it slowly faded, especially with the popularity she gained. It became easy to simply label him as a fanboy and nothing more,"

Daphne nodded and didn't speak further, looking out where her friends were. A part of her felt like her suspicions were true. Nick probably likes Cleo, James included, and it isn't surprising because Cleo is so charming. Like she'd already stated, Cleo could see the good in people, no matter the bad one could commit and she also seemed to never get sad or angry—unless you bring Valerie into the picture. Cleo is always smiling and happy. She seemed to have a social battery that never runs out and her smile was like a tattoo on her face.

Daphne hadn't seen her play volleyball yet, hadn't seen how competitive and just how skilled she was at the sport. However, Daphne knew Cleo's popularity likely stemmed from her talent in volleyball, indicating that she was genuinely good at it. 

There was just something fascinating about people being good at what they like.

All these were hypotheses that she would've changed into theories if she knew that Jungkook too fanboys over her.

"So right now, we're looking at a potential childhood crush from Nick?" she said looking at the scene in front of her.

Right in that moment, from the counter she could see Cleo and Nick going at it again, dragging to get the ball. They caught the attention of both she and Asher because Nick seemed to be giving Cleo a back hug from where he would occasionally lift her off the ground. She, on the other hand, would bend forward causing him to do the same. Another honestly compromising position.

"James is third-wheeling there," she comments before they get back to making the sandwiches.

"Worse it would be if he indeed likes her too," Asher added, gaining a hiss from Daphne as they both laughed.

—Now playing: Chiquitita by ABBA ✫

The boys left around dinner time, giving the girls enough time to finish tidying up. Daphne stayed back just for that reason.

There wasn't much left for them to take care of since they didn't mess up the place too much and the boys also helped a little before leaving to catch their bus home. Upstairs, Cole was still sleeping while noise still came from Cleo's dad's workshop. Been like that throughout the afternoon.

"Let's hurry cause I have to cook dinner,"

"You?" and Cleo nodded before turning around to sweep the kitchen. "Cole has been studying the whole morning and even after lunch. I just went to check and saw that he fell asleep so he's surely tired as fuck. My dad has been working nonstop on the project he wants to sell in his shop so yeah, I'm taking over the cooking." Daphne unconsciously nodded to the information as she adjusted the little pillows on the couch and armchair, picking up a few things from the floor and keeping others back where they belonged. As she did so, they stopped talking and completely focused on finishing their duty.

Since the boys had already helped with tidying up the living room a bit, Daphne was soon done with the work and was just roaming around, exploring the place now that she had the chance. In the meantime, Cleo was still sweeping the kitchen, trashing the packs of finished snacks that littered the counters. That was when a gasp from the living room diverted her attention away.

"Oh my god! You have vinyl records from ABBA?" Daphne exclaimed, taking the object in her hands and admiring it like it was a brick of gold. Cleo rushed to put the broom aside and went over to her overly excited friend.

"You listen to ABBA?" Daphne proceeded, taking the disc out of the packet and going straight to the vinyl player sitting next to the pile of records. Cleo smiled but the smile didn't reach her eyes. It wasn't the usual smile that painted her face, the infamous tattoo. No, Cleo struggled to smile and Daphne didn't notice.

She wanted to stop her friend, take the record from her hand, keep it back and shut everything up but that would require her to explain herself and if she failed to do so, she'd just leave a bitter taste in her friend's mouth or, worse, make her worry that there's something more. There is something more, but that more can stay in the isolated room Cleo had locked it in. She'd also trashed the key, wishing to never see that door open again. But it didn't stop the pain nor the insisting struggles as the door tried to open itself against its hinges and the lock.

Daphne maybe would've noticed this but maybe right now she was too excited to listen to ABBA or to play music from a vinyl player once again. The last time she'd done so was at Margot's place in the city but she didn't ponder much on that memory, especially now that Margot have been outcasted from her life just as she'd done to her. Daphne loved vintage things so she really had a thing for vinyl records—preferred them to the modern album packaging.

She didn't pay any attention to the song she was putting on since she was a great ABBA fan and eats up anything the group has released.

"You know how to use it?" Cleo finally spoke, her voice almost nonexistent. Again Daphne didn't notice this. Later, Cleo would be thankful for her inattention because she would've regretted dearly bringing worry upon her friend.

Daphne eagerly nodded as she backed away from the player, waiting for the music to start and it soon did as the soft sounds of a guitar started feeling the room.

"Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong?" she started singing along, gathering her hands on her chest as if the song had been produced in heaven.

"You're enchained by your own sorrow, In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow." Cleo smiled more now. Chuckled a bit at how fondly Daphne sang along.

Her friend behaved as if she was in a music video, arms spreading out and going back to her chest at each word she sang. "How I hate to see you like this. There is no way you can deny it, I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet."

Cleo's smile almost faded away, understanding the words, the lyrics. What a choice of song, she thought to herself but, again, Daphne didn't know this so she couldn't show any emotion or any suspicious reaction that could cause her friend to ask questions, to worry. "Chiquitita, tell me the truth. I'm a shoulder you can cry on, your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on." Cleo simply smiled. Laughed seeing how her friend struggled to get on the couch and be even more dramatic. Once she got on it, she spread her arms out again, passionately singing and pointing at Cleo as she sang the next words.

"You were always sure of yourself. Now I see you've broken a feather. I hope we can patch it up together." She didn't know that the words were resonating with Cleo, hitting a very sensitive nerve she's been keeping hidden under her sleeve for a long time now and there was no way she could've known because, unlike Taehyung, Daphne isn't a keen observer but just a good listener. Cleo was the same: different from Taehyung, yes, but she was just good at speaking, with her listening skills not as refined as her friend's. Yes, she is so good at talking but, in that moment, she preferred silence because she was scared of having others worry for her. After all, there is nothing scarier than the sudden extinguishing of the sun—and it's not an eclipse.

Cleo was still standing by the vinyl player while Daphne had already travelled around the room and was making her way back to it, back to Cleo and once she reached, she grabbed her friend's hands and dragged her into the centre of the living room to dance.

"Chiquitita, you and I know how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leavin'." Cleo's body was a bit tense but not tense enough to resist Daphne's force as she dragged her around. "You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end. You would have no time for grievin'" Daphne sang without caring to hit the right notes as they started spinning and jumping around. She was unaware that her free spirit at the moment eased her friend's tightened muscles, slowly bringing her to enjoy the song and hop around with her.

"Chiquitita, you and I cry but the sun is still in the sky and shinin' above you."

Daphne didn't know this—again. Not just the song but the whole musical group held a certain weight in Cleo's mind and occupied a certain space in her heart. Space she'd rather give to anything else in this world. A weight she'd gladly go on a diet to lose but this type of weight was particular. Wasn't the type you could lose either by going on a diet or starving yourself.

"Let me hear you sing once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita," they both started singing, fingers intertwined, arms spread out and heads thrown back as they spun around, sometimes breaking into a simple dance move. "Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita."

After parting ways for the verses, Daphne started first: "So the walls came tumblin' down and your love's a blown out candle. All is gone and it seems too hard to handle." And then it was Cleo's turn to become dramatic with her gestures as she started singing along to her own part: "Chiquitita, tell me the truth. There is no way you can deny it. I see that you're oh so sad, so quiet."

Again, unaware, Daphne's actions were like gauze covering the wounds lacing Cleo's body and soul. The smile spread across her face was just what Cleo needed to feel at ease.

"Chiquitita, you and I know how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leavin'. You'll be dancin' once again and the pain will end. You will have no time for grievin'" Linking arms and running in a circle, they sang their hearts out.

"Chiquitita, you and I cry but the sun is still in the sky and shinin' above you. Let me hear you sing once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita." With hands linked like a couple dancing at a ball and making each other spin around, they started singing the post-chorus: "Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita. Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita."

As they danced to the instrumentals, Cleo realized that maybe, just maybe, she'd found a possible solution to the weight occupying her mind, to the spot in her heart and to the wounds that were yet to heal.

Daphne had wondered where her mother was the day she came here and saw Cleo surrounded only by her father and Cole at lunch. She wondered what could have happened to her mother. Was she dead? Did the parents go through a divorce? And if they did, were the kids keeping contact with the mother?

Maybe if Cleo had opened up in that moment, she would've had a little answer to all those questions. She would've finally known something. She would've learned that Cleo's mother used to be a great fan of the group, and she was behind the reason why those vinyl records were there in the first place. She would've known that the last time any song from the group was played, the father was who put it on. She would've known that every memory revolving around the group's songs was in black and white in Cleo's head, bereft of any real colour. Cleo was just waiting, hoping, they would fade away completely, with no colours left behind. Not even the outlines. But she has been waiting for years now and her hope is disappearing faster than the memories she despises.

Maybe, with Daphne back in her life, she would be able to take control and instead of waiting for time to do what it does best, she could change her story, change those memories and replace them with something better, something as nice as this: them spinning around to the ABBA song.

But she knew that Daphne's help would be given unknowingly. Cleo would never ask for help but just grab it if it presents itself in front of her. She didn't know this but it was exactly why her healing process was so slow.

All these were uncertainties because Cleo wasn't sure and never would be unless she opened up to someone, anyone. For example, she could open up to her brother: he's always been there for her, through thick and thin but that was exactly why she didn't want to open up to him. He was already doing a lot for her and the last thing she'd want to do is add another weight on his shoulders.

She could also confide in the man watching the girls from outside through a window. He wasn't done with his project which was lying unfinished in his workshop because he rushed outside once he heard the ABBA song. He's the only person in this house listening to any song from that group because they carry a different meaning to each person in his little family. A meaning that revolved around the mother, the one person who had singlehandedly ruined their family, scarring everyone on her way out.

He's been working on his wounds. 'S been trying to turn them into scars and possibly erase them completely but he'd gladly help his children too if only they would let him in.

He was grateful though to have come this far and was also thankful for Daphne's actions at that moment. She was oblivious to the darkness looming around those songs but she managed to shine through and overshadow it allowing his daughter's beautiful smile to come out from its hiding spot.

He smiled too and a tear ran down his cheek as well, but it was a tear of joy. A joy he'd been looking for ever since that day it left their home with their mother. He'd convinced himself that that joy had run away from his family for good but it was slowly making its way back. Maybe the road was too dark, no streetlights present, no guiding star or moon in the sky but thanks to this, thanks to Daphne, a streetlight had restarted working, brightening the way a bit for as much as it could.

He was very grateful for that.

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

[drenix004]

Blankets for omega

Pairing: Alpha Leon Kennedy x Omega Fem Reader.

Summary: Leon doesn't know which blanket to take to his omega, so he takes them all.

Warning: fluff, Alpha Leon concerned, Omega Fem

¡English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes, don’t hesitate to correct me.!

Leon S Kennedy had a reputation for being a cold and calculating alpha, at first glance it was obvious that he was dominant by nature. The air around him made it more than clear that he was an alpha, and as such society told him that he should not be soft, that only showed weakness.

But, Leon was never someone normal, he stepped out of the typical stereotype many times, just as he was doing at that moment.

Stares were on him, some discreet and some not so much, he could hear the dismayed whispers at seeing him grab items in a specialty store for omegas.

He had called his omega during the flight back from Spain, his wolf was restless and would only calm down if he heard his mate's voice. But, when he heard it he knew immediately that something was not right, so he asked.

He had a fundamental rule in their relationship, No lies, and more if that could put the integration and security of the omega.

"I don't like the nest anymore, the blankets make me uncomfortable" he replied almost on the verge of tears.

Those words had caused Leon to worry about his mate's health.

The nests were very important for the health and well-being of the omegas, they could easily get sick if they were not suited to each other's needs.

If the nest wasn't right, neither would the omega and if that alone would make her sick.

That was enough to make her almost run out of the plane when she landed, she could feel the distress and discomfort through the pair bond so she let out slight grunts as she climbed into her jeep and drove to the nearest omegas store.

When he walked in, he certainly attracted attention, but he focused on what was more important. He grabbed a cart and went about putting items that would help calm his omega and then went to the section that to him was worse than the puzzles he did on his missions.

As he entered the nesting items aisle in the blanket area he didn't know which one to choose, there were thermal blankets, silk, cotton, quilted, soft, extra soft, linen, thin, thick, plush, textured, untextured.

"Why the fuck are there so many?" he cursed under his breath at the excessive amount of blankets, he furrowed his eyebrows, every minute that passed was a minute without being able to comfort his partner.

"Fuck it, I'll take them all" he grabbed one of each type and was throwing them into the cart.

Money wasn't an issue, and it never really would be. The government paid him very well for risking his ass on every mission, it was the only advantage he saw to it, as he could fulfill his partner's every whim without having to look at his bank account.

Quickly the cart filled up, so it was his turn to carry a few blankets in his hands. he was practically a walking mountain of blankets when he got to the cashier to turn off, he gave him a dirty look when the clerk opened his mouth, shutting him up before he even uttered a vowel.

He quickly stowed everything in the jeep and floored the gas pedal to the metal, on the way he released his pheromones to get the blankets scented.

"I'm coming honey, Alpha is on his way."

if it is well received, I will make part 2 :)

[i-translated]

I want to talk about syllable count in English vs Russian, and I'm going to use "Surface Pressure" as an example because of how fucking horrendous the official Russian translation is, let's go.

So English is a relatively simple language, and a lot of its simplicity is owed to how little various grammarical structures affect the modifications of words.

English nouns aren't gendered and only ever go through a transformation when you add a plural. Car - cars, city - cities, etc. Note that an -s at the end is itself a consonant, and in most cases does not influence the syllable count of the word.

English adjectives don't even have plurals. A fast car - two fast cars. The only modifications occur in comparatives (a fast car - a faster car -the fastest car) or in derrived adverbs (a quick move - to move quickly). All of these add only one syllable most of the time.

Verbs go through the most transformations. I move - I moved - I'm moving, etc. You can pair then with auxilary verbs (I have moved), though again in many cases it doesn't influence the syllable count (I move - 2 syllables, I've moved - still 2 syllables, only a bit more of a mouthful).

Now, there are obviously more complex structures out there, this is just a short sample for comparison. Now let's look at what's going on in Russian.

Nouns in plural typically gain at least one additional syllable. Conpare: cat - cats vs кот - коты. An ы is a vowel. A bitch to rhyme, too.

Nouns have cases. For instance: (this is a) house - дом, 1 syllable; (in the) house - (в) доме, 2 syllables.

Adjectives also have cases, and they match the nouns that they are describing. See: (this is a) big house - большой дом, 3 syllables; (no) big house - (нет) большого дома, 5 syllables.

If you have more than one adjective in a row, all of them have to natch the case of the noun they're describing. See: big pretty house - большой красивый дом, 6 syllables; (no) big pretty house - (нет) большого красивого дома, 9 syllables.

Verbs are even worse. There's no gerund, so every instance of it in English is a separate sentence. For instance: I saw him running - Я видел, как он бежал (lit. I saw how he ran). It's almost always at least two additional syllables, if not more.

Present participles get even longer. I need a separate bullet list just to demonstrate. Compare:

I run (2 syllables) - я бегу (3)

Running (2) - бегущий (3)

Running by (3) - пробегающий (5)

(A girl) running by (3) - пробегающая (6)

(To the boy) running by (3) - пробегающему (6)

And these are just the simplest examples. There are English infinitives that turn into whole Russian clauses (I want you to go - я хочу, чтобы ты ушёл). There are simple, everyday use words that are just longer on average, like:

If (1) - если (2)

When (1) - когда (2)

Which (1) - который (3)

This (1) - это (2)

Why (1) - почему (3)

Because (2) or 'cause (1) - потому что (4)

I could go on. Then there's also the fact that Russian is very phonetically consistent, meaning there's little to no phonetic reduction. You can't y'all'd've your way our of a long ass sentence. You have to work with it.

So here's what you end up with.

On one hand there are Russian-to-English translations that are short on syllables and you have to pull them out if your ass to fill up those bars. Not saying there isn't an occasional tight squeeze - Russian too can be concise and punchy in a non-verbose way - but to me the space within the lines seldom feels too cramped. You may phrase something in an unnecessarily complicated way or add a word that wasn't in the original, but as long as you stay humble and remember your role as a translator, you can do the original justice with minimal errors.

On the other hand you have English-to-Russian translations that always - and I do mean always - have too many fucking syllables. This is arguably much worse. One's ass may very well be a bottomless pit to pull words from, but you can't stuff them back in. Those syllables aren't going anywhere. You have a sentence on your hand and you can't cut any of that sentence without losing a part of its meaning.

If you've been following the logic so far, you're probably asking yourself: so what the fuck am I supposed to do with all those leftover syllables? That's a very good question! I ask it every day. It's agony.

Here are a few methods I've learned to utilize.

Sentence-slicing. Sometimes you can't match the lines exactly, so you step on the next oine until you get obe with some breathing room and "catch up". You can't do this too often or for too many lines in a row because the translation starts to "fall behind", but there are times when you can get away with it.

Wordplay! It's pretty hard to pull off in Russian but you totally can, and it feels amazing when you pull it off. Why use two words when you can use one with a double-meaning?

Use thesaurus. And if that don't work? Use more thesaurus.

Sometimes things will get cut. You must accept it. Not every metaphor can be translated. Not every rhyme can be preserved. Some words will have to be changed. This is very important to understand. A good translator must take responsibility for every meaning they twist. They must analyze the material on more levels than just literal and linguistic in order to accurately transfer it into another language with minimal, acceptable losses. I cannot stress enough how hard and how important this is.

Now, let's talk about "Surface Pressure".

The original lyrics were written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and I don't fucking care what anyone says, this man got bars. It's kind of a trend to poke fun at Hamilton, but In the Heights won a ton of awards, and nobody fucking says the songs in Moana were bad, do they? Point is, I like his lyrics. They're extremely good. Great job, Mr. Miranda.

The Russian translation I'm going to be tearing to shreds today was, from what I could find with tough fucking luck, made by Disney Character Voices International, Inc.. This is only to say a studio approved it. I'm not harping on, like, one little guy. There were corporate decisions made there.

I'm also gonna compare it to my own translation because I just think that it's better. It's not perfect by any means, but then the bar is already pretty damn low.

With all that out if the way, lets read some lines! Out of order because this is my post and I can do what I want. Exhibit A.

"It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop // Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop" is a line from the chorus that gets repeated a few times. I likeit because it's cute, evocative, and alliterative - it creates a particular "beat" sound by using frequent consonant repetitions "drip-drip-drip" and "tip-tip-tip".

The original translation gives us: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз и всё ближе дно, Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, выплыть не дано" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down and the bottom gets closer // Pushes you down-down-down, it's impossible to surface". It's not the worst offender but the alliteration is gone to fuck, now it's "down-down-down" in both lines and sounds pretty repetitive.

I did it like: "Давление по кап-кап-капле прижало грудь // Тянет тебя вниз, вниз, вниз, не даёт вздохнуть" - lit. "Pressure by drip-drip-drip(drops) pressed your chest // Drags you down-down-down, doesn't let you take a breath". The first line is actually a wordplay, "кап-кап-кап" (kap-kap-kap) is the sound water droplets make, and "давление по капле" or "pressure by drops" is a lowkey classic metaphor for continuous strain on one's nerves. The line also isn't tautologic because it uses two different words for pressure.

I wanted to keep more of the origial meaning but "pop" did not translate. Couldn't imagine what one would say instead. Хоба? That's so rustic.

If you're thinking "it's not too bad" then we'll get there when we get there. Exhibit B.

"Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em // I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but-" is one of my favorite lines in the goddamn song. Notice how the first line has a quadruple rhyme? So fucking crisp and juicy. Fuck yeah!

The original translation gives us: "Тверже бриллианта, сильнее Атланта // Я всем помогаю, я строю-ломаю, но-" - lit. "Harder than diamond, stronger than an Atlas // I help everyone, I build and break, but-" and y'all this is so cringe. What's up with "I help everyone"? It's so childish, it doesn't fit the tone of the song at all. All the rhymes in the second line are verb rhymes which is the laziest, most childish, most unoriginal type of rhyme in the entire goddamn language. Seriously. Silver Age poets are turning in their coffins right now. Good fucking heavens "Строю-ломаю" what a Care Bears ass phrasing. Also, Atlas? Really? Go off ig but I think that's just cause they couldn't find another rhyme for diamond and didn't even try for platinum.

I did it like: "Бриллианты и платина - вызов под стать, а мне // Брать что дают и ломать что некстати, но-" - lit. "Diamonds and platinum are a challenge to match (me), I have to // Take what I'm given and break what's not right (what's amiss, what's unneeded, neither here nor there)". So the quadruple rhyme still couldn't be preserved (sorry Mr. Miranda) but I did manage to rhyme platinum, and I kept the "I take what I'm handed" line in a way, which I feel is very important? Like, in the context of the song? It refers to her literally carrying physical items as a part of her work and to her metaphotically "taking" shit from her family that was pressuring her, and it reads both ways in translation too, it's kind of like "be content with what you're given", it's very in-character, I feel like. I did lose rhymes though. Can't be helped, I suppose.

"It's still pretty okay-" EXHIBIT C:

"Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go // Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow" - another line from the chorus, very good alliteration still, very steady rhythm, very evocative, I kiss this song on the mouth if you even care.

The original translation throws at our face: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, это нелегко // Давит это, тик-тик-тик, взрыв уже недалеко" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down, it's not easy // Pushes means tick-tick-tick, the explosion is already near". I fucking hate "it's not easy" for how stupidly blunt it is, I hate that "tick-tick-tick" no longer has as strong of a metaphorical connection, I hate that they repeat "down-down-down" for the third goddamn time, but y'know what? I could forgive all that if they haven't broken the rhythm. Allow me to illustrate.

Slashes are stressed, Us are unstressed, the dash is a skipped beat.

Do you see the extra syllable? Do you see it? I see it. I lose my sleep because of it. This isn't, like, a classic translation liberty. This is legit a mistake. They just said Fuck It, Who Give A Shit. Well, I does. I gives a shit

I did the line like: "Давление как взять-взять-взять и держать в тисках // Давит будто тик-тик-тикает и бабах!" - lit. "Pressure like to grab-grab-grab and hold you in a clamp (a vise? what's it called, the scary construction tool) // Pushes as if tick-tick-ticks and kaboom!" So... Ticking is a verb now! And a bit of a wordplay, too. My line is actually one unstressed syllable short but it doesn't break the rhythm because you can, y'know, stretch the previous syllable. Cause it's a song. And you do that in songs. Also the next beat is the one you skip anyway. God, I sound so arrogant but this is just so much better.

So I actually didn't check the official translation at all when I made mine, but there's a part we did very similarly but the official one is just... Clearly worse? Okay, hear me out. Exhibit D.

"Who am I if I can't carry it all? If I falter..."

The original translation presents: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? И вдруг дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? And suddently falter..."

My version is: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? Если дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? If (I) falter..."

Pretty straight-forward but I'll explain. My issue is with the "If I falter" part.

So. Mine is pretty word-for-word, the official one adds a "suddenly" in there. Why, I don't fucking know, but it's not thematically terrible abd doesn't step on the meaning of the line, so whatever. But.

But! I know y'all can't read cyrillics so let me translit that real quick.

First, my version: Если дрогну - Yésli drógnu

Now the other one: И вдруг дрогну - I vdrúg drógnu

This isn't, like, critical, but if you look at the consonants on the second one, it's just VDRGDRG

I mean, fucking hell, right? I'm a native speaker and it's hard for me to say out loud. Why did they feel like it needed to be there? Why did they not just translate literally this one time where a word-for-word translation would fit perfectly? Who thought this soft gentle fade-out part needed to sound like a steel bolt in a cheese grater? Top fifteen questions that keep me up at night.

We're getting to the really bad ones.

So, the verse repeats the phrase "under the surface" a few times and rhymes on it. Like, a lot. It's very impressive and I love it.

Me, I'm a madman who loves pain and suffering, so I translated it as "сказать открыто" lit. "to tell openly" and then stayed up all night rhyming on Ы.

The official translation, however, hates to use its brain, so it went with "на самом деле" lit. "actually" and then rhymed with fucking. Nouns in the same case. Like some type of kindergarten.

I'm gonna list a bunch of lines that use this bit so I wanted to get that out of the way. Now, exhibit E.

"Under the surface, was Hercules ever like 'Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus'?" is a line I like for it's rhyme and dislike for something else I'll tell you in a bit.

The official translation smacks me upside the head with: "На самом деле, а мог ли Геракл сказать: 'Подвиги мне надоели'?" - lit. "Actually, could Heracles say 'I'm tired of (heroic) feats'?" which breaks the rhythm again and follows neither the original nor the music, but is overall okay if you don't count how childish it all sounds.

I did it like: "Сказать открыто Геракл не смог бы, что, мол, этот подвиг претит ему." which is actually a wordplay, so a literal translation would do something like "To tell openly, Heracles couldn't (tell openly) that he's sick of this (heroic) feat".

Note how we call him Heracles, not Hercules. That's cause that's his fucking name in the myth.

He didn't fight Cerberus either, he tamed him.

Also my translation follows the beat of the song, at least. Fucking hell of a line.

Okay, ready for the worst goddamn line ever? Meet exhibit F.

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service" is a hella powerful line to me personally.

Let me show you my version first this time, it goes like: "Сказать открыто, невыносимо стыдно, что я непродуктивна" - lit. "To tell the truth, (I am) unbearably ashamed that I am unproductive". It's not the prettiest line but it's solid enough.

The official translation curses my fucking bloodline with: "На самом деле, я каждый день недели стараюсь быть при деле" - lit. "Actually, every day of the week I try to be at work". You don't need to speak Russian to notice that within the span of a line these people actually and with full seriousness rhymed "деле" and "деле".

"Well maybe it's just a different word" no it's not.

It's the same word.

They rhymed on the same word.

I actually wanted to add more but Tumblr glitched and posted instead of saving to drafts. I think it's good like that. We're done here.

[ms-nesbit]

moulin rouge (chapter 2 of empire records)

a jason todd x reader fic

summary: reader and jason embark on their second date at the Gotham Library, where Jason indulges reader on a secret.

rating: 18+ (minors kindly fuck off)

warnings: masturbation, sex worker!jason todd, cam model!jason todd, reader is plus/mid size

ao3

note: please support by reblogging, and don't be a dick by reposting elsewhere! thank you so much!

Whistling wind carrying Jason’s loose strands of hair to and fro on his head, mimicking a wind vane atop a tall barn, he strolled peacefully toward the brick building’s double doors, pulling them wide open (without the assistance of the turbulence - wretched equinox) before entering.

Jason was no stranger to the library, and he nodded to the librarians at the circulation desk, who (uncharacteristically) stopped to all wave at him; he was a frequent patron, and attended whatever event he was able. “High noon, Fred!” he beamed at the security guard upon passing through the theft-deterrents that failed to draw up to Jason’s figure, making it to his torso.

Fighting his instinct to tread to the third floor and sit in his unassigned seat near the retired fireplace, Jason planted his steel-toed feet to the ground, second guessing his outfit choice. “Oh, look at you!” A librarian walked by, commenting on Jason’s attire. “Are you going out this evening, Mr. Todd?”

“Just have someone I’m seeing in a few minutes, Luz.” Jason replied, wiping down his mahogany button up. “How ya doin, though?”

Luz stopped her mission to the circulation desk, various media in hand, as she pondered, sticking out one of her mustard flats. “Probably nothing as exciting as what you’ve got going on. Oh, to be young!” she suspired jokingly, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thank you!” From a young age, Jason was taught by his adoptive father’s butler to speak to elders with respect, especially in a formality such as the library. He disagreed with many of his father’s views, eventually leading to the pair having a final quarrel before Jason’s departure from Wayne Manor and into the Gotham flats.

In fact, it was why Jason stumbled into camwork in the first place: he found himself quitting each and every dead-end shift, arguing with the boss or co-workers. Jason was a hothead, escalating otherwise mundane and calm situations simply because he was tired of feeling trapped by others. 

Perhaps y/n felt that way, too. Even if she hadn’t, it seemed she respected his space, something that most close to him refused to do. “Jason?” he responded to the voice behind him like a dog upon his owner’s arrival, tail wagging. When he turned, his eyes laid on y/n, wearing knee-high platform boots, sienna tights underneath an umber A-line skirt decorated with paperclips, a rust-colored top under a leather jacket, and a thick knitted scarf in deep brown.

Y/n was an angel rejected from heaven, bestowed upon Jason, and he could not shake the downright corrupt images that projected in his mind. “Wow.” he said, hiding the other words under his tongue for later.

Y/n checked him out unabashedly, licking her lips. “I could say the same, Jaybird. What do you wanna do here? Read me a bedtime story?” she wiggled her eyebrows comically, triggering a blush from the tall man before her.

“Well, you chose somewhere you go to often, so now it’s my turn. May I?” Jason extended his elbow for y/n to take, and led them to the elevator, where Jason punched the Four that was missing its vowels on the button.

If it wasn’t for the guidelines previously set, y/n would have jumped his bones in the elevator, ignoring the security cameras that would have recorded the uncensored evidence. “So you come here often?” the sentence was worded deliberately, a juxtaposition to her compassionate voice.

“I have since I was little. Helped a lot to just disappear in a story, as much as it sounds like a line for a goddamn Hallmark greeting card.” Jason rolled his eyes at himself.

“What did you read?”

The elevator dinged and doors opened, gesturing for y/n and Jason to vacate the confined space. Jason led y/n past the rows of encyclopedias and historical archives and into a crossroads of shelves divided by a set of armchairs. He walked at a sharp angle with y/n, leading her away from the world and into his nook, where his lounge chair waited for him.

And there it was, in front of the decommissioned fireplace. Jason pulled out the other chair for y/n, which she sat in, before pushing it lightly and sitting in the one adjacent to hers. Immediately, as if at home, he reclined and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Y/n watched closely as he made himself comfortable. His lips parted and adam’s apple bobbed, reminding her of the videos she stared at the night before, Jason’s hand slowly stroking his cock, head thrown back, letting out guttural, obscene noises. Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moisture collecting in her underwear.

“When I was a kid, I thought librarians lived here.”

The confession came out of nowhere, and it drew a chuckle from y/n. “Like with teachers?”

Jason nodded. “Yep. And I, for some fucking reason, built this fort in the corner by the fire exit. I remember my dad and Alfred looking for me for hours, even calling the police because they thought I ran away again.” he smiled, eyes still closed, and it warmed y/n’s bosom. “One officer came right by me and put out his hand for me to take, and I was freaking out, y’know? ‘Cause fuck cops, right?” Y/n nodded in solidarity. “And I bit his hand. I bit it.”

Y/n erupted into laughter, which was quickly hushed by Jason. “No fucking way.”

“Way.” Jason’s eyes shot open and looked directly at y/n with as much seriousness as he could. “And he cussed and swore, saying ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that, and it was the funniest shit I went through. Though at the time I was scared shitless because I just wanted to stay and sleep in the librarians’ home and see what they did after the library closed.”

Y/n gazed at Jason. She swore she heard a harp playing. “That is so dorky, but so…fucking romantic.” The response caused Jason to grin at y/n shyly, smile lines forming on his cheeks. “What happened?”

“Al‒my butler‒found me and talked me down from it. A couple of weeks later, he spoke with the district director, and they arranged for me to have a sleepover.”

“And?”

Jason took y/n’s hand in hers, bringing it to his lips to place a small kiss on the underside of her hand. “I pissed my pants in the sleeping comforter.”

Falling forward, y/n laughed silently, wheezes and snorts disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t contain herself, and why should she? Jason adored how pleasantly she felt in her skin, and it showed in that moment: her bright smile, full cheeks, broad hips wiggling in her seat…she’s an open book, and it inspired him to do the same.

But he hesitated. It was the battle he faced, him and his fears: he didn’t want to repeat the past, spend another week isolated and hiding from the sun in an attempt to starve and deprive himself from sanity. Jason knew he was attractive - his followers and bank account reflected it - but he was used for it. Misled, and then taken advantage of, and for what? Momentary bliss? Clout?

A cloud formed over his head as he began to swim in the pool of decrepit thoughts that gathered in him. Why was he used? Why wasn’t he enough? Would y/n treat him the same way? Paranoia was his kryptonite, but it was hardwired in him from his early childhood years spent in the streets, abused by his biological parents.

Y/n saw the gloominess ruminating on the tall man beside her, and she halted her laughter, cupping his chin with her hand. Jason felt the touch, skin burning hot, as he faced her. “I once was jealous of Ally Snow, the horse girl of our fourth grade class, so I accidentally committed arson to her camp bunk site.”

Jason’s jaw dropped, skies in his mind clearing before a funnel cloud could form. “Arson?!”

“Mmhmm.” Y/m hummed. “I was lucky that: a) Ally’s camp counselor bailed that night, because I may have miscalculated and lit fire to the counselor’s bunk, and b) nobody found the culprit.” her eyes may have been the blaze of fire itself with the way she glared at the ground in immense passion.

Jason patted her hand, her nails now clawing at his cheek. He temporarily thought of her nails digging into his back while he… he blinked away the thought. “So you weren’t caught?”

Y/n shook her head. “And I got to watch my best friend, Yessica, punch her in the fucking face the following fall.”

They sat in their chairs, alighting the fireplace with their embarrassing stories, taking turns laughing and poking fun at each other. Before they realized, the library announced its closing time soon, and they gathered themselves, exiting the library in a fit of giggles. The librarians at the circulations saw this, and exchanged knowing looks, telling without words being spoken.

“Can I see you again soon?” it was y/n’s turn to ask when they stepped down from the platform of the library.

Jason stepped forward, closing the gap between them as he pulled her into a kiss, their lips locking instantly. “Anytime.” he grinned when he pulled away, their faces mere inches from each other.

—-

One notification. 

Y/n checked her phone as she closed her loft door, tossing her keys on the kitchen table nearby. Do you want to do something specific for our next date? Food? Entertainment? Guns? Riots?

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes at the question. I’m down to clown at a riot. Maybe a clown riot? Dunno how that would go though.

A reply appeared. Fuck clowns. I’d rather be dead than be seen with one. How about a cemetery for our next date? Picnic?

Abso-fucking-lutely. y/n agreed, her heart fluttering at the idea of a moonlit picnic at the Gotham cemetery. She spun as she held her phone close to her chest, before another notification appeared.

Robin Hood is now live! Tap to check in now.

Thoughtlessly, y/n tapped the badge on her phone, opening an app she downloaded a few days ago to streamline Jason’s webcam streams.

The stream began in a dimly lit room with tools hung on the wall in the background. Y/n squinted at the array of tools, recognizing the brand. “You gonna make me beg, Baby? Make me beg to come? Hmm?” the words shook y/n, no longer distracted by the Craft tool kit hanging neatly on the wall, and eyes fixating on the tall brunette stripping himself from his button up and slacks.

Y/n watched closely, so closely, she worried, she didn’t blink - she soaked in the sight of Jason’s fingers finagling with his own clothes, revealing himself to her in an intimate way as he spoke so titillatingly. For a man with an intimidating figure, he was so submissive, and y/n wanted to explore it as much as he allowed.

Right now, it was about him though, and Jason was already stripped from his slacks, which gathered by his ankles on the ground, his shirt unbuttoned, but still worn. “Come on, Princess. Make me come, please.” the begs were earlier than last time, and y/n hoped she was the source, listening with open ears for her name to be called, chanted so beautifully like last time.

He didn’t stroke his cock this time, either; he thrusted into it, head tilted back to expose his neck, the adam’s apple bobbing again. He donned a flushed face that was so euphoric, y/n wished he could open his eyes so she could swim in his glossed over irises. “‘M gonna come, fuck.” his breath wavered, thrusts methodical but ruthless.

It was obvious he wanted y/n, and the feeling was mutual, y/n resisting the urge to touch herself until after she saw him reach his breaking point. And it was soon. “G-god,” he whispered shakily, “y/n” he was louder with the name, calling to her as if she was watching, “please let me come.” the words carried so much weight, so heavy as they fell into y/n’s ears, as if he wanted her to tell him to come.

And she opened up the chat, which was flooded with comments about the ‘mystery girl’ Jason was thinking about, or sexual compliments that made her blush. Wanting the command to be more intimate, she opted for a text message instead: come for me, Jason. Let me see you come.

His phone chimed and he read the notification, his hips increasing with speed. “You like seeing my cock like this? Want me to come? I’m gonna come so hard for you.” his grip tightened around his cock as he pistoned his hips, mouth falling open as moans filled the room. “Oh, y/n,” he whined, “yes!” he whimpered, voice unsteady as his hips finally slowed, cum spilling from his cock. His orgasm was powerful, taken from him too soon - yet not soon enough for him - and the sight of his blissed out state was too much for y/n to handle, who rushed to her bed to rub her clit at the thought of him.